#casually takes two days to write these instead of doing replies lol

[waynes-multiverse]

I thought I start this while I still can keep up! 😁🤍

First of all, I absolutely love the premise of this. Being one of the glampers at the excursion (aka in the middle of the murderous action) and Mary's friend. So clever! 👏 (Also sad, 'cause we know that girl's not gonna make it to the end. Are there Beau consolation hugs in our future? I sure hope so!) 😏

It gave you exactly five more days to enjoy the fresh air of no responsibilities, before you returned to reality.

Ha! Poor reader, if she's not super into Agatha Christie-style murder mysteries, something tells me she won't enjoy this little vacation. (I, on the other hand, would love this – aside from the real murders and the threat of being a victim... 😆)

You pegged his accent as English, the “casual posh” kind. On a scale from Dame Maggie Smith to Dick Van Dyke’s attempt at cockney, you’d put Avery on a Benedict Cumberbatch level.

That one killed me! Omfg what glorious comparisons 🤣🤣🤣

“She’s a college professor,” Mary tacked on. “AKA: a giant nerd.”

AKA super-hot! 🔥 Ssshh Mary, you don't know what you're talking about...

“Relationships, lies, that sort of thing,” she replied.

Ah, I see her parents divorcing did not affect her at all...

A few more lines into this and Mary is sooo on my nerves. Just shut up, girl... The only points she's getting is for that chipmunk comment. Now that was hilarious! 😂

You rubbed your left hand, where you still had the tan line of the ring you used to wear.

I smell a broken heart 🥺💔 But unknown doucheface didn't deserve her. Once she meets the sheriff, she'll be like "Doucheface who??"

And after the hike, their son, Cormack, had tried to help you onto the nice chestnut mare the handler had brought out of the stable for you. But your entire body had locked up in fear at the prospect of being vaulted onto the horse. In fairness, she was huge. And you were both afraid of heights, and animals that could buck you off its back and trample you.

Never related so hard to a character before 😂 I'm definitely not a horse girl and the only experience I have with a horse went horrible 🐴

But you know, for Cormac, I would've tried... 🫠

Sheriff Beau Arlen may have still been relatively new in town, but he considered himself a consummate professional.

Oh, do you know, babe? 😆 Already, I love how you're writing him and his inner monologue is spot on lol

You sensed you were interrupting a tete-a-tete.

I don't know why but it gave me the mental image of two stags going at each other, which I guess isn't that far away from the truth 😂

“Well, here’s a tip for ya,” he said. He planted his feet, held his hands up into lightly clenched fists. “The trick is in the legs. Grip tight, but not too tight. He’ll think you’re rarin’ to go.” You blinked a bit wider. Was that just honest advice…or was he sort of flirting with you?

I might have blacked out and died here... Can we-... can we ride him? 👀🫠

“Were you just checking out Glamper Girl? In front of your daughter, no less,” Cassie remarked.

Hahaha Cassie calling him out 😂 But babe, don't pretend like you weren't flirting your ass off with Cormac 😝

You’d just Googled some therapeutic techniques instead of, you know, going to therapy.

That tracks lmfao

Also, interesting about her past. Her dad being a firefighter and her being engaged to one. Wonder what happened there. Did he die in a fire? 🥺

“You don’t have to do this,“ she said. "You don’t have to move out here and leave everything behind. You should just come home with me. Your parents, our friends—everyone wants to be there for you, like we have all year.”

Again, seriously wondering what happened there if she's been like this for a year. And I do understand if she wants a fresh start, but I'd feel differently if she's running away from something and that's the reason for her move 🤨

Ooof, so much to figure out! Loved this first chapter, babe! Can't wait to see where you taking this series 😍👏🫶

Take Me Home - Part 1

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

AN: Welcome to my first ever Big Sky series! I’ve been wanting to get to this for a while now. I’m so glad I finally get to start sharing this with you! I truly hope you enjoy the ride. (Note: This is set towards the beginning of season 3.)

Song Inspo: “Fly Away” by John Denver. And remember, you can listen to the full Take Me Home Playlist ⬅️ here.

Word Count: 4,400

Tags/Warnings: A bit of angst, a bit of setup, “Glamper Girl,” and a side helping of cops enjoying baked goods…

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 1: All of Her Days

“This really feels like cheating,” you mused.

Yet again, you surveyed the sheer size and luxury of this tent you were supposed to be “camping” in.

Between the giant king-sized bed with crème and burgundy comforters, a two-seater dining table, a dresser (with a vanity), and even a small bookshelf, it looked like the Taj Mahal of glamping.

“Can’t you just enjoy it?” your best friend replied, poking a teasing finger into your side. She smirked when you flinched and gave her some playful side-eye. “My parents are the ones footing the bill, anyway.”

“Of which, I intend to pay them back for my half,” you said. Mary just rolled her eyes and waved you off. Her parents’ money was something she’d never had a problem spending.

“Come on, they’re getting ready to go on the hike without us,” she said, tossing her little purse over her shoulder. You were a bit more practical with your backpack, filled with a bottle of water, a couple snacks, bug spray, and your sketch pad.

Mary bumped your shoulder with hers as you two walked out of the tent, and you gave her a smile. You were glad she insisted on this little week-long excursion. It gave you exactly five more days to enjoy the fresh air of no responsibilities, before you returned to reality.

“So where are you guys from?” you asked a couple of walking companions on the early-morning hike.

The woods of Helena, Montana were vast and deep, and you found them a bit intimidating. You were a city girl, through and through, but you were learning to appreciate the mountains and the steep trails flanked by dense trees. You were also grateful that you weren’t alone. 

Emily seemed to be a nice girl around sixteen, while her stepfather Avery was a lightly graying man in his 40s. You pegged his accent as English, the “casual posh” kind. On a scale from Dame Maggie Smith to Dick Van Dyke's attempt at cockney, you’d put Avery on a Benedict Cumberbatch level.

“Well, I met her mother in Houston,” Avery replied, nodding at the girl beside you. “She and Emily joined me here in Helena after we were married this past spring.”

Emily confirmed with a nod. “Yep, starting school here in a few months.”

At that, you could smile. “Me too, actually.”

Emily gave you a confused look while she fiddled with an app on her phone.

“What? You’re still in school?” she asked.

“No,” you laughed. “I’m—”

“She’s a college professor,” Mary tacked on. “AKA: a giant nerd.”

Emily tried not to smile at your expense. You just shook your head at your friend.

“Thanks,” you said wryly, despite your amusement. “We can’t all be personal trainers. One can only take so much Spandex.”

Mary rolled her eyes and prepared to fire back a retort, but your attention shifted back to Emily, who seemed to be debating whether to press a red button on her phone. You thought it looked like a voice recording app.

You followed her line of vision and saw Paige and Luke up ahead—a young “happy couple” here at Sunny Day Excursions. They were whisper-yelling at each other, sniping something about Luke’s birthday. Apparently, he had a problem with getting another year older.

Don’t we all, you thought, with no small amount of sarcasm. The guy had been a sour apple since the start of this trip, and to be honest, he was starting to get on your damn nerves.

“This is like, prime time stuff for my podcast,” Emily whispered.

You looked over at her. “Oh yeah? What’s your podcast about?”

“Relationships, lies, that sort of thing,” she replied.

You almost grimaced. Good luck finding willing subjects for that one.

Mary snickered on your other side. She leaned close to your ear so only you would hear.

“God, Paige’s voice is so effing annoying. Like a chipmunk on helium,” she said. “I feel sorry for him.”

You shot her a dry look. “He’s the one asking for it, if you ask me. But they’ve been going at it the whole time. Makes me feel sorry for both of them.”

You shook your head and kept walking on the trail. Mary sobered as she stared back at you. She was reminded of why you two were really here, and what you’d been through this past year…

What you all had been through.

You and Mary fell behind Avery and Emily on the trail, giving Mary the opportunity to touch your arm and stop you in the middle of the trail.

“Do you really plan to stay here?” she asked. “In dusty-ass Montana? With the snakes and the bears and the old hicks?”

“Well, I got the key to my apartment before we got here,” you said. And she knew that. “My aunt is letting me crash with her until the rest of my things ship over in a couple of weeks, and I start a new job in the fall. So yeah, I’m staying.”

Mary’s lips pursed. She gave you a long look, but you held your ground. You even popped your Airpods in for good measure. You were done with this conversation.

She huffed and kept walking.

You watched your friend go in annoyance. You knew she would try to talk you out of your decision at some point on this trip, but you hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

Heaving a sigh, you looked up at the clear sky above you, filtered through the tall trees. You took a moment to collect yourself in this great big no man’s land, where you could finally let yourself slow down for a minute, and breathe.

You raised the volume in your Airpods when a particular song came through.

“All of her days have gone soft and cloudy. All of her dreams have gone dry,” crooned the soft melody. You nodded to the rhythm of the mellow notes, but all the while, you tried to blink through the sting of tears.

“All of her nights have gone sad and shady. She's getting ready to fly…”

You rubbed your left hand, where you still had the tan line of the ring you used to wear.

“It’s really okay, sweetie,” Mary tried to console you, rubbing her hand between your shoulders.

After the hike, you all had returned to camp and sat down to brunch. It was an amazing spread, with waffles and muffins and Danishes, eggs done three different ways, toast with jam, assorted sandwiches, coffee and orange juice (and sparkling wine for the adults).

But even with a huge plate of appetizing food in front of you, you were sulking a bit. You had your face covered by your hands as you rested your elbows on the table.

“One of my only goals on this trip was to ride a damn horse, and I couldn’t even do that,” you said.

Sunny Barnes and her husband Buck were the heads and hosts of this whole trip. And after the hike, their son, Cormack, had tried to help you onto the nice chestnut mare the handler had brought out of the stable for you. But your entire body had locked up in fear at the prospect of being vaulted onto the horse.

In fairness, she was huge. And you were both afraid of heights, and animals that could buck you off its back and trample you.

You hadn’t been able to speak. You just shook your head vigorously every time Cormack asked you if you were okay.

So he’d graciously patted your back and gave the mare to Emily instead.

“I’ve never been able to ride a horse either,” Avery offered in commiseration. You lowered your hands and gave him a wan smile.

Emily was carving an apple with an impressive (and somewhat scary) looking pocketknife. She shrugged.

“It’s not so hard,” she said. But, perhaps realizing how she sounded, she looked up and gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry. I mean, I’m sure you’ll get it! It’s hard in the beginning, but once you get used to it, it’s like riding a bike.”

Right. A bike with hooves, you thought, ripping a piece of bread from your egg and cheese sandwich.

Mary bumped your shoulder with a teasing smile. “You just got showed up by a high schooler. Again.”

You pursed your lips in amusement. You tossed the piece of bread. It hit her dead between the eyes. You giggled at the way she jumped with a start.

“Real mature,” she shot back.

“Yeah,” you replied, taking a giant bite of your sandwich for good measure. “I learned from you.”

Even Emily snickered, making Mary roll her eyes in amusement.

Shortly after, Avery and his stepdaughter were finished with brunch and got up to get back to their tents.

You glanced over and noticed that Emily had left her knife on the table, now closed in its sheath.

Sheriff Beau Arlen may have still been relatively new in town, but he considered himself a consummate professional.

He’d agreed to accompany Cassie, the local private investigator (and his friend), up to this mountain pass to look for a missing backpacker. Questioning Buck and Sunny Barnes and their crew was just good old-fashioned, thorough police work.

But if it also gave Beau a chance to check on his daughter up here “glamping” with her half-baked stepfather, then he couldn’t pass up on that opportunity, now could he?

After talking to Buck and Sunny, who hadn’t seen hide or hair of the backpacker, Beau let Cassie take care of questioning Cormack Barnes while Beau found his daughter outside her tent. After giving her a big hug and inspecting her “tent” (Really? he thought. Looks more like a hotel room than a tent.), he asked her how her trip was going so far.

“Good, Dad. But you really didn’t have to come all the way out here just to check up on me,” Emily said. She was amused, but no longer surprised to see him.

“No, no, no. I didn’t, okay?” Beau refuted. Though at the look on her face, he knew he wasn’t fooling her. She was a sharp kid. “All right, maybe not the only reason. We had to talk to Sunny about a missing backpacker. It’s something Cassie’s investigating.”

Emily’s amusement faded into surprise, and then concern.

“Wait, what?” she said.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. Just, you know…parents probably didn’t get the memo that ‘off-the-grid’ was part of the deal,” he said, giving her a meaningful raise of his brows. Maybe his daughter didn’t have to screen so many of his calls while she was on this trip.

“Overprotective parents, huh?” Emily dryly remarked.

“The worst,” Beau agreed, shaking his head.

But he smiled. Just seeing her made his whole week better…and it alleviated some of the hurt in his heart. Not getting to be with her on a trip like this stung. And knowing Avery was the one who got to be there for her grated on him.

Beau was already missing too much of his daughter’s life, and he still wasn’t too sure on how to deal with that.

Speak of the devil, he thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Avery approaching. Beau forced himself to look as close to pleasant as he could get around his ex-wife’s husband.

While Mary went back to the tent to freshen up, you grabbed Emily’s pocketknife and went to look for her so you could return it. It had a wood-carved hilt and had her initials, E. A., engraved on the side. The knife looked special, not the kind of thing you wanted to lose.

You found her outside her tent with her stepfather, and a man you didn’t know. He had broad shoulders and short brown hair that swept above his brow. When he turned to look at you, the first thing you noticed was the cut of his bearded chin, and then the green of his eyes.

You didn’t realize it, but your insides stilled, just for a moment. Then you remembered to smile.

Avery looked a bit tense, as did the newcomer. You sensed you were interrupting a tete-a-tete. 

“Uh, hi. I’m sorry,” you said, and extended the sheathed knife toward Emily. “Just wanted to get this back to you. You left it at the table.”

“Oh! Thanks,” Emily said gratefully.

“Well, hi there,” said the new guy. He was tall, you noted, wearing a beige jacket over a buttoned-down shirt, some jeans, and boots. It was a casual look, but all worked very well for him…in a rugged cowboy sense.

“This is my dad,” Emily supplied.

“Sheriff Beau Arlen, ma’am,” he said, giving you a more friendly smile that you matched in kind when you shook his hand. You also gave him your name to go along with it.

“You here for a little belated vacation, Sheriff?” you added.

“No. Matter of fact, I’m here on police business,” he replied. That concerned you, but he was quick to wave a dismissive hand. “Everything’s okay here. Just checking on a missing backpacker. But it looks like we’ll have to continue our search for him elsewhere.”

You hummed at that in concern. “Well, I hope you find him.”

“I do too,” he agreed with a nod.

Then, Emily took the slight pause in the conversation as her chance to escape.

“Okay, Dad, well, we’re gonna go hike down to the lake,” she said, gesturing at Avery. “But as you can see, I’m fine. We’re fine.”

Beau’s smile became a bit tight, but he nodded in understanding. He gave her a big hug, and you could see he was reluctant to let her go. Avery stood behind them. He held tension in his shoulders. You felt a bit awkward yourself, being in the midst of what was clearly an uneasy family dynamic.

Beau released his daughter. After she took off with Avery following close behind, Beau turned to you next. You tried not to blush at the sight of his handsome face.

“Sorry, again,” you said, raising a placating hand. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

His lips twitched upward, and he shook his head. “You’re fine. Though you don’t look like a local. You from outta town?”

I could say the same thing about you, cowboy, you thought. There was a slight southern drawl in his voice that sounded like Alabama. Maybe Texas?

“You got me,” you nodded. “I’m from Chicago originally, but…I’ve actually just moved here to Helena.”

“Ahh, a city girl,” he remarked. “Small world. I just got here a few months ago myself. Houston, Texas.”

Your smile brightened. Right on the money.

“Yeah, I figured,” you couldn’t help teasing him a little. His grin kicked up in the corner.

“How’re the mountains and fresh air treating you then?” he asked. “Better than that blanket a’ smog in Chicago.”

“We do not have smog…or, well, not that much,” you laughed, “but yes, I’m actually really liking it here so far. I mean, I just got here about a week ago. I’m still learning. Though Emily actually tried to help me ride a horse today.”

“Yeah?” His brows raised. “How’d that go?”

You had to laugh. A kind of self-deprecating laugh that had you half-covering your face to stem off your blush.

“Not well,” you admitted.

Beau ducked his head with a smile. He met your eyes in amusement, but not without kindness.

“Well, here’s a tip for ya,” he said. He planted his feet, held his hands up into lightly clenched fists. “The trick is in the legs. Grip tight, but not too tight. He’ll think you’re rarin’ to go.”

You blinked a bit wider. Was that just honest advice…or was he sort of flirting with you?

It made you blush in earnest.

“Ah. Good to know,” you said with a laugh. He treated you with a tip of his imaginary hat.

“Hey,” someone called out.

Both of your heads turned to a tall black woman with long curly hair. She gave you a polite smile before she nodded up at Beau.

“You ready to go?” she asked.

“Ah, yep,” Beau nodded. He gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry, gotta get back to the station.”

“Oh, of course,” you said. But you held up a finger. “Wait, just a sec.”

You hastened back over to the table of confections from brunch and offered them a chocolate chip muffin each for the road. Cassie politely declined, but Beau gladly took his.

“Although, are you trying to stereotype me or somethin’?” he teased.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but after a moment, it hit you. You’d just given a cop a baked good.  

“At least it wasn’t a donut,” you quipped, despite your embarrassment. Beau still looked bemused, but he let you off the hook.

“That’s okay. I’ve never been known to turn down free food,” he assured.

“He really doesn’t,” Cassie confirmed. You noticed how she was waiting, arms crossed.

“Well, there you go! Sorry for keeping you,” you said.

“Not at all, darlin’,” said Beau. His smile had a charming gleam. “Nice to meet you.”

You quirked a smile back. “Wow, you are from Texas.”

You didn’t think you’d ever been called darlin’ in your life.

Beau’s good humor shifted into slight embarrassment himself.

“Sorry. I’ve been told to stop doing that,” he said. When he chuckled, you did along with him. You weren’t offended by it, just surprised by the old-fashioned endearment.

“It’s okay,” you said. “Nice to meet you too, Sheriff.”

You raised a hand in goodbye, and Beau returned it, watching you go. Meanwhile, Cassie watched him with a small smirk. He stepped down from the short platform in front of Emily’s tent to meet her.

“Were you just checking out Glamper Girl? In front of your daughter, no less,” Cassie remarked.

Beau shot her a look of denial. “I did no such thing. I’m a professional. And a gentleman, mind you.”

Cassie rose a brow at him. It stirred up a bit of his defensiveness. 

“But, I’ll have you know that Em had already moved on when I had a friendly conversation with the glamper,” he said.

Cassie rolled her eyes. Right.

That afternoon, you decided to bring your sketchpad and your modest collection of paints to the lake. You sat on the bank and tried to paint, while Mary joined the others in swimming.

“That looks nice,” Emily’s voice startled you from behind.

You twisted to look at her, and she gave you an apologetic look. She was dressed to go for a swim in a one-piece bathing suit and some shorts. She seemed more of a conservative dresser than typical high school girls her age. Maybe that had something to do with a policeman being her father, or maybe that was just her personality.

“Sorry,” she said, raising her hands.

“It’s okay.” You waved it off and gestured for her to sit beside you if she wanted. She did so, admiring your work over your shoulder. You felt a little embarrassed by it, but you didn’t mind her watching you try to paint ripples of light on the water.

“Are you an artist?” she asked.

You shot her a smile. “You’re very sweet, but no. I just started this year.”

You’d just Googled some therapeutic techniques instead of, you know, going to therapy. You just knew that if you did, your aunt would probably tell your parents, who would never let you hear the end of it. Specifically, why it was a waste of time. Your father especially would have something to say.

But one of the sources you found suggested trying out some creative outlets to calm the mind and think productively, but not create more stress for yourself. You’d tried a few different things, but landed on painting. It was working for you so far, even if you didn’t think you were that good.

“How do you like Montana so far?” you asked your companion. “Your dad told me you guys just moved here too, a few months ago.”

“Yeah, when my mom got remarried, my dad moved to stay close to me,” Emily explained.

Your brows raised. Your painting hand paused with the brush near the page.

“Well, that’s a good father,” you said. You smiled at the thought of Beau Arlen. The way he hugged his daughter before, like she was his entire world, and the fact that he’d moved entire states just to stay with her, told you a great deal about the town’s new sheriff.

Emily nodded, but her lips were pressed. “He’s a bit overprotective.”

“Well, he is a cop,” You said, smiling. “I assume that’s just part of the package.”

“I get that,” she said. “It’s just…a bit much sometimes.”

You gave her a sympathetic look. “I understand. My dad can be like that too. He’s got his soft moments, but he can be a real tough nut too… He’s a retired fireman.”

“Wow, that’s cool,” Emily said. She looked impressed. “Did you ever want to be a firefighter?”

You chuckled. “No, and he never wanted me to. It just wasn’t my beat, anyway.”

In the many years before your father had risen in the ranks to firehouse chief, your mother had often worried about him when he was on shift. Being a firefighter in inner-city Chicago had brought some hard and dangerous calls.

But you had always been more bookish, and both your parents were grateful for that.

You sighed. Your paintbrush made a stroke of deep green on the page, creating darker shades in the bottom of the lake.

“I did end up dating one though. Almost married him too,” you muttered, before you could stop yourself. You forgot you were talking to an insatiably curious girl.

“Really? What happened?” she asked. You looked over at her, and she was staring at you with her full attention. You remembered then that her podcast was supposed to be about relationships, but you had no desire to be a subject.

“It didn’t work out,” you said at last, and with difficulty.

“Why?” Emily asked.

Your internal struggle kept you quiet. It gave time for Emily to really see the withdrawn, almost pained look on your face, the slight hunch of your shoulders. She deflated guiltily.

“Uh, sorry,” she said.

You offered a small smile. “It’s okay, honey.”

“I’ll uh, just let you get back to painting,” she said. You waved her goodbye after she got up and left, giving you one last look before she joined her stepfather in the lake.

You let out a deep breath. The teen was tenacious, and naturally curious. That in itself wasn’t such a bad thing. But as you watched her splash at Avery, laughing that weightless laugh that kids got to have, you realized how much you missed being that young and free in your heart.

Again, out of habit, you set down your brush and rubbed at your empty left ring finger.

Mary finally joined you back in your shared tent after a long night of socializing by the fire. You had kept to the tent, reading Much Ado About Nothing for one of your classes that would start in the fall. It wasn’t your first time reading the Shakespeare play, by any means, but you did want to brush up on it.

“You know, you’re actually supposed to be vacationing on this vacation,” Mary pointed out. She started changing into her pajamas for bed. You were already cozy in one of your old college hoodies and some shorts, not to mention snuggled under the warm blankets.

“I am,” you said defensively. “I hiked, I painted, I ate no less than one burger, a basket of fries, and three smores, and now I’m reading.”

“Yeah, for school,” she pointed out. “I may not be as smart as you, but I know homework when I see it.”

You shot her a smile. “You’re plenty smart, M.”

She snorted and slipped into bed beside you. It felt like the sleepovers you two used to have in college, years ago, when she’d come to crash in your dorm, or you in hers. She’d been a philosophy major (despite not giving two shits about Socrates), forced to attend college by her parents. You were an English major, working three part-time jobs just to get you through until graduation.

“Hey,” she said, laying a hand on your shoulder. You turned to her in question. She seemed more serious than usual.

“I’m worried about you,” she said. “And I’m not the only one.”

You sighed. Lowering your book, you leaned back against your pillows and stared up at the tent’s fairy lights.

“I know,” you replied. “But you don’t need to be.”

“Yeah you keep saying that, but you know the real reason I’m here, right?” Mary asked. Her insistent hand on your arm made you meet her eyes.

“You don’t have to do this," she said. "You don’t have to move out here and leave everything behind. You should just come home with me. Your parents, our friends—everyone wants to be there for you, like we have all year.”

Your lips pursed, and you shook your head.

“I’m not going to change my mind. So if that’s really why you’re here, and not to just spend some time with me, as my friend, then you should just go home,” you said. “I’ll leave here and go to my aunt’s house. I’m sure your parents can negotiate some kind of refund.”

Mary got angry and huffy, just like you thought she would. You weren’t playing around though. This was your life, and your decision.

If your friends and your family couldn’t be happy for you, or at least understanding, then they could at least respect you. You just weren’t sure when they’d get the hint that this was real.

You were moving to Montana, permanently.

On the drive back into town from the camping site, Beau ate his chocolate chip muffin and tried his best to listen to Cassie—to her theories on where the backpacker might’ve gone, and how best to tell the parents to keep her on this investigation.

A good part of him was still thinking about his daughter, wishing he could be there with her right now. 

And maybe, his mind occasionally wandered…thinking about the pretty shade of your eyes when you smiled at him.

AN: And there we have it, Part 1 of a new series! If you liked it, please let me know! 🥰

And a special Happy Birthday to @jackles010378! 💖 I was going to say we're both Aries (mine is next month) but forgot Pisces comes first lol. ♓

Next Time:

The trees were tall and dark now. The moon was filtering through them like the sun had during other day hikes, but it was much more ominous at night.

“Shit,” you muttered. You gripped your flashlight in worry as panic started to well up in your chest.

Now you were lost.

You jumped with a start when the hoot of a bird passed by overhead.

Shiiiit. This was very bad.

You kept moving forward on what you thought was the trail. That was all you could do, keep moving forward. You made a few turns around some trees, occasionally calling out for Sunny, or Mary, or anyone to hear you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 2

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[silva-vinandi]

Verse Summaries

My energy to write replies is kinda out in the pasture right now so I’m gonna write up some ideas that I’d like to try in the future instead and hope that sparks a little something in me lol If anyone’s interested in trying out one of the following, feel free to send in “Verse” + the name of the AU you want to write!

Talyn:

The Prince of Avernus (Main Verse) - With blood touched by two different beings (one being Azkin, and the other being Zariel) Talyn finds himself in the middle of a clash between the Lord of the First Layer of Hell, and a Demon Lord who seeks to invade the Nine Hells, starting with Avernus. He learns from Azkin that he intends to turn Talyn into a living weapon, designed to rival the ferocity and strength of Zariel herself. Finding a cure for his curse has never been more important.

Demonic Tendencies (Bad End AU) - The corruption coursing through Talyn’s body shows no sign of stopping or slowing. Talyn lives in constant pain as he tries to fight it, but ultimately runs out of time as the darkness changes him. Talyn has been dead or a week, however suddenly those closest to him find his grave disturbed, and body missing. Shortly after, reports of violent deaths come flooding in, and few survivors have described a man with eyes black as night and skin of ash tearing innocents to shreds. Talyn, Son of Azkin, has been reborn with only vague memories of who he was before, and an endless thirst for blood.

Melody:

Starstruck (Main Verse) - Finding herself thrown into motherhood, Melody retired from a life of adventuring and danger, and now resides in a sub-portion of the Amanodel Estate with her daughter Vylria. The Estate also houses the family of Vylria’s deceased father, Cyrus; consisting of a family of Wood Elves. All said and done, Melody seems happy, however even in her quiet life, her past still tries to haunt her in the form of a mysterious tiefling man with her name on a bullet and a past forgotten.

Far Away (Bad End AU) (tw miscarriage mention) - The tragedy of Melody’s life did not end with the loss of her love, Cyrus. Retiring after suffering injury and stress led quickly into a miscarriage, leaving Melody with nothing but a broken heart. Now, after hearing of the loss of most of her friends, she has never felt so alone. Wandering the realm, she seeks only one thing: A way to bring Cyrus, and perhaps the rest of her friends, back from the dead. However, old enemies seek to finish what they started. A new breed of darkness threatens the mainland from Stonewall, and Melody is one of the few who knows anything about it. It’s a race to find where she has gone before these creatures from the void destroy the world.

Kadyn:

Healing Hands (Main Verse, ft. @unsungxheroes) - Kadyn was among one of the many forces sent to Stonewall upon request for reinforcements. He met up with a team of misfits and witnessed their destruction at the hands of beings of the Void. He narrowly survived thanks to the aid of a Star Elf, and made his way back to the mainland to warn those who would hear him. So when he reunites with a past lover who runs part of a traveling bath house, he takes the opportunity to travel with them in hopes of meeting notable figures and spreading word and warning of the dangers to come.

The Doctor Is In (Modern/Zombie Apocalypse AU) - Kadyn has built himself a busy life of caring for people in the local city hospital. He is well respected for his steady hand in surgeries as well as his vast knowledge of alchemy. However, when word of a new disease taking the world by storm reaches him, he devotes himself entirely to building a vaccine. Now, with the world falling apart and the dead roaming the streets, the Evergreen Hospital is the only safe haven for refugees.

Amera:

Seeker of Stars (Main Verse) - Seeking to follow in her father’s footsteps, Amera has devoted her life to traveling the world, making a name for herself, but also seeking to earn funds to help her father’s recovery from a crippling wound that forced him to retire. She’s a kind, if not intimidating soul, and despite her Oath, seeks to aid those who cannot help themselves, and protect them. She has become a paragon of Justice, Law, and Mercy. So when a cult called the Wanderers begins to rise, she takes on the duty of finding these escaped souls to send them back to the Realmspace Crystal Sphere where they belong. (This AU is a wip and may be adjusted in the future)

Kairo:

Beast Soul (Main Verse, ft. @nomadiisms) - Kairo was born into what constitutes as a Noble family of Drow, entering a family of himself, his parents, and his older sister Nizana. Growing up, he was taught good posture, good manners, and was decently educated. However try as they may, his parents never could quench his thirst for mystery and adventure. After reaching adulthood, Kairo decided to explore the outer reaches of his home, and found himself captured and brought to an arena for the amusement of others. During his time there, he spoke out against Myza and as punishment, he lost his voice via a severe throat injury, and was given to a group of mages intent on using him as an experiment to create a soldier of extreme strength and fury. Kairo has since lost a sense of who he was before, and instead is a stoic beast of a man with few social skills, trying to learn how to feel normal again.

[bratkook]

right now. (m) jjk.

not yet, almost , right now

pairing. jungkook x reader genre. fluff, smut, idiots to lovers!! word count. 14.8k warnings. two mega fucking idiots<33, miscommunication/dumb assumptions, smut in forms of: fingering, oral sex (f.), orgasm denial, spanking, some spit bc duh, unprotected sex, super sweet & lovey!! also jungkook is a sweetheart pls love him summary. coming to terms with your feelings after getting off to the idea of your close friend is a little harder than you thought, but how long can you take before jungkook decides its time to move on? note. did jlin forget how to write for a few weeks? yes, yes she did....i know this took a long time but life is rough man so forgive me... but anyways lol the final part to the not yet!verse is hereeeee! thank you to @kithtaehyung​ for reading this over for me ily!! thank you guys for enjoying this mini series, the response was really unexpected but im sososo happy over every comment/ask i’ve gotten for this story. once again, tysm for your love and let me know what you think<3

The evening sun illuminates Jungkook’s apartment, golden hour bouncing off every reflective surface and straight into his eyes the second he walks in, immediately squinting as he makes a beeline to shut the blinds. His head was already throbbing from the hangover that decided to peak around noon, a mean case of nausea putting a damper on his work day. So as much as he loved soaking in some vitamin D today was not the day. 

“Are you joking?” he huffs as he brings down the blinds, hand yanking at the flimsy string in an attempt to get it unstuck. “How stup—you’d think with the amount I pay every month in rent the blinds would work!” 

Alright, so maybe he was a little grumpy today, choosing to take it out on an inanimate object and blame it purely on the bad decisions made last night—definitely had nothing to do with the residual moping of you going on a date. This could be fixed, easily. 

The first order of business? Texting you to see if you’d be interested in devouring greasy food from your favorite place down the street. He’d get to see you and finally put something in his stomach, it’s the best of both worlds really. 

Jungkook forgets about the blinds, leaving them stuck in the awkward position as he walks away entirely, fishing his phone out of his pocket while he enters his room. It’s the same text he always sends when he’s hangry: If I don’t get food in the next 15 mins I'm burning this place down and taking you with me. 

He knows the response he’ll get, either that meme of the child in front of a burning house or an equally hangry paragraph. The phone gets tossed onto his bed as he changes out of his work clothes, needing to dispose of the business casual attire that was suffocating him, his old college hoodie giving him the comfort he needs. 

By the time he’s finally slipping on his sneakers he’s expecting you to come knocking on his door, your impatient attitude always putting a smile on his face. Half of the time your neighbors thought you were having arguments from the way you’d pound onto the slab of wood, saying his name with just enough annoyance laced into each syllable it would fool anyone into thinking you were actually upset instead of being a brat. But when that never comes, he reaches for his phone again. 

A few notifications fill up his screen, some instagram direct message previews, his group chat that he never responded to, and a few emails coming through, but you had yet to respond. Maybe it’s a little creepy, but Jungkook knows you’re home because he passed by your parked car on his way in. So his mind jumps to two extremes: you were either face down, drowning in your bathtub, or that yellow shades wearing wannabe version of himself was at your place. 

Not an ounce of shame sits within him as he speedwalks to the side his bed was on, placing both palms onto the wall before his ear was pressed against the cold drywall. Jungkook’s not really sure what would make him feel good, hearing you and Jung Hoseok together, or hearing nothing at all. His ears strain to hear anything, but the only sound he gets is his own blood pumping. 

With a small pout he pulls back, deciding he’d play the annoying neighbor role today and pound on your door instead. It’s a role he doesn’t take lightly, knuckles banging on the wood loud enough for you to hear wherever you were in your apartment. It takes a few minutes before any sign of life is shown, your door creaking open, and Jungkook is thankful because he was about to head to the maintenance office to ask for a key in case you actually were drowning in your bathtub. 

“C’mon, let’s get food,” he declares instantly, a charming smile on his face as he stands with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. The smile slowly falls off when he gets a good look at you, hair looking like a mess on your head and your fluffy blanket draped around you as you give out a weak cough. “Are you sick?”

“I think so,” you rasp out, leaning against your door frame and tugging the blanket tighter around you. 

“Did that fucker give you mono?” Jungkook looks irritated, brows pinched together in a grimace—something you’re definitely not accustomed to seeing so you almost don’t catch his accusation.

“Jungkook, no! It’s nothing serious.”

He doesn’t look fully convinced, but he shrugs anyways, positive you weren’t interested in getting interrogated when you were feeling under the weather. “Alright, let me know if you need me to drive you to the doctor if it becomes something serious.”

With a roll of your eyes and a small smile, you wave him off, slowly shutting the door behind you. Your eye immediately peeks through your peephole, not relaxing until he makes his way down the hall and enters the elevator, still on his quest for greasy food. 

“God, how old are you?” you grumble to yourself, yanking the blanket off your body and onto the floor with a huff. Pretending to be sick to avoid your friend was a new low, especially after the post-orgasm epiphany you had last night. A sane person would come to terms with their feelings and confess to them, uncertainty and possible rejection be damned! But you? No, you have to fake a cold like the giant coward you are. 

The guilt only deepens when a knock comes from your door an hour later, a quick peek through your peephole allowing you to see Jungkook setting two plastic bags on the floor before stepping back and walking to his apartment next door. You don’t come out until you hear his door shut, seeing the logo of your favorite diner down the street. No doubt would your comfort meal be inside the takeaway container. 

It takes all you have to not rush over to his place and say you were lying when you see he had also gone ahead and got you cold medication, a few different bottles because he surely didn’t know which was best, along with teas and some cough drops. 

You’re a dirty liar. A horrible friend too. 

That doesn’t stop you from devouring the meal in the takeout box as you’re hunched over your breakfast bar like a little gremlin. “This is just for today,” you mumble out to yourself as you set the plastic fork down and chug some of the leftover alcohol you had in your fridge. It’s your own version of a pity party, except the food feels heavy in your stomach, knowing the man you were avoiding was the one who bought it—bring on the guilt. 

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

You’re a dirty liar and horrible friend 2.0. Why this time? Because tomorrow stretched out a few more days than planned. It wasn’t entirely intentional at first, getting stuck at work longer than usual and missing the weekly hangout at your place where you got your remote covered in cheeto dust as you argued over what to watch. But it trickled down onto shorter replies to his texts, or you scrambling out of your apartment and into the elevator so fast in order to not run into him, your mind still trying to list all the pros and cons to this potential relationship before you even had the guts to confess to your feelings. 

Jungkook didn’t know thats what was occupying your mind, no he was currently thinking the worst. He notices the change instantly, recognizing it because this was the exact way you had acted while you were with Hajoon, right before you broke the news to him that you needed to keep some distance while you focused on your relationship. So Jungkook automatically assumes that your sudden change in behavior after going on a single date with Jung Hoseok, was because you wanted to make your relationship with this man work. 

His assumption stings—a lot actually—and soon enough he stops initiating conversations altogether. He didn’t want to hear you tell him you had to distance yourself again, he’s not sure his heart could handle that a second time, so he decides to get ahead of the curb and take a massive step away from you. It hurts him to know you’re right next door, and just like before, it’s like you’re back to being total strangers. 

Safe to say Jungkook was currently going on his own downward spiral. 

You could text him like nothing had happened and he’d accept it with open arms, but instead you text your best friend an SOS text, begging her to meet you at your place. She calls you dramatic at first, but once you say it’s about Jungkook she shows up at your place in record time. 

“Did you finally fuck him?” Is her greeting of choice, spoken shamelessly from the hallway with no worry about her volume. She cackles when you yank the bottle of wine from her grasp and tug her into your apartment, letting the door slam behind her. 

“You’re lucky he’s not home you bitch.” An eye roll is her only response, yanking the bottle back and making her way into your kitchen to grab the opener. 

“So you didn’t fuck him?” The cork pops at her question, a curious glance staring you down as she pours the red liquid into an oversized cup. 

“No Seulgi, I didn’t fuck him. But I did...something.” It makes your face warm up as you remember it, gratefully grabbing the cup she hands your way because you definitely need some liquid courage before confessing to your sins.

She hums in thought as she raids your pantry for something to munch on, settling on a bag of mini pretzels before leading you to your couch, needing to know the gossip that led to your sos text. “Okay, did you accidentally send him a nude then?”

“No, that wouldn’t be so bad I think?” Sending him an accidental nude would be laughable, probably resolved by a few screaming texts and dumb jokes before moving on. But new feelings seeing the light of day seemed so much worse. “But I sort of kissed him at a club a few weeks ago to get back at Hajoon—long story,” you cut in when you see her ready to fire off questions. 

“And then I went on that failed Tinder date I told you about, and when I got home I sort of heard him, you know,”— you mimic a jerking off motion with your hand and ignore her lewd gasp, “and then I…” you trail off shamefully. 

“No!” she gasps even louder, hand pressed to her mouth and eyes wide. 

“Yes! And the fucking orgasm opened my eyes and made me realize that maybe that tiny crush you guys always joke about him having is real, and maybe I have a tiny crush on him too.”

“Does he know?”

“That I like him?”

“No, that you rubbed one out while listening to him you dirty slut!” Oh she’s loving this, leaning back into your cushions with a handful of pretzels resting on her boobs, a sly smile on her lips as she takes a sip of her wine. She’s the one who planted the seed in your mind, playfully joking about Jungkook any chance she got, saying he had the hots for you because she enjoyed the flustered look on your face. No doubt would she text the group chat with the news the second you finish this cry for help. 

“Do you think I told him? I can barely come to terms with the fact that I like him. Like what am I supposed to do?”

She sighs dramatically, munching on the final pretzel on her tits before sitting up and dusting off the crumbs from her shirt. “Look, I know you’re just realizing that he likes you so this is still new and fresh for you, but we’ve noticed it for years. It’s fine that you didn’t see it, you had other things occupying your mind.” 

You frown as you stare at the rug beneath your feet, remembering how life was when you first moved into this complex. Getting out of a previous relationship weeks prior, when you had met Jungkook your mind was not interested in pursuing anything with him regardless of how cute you thought he was. It made it easier for you to form a friendship, not worried about trying to impress him, or flirt with him, allowing him to see you for who you truly are. 

Jungkook had his fair share of girlfriends during the years, none of which were entirely serious but by the time he was completely single you had met Hajoon, and he had accepted the fact that maybe you were better off as friends and he would just admire you from afar. That is, until you decided to plant one on him. So technically this is your fault. 

“Jungkook likes you okay, and I’m sure if you just marched next door and told him you like him too he’ll drop on one knee and marry you.”

“Shut up,” you snort, shoving her shoulder with a smile. 

“As a matter of fact, go over there right now!” She stands up from her spot, yanking your arms to haul you up with her. 

“I told you, he’s not home. But, I’ll tell him. I have to.”

Seulgi crosses her arms over her chest as she stares at you, clearly displeased that she wouldn’t be witness to this love story unfolding in real time. “You better. You never know what sneaky little bitch is trying to get him to get over you.”

The sneaky little bitch in question is Park Jimin, currently sitting directly across from Jungkook, guzzling down beer like his life depends on it. It's impressive really, how quickly he empties the cup, eyes shut looking as content as could be even in the dim lighting. Jungkook can only watch with a grimace as his friend sets the glass down and wipes at his mouth with no sense of table manners. 

“What?” he burps, proceeding to pour more of the golden liquid into his cup from the pitcher in the middle of the table. 

“I always forget how absolutely disgusting you are. How do you do it?” Jimin just frowns at the question, not entirely understanding so Jungkook continues. “What switch do you flip to go from sipping champagne to chugging beer like a fucking biker.”

“It’s a talent, I know.” He smiles wide, reaching forward to grip Jungkook’s hand and force him to grab his own cup. Condensation was pooling around the bottom from sitting there untouched, and that just wouldn’t do on Jimin’s watch. “C’mon, drink it!”

“Fine,” Jungkook grumbles, raising the glass and allowing Jimin to clank the cups together before taking a big gulp. He doesn’t clear the cup like his friend did seconds prior but it's enough to appease him. It tastes absolutely bitter the whole way down, settling into his stomach uncomfortably, and the look on his face as he pushes the glass away from him is very telling. 

Boisterous shouts fill the sports bar they were in, huddles of people surrounding the tables and booths as they watched the current soccer match playing on the televisions lining the walls. Jungkook honestly feels like a debby downer now, moping in his seat instead of enjoying the atmosphere with his friend like they normally did. The current game was definitely not the reason Jungkook had texted Jimin to grab drinks, no he needed an outlet to talk about you—preferably in a space that didn’t have walls as thin as his apartment.  

When he barely acknowledges the plate of wings set in front of him Jimin huffs, resisting the urge to dig in because he knew once he did he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else. “Are you gonna be like this the entire time?”

“Like what?” Jungkook has the gall to ask, acting as if he wasn’t looking like a wounded animal. 

“Like you just discovered your wife of ten years is having an affair with your sister.”

He sits up straighter at that, eyes wide in disbelief. “Jesus.“

Jimin knew the jist of what was happening through the texts he had received the past week, but it seems like Jungkook didn’t want to jump into the topic of it at all now that they were sitting across from each other. He just sighs before deciding to be honest, wasting no time beating around the bush to hopefully be the voice of reason Jungkook needs. “You’ve been simping over her for years JK, and I get it, you think she could be the one. But what about you huh? It’s not fair for you to have your heart wrung out each time she gets a man and decides to put the friendship on pause—“

“That happened once!” He defends, brows pinched on his forehead as he shakes his head, ready to explain your situation because he wasn’t a fan of hearing his friend say anything about you when he didn’t truly know what happened. “The dude was a piece of shit and basically told her it was him or me. I’m not gonna crucify her for wanting a long term relationship to work.”

“Right, so she’s not icing you out again because she got a new man? That’s literally what you told me, it’s why I bought you this sympathy pitcher of beer!”

“Fuck you, you bought this pitcher for yourself.” Jimin had chugged two giant glasses of beer already, and was steadily working on his third, whereas Jungkook’s watered down cup remained relatively untouched. “Besides, I was just...spiraling and assumed when I sent you that desperate text. But I haven’t heard anything.”

Jimin can only stare blankly at the table as he processes what was just said before locking eyes with his friend once more, “Sorry, what? You haven’t heard anything? The hell kind of riddle is that.”

Jungkook sinks into the booth with a look of shame, not wanting to admit to occasionally laying in his bed at night in complete and total silence just to see if he could hear you and the hypothetical version of Jung Hoseok doing literally anything. It’s not one of his proudest moments, feeling like a bit of a creeper as he laid stiff on his bed, too scared to make a sound.  “Nothing, forget about it. Point is, I haven’t seen the fucker come in or out of her place, so what does that mean?”

A deep sigh comes from Jimin, hand reaching forward to push the beer closer to Jungkook, desperately trying to get him to drink and ease up. “It means you pay far too much attention to her. When was the last time you got any action?”

Two weeks ago. From his hand and filthy imagination. 

“A few months,” he grumbles, remembering his last hook up that happened a few days before he discovered you got dumped. 

“Get outta here.” Jimin rolls his eyes as he points to the door. “Literally, go stand at the corner outside, show some thighs or a tattooed titty and take your pick of the swarm of girls that will surely follow you.”

Jungkook thinks he’s joking, but when his friend doesn’t drop his hand and narrows his eyes threateningly he knows he’s being serious. “My tits aren’t even tattooed,”—his large palms press against his shirt covered chest as if to prove a point— “And you sound like a douchebag talking like this.”

“What? She went on a tinder date and definitely got laid, so you need to even out the playing field. Also, it might help you chill the hell out.”

“Oh my god, you’re not helping.” Jungkook really didn’t need that visual again, it had flashed in his mind too often the night of his pity party and now it was once again at the front of his brain. 

“Alright, okay. I’m throwing out my safe word right now.” Jimin leans closer, arms resting on the table with a confused look on his face. “What do you need from me here? Like, do I play the role of a supportive friend who wants you to get over her, or do I play the role of a friend who wants you to confess? Because you’re giving me some mixed signals Jeon.”

A groan escapes Jungkook, fingers rubbing at his eyes before dragging down his face as he sinks even further into his seat. “I don’t know.” 

It’s the truth. Jungkook had no idea what he wanted his friend to do to help him. He knew that although his feelings for you have weighed heavy on his chest for what seems like years, you technically had no idea, so he feels a little guilty over his frustration for the whole situation. You were newly single again and determined to go through this self proclaimed wild phase so Jungkook isn’t dumb enough to think you can’t go out and do whatever you want, even if that means being with someone who isn’t him. 

“Look,” Jimin sighs, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You only have two choices here, tell her how you feel and accept whatever comes with it, or make peace with the idea of just being friends. Either way, I think you need to loosen up and have fun tonight.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jungkook sits himself up, wrapping his fingers around the cup in an effort to at least look like he wanted to be here. He couldn’t sit here and mope about a problem like this when he hadn’t attempted to come out and tell you how he feels. 

One night of loosening up to get you off his mind wouldn’t hurt, if anything it might help him come to his senses. At least that’s what Jimin was currently whispering with a mischievous smile on his lips. “It’ll be fine, I’ll make sure you don’t black out and get home safe. Who knows, you might get plastered enough to drunk text your confession.”

Jungkook glares at his friend, not liking the goofy look on his face as he starts to laugh. “I swear to god, you better not let me get to that point. Take my phone away from me.”

Jimin obviously wants to see the world burn, or at least he enjoys it when Jungkook somehow digs himself into his own grave. That's exactly why he responds with a million laughing emojis when Jungkook texts him asking why the hell he hadn’t taken his phone last night. 

He did a good job hiding his shock when a knock came from his front door, half expecting it to be you, keeping a smile on his face as he allowed  the person who was very clearly not you in before swiftly entering his bathroom. Jungkook wants to stay locked here forever, holed up while he sits on his toilet and not in the living room with company. It wasn’t like it was bad company either, his drunken ass going through his contact list and sending an invitation to hangout the following day to the last person he spoke to, Aillie. 

The girl is sweet, someone he had a casual fling with for months, someone who was used to his random texts so she doesn’t think twice before agreeing. The only silver lining to this was that he hadn’t sent you a typo-filled drunken confession, which is what Jimin responds with before telling him to suck it up and leave his bathroom. 

Jungkook accepts his fate, as well as accepting that he is partially responsible for this. He shoves his device back into his pockets before standing up and flushing the toilet for show, washing his hands just to stall. One good glance at his reflection makes him cringe, stained shirt and sweats combo leaves him looking like the unprepared mess he is. Another detour through his room to change was a must before he has no choice but to step back out. 

“You’re totally hung over aren’t you?” Aillie jokes from her spot on the couch, comfortable enough in his apartment from the time spent here. She locks her phone as she stands up, taking her time to really look Jungkook over. He was not dressed like someone who was expecting a guest, and despite having seen Jungkook at his sloppiest, his previous attire of oversized shirt and slightly stained sweatpants didn’t look like someone who was expecting a fuck buddy to pop over. Even with his new outfit looking more put together, it was obvious Jungkook was caught off guard by her showing up. 

“What?” Jungkook dumbly asks, trying to come up with some lame excuse to justify his earlier appearance but he falls short. His fingers gently rake through his hair, a grimace falling on his face as he looks back up at her. “Actually, a little. Sorry, I got drunk last night when I text you so sober me was not really prepared.”

“Yeah I figured, you sent me some blurry selfies right after. But we can just hang, we don’t have to do anything,” she trails off, a soft smile on her lips. The only time they ever hung out was to hook up, having ten minute conversations before and after the fact. “Or I can leave too if it's weird that I’m here.” 

Jungkook is shaking his head before she can even finish, already feeling bad enough after texting her to come over. How shitty would he be if he immediately kicked her out. This was fine, a nice distraction from it all, decent middle ground that would help him get his mind off you without having to take Jimin’s douchebag advice. 

“No, we can watch a movie or something. It’s not like I have other plans.” Had this been two weeks ago it would be a totally different story. Jungkook would typically be waiting in his apartment as he stared at the slowly ticking clock, just waiting for it to strike 7:30 because that's when you usually got home. Then he’d either get a text from you to come over with snacks or you’d show up at his door and invite yourself over for the weekly game night. 

It didn’t happen last week, or the week prior, so Jungkook is very confident that it would not be happening today either. It’s that same sense of confidence—and saltiness—that allows him to get comfortable with Aillie, blissfully unaware that you had just pulled into the parking garage a few stories below. 

“I swear to god if you don’t go straight to his door the minute you get off the elevator I will never let you live it down.” Seulgi’s voice fills your car through the speakers, fading out as you shut the car off and bring your phone to your ear to continue the conversation. 

“Dude, I just got off work. I need to make myself look decent.” Plastic bags rustle together as you grab the snacks you had picked up on your way home, all full of yours and Jungkook's favorite treats. It was definitely a guilt fueled purchase, hoping the items were enough to distract him from the fact that you were kind of a bitch for ghosting him recently, or at least butter him up into accepting your apology easier. 

“You think Jungkook cares if you’re a little sweaty from work? He’s a grown man, that’s not gonna stop him from going do—“

“Okay, goodbye!” You hastily cut her off as you press the elevator button, hearing her rambling off about being interrupted. “I’m about to get on the elevator, I’ll tell you how it goes.”

With a small sigh you hang up and stuff the device into your purse, stepping onto the lift as the doors open up and pressing the number for your floor. Your hands are clammy as you grip the plastic bag, uncharacteristically nervous about seeing Jungkook again after so long. 

The main obstacle for you to get over was apologizing for being a crappy friend, and if that went well you were going to suck it up and just come out and confess, the odds of him saying no were slim. And even if he did, you’re perfectly content with staying friends, as long as you could keep him close. 

It’s that same optimistic mentality that allows you to calm down as you enter your place and decide to give yourself a minute to mentally prepare. His favorite ice cream gets put into the freezer for later before you decide to shower and give yourself a pep talk the entire time. 

This pep talk of yours is filled with best case scenarios: Jungkook accepting the confession with open arms, finally being able to kiss him properly, everything falling into place the way it should have a long time ago. And as you head over, totally sober, freshly washed, looking and smelling your best, you really can’t picture this going any other way. 

With a deep breath you’re knocking on his front door, quickly pulling back your hand and wiping it onto your pants as you step back. Jungkook hears the knock clearly from his spot on the couch, his gaze tearing away from the television to stare at his front door with a small frown. He hadn’t ordered any food and Aillie had just excused herself to use his bathroom so his brain is having a hard time wondering who it could be. 

He curses under his breath, not putting it past himself to have texted a second person last night with an invitation to hang out. Why was Jungkook a friendly drunk?

As he presses his eye against the peephole and spots you standing there, he thinks he’s imagining things. It had seemed like so long since he had last seen you in person, and the warped fish-eyed version of you has him stepping back and rubbing his eyes before taking another glance. He suddenly feels like throwing up, and he can’t blame his earlier hangover on it. 

For a brief second he contemplates pretending he hadn’t heard you, but the guilt of doing so makes his heart twist, so he musters up the courage to open the door. It’s barely a crack really, just enough for you to see him while still concealing his apartment, something you definitely found strange because you’re usually flinging the door open and strutting right in, but you suppose his reaction is warranted considering your previous behavior. 

“Y/N, hey. Are you alright?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine!” Your fingers tangle together in front of you, not entirely sure what to do with your nerves and Jungkook spots it easily. His own nerves sky rocket when he hears the sound of running water coming from his bathroom a few feet away, knowing Aillie would most likely pop out any second now, and he’s not sure why it feels like a dirty secret that he has another girl over. 

“Did you need something?”

“Yeah, I was actually wanting to talk to you about something kind of important.” Your smile is hopeful, despite the nerves swirling in your eyes. The nervous skip of your heart is felt in your throat, not remembering the last time you had felt this way about telling someone how you felt about them romantically. 

“Right now?” he wonders, fingers gripping the door handle tighter when he hears his bathroom door unlock, the sound of footsteps rounding the corner before stepping into the living room, a few feet away from the door and in perfect view of the wedge Jungkook had opened. 

When your eyes flicker over his shoulder, spotting the auburn haired girl giving you a curious glance, you feel all your confidence slip away. Seulgi had definitely been right about needing to confess soon, Jungkook was a catch and just because you hadn’t realized it sooner didn’t mean the rest of the world was blind to it. 

“Yeah, right now...but you’re busy, so it’s fine!” You want to scramble away from there, feeling dumb the longer you stand there. Jungkook wants to say he’s not busy, kick the girl out of his place and invite you in but that wouldn’t be fair to her, for all he knew your important conversation would be a repeat of the conversation you had over Hajoon, and he really didn't want to get friendship dumped while this girl was in his apartment. He’s pretty sure his Yelp rating would drop a bit if he cried on the couch about you to his old hook up. 

He starts to speak but you cut him off before he can, “Don’t worry about it! I’ll see you later.” You force a smile before walking away, not allowing him to get a word in as you quickly step into your apartment and move to the furthest room away from your bedroom. 

You can feel the cold of your kitchen floor as you sit on your butt, back against your cabinets, the small twinge of defeat spreading within you. “This is fine. Maybe she’s just a friend. I can always tell him tomorrow,” you whisper out. But your fingers seem to think otherwise as they type out a message to Seulgi, informing her that the mission was unsuccessful and you’d be putting on The Notebook like you always did. It was basically protocol to do so when things went south in your life. 

She doesn’t even know how to console you, knowing she can’t tell you it was his loss or that he wasn’t worth it because she knows that’d be a lie and you wouldn’t believe it for a second. The only thing she can offer is coming over, but you’re quick to turn her down, deciding that being alone in the comfort of your bed as you inhaled the ice cream you bought for Jungkook would be best. 

Is being in your room the wisest choice when you know you share a wall with Jungkook—and he has a cute girl over? No. Probably not. But you figure if you hear anything explicit it’s just your dose of karma, so you accept it, turning up the volume of the movie a few levels just to soften the blow. 

However, Jungkook would definitely not be hooking up with her in his bedroom, or anywhere in his apartment for that matter. Luckily Aillie is blessed with the gift of reading the damn room and can easily spot the shift in Jungkook’s mood the second he shuts the door. She’s sitting on the edge of the couch now, hands gently placed on her knees as she gives him a sympathetic smile. 

“I get the vibe that somethings off.”

He looks up at her then, slowing his pace until he’s awkwardly standing in the middle of the room with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “My friend—my neighbor just wanted to talk about something. But everything’s fine.”

The lie tastes bitter on his tongue, and Aillie doesn’t believe him in the slightest. A small sigh fills the air as she stands up, collecting her bag and approaching him. “Look, I know deep talks really aren’t our thing so I’m not going to even try to dive into this, but you should go talk to your friend.”

A comforting hand is placed on his shoulder before she makes her way to the door to leave, Jungkook already following closely behind her. “No, you don’t have to go. You came all this way because I texted you with way too much tequila in my system.”

“Jungkook,” she laughs, opening the door with a smile. “You’re way too sweet for your own good. It was nice seeing you though.” Her eyes slowly move over to your front door before looking back at him, head cocking to the side in a very clear indication that he better go over. He can only nod in understanding, waving her goodbye and shutting the door once she heads down to the elevator. 

The action sounds of the movie they were watching continues to fill his apartment, whatever chaos was going on only making his brain whirl so he’s quick to grab the remote and shut it off entirely. Now he’s just stuck in complete silence, wondering if he should quickly make his way over to yours or play it calm and collected. 

The total silence allows him to hear the muffled mumbling of a movie he knew all too well. It draws him in, lures him into his bedroom until he’s kneeling on the mattress with his ear pressed against the wall to properly make it out. You were watching the Notebook, at a concerning volume, which could mean a number of things. Jungkook knew none of them were good, usually rooted in issues you had with your ex, or a tough day at work, or any particular day where you just felt like crying. 

With a deep breath, he’s slowly knocking along his wall, almost experimentally, hoping it's enough to grab your attention through the current scene playing. For a second he thinks maybe you’ve fallen asleep while watching the film, but then the room falls silent as you pause it entirely. 

Your hearts racing now, ears straining to hear anything else and hoping this wasn’t how the beginning of the explicit noises would start, but then another knock comes from behind you. It makes you gasp, like you’ve just been caught being the nosey neighbor you are, hearing the soft scrape of his hand sliding down the wall. The ice cream gets put onto your nightstand as you sit up properly, forcing yourself out of the mountain of pillows you were practically suffocating in and turning around to knock back.

Jungkook’s palm presses back onto the wall, smiling at your response before fishing his phone out of his pocket. His fingers find your thread of messages, further down the list than he was used to, and as he opens them up and sees the string of unanswered texts dating back to two weeks ago, it stings just like it did before. He pushes his pride aside though, knowing you had wanted to talk today in person, so he proceeds to quadruple text you. 

Jungkook 8:44pm : are you seriously watching the notebook again?

You’re unlocking your phone the second it buzzes, smiling at the dimly lit screen before typing out a response. 

Y/N 8:45pm : shut up, it’s my comfort movie

Y/N 8:45pm : do you wanna watch it with me? for old times sake

The device is locked and placed face down onto your sheets the second you hit send, sinking into the pillows once again as you try not to scream at yourself because you know he’ll hear you. Why would you invite him over when he clearly has company? You had seen her with your own eyes, had seen how cute she is, had seen how cute Jungkook is, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. 

Jungkook is quick though, texting back in agreement and heading over instantly. If you were watching your comfort movie then Jungkook wanted to make sure you were okay. Putting the past two weeks behind him, knowing you’d most likely have a good enough explanation—an explanation he would definitely be needing before the night was over—he’s knocking on your door before you can even check your messages. 

It takes you a minute to untangle your limbs from your covers as you hastily try to get to your door, sock clad feet sliding along your wooden floors when you finally yank the door open. Jungkook wears a soft smile as he stares down at you, taking note that you had switched your outfit to your usual sad movie binge attire of baggy shirt and lounge shorts. His eyes zero in on your lips when he notices there's something lingering at the corner of them. 

“So, are you gonna share whatever the hell that is?” His finger points at it smugly, laughing when your tongue peeks out to wipe it away. 

“It was actually meant to be for you.” Stepping aside, you let him enter your place. Jungkook almost feels a little strange being here after the weird few weeks, but he pushes it aside, just wanting things to feel normal. 

“Does that mean there’s no more left?” His eyes playfully narrow at you as you step closer, moving on to stare at the kitchen table, and the coffee table in search of the tub of ice cream that supposedly had his name on it. The earlier nerves you felt slowly fade away when you realize he’s not visibly upset about what happened, but it only makes your guilt deepen that despite your ability to be a crummy friend, Jungkook would still try his best to come through for you. 

“There’s about half of it left, it’s probably a little soft now though.” You side step him to enter the kitchen, grabbing an extra spoon and handing it over as a peace treaty, smiling when he gratefully accepts it. “C’mon, I paused the movie.”

Jungkook is not a stranger to your bedroom, especially when sappy movies were playing, finding his spot easily on the right side where he typically handed you tissues whenever you cried. The tissues were missing this time, in place of them being the bag of snacks you had bought, his ice cream on the other nightstand. 

“What part are you on?” he asks, settling onto the bed after fluffing up the pillows, waving his hands so you could pass the tub of ice cream his way. 

“It just started raining on the boat.” Jungkook hums, scooping out some of the chocolate ice cream and into his mouth. He knew this scene very well, and when you press play, he mentally repeats all of the lines. Just as Noah declares he wrote her 365 letters, you awkwardly clear your throat, your own spoon slowly sneaking over to his side to steal some ice cream for yourself. 

“I’m sorry if I made things awkward with your date.” Your voice sounds timid, something he’s not used to hearing from you at all, so he chuckles, laughing harder when you swat at his arm. “I’m serious, I should have texted you before just showing up.”

“Really? When have you ever done that before?” The two of you never notified the other when they wanted to show up, Jungkook had even given you the code to his place once when he was at work and you were desperate for some fruity pebbles—you used that code to your advantage and Jungkook never hated it. But all things considered, it's fair why you think you would have to give him a heads up. 

“You didn’t make it awkward though.” It’s not the complete truth, you coming over is what had made Aillie decide to leave, but Jungkook had to take most of the credit for it. “I kinda made it awkward from the beginning.”

“Why, what happened?”

“I went out last night with Jimin“ —you immediately hum in understanding, knowing very well how convincing Jimin could be with alcohol— “and apparently I texted her to hang out today, had no recollection, so when she showed up I was definitely not ready.”

“Damn, this is how I know you’re a better person than I am. If that happened to me, the second I checked my peephole and saw someone I didn’t remember inviting over, I’m gonna pretend I’m not home.”

“Yeah well, she lives like an hour away so I’d feel like an ass if I did that. Don’t think I’ll be talking to her again any time soon though.” He sighs in thought, gently tapping his spoon on the surface of the softening ice cream. There was one thing weighing heavy on his mind, needing to know what important thing you had to talk to him about, wondering if you were actually going to friendship dump him earlier and he had just made it worse by coming over and hanging out like old times. 

He doesn’t want to come right out and ask it though, not wanting to set himself up for an awkward conversation in case that wasn’t what you wanted to talk about, so he settles for something safe enough that would allow him to get a glimpse. 

“So how are things with Hoseok?” Yeah, that’s a good start. 

“Huh?” Your spoon freezes in its spot, face clearly looking confused in the dim glow of the television, the movie long forgotten now that you were speaking. 

“Tinder guy? Yellow sunglasses guy that gave you mono?” 

It suddenly clicks again, having forgotten all about Jung Hoseok the second you had gotten home from the failed date and came to terms with your feelings. Your lie of having a cold must have been believable enough for Jungkook to genuinely think he had given you something like mono. 

“He didn’t give me mono!” Jungkook rolls his eyes with a playful smile, humming along like he totally believes you. “But I didn’t tell you?”

He frowns as he stares at you, not entirely sure how to take your tone. “Tell me what? That you’re engaged and the wedding is in June?”

“No way,” you laugh, swatting his spoon away with a clank as you grab some ice cream before shoving it in your mouth, fighting against the brain freeze to continue speaking. “Our date was a bust.”

“How? Was it that bad?” He desperately wanted to know, having convinced himself the date had gone spectacularly well and you were now an exclusive item. The small twinge of guilt is felt when he realizes he’s a little too happy that the date had been a failure, but he allows himself to have this small, tiny victory. 

“Mm, it was so good it was bad.” He looks utterly confused, and you don’t blame him, so you elaborate. “He was this perfect gentleman who just wanted to play games, like to the point where he had a notebook where he was tallying our points, and then he walked me to my car and kissed my cheek goodbye.”

“Oh the horror!” Jungkook gasps, setting his spoon down to clutch his heart in dramatics. “How dare he try to romance you with a game night.”

“Jungkook, shut up!” you laugh, finally feeling like everything was right again, sitting in bed with your closest friend as you teased each other. “Look, I’ll give him some credit. The date was nice, he was not the sleazy douchebag his profile made him out to be, and I’m sure he’ll find the perfect girl for him on Tinder. But he clearly wanted something serious and—“

“And you don’t want that right now. It’s fair.” Of course you would turn him down, you had just decided to embark on this new adventure in the single world. It was kind of dumb for Jungkook to assume one date with Tinder Boy would be enough for you to give up your short lived dream. 

You take a steady breath at his words before taking another scoop of ice cream, lips wrapped around the spoon as you slowly pull it out of your mouth. The nerves are trickling back in, making your heart skip and your eyes bounce around. If you don’t come out and say it now, you know you never will. 

Your spoon joins his in the tub of ice cream before you decide to move it back to the nightstand, forcing yourself to look back at him, seeing him turned away as he rummages through the plastic bag full of snacks. “I don’t want that with him.”

Jungkook freezes, the rustling of plastic ceases as his hands come back to his sides and he turns back around. With him. He was the king of jumping to worse case scenarios so his brain has no issues coming to this very horrible conclusion. 

“Have you been talking to Hajoon again?”

“No, Jungkook I haven’t.”

“Are you sure? I’m saying this now, but if you get back with him I will not hesitate to pop him in the face if I run into him in the halls. It’s fair game out there, neutral territory for him to get his ass beat—“

“It’s you.”

His brain short circuits at that, mini versions of himself currently running around and screaming in his head as he tries to make sense of this. The first instinct he has is to crack a joke, to say that he hadn’t been talking to Hajoon again, and laugh it off. But you look a little too vulnerable right now, eyes nervously looking at him and then looking away at his lingering silence. 

“Wait, what?” It’s the only thing he can sputter out, caught off guard by your words, not wanting to say anything else in case the world was cruel enough for him to have completely misheard you. 

“I don’t want that with Tinder Boy or Hajoon, I want it with you.” It gets a little easier saying it a second time, but his reaction is hard to gauge. You had been expecting him to reciprocate the confession instantly, but the longer he looked shocked only made you think that you and Seulgi had been seriously wrong about his supposed crush. 

Jungkook is having a difficult time trying to go from you ghosting him to you suddenly admitting to liking him, the change in emotions not allowing him to say anything he had practiced in the mirror for so long. He can’t come out and give you a speech about how he thinks you’re the one, how you’re obviously a good match together, brain too focused on other details. “How long have you known this?”

“For the past two weeks, but deep down I know it’s been longer.”

His wide eyes glance over at you now, everything slowly clicking into place. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“Yes,” you mumble, embarrassed over the way you had acted. The last time you had avoided someone was in elementary school, having a best friend go ask your crush if he likes you while you hid in the bathroom, scared of the answer. “I like you Jungkook and I knew I wouldn’t be able to play it cool. I was scared to say something and have you not feel the same and then have our friendship be weird.”

Jungkook smiles in that adorable way you love, nose scrunching up cutely as he leans closer, large palms coming to cup your cheeks. He has wanted to hear this for so long, and sure, maybe it wasn’t some super romantic confession over a candlelit dinner like he had occasionally dreamed of, but this felt right. 

“You’re so stupid,” he whispers out, thumb softly caressing your cheek as he chuckles, feeling the way your lips turn into a frown at his harmless insult. 

“Jungkook, I’m being serious,” you whine, heart still pounding in your chest. Your hands come up to gently wrap around his wrists, allowing him to continue to squish your cheeks with that endearing look on his face. 

“I’m being serious too Y/N. Did you really think I wouldn’t feel the same?” Jungkook did everything he did with you out of pure friendliness, never expecting to get something in return from it, but there was a small sprinkling of a crush in every one of his actions. “I like you too, and I have for a really long time.”

The relief you feel comes instantly, lips slowly pulling into a smile when you finally have the confidence to look directly into his eyes again. If this is how light you feel after the two weeks spent freaking out, you can only imagine how Jungkook feels. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Now, can I please kiss you?” You’re nodding the second the question leaves his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as his hands glide down to cup your jaw, soft lips slowly pressing against yours. It’s a gentle smack of skin as he pulls back, a smirk on his lips when he opens his eyes, softly rubbing his nose against yours. 

“Wait,” he breathes out, chuckling softly. “Is he still looking?” He has the nerve to repeat the same question that had been the root of your guilt, and when your eyes shoot open and glare at him, he can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out. 

“I hate you,” you mutter out, not an ounce of truth behind it. 

“Mm, no you don’t.” 

His lips find yours again, falling into a steady rhythm, softer and less rushed than the first kiss you had shared at the club. There’s no pounding bass in the background, or the taste of liquor on your lips, but Jungkook prefers it this way. He likes the low hum of the movie continuing to play in the background, the sweetness of the ice cream lingering on your lips when his tongue gently swipes at the seam of them, the way your hands slowly slide around his neck as he deepens each kiss. 

With each shared breath, you slide further down your bed, pulling Jungkook down with you until he’s hovering directly above you. His knees dig into the sheets, one hand pressed beside your head to keep himself stable as you urge him even closer to you. The delicate golden chain he wears kisses your skin, pendant settling onto your chest, the cool sensation is almost enough to distract you as his tongue slowly slips into your mouth. Jungkook groans when you let out a small gasp, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging gently at the strands by the nape of his neck. 

He wants to remember this kiss instead of the one from the club, embed every gasp you let out into his brain, the way your chest pushes up to feel more of him, how your hands slide down his back, leaving a fiery trail in their path that makes Jungkook shiver. And when you slide your thighs further apart for him, innocently at first, he can’t help it when his lips freeze on yours as you slowly roll your hips upwards. It gives him the same automatic reaction he had gotten at the club, all the blood rushing to his cock instantly, except this time he doesn’t feel the shame he had felt before. There was no ulterior motive to what you were doing, sincerity shown in your confession, shared within each kiss, so Jungkook allows himself to bask in the want he feels for you.

“Y/N,” he groans out when you repeat the action, pulling away from your swollen lips to stare at you through hooded eyes. You’re licking your lips over as your eyes slowly open, a small glimmer evident in them as you tilt your head and pretend to not know what you’re doing.

“What?” you question, leaning up to kiss the edge of his mouth, giggling when he attempts to chase your lips as you pull back, choosing to kiss down his jaw instead. As your tongue gently trails along the side of his neck, you feel the harsh gulp he takes, his fingers bunching up in the sheets beside your head. His neck has always been a weak point for him, turning him into a puddle in seconds, you knew this from the unfiltered conversations you’ve had and it was something you were definitely going to be using to your advantage. 

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he grunts, eyes fluttering shut as you nip at his skin, a visible shiver racking through him. 

“Of course I am,” you hum, letting your hands roam his back, sliding around his front until you’re sneaking past the white fabric of his shirt. When your cool hands meet his skin, he tenses, the muscles on his stomach tightening up as your fingertips trail up his body. You’ve known Jungkook was well defined, lean and toned in all the best places, having seen him shirtless a few times. But being able to touch him like this, feel each stuttered breath and jump of his skin reacting to your touch fueled you. 

Jungkook knows you can feel the racing of his heart now, your palms flat on his chest, each thrum revealing his emotions despite the cool and calm exterior he was trying to have. His hips lower towards yours, resisting the urge to rut into you as you start to suck on his skin. The low hum you let out vibrates against his neck, mixed in with the feeling of your wet lips, and he knows he’s done for. The final blow comes in the form of you swiping your tongue at the blossomed hickey, sweet voice pulling him back to earth as you look at him once more. “I want you Jungkook.”

Oh god, he couldn’t do this. His face pulls into a grimace, begging himself to not instantly cum in his pants at what you just said. How many times has he fantasized about this? Hoped you’d beg him for anything in that same exact voice, dreamed of you kissing and sucking on his skin like you currently were. Jungkook isn’t sure any amount of mental preparation would be enough for this. 

“Say that again please.”

You giggle, finger pushing back a strand of his hair as it falls over his face, tucking it behind his ear. The normal doe eyed look you were accustomed to is nowhere to be found, pupils blown out in lust as he stares at you. Being on the receiving end of this stare fills your stomach with butterflies, the flapping of their wings intensifying as he nudges his nose into yours. 

“I want you.” It’s breathless, spoken so softly through the background noise like a personal secret just for him. Jungkook doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of hearing you say it, that much is proven true when you repeat it in between kisses, trailing back up his neck in the same path you had taken until you're speaking the words directly against his lips. He swallows them down greedily, groaning into your mouth when his tongue tangles with yours once more. 

“Fuck, you can have me baby.” He chuckles against your mouth when you start to tug at his shirt, yanking the thin material until he has to pull back and slip the tee off himself. The balled fabric gets tossed aside without a care, dark swirls of ink on his arm fully revealed now, each tattoo reminding you of how long you’ve known him, remembering the two pieces that he had when you first met. When he leans back over you, taking his time trailing kisses down your neck, onto your chest until his own hands are slowly tugging your shirt off of you, you decide there’s other things to focus on besides his glorious tattoos.

“Ah, Jungkook,” you sigh, fingers tangling into his hair when he kisses the swells of your breast, warm tongue sliding over your nipple before his lips are wrapping around it. His large palm gropes the other, thumb flicking over the pebbled bud, smirking when you push your chest further out for him.

“What baby?” He pulls back to blow a gust of cool air on your nipple, the wetness of his saliva making your skin break out into goosebumps. 

“No teasing.”

Jungkook’s laughing now, eyes peering up at you through his lashes. “Oh, you think I’m not gonna tease you after what you did?” He tsks in disapproval as he continues to kiss down your torso, letting his hands trail down your sides, not stopping until he reaches the hem of your shorts. A kiss is placed above your navel as he pulls the shorts down your legs, toying with the waistband of your black underwear. “I’m gonna take my time with you.”

The build up before pleasure will always be your favorite part. The way his hands grip your thighs after tugging your underwear off, fingertips trailing up until his palm is pressing them further apart. It’s impossible to look at him now, the visual of his long hair framing his face as he starts to press wet kisses on your skin is too much to handle. You can feel the warm huff of air when he laughs as your head drops back onto the pillow once more, eyes slipping shut while you wait with anticipation. 

Jungkook wants to comment over how wet you are already, boost his own ego about being able to rile you up with just kissing, but he can see the way you’re already on edge, and he decides he can tease you some more later with what he has in store. Instead, he gives you what you’re mentally pleading him for. Finally pressing his soft lips to your folds, the short gasp you release as his tongue glides up before gently flicking across your clit has him shutting his own eyes, reveling in the way you react to his touch. 

His long fingers spread out your folds before he’s messily spitting onto them, watching the way the glob of saliva trickles down before he’s diving in, falling into the perfect pace with ease. It has your hips rutting up instantly, your hand uncurling its grip from your sheets to travel down your body and find its place tangled in his hair. Jungkook groans against your clit when your fingers grip tightly, yanking the dark strands as the prettiest moan flows out of you. 

“J-just like that, fuck,” you whimper, finally lifting your head up to stare down at him when he latches his lips around your clit and sucks. It sends a spark down your spine, stomach tensing at his rhythm, fully intent to have you fall apart. 

Jungkook wants to push you over the edge, knows he’s talented enough to get you there in record time—he was cocky in the best way—and the way your thighs tremble as he slowly sinks his finger into you proves his point. The slick coating your entrance allows a second finger to slip through with little resistance, a shuddering breath filling the air as he begins to spread his fingers apart, stretching you out in the most delicious way. 

It’s not until his fingers curl up, rubbing along the sweet patch inside of you and you moan out his name, that he realizes he has you right where he wants you. He can’t get himself to look up at you, to see the way your jaw drops as you plead for more. Jungkook knows if his eyes lock with yours too soon he’ll be too weak to be as cruel as he wants to be. 

The pleasure blooms inside you, hips rolling up into his in a way he welcomes, smirk spreading onto his lips when your moans get breathier. He eats you out with determination set in his brows, not satisfied until you’re tightening around his fingers, thighs threatening to close in on either side of his head. The messy way he slurps against you sends you reeling, rutting up into him with need, the wet thump of his fingers blending in with your moans of his name. 

“God, Jungkook, I’m gonna cum.” He believes you, eyes finally opening up to stare at you. The visual is enough to make his cock throb in his pants, your glassy eyed stare locked onto his, chest rising and falling in time with each choked breath. When he playfully winks at you, your walls pulse around him, seconds away from being pushed over the edge, and that’s when he pulls away. 

The warm glow of your orgasm approaching, just about to crest, gets ripped away from you instantly. It makes you gasp, thighs twitching as your hips attempt to push up back towards his mouth, but he’s having none of that. His shiny lips smile up at you innocently, head tilted to slowly kiss your trembling thighs, chuckling at the small cry of frustration you let out. 

“You taste good baby,” he hums, smooching the skin at the juncture of your thighs, circling around your clit without relieving the pressure you felt. The dull ache has your fingers releasing his hair in defeat, a frown etched onto your lips. 

“Jungkook, that’s mean,” you pant, sitting up and resting on your elbows to properly stare at him. 

“A little, but you deserved it don’t you think?” Jungkook didn’t want to tease you too much, he just wanted to get even for the past two weeks. “You could have had me between your thighs every single night if you would’ve said something soon, so I think you can be patient.”

A firm kiss is pressed to your swollen clit and it makes your whole body shudder, your head dropping back as you take a deep breath to control yourself. “I can’t be patient Kook,” you whine, head leveling back out to give him the most convincing stare you can muster. There's that crease between your brows that he likes when you pinch them together, hands gently raking through his hair, teeth pillowing out your lower lip as you bite down onto it. 

“Please, you can torture me later if you want but not now.” Your words have him cocking up his brow, hands once again gripping the meat of your thighs before he crawls back up your body. The feeling of his chain dragging up your skin has you shivering, breath catching in your throat when he hovers inches above you once more. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before his hand slips between your thighs again. A groan reaches his ears as his fingers circle your clit, covered in your arousal and his saliva, gliding with ease as he works you back to your ruined orgasm. 

His lips find yours, swallowing down the moan you let out when he quickens his pace. You can taste yourself on his tongue, tangling with yours with more urgency than before, messy and desperate in a way that had more arousal gushing out of you. The earlier pleasure reignites inside you, your hands sliding around his neck to keep him close, kissing him with fervor, quiet moans and whimpers slipping past between each smack of your lips. 

“Jungkook,” you barely manage to squeal, a few more flicks needed to finally push you over the edge. Your lips are slick with spit as you pull back, jaw slack as you lose yourself in the feeling, and Jungkook easily bookmarks this into his brain to go back to and daydream of whenever he’s bored at work. Your eyes are squeezed shut as the feeling flows through you, not able to see how Jungkook stares at you in awe. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers, slowly pulling his hand away when you keen at the sensitivity, thighs twitching on the sheets as the pleasure rolls through you in waves. You’re looking up just in time to see him slip his messy fingers into his mouth, tongue licking them clean and savoring the taste of you. Just as he slides them back out, your fingers wrap around his wrist and lead them directly into your mouth, sinking onto them with your eyes locked on his own. 

Jungkook’s cock jumps in its confines when you suck, tip of your tongue circling his fingertips before popping them back out with a smirk. There’s a brief moment of shock on his features before he’s jumping into action, quickly unbuttoning his jeans in haste that left you giggling on your sheets. 

“What happened to patience?” you tease, laughing harder when he pauses with one foot stuck in the hole of his jeans, a playful glare thrown your way. 

“Oh, now you want patience?” He kicks his pants the rest of the way off, slowly shuffling towards you as he stands beside the bed in just his boxers. Your hands make grabby motions for him, reaching for the waistband of his underwear to tug them down, licking your lips over as his cock springs out. It bobs in the air for a second, thick and heavy, precum collecting at the tip with the prettiest veins on the underside of it. Of course Jungkook and his pretty privilege would have a dick worthy of leaving you speechless. 

Jungkook allows you to ogle at him, confidently wrapping his palm around the base of his cock, hissing slightly at the sensation as he looks down at it, allowing spit to accumulate behind his lips before a string of it escapes and lands right onto his length to help the glide of his palm. Your eyes widen at the sight, hand replacing his as he guides your motions, giving an experimental squeeze and enjoying how his abs tense up. 

“I’ve been patient for a long time Y/N. You said you want me right?” You’re nodding instantly, eyes looking away from his shiny length to stare up at him. “How do you want me?”

“Jungkook, just get over here.” He doesn’t resist when you let go of his cock, hands gripping his arm to yank him back onto the bed in a clumsy heap. His legs are a tangled mess, nearly ramming his forehead with yours from the force, shared laughter filling the air as you situate yourself. Jungkook had pictured this a thousand times and this is exactly how he imagined it, full of soft kisses, hushed laughter and goofy smiles, playfulness mixed in with lust all coming together perfectly to make the two of you. 

As he settles between your thighs, your sodden folds inches from his length, you can see the look on his face as his eyes glance in between both of your nightstands. Already knowing the question that was about to spill out, you beat him to the punch. “You don’t need one, if you don’t want to. I’m on birth control, and haven’t been with anyone since…” you trail off, not needing to specify.

Jungkook tries not to look too excited, really, but it’s hard. Every one of his lewd fantasies had involved being able to feel you entirely, and if your thoughts from that night were anything to go by, you definitely want the same. It takes him a second to speak, having to swallow properly to prevent himself from choking on his saliva and embarrassing himself in front of you. “I’m clean, I promise.”

“I trust you,” you smile, biting down onto your bottom lip as he fists his cock, slowly leading it to your dripping center. His free hand rests on your inner thigh, softly palming the skin as the head of his cock nudges against your entrance, pushing past the tight ring of muscles and into your heat. With his gaze locked down to where you connect, he sees inch by inch sink into you, finally bottoming out with a shared gasp.

Jungkook leans over you properly now, hand sliding up to lace with yours as the other rests beside your head, just taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of your velvety walls wrapped tightly around his cock. You welcome the stretch, the curve of his length inside you, how he cages you in with his body, eyes full of want staring directly at you, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze because he knows he can’t properly form a sentence right now. 

“Fuck me, please.” With his hips pressed flush against yours, he’s slowly inching back, letting you get used to his size with each thrust. It doesn’t take long before he’s rearing back entirely, thrusting forward with a wet squelch, corner of his lips curling up into a smirk when you moan out his name. Your hand curls around his shoulder, fingers digging into his back to keep yourself steady from the force of his hips. 

Each time the head of his cock would nudge against your bundle of nerves, your nails would sink into his skin, leaving half moon indents that left him groaning in pleasure. Jungkook hadn’t outright told you, but it had become increasingly obvious that he has a slight kink for pain, practically mewling above you as you scratch his back, fucking you with more determination than before. 

“You feel so good,” he rasps, slotting his lips with yours in a messy kiss. The back of your headboard starts to rattle against the wall, bouncing back in time with his hips, and it brings you back to the filthy thoughts you had before. How often you’d hear the same sounds on the opposite side, mixing in with the sharpness of skin connecting together, and you want it. So badly.

“J-jungkook,” you breathe out, letting him pepper more kisses onto you, hips never slowing down. “Can you do something for me?” The tone you use, coated in sugar so sweet he couldn’t say no even if he wanted to.

“Anything.”

It’s hard to concentrate on anything else while his cock continues to fuck into you, turning your mind into mush each time he sunk all the way in. He can see the way you try to focus, eyes falling shut with the cutest pout on your kiss swollen lips, finally grabbing onto the reigns of your mind as you spit it out. “Wanna feel you—fuck—spank me, please.”

Only then do his hips slow down, cock throbbing inside of you, fighting the urge to cum before fulfilling your request. The only confirmation that he was agreeing, wholeheartedly, comes when he pulls out of you, moving too quickly for you to protest at the loss of contact. The room spins for a second as his hands grip onto your hips and flip you over with ease, palms gripping the globes of your ass and softly patting them with a chuckle.

“Of course baby,” he murmurs, hooking his arm underneath your stomach to haul you up onto your knees, allowing you to steady yourself before he’s sliding into you once again. The change in position has you keening, his cock sinking deeper than before, the wetness dripping out of you helping him maintain the earlier pace he had. Your hands fist the sheets beneath you, back arching in ecstasy as he hits your g-spot with precision, a tiny shriek of his name making him smile.

Jungkook keeps you on edge, strong hands gripping the skin of your hips tightly, mouth dropping open while he pants at the way you pulse around his cock, leaving it coated in your slick. His hand slides down to your ass, a gentle touch being your only warning before he’s pulling his hand back and delivering a swift slap to your skin. Your reaction is immediate, an unrestrained moan sounding like music to his ears. The sharp sting spreads directly to your core, your head bowing forward as you mentally beg him for more, your wish being granted seconds later when he repeats it on the other side.

If the wet sounds of his cock fucking you weren’t filthy enough, the added slap of his palm across your ass definitely topped it off. Jungkook had never seen you so needy, thighs coated in your arousal, gushing around him each time he spanked you until you were creaming his cock. The greedy way your walls suck him in, wanting him closer, deeper than ever, left him mesmerized. 

His hand soothes the dull throb on your skin, a trembling breath reaching his ears as he leans over your back, lips kissing up your spine up until reaching your shoulder. Hot pants of breath hit your skin, making you shiver as his lips trail along the edge of your ear. “Feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you mewl, voice trembling from the pleasure, rutting your hips in time with his. 

Jungkook’s way of love was a breath of fresh air for you, rough enough to exhilarate you, the force of his hips leaving you scrambling for purchase to prevent you from face planting onto the sheets, gripping onto your hair and tugging it back with enough force to make your body tingle. But it was intertwined with adoration, sweet praise whispered into your ear, lacing his fingers with yours to let you feel secure.

“You’re never getting rid of me baby,” he groans out. The low rasp in his voice makes you tremble, neck straining from his grip in your hair but the burn feels too good to pull away. His small confession has your heart skipping, eyes slipping shut to bask in the overwhelming feeling surrounding you.

“Good,” you manage to pant, “would never dream of it.” After four years of friendship, the beginning stages of getting to know each other, figuring out the right ways to flow with your different personalities, it's all out of the way now, so it’s incredibly easy for you to picture a steady future with him. The breakfast gossiping, shameless club outings, chaotic game nights with snacks thrown at each other, you want everything you already have with him and more. What you have, so rooted in sincerity, built off mutual respect for each other, blossoming into love so pure, you can’t imagine having this with anyone else.

“Y/N,” he gasps, the pulsing of your walls bringing him closer to his climax. “I’m close.”

You can only hum in agreement, burying your face into your pillow when he releases the grip he has in your hair, nipples rubbing against the sheets in time with his thrusts, the sensitivity sending sparks throughout you. Both his hands grip your hips again, dimpling the skin as he quickens his pace, the tantalizing roll of his hips intent to send you over before him. His eyes trail over the curve of your back, how you arch it further to feel more of him, sliding down to your ass, seeing the way it bounces back with each snap of his hips, how you weakly rut back onto him, pussy clamping around his length as your orgasm approached. 

Jungkook slides his hand around you, trailing across your tummy before slipping between your thighs to the spot you needed him most. Even with your face buried in the sheets, the moan you let out is loud enough for Jungkook to hear perfectly, body shuddering as he flicks across your clit in tight circles.  

“Kook, I’m cumming—fuck,” you shout out, white heat enveloping your body as you get sent over the edge. Your mind blanks for a minute, the intensity of your orgasm crashing over you so suddenly, making your limbs tense up while every nerve ending lights up. The only thing you can think of is him, chanting out your name while you pulse around him, sweet words coaxing you through your high, thumb rubbing along the skin of your hips as he never slows his pace. 

As he fucks you through it, groaning out at how tight your walls are around him, you have to turn your head to gasp in a breath, face feeling hot from it all. You can feel how sweaty your skin has become, the back of your neck feeling sticky as your turn to get a glimpse of him, body still shuddering from the aftershocks. 

Jungkook doesn’t have a care for his own volume now, moaning unabashedly as he pistons his hips into you with less grace than before. The soft mewls of overstimulation you let out just bring him closer to his release, thrusts getting sloppier as the pleasure takes over him. 

“Fuck, baby-” he grunts out, mouth dropping open as he moans even louder, finally falling apart. He pushes further into you, head falling forward as his hips press flushed against your ass, warm spurts of his cum filling you up in a way that fulfills your dirtiest fantasies. A few more shallow thrusts has the two of you gasping, hearts pounding in your chests, coming down slowly as he finally stills.

A serene silence falls over you, the movie long turned off in the background, only the low glow of the television letting you know it was still on. With great hesitation, Jungkook finally pulls out of you, gulping when he sees the thick globs of cum spill from your core, dripping down your thighs before landing on the sheets in a sinful mess. Your sheets are well and truly ruined, Jungkook would honestly suggest tossing them in the trash judging by the damp spot directly beneath you.

With a small groan, you’re flopping fully onto your stomach, thighs no longer able to keep yourself up, the exhaustion creeping up on you. Jungkook chuckles when he hears you, soothing your back with a gentle massage. “You’re not sleeping in here babe.”

“Why not,” you slur, cheek pressed against your pillow, eyes already shut. All you wanted to do was lay here, preferably with his arms wrapped around you, but Jungkook clearly has other plans. 

“Because it’s disgusting,” he laughs, giving you a few more seconds of rest before he’s moving around. The dip in the bed lets you know he’s gotten off, one eye peeking open to search for him, seeing him gathering his belongings from the floor.

“Where are you going?”

He shimmies back into his clothes with a grimace, gathering your own items before approaching you once more. “We are going next door and sleeping in my totally clean bed, c’mon.”

You only put up a fight for a second, secretly enjoying the way he helps you get dressed in your earlier clothes, heart swelling in your chest at how domestic it all feels. The mess in your room would have to be dealt with another day, the only important item being the ice cream that finds its way back into the freezer as you both head out of your apartment and swiftly enter his next door.

He’s just as delicate and careful in the shower, taking turns cleaning each other, large hands gripping your ass and giggling like a child when you wince at the small throb of pain you feel. Soft kisses are shared under the showerhead, warm water soothing your body as the room fogs up, sweet confessions scribbled on the glass in his messy writing, topped off with a heart. Jungkook stops you before you can wipe it away, shyly telling you that he’d like to see it reappear the next time he showers.

His bedroom was one you weren’t too familiar with, used to lounging in his living room the most, so as he settles into his bed after getting cozy in his pajamas, you wait for him to call you over before joining him. The coolness of his sheets has you sighing, snuggling into his side with a smile on your lips, one that Jungkook sees as he stares down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Seeing you draped in his clothes, cuddled up beside him in a way you’ve never done before, makes him feel like a giddy teenager. 

“Can I be honest?” he wonders, arm wrapping around you to pull you even closer to him. When you hum in confirmation, he laughs sheepishly. “I thought you were going to friendship dump me today.”

“What, why?”

Your head bobs up as he shrugs his shoulders. “The way you were acting reminded me of the last time you told me you wanted to focus on your relationship. I was just scared I was going to lose you again.”

The tone he uses makes your heart ache, the same guilt you felt these past few days coming back when you put yourself in his shoes. You had no idea that the way you were acting would affect him this way, never once imagining that he thought you would cut off this friendship while you were just coming to terms with the fact that you harbored strong feelings for him. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry,” you sigh, palm resting on his chest, feeling each beat of his heart, no longer racing like before, confident and steady in it’s pace because he knows you’re not going anywhere. “I’m stupid, and freaked out after what I did, and just needed to gather my thoughts before saying anything.”

He cranes his head away from you, a confused look on his face. “After what you did? What did you do?”

Fuck.

“Uhm,” you start with a strained laugh, refusing to look up at him out of embarrassment, but the truth has to come out so you power through it.  “So, the night of the date, I sort of got home earlier than I told you I did.”

His eyes narrow at you, refusing to give anything away before he knew where this was going. “Okay, go on.”

“And I sort of heard you through the walls.” You look up at him now, your guilty stare spelling it out for him. His eyes widen before he can conceal his surprise, cheeks warming up instantly because oh boy, he knew exactly where this was going. “And then, I sort of...joined.”

“You lied to me!” he shouts, shocked smile on his face as he recalls the way you had replied to his texts, telling him you had just gotten home and going the extra mile to say you were in a totally different room when in reality, you were sprawled out in your bed after just getting off to the sound of him.

Filthy. And also kind of hot. Jungkook was definitely into that, something he’ll totally proposition you into doing again because why not.  

“I know! I couldn’t help it, it was so hot, and I felt so guilty. But, you’re technically the reason why my orgasm gave me my epiphany and let me realize I really do like you. So, I think I did us both a favor by being a dirty liar.” He’s laughing instantly, fingers gripping your cheeks to turn your head up, planting a firm kiss onto your lips obnoxiously.

“Alright, you’re forgiven. Plus, consider us even because I have definitely heard you getting off on your own plenty of times too.” A squeal of surprise fills the air as you swat at his chest, burying your face into his shirt and feeling the rumble of his laughter. It really wasn’t ever intentional. The walls are thin, you weren’t exactly quiet, and he couldn’t just lay there and ignore it. So call him an opportunist, or a pervert, because you were one too. 

Jungkook is cheeky though, knowing how to get under your skin in the best way, and you can already tell you’re in for a ride when he gets close to your ear and whispers, “You wanna show me how you did it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you snort, peering up at him with mischief in your eyes.

“You did say I could torture you later.” He smiles innocently, fingers pinching your chin as he kisses you again. “It’s later.”

The sweet laughter that escapes you makes his heart skip a beat, still not able to come to terms that this was happening and wasn’t some dream of his that he’d wake up from. He kisses the tops of your cheeks first, then your nose, before reaching your lips, his hand gently caressing your skin. Jungkook had no intention of torturing you tonight, knowing how tired you typically were after work on a normal day, and after drawing two orgasms out of you that left you shaking, he knows how close you are to sleep with the way your eyes droop. 

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t give up on crushes and love?” he mumbles against your lips, inching back to stare down at you. 

“I’m glad I stopped looking for it in the wrong places.” Your hands wrap around his neck, toying with his hair before pulling him back to you, reattaching your lips because you just couldn’t seem to get enough of him. 

Every single moment you shared, from moving in and awkwardly trying to get to know each other, the ups and downs of failed relationships, the push that started it all at the club, and every almost moment in between brought you full circle to right now. There probably won’t be a moment where you don’t wish you had done this sooner, worked past your worry of ruining a good friendship in fear of what could happen, but the past helped mold you into who you are, strengthening your relationship to be the way it is now.

Right now had you thinking of the future, and there was nothing more exciting than that.

[patd--phan]

Wanna Be Yours

Pairing: Dadsbestfriend! Bucky (mid/late 40s) x reader (in early/mid twenties)

Summary: Y/N surprises bucky on a business trip and he promises to be hers.

Warnings: SMUTTY stuff (18+ only pleasee), unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (m receiving), riding, teasing, significant age gap, reader takes charge, “Doll/sweets/baby/sweetheart”, some cute ass shit at the beginning and end tho

WC: about 3K im sorry I was really H*rny yesterday and I was unable to do anything about it as i was stuck in the car all damn day

Note: So I was really h*rny yesterday and this happened lol I’m sorry. Loosely based on the song wanna be yours-arctic monkeys. Also this will probably be the only smut I ever write bc I don’t wanna become an 18+ blog or make anyone uncomfortable (not that 18+ blogs are bad tho lemme set that straight, most of my fav blogs are)

PS thank you for the love on my first ever fic with Peter Parker x reader, it made me so happy that ppl didn’t think I suck lol ( and i guess i lied saying i would probably never write another one shot lol)

You do NOT have my permission to repost this anywhere, I will come for u if you plagiarize ok bye

It was no secret that Bucky liked to be in charge in the bedroom, and you had absolutely no problem with that. After all, he was older and more experienced; he knew how to make your body sing. But this week you were craving something a little different. Bucky had been away on a business trip all weekend and you really missed him, not just the sex (but I mean…) but just cuddling and talking to him about your day; you were feeling clingy. You decide to text bucky even though you knew he couldn’t answer right away because he was currently in a meeting.

Y/N: I mis youu :( when will you be back tomorrow?

You just wandered around your apartment for the next 20 minutes, casually checking your phone about every 30 seconds just in case bucky was able to sneak in a text. He finally replied after 30 minutes, right as his meeting was ending at 3.

Bucky: Hey doll, I miss you too <3

Bucky: unfortunately one of the investors this morning had to push their meeting to late tomorrow afternoon, so I’m not gonna be home until very late tomorrow night :(

Y/N: dammit :(

Y/N: well good luck at the pitch meeting tomorrow, I love and miss you <3

Bucky: don’t gimme that pout I know your making doll, ill see you tonight on facetime! :)

Y/N: haha u know me so well, and yes you’ll see me tonight ;) (but I still miss u)

Bucky: I know doll I hate it too, see you tonight. Love you <3

Y/n: love you too <3

You didn’t know if you could go until late Monday without seeing bucky. As you laid on the couch smiling sadly about missing your love, an idea popped into your head. He was only two and a half hours away, and he wouldn’t be back at his hotel for another 4 hours at least. Fuck it, you were gonna go drive to his hotel and surprise him. You couldn’t be away so long, you felt super clingy this weekend and you needed to be on top of with him.

You quickly ran around your apartment, packing an overnight bag and you saw the package that arrived earlier on your floor that you completely forgot about because you couldn’t stop thinking of Bucky. You remembered its contents e(a completely evil lingerie set) and threw it in the bag with a smirk on your face.

The drive to Bucky’s hotel felt like forever and you had to remind yourself to stop speeding because you were so excited. When you finally got to his hotel, you had to convince the manager to give you a key to his room, proving that you were the man’s girlfriend with several pictures on your phone which was slightly embarrassing because in almost every picture, at least one of you was half-naked. Worth it. You thought. When you arrived in his room you quickly went into the bathroom to change into a little black dress (with a surprise underneath). Then as you were sitting on his bed waiting for him, you realized it would still be a while before he would get back, so you decided to tidy up his things, packing his clothes and organizing his suitcase. Pleased with your work, you sat back down on the bed and looked at your phone for a while. You finally got pulled out of your Instagram daze when you heard Bucky’s voice in the hallway laughing at something a coworker said. You quickly threw your phone on the dresser, straightened up you dress, and sat at the edge of the bed with a huge smile on your face, giddy to surprise him.

As he turned the doorknob he was still looking behind him talking to the man. When he finally said goodbye and turned his head around, his eyebrows raised up and his jaw dropped, which was quickly replaced with a smile even larger than yours.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, running towards you and throwing his briefcase on the floor.

He picked you up in a tight hug and you squealed, legs immediately wrapping around his waist.

“I told you you’d see me tonight!” you said, still clung to him like a koala.

“W-what?” He replied, still in shock. Letting your legs fall back to the floor.

“I just missed you too much” you shrugged.

If any human could embody “heart eyes” it was Bucky at that moment- he’s such a softie for you. He pulled your face towards him and gave you one of the most loving kisses you’ve ever had in your life. You were expecting it to be passionate and rough, but it was soft, delicate and loving, and your heart melted into a puddle. After your lips parted, you gazed into each other’s eyes before being pulled up in another tight hug. You giggled and wrapped your legs around him again.

“I guess you missed me too huh?” you laughed.

“Oh doll, you have no idea.”

You wrapped your hands in his hair, massaging his neck and he moaned loudly.

“Mm, that feels nice.” He hummed.

“You tired baby?” you asked, he seemed like he needed some TLC (and you were ready to give it to him).

“I am so exhausted.” He replied, making you frown behind his back.

You slowly slid down his body, back onto your feet again, and kept massaging his head. He looked at you lovingly before looking around his hotel room, his eyebrows pulled in confusion.

“Did you clean up in here?”

“Yep, while I was waiting for ya,” you replied, smiling.

His whole face softened.

“Oh, I really don’t deserve you doll.” Making you smile and shake your head.

“Oh yes you do.” You replied making him smile and his heart flutter in his chest.

He pulled you in for another kiss, this one with more fire and longing in it than the last one. His large hands grabbed you ass to pull you closer to him and you moaned into the kiss. You pressed your body against him even tighter and ran your hands through his hair making him moan. You could feel his pants tent start to grow against you and you smirked and moved you lips down to the side of his neck making him groan.

You pull back and look at him, hard and eyes half lidded, it turns you on so much you feel your panties dampening.

“Hey Buck?” you whisper, lips mere inches apart.

“Hmm?” he hums in response.

“I have another surprise for you.” You whisper into his ear before pulling back to look at his face.

“What’s that, doll?” he whispers.

You smirk and step away from him, noticing the confusion on his face before you pull your dress over your head and throw it onto the floor.

Bucky’s jaw drops, making you bite your lip and smirk even more. This was gonna be fun.

“Oh, fuck me,” He groans.

“Oh, I fully intend on it, Buck” you smirk.

He just groans and starts walking towards you.

“Buck?”

“Yeah sweets?”

“Wanna be mine tonight?”

“Fuck, I’ll be yours forever doll.” He says, making you whimper. You pull him against you by his tie, pressing your bodies together.

Your lips crash and tongues swirl together fighting for dominance. Hands moving up and down each other’s bodies like animals. Bucky squeezing your ass so tight you know there’s gonna be marks.

You both pull back enough so you can shimmy off Bucky’s tie and throw it over his head before unbuttoning his shirt and peeling it off him. You then sink to your knees and undo his belt quickly before slowly unzipping his pants, kissing the outside of his member though his pants making him exhale a breath sharply.

“Fuck” he breathes out.

You don’t want to tease him too much (yet) so after another kiss, you shove his pants off and lay down on the bed, his body caging you under him.

The passionate makeout session resumes with Bucky still hard in his boxers pressing against your clothed core. You suddenly remember what you wanted and pull back from the kiss.

“Wait, no” you whisper.

Bucky pulls back, confused and nervous he did something to hurt you.

“What’s wrong?” he whispers.

You take advantage of his confusion and roll him over so you were straddling him with a smirk on your face.

Bucky moans at your actions, core pressing tight against him.

“You said you’d be mine.” You breathe over his lips. Moaning as being in charge is giving you a whole rush of feelings and confidence.

You kiss him, and he lets you dominate the kiss this time, biting his lips and grinding on him. He bucks his hips onto your and you pull back.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll take care of you, I’ll make you feel so good.”

Bucky moans at your words as you start to kiss all the way down his body, leaving little hickies down his chest. When you get towards his boxers he thinks your gonna kiss his member or pull down his boxers, but instead you go back up his chest, licking a stripe from his belly button all the way to one of his nipples, up his neck, to his lips.

Bucky moans, loud. You give him one more kiss before deciding to stop teasing him (kinda). You quickly kiss down his chest again and then plant a few kisses on his aching cock through his boxers. He bucks his hips and is whimpering under you. Fuck, that turns you on. Your big strong boyfriend who could probably crush you with one arm, whimpering and practically begging under you. Your panties are fucking soaked and you don’t think you can deny your own pleasure too much longer. You pull down his boxers and his cock is throbbing and dripping precum.

“Shit” you moan at the sight.

You lick the precum off him and he gives a high pitched moan that goes straight to your core.

“Baby please, I- I can’t.”

“Don’t worry baby I got you.” You reply as you take his full member into your mouth, sucking lightly.

Bucky moans and bucks his hips into your mouth. You push them back down and suck a few more times before getting off of him. He looks worried for a second before you slide your panties off and straddle his cock.

“Still wanna be mine?”

“Always” he replies.

You sink down onto him, jaw dropping and eyes closing at the feeling. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to him no matter how many times he’s been inside you. You both moan as his whole cock is finally buried inside you.

“Fuck Bucky, you feel so fucking good in me.” You moan, starting to rock your hips.

“God, I’m so fucking wet for you.”

Bucky continues to give low moans as you start to ride him.

“Fuck baby, I love you like this.” He says, making you start to ride him harder, moaning at his words.

His hands come grab your hips to help you ride him faster, harder.

“Baby- shit I’m close already.” He pleads.

“All for me? Shit baby aren’t I the lucky one?” You moan.

Bucky’s grip on your hips tighten and he starts to fuck up into you. He was about to blow.

You moan loudly at the feeling. “Cum in me baby please I need it.”

After a particularly hard thrust into your wet pussy you feel him spilling inside you. He lets out one of those vulgar high pitched moans and grunts that make your brain short circuit and your eyes roll back while your pussy clenches around him. You feel yourself getting close, but you want to give him another orgasm, so you sink down on him fully and slowly ride him, hearing him whimpering and moaning. You feel him get hard in you again (thank you supersoldier serum) and you rock back and forth on him. You reach down to rub your clit, but Bucky sees it and swats your hand away, replacing it with his metal one.

“Oh fuck” you moan at the cool sensation.

You start to bounce up and down on him again, the knot in your abdomen building and heating up. You feel yourself close to being undone as you ride him and his other hand runs up your body and squeezes your nipple through your thin lace bra. You moan and feel yourself clench around him, making him moan.

“Fuck- I’m gonna c-“ you get interrupted by the white hot explosion of your orgasm. Your eyes roll back, jaw hangs open and toes curl as you feel that release knock throughout your whole body, making you shake. You let out those high pitched moans and whines that only Bucky makes you feel.

Feeling you clench around him and watching your completely fucked out face, you feel Bucky’s thick cock twitch inside of you, and you moan as you feel him release in you again. Fuck that makes you feel good. So good you can’t think or move and you start to collapse on top of Bucky, but he slightly catches you and lays you down on his chest, both breathing heavy, with his cock still inside you, cum dripping all down your legs and onto Bucky.

You can’t speak, can’t think, the pleasure totally ruining you. After what feels like forever, you feel your breathing start to return to normal, as does Bucky’s, and you feel his hand rubbing up and down your back, grounding you back to earth from wherever on cloud nine you were.

You hum as you feel yourself finally calm down.

“Holy fuck, doll” you feel him lowly whine in your ear. You can only moan lowly in response.

“Baby that was fucking amazing.”

“Mmhmm.” You hum.

“…but I think I’m gonna lose my mind if you keep clenching around me.” He chuckles.

“oh shit, sorry,” you mumble out. You try to push up off of him but the farthest you got was placing your hands on his shoulders before your body gave up on you.

“Oh my God, I can’t move” you whisper. You’re so fucked out, your body won’t respond to your brain anymore.

Bucky moans at your words and slowly rolls both of you so youre on your side facing him. He reaches down and pulls his soft cock out of your pussy, moaning when he sees a burst of cum leaking from you.

You moan at the feeling of him exiting your body. You look him in the eyes and give him a lazy smile. His eyes sparkle back at you and his hand comes up to rub your cheek.

“Mm” you hum at the feeling.

“That was fucking incredible” he says, making you smile wider.

“I’m not disagreeing” you quip.

He chuckles lightly before saying “you gotta do this more often.”

“What, surprise you on business trips?” you question.

“No” he rolls his eyes and smiles, “Well yes actually, but I was talking about you absolutely taking charge tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” you smirk.

“Fuck yeah doll, I don’t think I’ve ever cum as hard. You looked so damn sexy in charge.”

You look away from his eyes, shying at his words, but also they were giving you the confidence to look right back into his eyes and say “I agree” with a smirk.

“I love hearing those high pitched moans you make, It turns me on so much” you admit.

“You know, only you can get those noises out of me, doll” he chides. You blush and smile at him.

He chuckles and you bring his face towards yours and kiss him deeply, tongues meeting together. You both hum into the kiss as his hand rubs down the side of your body.

When you break the kiss, both of you needing a breath, he pulls your body towards him, resting your head on his chest. You hum in peace as he rubs your back.

“I love you so much Y/N” he says and you feel your heart absolutely burst in your chest.

“I love you so much too Buck,” you reply, lifting your head to peck him on the lips before placing your head back on his chest.

You lay in silence for a minute before your mind begins to wander again.

“Did you mean it?” you ask.

“Mean what, doll?”

“That you’ll be mine forever?” you ask. “I mean not just in the sexy way but that you’ll be with me forever?” you ramble out.

“God yes sweetheart, you’re the one for me.” He responds and you didn’t think your heart could explode anymore, but it just did.

You squeeze his shoulder with your hand before coming up to kiss him passionately again, almost crying at all of the love going though you.

“I promise I’m all yours forever too, Buck” you smile at him.

“Good,” he smiles back, and you rest back on his chest, eyes getting droopy.

“Night-night sweetheart.” You feel yourself smile in your sleep.

“Goodnight my love.” You reply, further cuddling into his chest. Bucky feels his heart combust in his chest. God, wasn’t he lucky to have you. He didn’t know what he did to deserve you, but he knew that he was going to assure you that you deserve the world every day for the rest of his life. He kissed the top of your head before falling into a deep sleep, content with his favorite person tight in his arms.

[littlesniggy]

Helloooooo! I love your writing and was looking forward to the request being opened again🥺 I'm feeling so excited right now!

Hmm, may i ask for a nsfw scenario with ichiji where he says "my face is your throne, come sit on it"?

Have a good day 💗

Hey Anon! Thank you for requesting! I love writing for Ichiji and I hope you like it! I'm not entirely sure what readers and Ichiji's relationship exactly is but I'd say it's pretty close to being in an actual relationship lol Reader is not royal (and maybe is/has been a servant?) and Ichiji just sticks to to her every chance he gets. I hope you're not mad at me but I changed your quote cause it just fit so perfectly but I can change it if you want! Just send me a message and tell me!! Anyway, please enjoy!

Warning: 18+, nsfw, oral, light slapping, name calling, King x Queen (servant lol)

Pairing: Ichiji x female reader

Word count: 2.4k

With an amused look he watched you order the cooks around, wanting everything to be perfect for the big day. He’d usually never even dream of lowering himself to coming down here but the whispering of the servants left him curious and he was surprised to actually see you invest so much time and effort into something so trivial and stupid like a birthday – of all the things you could’ve chosen to invest time in it was a birthday! He found it ridiculous.

“Instead of grinning so smugly you could help too!” you demanded, putting your hands on your hips. Ichiji raised an eyebrow in enjoyment, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Help?” he asked, voice sounding cocky. “Nah, that’s peasant’s work. But I guess you feel right at home here, don’t you, Y/n?” He was testing you but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of getting flustered.

“And what if I do?” you retorted, crossing your arms as well, taking up the challenge. The man snickered, the grin not leaving his face. “Serf stays serf, amirite?” his voice dropped an octave, knowing he hit a nerve but not giving a shit at all. You grinded your teeth, breathed in and out of your nose deeply before putting on a fake smile.

“Guess so. Got a problem with it?” He knew he got you and one more word could push you over the edge but he weighed his options and came to the conclusion that you being in a bad mood was not worth the fun. “See you later then, Y/n. Don’t overexert yourself down here. Father’s party is about to start in an hour and I want you to take a shower before you show yourself. Just cuz you like hanging around the servants you don’t need to look like one.” And with that, he left.

You watched him leave; once he was gone, the anger hit you and you let out an angry screech. “Bastard!” you yelled after him before turning back to the cooks who were all standing there petrified at this encounter. Nobody dared to talk to him like that and live. Understandably, they had no idea how to behave.

“What are you looking at?! Get back to work!”

.

.

.

Judge’s birthday was as boring as you had expected – until the drinking came! You knew Ichiji and his siblings wouldn’t get drunk but all these high-profile people that had been invited sure as hell did. You weren’t particularly fond of the Vinsmoke leader but it was always good to be on his good side; especially since he was the one who let you stay here. Ichiji would kick you off this kingdom if his father told him to.

You were standing on the side line, a drink in your hand but still sober. After all, this was still your first and you never intended on getting drunk yourself. Niji and Yonji were drinking two other princes under the table, mocking them for being so weak. Barely dressed ladies kept serving alcohol, being subject to a lot of maybe wanted or unwanted attention, you didn’t know but either way they knew what they were getting into.

“This party is quite the success. You’re gonna stay to clean up after everyone, too, servant?” you heard Ichiji’s voice next to you and were surprised to see him lean casually against the wall, a mug of beer in his hand. “And if I did?” you questioned, turning your whole body towards him, getting closer and leaning your body against his, looking up at him suggestively. “Are you gonna punish me?”

Ichiji’s smirk grew wider, his hand finding its way to your cheek, gently stroking it. “Depends….” He said, his thumb stroking your bottom lip. “On what?” you whispered, putting his thumb between your lips, lightly sucking on the digit while never breaking eye contact.

“If you do a good job or not. Can’t have a sloppy maid now, can I?” he replied, enjoying the way your sucked in his finger with your mouth. “Guess you can’t. But I guess I’m more of a queen material anyway, right?” you started moving your head back and forth slowly, tasting the salt on his skin. “Queen material?” he chuckled, pulling his thumb out of your wet cave. “You’re not even close to being a princess. So what makes you think you can be a queen?” he smeared your saliva on your cheek, awaiting your response.

“Well…and the reason for that is that you’ve never actually taught me how to be a proper queen in the first place. So I’d say it’s actually your fault, isn’t it?” you bit your bottom lip, loving the way you two went back and forth until one of you won. Or landed in bed.

“Is that so? Then I guess I have to teach you.”

.

.

.

“I’m not expert but I think this is not how a queen behaves….” You said, looking up at Ichiji not overly excited about your position. You had your hands were folded on your naked lap, your bare breasts being on full display for him to look at. When you were thinking about him giving you “lessons” about being a queen, you had the slight hope he would actually let you command him around but you should’ve known better.

“Before you can be a queen, you need to learn how to listen to your king first, Y/n.” he said with a smug grin on his face, sitting in front of you on the bed, you between his spread legs like a good servant, not a queen. “Well, what does my king want?” you asked, looking up at him with one eyebrow raised.

“Your king wants you to please him, like the good little slut you usually are for him.” He purred. “And how does my king wish to be pleased?” you insisted, already knowing the answer. You saw a slight twitch in his pants to your words, getting hard by you being so submissive to him. Why haven’t you done this before? Master and slave, or if you wanted to insist king and “queen”, was really doing it for him. And you two haven’t even really started yet.

“Why don’t you start by opening my pants? You need to serve your king, remember? And undressing him is part of this.” He answered, watching how you got up with a small grin on your lips, starting to undress him completely. He had to get up for you to remove his pants but when you were done, you sat back down between your legs, looking up at him with big eyes.

You tried to ignore his member practically poking your face and instead focus on his face. “You may worship my body.” He allowed you with this condescending tone and shit eating grin but it turned you on. To be honest, this position had you even more excited than originally expected. His harsh eyes boring into you, devouring every inch of your naked body, leaving a hot prickle on your skin.

Your hands started moving up his calved, your face leaning in to kiss the skin of his legs up, over his knees and to his thighs. Your palms came up with your head, rubbing the sensitive skin on his inner thighs, seeing how he got light goosebumps at your touch. His member twitched a little, bobbing up and down in front of your face but you didn’t pay it attention just yet.

Your lips kissed his thighs, your teeth lightly scratching over the flesh before you moved further up to his hip bone, nibbling on it while your hands felt his abs, tracing each pack carefully, feeling how his muscles flexed underneath your touch. His dick brushed against your cheek when you started kissing his stomach as well, his pre-cum leaving a hot and wet mark on your skin.

Your pussy started to get wetter at the short contact, already anticipating the moment it could wrap around him and clench him until he was dry. You wanted to touch yourself so badly, wanted to give yourself some pleasure as well but, in order to be a good queen, you needed to put his needs above your own (for now at least).

Your lips moved down again, kissing the junction of his lower abdomen and dick, his member pressed flush against your cheek while you did. You moved one hand to the base of his dick, wrapping your fingers around him and letting your thumb circle the soft skin of his dick. You wanted to hear him sigh at this contact but you were left disappointed. He never gave you the satisfaction of letting you see how good you made him feel.

“May I kiss your dick, my king?” you asked, looking back up at him again, waiting for permission. His dick twitched once again at your words, the grin growing even wider if that was even possible. “You may.” He allowed, watching how you slowly kissed his member with little butterfly kisses up and down.

“It’s so perfect, my king.” You praised him. Another twitch. “I wonder what it tastes like.” Even though you knew what he tasted like you enjoyed how his dick twitched with each word, betraying his otherwise aloof behavior. He was a human being with a good sex drive, after all. His father apparently didn’t wipe out all of his emotions.

“You can give it a try.” He suggested. “Thank you.” Your mouth wrapped around the hot head, followed by a long and deep suck, eliciting a small grown from him. Finally, you thought satisfied. You let your tongue twirl around the tip, first slowly, then fast, then back to slowly. The pre-cum started coming out more frequently, being eagerly licked up by your tongue and swallowed.

“How eager you are to please your king. Maybe I can make a good queen out of you after all. But first, you need to put in a little more effort. I think you can fit more of me into your mouth, can’t you?” he asked. As a response, you started taking him in deeper and deeper, feeling how his big member filled your mouth to the brim before taking him down your throat, swallowing him to the base. Now it was your turn to grown at this feeling, the vibration stimulating him in return. “That’s right, Y/n. Just like that.” He praised, voice sounding a little strained.

You let his dick glide out your mouth again, sucking on his tip before taking him in deep into your mouth once more, this time only until his tip brushed against the back of your throat. With that, you started to bob your head forth and back in a steady pace, your hands moving in tandem with your mouth, giving him as much pleasure as possible.

You twisted your hand, varying the pressure of your hand around his shaft; your second hand came up to his balls, fondling them in your palm or squeezing lightly. You put in all your effort into pleasing him while your own arousal was dripping to the floor by now. Every time you took him in, tasted his pre-cum, made him twitch your core send up electric impulses through your body, begging to be pleased as well.

“Do you like my dick?” your heard him ask. A quick look up at his face told him you certainly did, hallowing your cheeks to suck at him again before bobbing your head repeatedly.

When you let him slip out of your mouth, you didn’t give him time to complain or reprimand you; you took your breasts and put them around his dick, starting to move them up and down, your eyes finding his anew. “Do you like this, my king?” you asked innocently, wiggling your breasts between your hands, creating a sight he simply couldn’t resist.

“I would be a fool if I didn’t.” he replied, watching how your tits moved around his dick. You lowered your head, letting your tongue flicker over the mushroom head every time it appeared, licking up his arousal once more. Your fingers started twisting your nipples, finally giving you some pleasure even though it was not the desired spot.

“Damn, Y/n. Pleasuring yourself? I thought I’ve told your that you should put my needs above your own…” he scolded you in amusement, loving the sight of your twisting your nipples while you gave him a tit job.

“I’ve been thinking….my job as your queen is to serve you but….what’s the king’s obligation towards his queen?” you asked, continuously moving around him. Ichiji huffed, grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger.

“If you have time to think and ask silly questions while your entire focus should be on pleasing me then I guess I was a little hasty in praising you.” He whispered in a deep tone, this bass resonating in your own body.

You bit your lip at his words but didn’t stop your movements; your fingers pinched your nipples hard, making you pant in response. “Maybe that’s because I need your help, my king.” You whispered back, rubbing your thighs together. “I’ve been dripping ever since I started to touch you, my king. Your body has just this effect on me…” you praised him, thinking it will increase your chances of him finally giving you pleasure as well.

Ichiji chuckled at your words and let go of your chin, instead tracing your cheek with his finger. “Is that so?” he asked curiously. “Of course, my king. I’m craving your body.” You kept going, looking him deep into his eyes. “Pathetic.” He purred, making you stop dead in your tracks at his words. What?

“You want to be a queen yet you act like the servant you’ve always been and always will be.” He grabbed your hair and pulled you on your feet, pulling your face close to his.

“But you-“

“- said I would teach you how to be a queen? I did. But the moment I told you to undress and get on your knees you should’ve fought back. Cuz that’s what queens do….”

“You damn bastard, you set me up!”

“I did. But I can’t say I didn’t like what you did. So, as the graceful and just king that I am, I’m gonna make you an offer.” His hand let go of your hair and instead pulled you onto his lab by your hips.

“Since you wanna be a queen so badly, why don’t you sit your dripping pussy down on my face? Cuz that’s the only throne you’ll be sitting on tonight.”

[rainydaydream-gal18]

Cal Kestis x Reader (Continued 4) The Proposal

OG Request: can i request that you write some cal kestis since you haven't written him in so long? how about one where the whole mantis crew helps him propose to the reader? it can even be like a part 4 to the "training" series lol

Author’s Note:  I am SO sorry at how long this took me to post.  I got hit with writer’s block so bad, and this week, I ended up getting sick. It’s been tough to find time and energy to write, but again, I am sorry at how long it was.  I do hope you enjoy it!!!

   "I've never seen you like this," Greez commented, lifting a brow skeptically.  He planted his hands on his hips as he watched Cal make a cup of caf.  It was a task the young jedi had done many times without fail since he was the definition of balance, but somehow, he had managed to spill his cup on the counter.

   Cal lifted his brows only slightly as he tried to act casual.  “What do you mean?”

   “What’s got you so worked up?” Greez asked.  “You seem off...Not quite sure what it is…”

   Years of training had given Cal Kestis the ability to hide.  He’d hidden from the Empire for so long on Bracca.  He had concealed his identity without issue until that fateful day when he rescued his coworker and friend- an event that began quite the adventure.  Still, even so, he hadn’t been able to conceal his nervousness from the Mantis pilot.  His gaze flickered to Cere, who was quietly sipping her own cup of caf from the dining booth.

   Her amusement at the interaction was palpable.  Cal could see the slightest smile on her lips which she hid behind her mug as she took another sip, eyes trained to the table in front of her.

   What would she say if she knew the truth?  Would she be so amused?  As worried as Cal was that his mentor would disapprove of his choice, he was running out of time.  This wasn’t something he could conceal. 

   “The truth is…” he paused, running a hand through his orange hair.

   “What?”  Greez prompted.  “What is it?”

   “I’m…”

   Cere lowered her cup, the soft clink of the material against the table catching Cal’s attention.  “You’re going to propose to _________.”

   Cal gazed at her, lips parting in surprise.

   “Very perceptive of you, Greez,” she continued, eyes flicking to the pilot.  “To have caught that something was going on with our Cal.  However-” she met Cal’s gaze coolly “-the nervous excitement was coming off him in waves.”

   Cal exhaled, shoulders lowering as he braced himself for some sort of sagely warning about the path he was choosing, but Cere merely smiled.

   Greez's jaw dropped straight to the floor. "You...you what?"  He chuckled quietly at first before bursting into joyful laughter as he approached Cal.  “Congratulations, kid!”

   He smiled appreciatively at the support, but shook his head.  “She hasn’t said ‘yes’ yet.”

   Greez shifted his stance, resting a hand on his hip.  "What, you think she'll say 'no'?"

   “Yes, I mean...no...We’ve talked about it, but I just don't know how to do it.”

   Cere surprised him further by rising from the booth.  “Need some help?”

   He tilted his head.  “You’d do that?  But I thought…”

   “The order is gone, Cal,” she replied.  “As members of this crew, we’ve already done some things the Council would have disapproved of.  I think after all these years of sorrow, a little joy is something we need.”

   Cal nodded.  “Thank you.”

   “So wait,” Greez shook his head.  “You want our advice?  On how to propose?  A former monk and a lonely pilot...what could go wrong?”

- - - -

   “Hey there, uh, kid.”

   You smiled, dabbing at a few beads of sweat that glistened on your forehead.  “Hey, Greez.  How’s it going?”  You gave your arms a little stretch, holding back the groan that threatened to spill from your lips at the dull ache.  Cal had assigned you to an arduous training session all afternoon.  It was unexpected, but you were up to the challenge.  Upon returning to the Mantis, you found no sign of your boyfriend, or Cere for that matter.  

   There was only Greez, who averted his gaze nervously.  You got the distinct feeling that he was hiding something.  Something big.

   “Everything alright?” you asked, testing the waters.

   “Alright?  Uh, yeah.  Yeah.  Everything’s alright.  Why wouldn’t it be?  Is everything alright with you?”

   You fought a smile as he fumbled his way through the somewhat defensive response.  “Yeah, I’m done with training for the day.  I’m just looking for Cal, actually.  Have you seen him?”

   “Yes, I mean, no...I may have seen him…  He went somewhere.”

   “He did?  Did he say where?”

   Greez fell silent then, and you raised your brows incredulously at him.  The stubborn pilot wasn’t going to talk.  Your suspicion grew, especially when his nerves seemed to spike even more.  With a shrug, you headed back toward your bunk.  Cere wasn’t anywhere to be found either.

   What if there was a new development with the jedi order?  Even though the holocron containing the location of force-sensitives across the galaxy had been taken care of, the Mantis crew had not lost hope that someday the jedi would return.  Perhaps something had come up.  Still, you weren’t sure why that would mean that both he and Cere would need to discuss it elsewhere.  It wasn’t like Greez couldn’t be trusted.  Or you.

   As you changed out of your training clothes, your hand brushed over the hilt of your lightsaber.  You gripped the handle and removed it from your belt before doing so with the second saber you had constructed some time ago.  The weight in your hands no longer felt foreign and unsettling.  The sabers had become part of you.  They were not just weapons; they were tools.   They were tools to defend those you loved and to usher in peace when the time was right.

   You set them down and continued changing into your gear.

   For years, you’d heard stories of the jedi old.  You’d never imagined becoming one.  You’d never imagined to have a mentor as young and handsome as Cal.  And you certainly never imagined falling in love the way you did.

   The thought was bittersweet.  You mourned for Cal and all that he had lost, but you were so glad to have found him.  He was glad to have found you too.  You could feel it every single day.

   A knock on the door to your quarters pulled you from thought.  “Yes?”

   “Hey,” Greez said, poking his head in.  “He’s waiting for you.”

   “He’s...waiting for me?”  You watched as he disappeared from the doorway before shaking your head.  “This day just gets weirder.”

- - - -

   Greez had followed you off the ship and stayed close behind as you picked up on Cal’s trail.  He insisted that he was not supposed to give you any hints- only that you were supposed to reach out with your feelings and find Cal on your own.

   “Is this some sort of training exercise?” you wondered aloud.  “Because I already finished training for the day.”

   “Sorry, kid,” Greez shrugged.  “It’s not for me to say.”

   “But of course.”  You smirked.  “It’s never that simple.”  You let your eyes slide shut as you reached out with your other senses.  You took a deep breath, inhaling the lovely scents of the forest- leafy greens and even something sweet, like blossoms.  There was a damp feel to the soil beneath your shoes.  More clearly than the other things you felt, you sensed the familiar presence of Cal.  He was nearby.

   As soon as you began walking in that direction, Greez uttered a “woah.”

   You paused, glancing at him over your shoulder.  “What?”

   “You jedi never cease to fascinate me,” he said.  “You know where he is without even a hint.”

   “It’s automatic at this point.”

   “So, you...you two really love each other, huh?” he ventured.

   You smiled and uttered a quiet, “yeah.”   

   The two of you walked through the forest.  A familiar tingle in your feelings let you know that someone was just ahead.  It was Cere.  You’d recognize that presence anywhere after traveling with her for so long.  She sat in the center of a small clearing, legs crossed and eyes shut.

   “This is a training exercise, isn’t it?” you whispered under your breath at the sight.

   Cere’s eyes opened, and her lips turned up in a smirk.  “Cal’s waiting for you.”

   “So I hear.”  You wanted to shake your head in amusement, but if it was indeed a surprise training session, Cere was acting as a mentor, so you instead gave her a nod of respect.  “Is there anything...Is there...What is my task?”

   “That is something you will have to find out yourself.  I wish you luck.”  And with that, Cere rose from her seated position and gave you a nod before stepping aside.  Greez stole a look and shrugged, immediately going to join her.  

   All the while a strange anticipation was growing in you.  Part of it was curiosity on you part for this next step in your training, and part of it you chalked up to be Cal’s emotions mingling with yours.  Even though you had no idea what was going on and why, something about the situation made you feel exhilarated.  Like something amazing was about to happen.

   You continued on your way, shooting your teammates one last curious look before vanishing farther into the forest.  The tingling feeling changed.  It was soon the distinct feeling that you got whenever Cal was nearby.   You knew it before you saw him that he sensed your approach, but when you finally stepped into the clearing where he was waiting, you weren’t expecting the sudden drop of his heart.  It was so sudden that you halted for a moment, thrown off by the swift shift in emotion.  Nervousness.  What did he have to be nervous about?  You were the one being tested!

   “Cal?” you ventured.

   “___________,” he breathed out.  It was like he struggled to breathe for a moment.   You’d never seen him this way before.

   “Is everything alright?” you asked, voice ticked up with concern.

   “Ah, yeah,”  He nodded, glancing down for a moment.  “____________, I need to ask you something.”

   As soon as he said that, your own heart dropped.  It was nervousness at what you suspected was coming next, but it was a good nervousness.  You immediately shifted, hands going over your heart as Cal walked over to you.  There was a small part of you screaming to not give into the hope, just in case it wasn’t what you thought.  Before the seeds of doubt could take root, Cal got down on one knee in front of you.

   Bright afternoon sunlight poured in through the treetops, dancing along his skin with each gust of wind that shook the branches above.  His eyes were fixed on you, glinting with a light you’d seen in him many times when he looked at you.  It was love.  Adoration.

   “_____________,” he said, gently twining his fingers with those of your left hand.  “I love you.  As a jedi, I never thought I’d be able to go down this path….but here I am, and I’m so glad that I can.  You’re the only one I’d want to go with.”

   “Cal….”  you murmured.

   “Will you marry me?”

   Even though you’d realized the words were coming, they still hit hard.  Your vision blurred with tears as the emotions welled up within you.  “Yes, I will.  I love you, Cal.”  And you pulled your hand from his only to wrap both your arms around his neck and plant a loving kiss to his lips.

   Cal kissed you back passionately, leaving you with one last peck before he pulled away to take your hand again.  His eyes darted up to meet yours before they focused on your finger as he slipped a ring on.  Your tears hadn’t stopped.

   “Cal, I’m so happy.”  Then, a chuckle escaped your lips as you wiped your eyes.  “I was wondering what all this was about.  I thought it was a training exercise.”

   “That was the idea,” he said with the shake of his head.  “We thought it’d be more of a surprise that way.”

   “‘We’?”

   “Cere and Greez helped me out.  I knew I wanted to put this ring on your finger, but I wasn’t quite sure how.”

   “Thank you,” you called over your shoulder, and you were amused when Cere and Greez emerged from the brush.  “Really, this was a lovely surprise.”

   “I’m glad you thought so,” Greez said, clasping his hands together.  He glanced between the two of you curiously.  “So, when’s the wedding?”

[growup-thatbeautiful]

You write Zeffirelli better than anyone! all your stuff on him makes me so soft lol. Could you do an imagine/headcannon where he proposes? Thank you 😊

oooooo yes! thank you for asking :)) i totally didn’t see this and kept missing it i’m so sorry

please leave comments, tags, or just come scream at me about it!

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

zeffirelli is nervous about something. you can tell the moment he picks you up for your date, the stars and streetlights shrinking behind his profile against your door.

he got you pink roses, not something unusual for him to do but definitely not casual. they’re tied with a yellow ribbon in a neat bow that means he definitely didn’t do it.

he’s wearing a nice suit jacket instead of his school one, and his hair is…well he looks nice. he greets you with the usual kiss and proclamation of “you look beautiful today,” and takes your hand without a word, leading you to the firescape of your apartment. his timing is perfect, as usual, and the stars shine against the river, picturesque, out of a fairy tale book.

“i realized that for all the time we’ve spend together, we haven’t yet looked at the stars.” you don’t reply, but lean your head against his shoulders. he takes his hand in yours and kisses your knuckles gently.

“get your shoes on, we have somewhere to go,” he whispers into the night, standing up and kissing your forehead.

you shake your head, amused, and do what he says. pulling on your boots, he puts a hat on your head and ruffles your hair. you stick your tongue out at him.

he walks you to one of the bridges across the river. it’s your favorite one, covered in twisting ivy and blooming white flowers. the summer air drifts across you, bringing the smell of blossoms and night air.

you lean against the rail, the bricks cool under your hands. a petals blows away and floats on the water, rippling the stars.

he’s leaning beside you on the bridge one moment, then the next he’s down on one knee, looking up at you with his heart on his sleeve. his hair falls wildly in from of his eyes, a curtain that does nothing to hide his emotions. they’re written in his posture, his hands, his soul.

even if you couldn’t read him like an open book, his words say it all. “i’m better at speaking when things are written out in front of me, so i wrote down what i was going to say right now the second time i met you. i couldn’t help it.”

“i have loved you my whole life. i think i knew it before i even met you, that you were the one i was waiting for. the one i dreamed i would fall in love with as a kid. the one with a laugh that could make me melt into the floor and with eyes that laugh along with you.”

“there is never a moment when i don’t want to be with you, and even when i’m angry at you i’m still more in love than i ever have been before. every day that i see you you become more dear to me, and i want that to continue for my whole life.”

“my mother gave me my choice of my grandmothers rings the first time i mentioned you. she said that she could see it in my eyes that i was going to marry you. i chose this one.” you look down in between his fingers, where a beautiful ring is held. the band is a simple silver, growing with the deep green jewel that glistens with moonlight. the two green gems are shaped like leafs, and in the middle is a dark red circular jewel, engraved as a rose.

“it’s beautiful,” you whisper, not wanting to break the moment.

“will you wear it?“ he asks nervously.

“i will.” you reply.

“ma rose por toujours.” he says with awe, slipping it into your finger before standing up and spinning you around and kissing you.

you hold him back tightly, his rose forever more.

[shoutogepi]

Pull of the Moon

Kirishima Eijirou

word count : 7.8k

[ ✘ (nsfw!), werewolf!au ]  

themes : masturbation, licking/biting, dom!Kiri, rough sex, dirty talk, slight choking, friends to lovers, confession

bio : Eijirou makes sure he’s far away from you for when the heat cycle strikes, but just when he thinks your friendship is safe from his monstrous hormones, there you are at his doorstep.

author’s note : so this is a fic that i wrote years ago for my kpop blog, linked in my bio. i wanted to repost it here for bnha, just bc i like the way i wrote it and i think it’s pretty fitting character-wise for Kiri! plus im a slut for werewolf fics. and also i wanted to post something while work is keeping me from writing something 100% new rn :3 pls note this is NOT plagiarized as I am the original author of the original fic.

side note : if there are any places where it says Jae, Jaebum, etc. lemme know bc it was a quick job i did converting this to a Kiri fic lol like even the title is the same oops

also available on AO3 here

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

“🅂o you’re sure you have to leave for tonight, Y/N?” Kirishima inquires, tilting his head in his open palm to crane his bright gaze up toward your face.  

“Yeah, I don’t think I can get out of visiting my parents for dinner this time,” you reply, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as you cuddle your chin into the warmth of Kirishima’s oversized scarf. The soft fabric grazes under your nose, and your eyes close blissfully as you inhale Kirishima’s strong, spicy aroma mingled with his cologne.

Kirishima watches you through slitted eyes, secretly pleased at your actions. Not that he would ever tell you, because that would be weird. He shuts his eyes tightly, telling himself in his head not to overthink it. Of course you like how he smells, he’s your friend. Friends like how each other smell… right? His body shivers as your fingers naturally slide into his thick, red hair. His face slides down as his body turns to jello, leaning completely on top of the table in complete euphoria at the feeling of your touch. If there was a price to have your hands on him for every hour of the day, he would pay it a thousand times over. His lips part as his jaw instinctively unhinges at your undivided attention like a newborn puppy, chin angling when your fingers slide down to the side of his jaw you brush just underneath it before pulling away.  

“Eiji, I really do have to go,” you murmur, fingers retreating from his form as he lets out a low whine. One of his warm eyes opens, scowling at you playfully.

“Okay,” he sighs when you push out your chair and begin to gather your things. He places some money on the table before following you out of the coffee shop. “I’m jealous, please bring me some of your mom’s noodles. You know how much I like them, and her.“

“I will Eiji. But you’re lucky you’re not coming, because all they ever do is gush about what a cute couple we’d be and it always ends up being weird,” you trail off, nodding to yourself.

Kirishima nods too but his heart jumps at you thinking of him as an intimate partner.

“By the way, thanks for the latte. And tell Mina hello for me when you see her tonight,” you laugh with a suggestive wink.

Kirishima rolls his eyes. “You know I’m only spending the night with her to help her with her… issues."

You smack his arm and scoff. “As if that’s a burden to you! At least you’re spending the night having fun. I’m just gonna be answering the million questions my parents will be asking about you the whole time and falling asleep in my bed by myself."

“It’s not my fault I’m so lovable,” he banters, a cheeky grin splicing between his lips, trying to shake the image of you alone in bed out of his imaginative mind.

“Say that to you baku-squad,” you retort, the two of you now standing in front of the cafe as you linger before your journey to the bus station.

“Hey— wait, is that my scarf?” Kirishima asks, pretending to notice just now when he really did the moment you walked in two hours ago. But you looked so cute all bundled up in his scarf that he decided not to say anything, content to see you warm and happy in his own clothing.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” you unwrap it from your neck and Kirishima gazes at the newly-revealed skin there with longing, forgetting about the scarf. “Eiji?"

He snaps out of it. “What? Oh— the scarf.. Keep it, I was just teasing,” he mumbles as you hook the material around the back of his neck. He’s considerably tall, massive frame towering over you so much that you have to strain your arms to fling the material onto his shoulders.

“That’s okay Eiji... you look cute in it, so wear it for Mina,” you smile half-heartedly, tugging the fabric at the ends to coil around his throat snugly. “Don’t worry about me."

“I always worry about you, Y/N,” Kirishima gazes into your eyes with a passionate longing undetectable to you. Not Mina, he wants to add.

“Well, don’t, Red, I’ll be okay. I always am,” you trace his jaw slowly with a finger before your hands fall at your sides, brushing off your coat.  

Kirishima nods hesitantly, falling into a quiet, comfortable pace beside you.  

Your boots quickly become cold as the two of you trudge through the slush from leftover snow, the bitter winter breeze chilling your nose and ears. Sooner than either of you would like, you’ve reached the bus station. Kirishima shuffles from foot to foot, arguing with himself as to if he should ask you to stay and have dinner with him instead of going on the hour-long ride to your parents’.  

“Are you sure this is okay? You don’t want me to come with you? Or I can drive you. The roads aren’t that great tonight… Mina will understand. She doesn’t— We’re not dating, you know— me and her, I mean, I only… help her as a friend.. So I can cancel, and she won’t have any issues. She has lots of other guy friends,” Kirishima reasons.

“Eiji,” you chuckle, taking your duffel bag from his hand that he’d carried for the journey here, “Mina needs you.”

But I need you, Kirishima thinks as he bites his lip. “Okay… have a safe ride then. And text me when you get there.”  

“Yes, Dad,” you laugh. You slip into his arms easily, almost naturally, and press your face against his chest beneath his wool jacket.  

Kirishima’s arms encircle you immediately, instinctively pulling you to him as his chin falls atop the crown of your head. “I’ll miss you,” he breathes.

“Don’t be weird, Eiji,” you giggle, pulling away from him much too soon for his liking. “See you tomorrow.”  

Kirishima watches you walk into the bus terminal, duffel bag in your hand with his heart unknowingly tucked deep inside of it.

Kirishima paces back and forth between the couch and the dining table. His nerves are shaky and his body uncharacteristically twitchy. He’d been smelling female wolves around the city all day while he was out with you, but he managed to ward them off with icy glares and his steel-strong self-control. It also helped that you were there to distract him, seeing as when he wasn’t with you, you were the only thing on his mind. But now that he was alone— Mina had cancelled on him to spend the night with an “old friend” that had come back to town— and he was all by himself, he was feeling the full effects of the female wolf hormones he’d breathed in for the past twelve hours.

He closes his eyes as his mind wanders to the image of you wrapped up in his scarf in the cafe; the warm scent of coffee; the condensation on the windows; your light-filled eyes on him; the scent of your freshly-washed hair… He opens his eyes, tongue running over his front teeth as he feels the evident, sharp prod of his elongated cuspids as a result of his piqued interest. He groans, feeling his eyes dilate just the slightest of fractions. He sits on the floor, sliding down the wall with a frown on his plump lips.

Kirishima watches the hands of the clock tick on the wall in front of him for a moment before he shuts his eyes and smacks his head back against the drywall, a loud whine releasing from his throat. The apartment lacks of things that could possibly captivate his attention at the moment; all he can do is think about you— your pretty face, your gentle caress on his skin just hours before. There are no messages from you and his sensitive ears long to hear the chime notification that signifies your safe arrival.  

“Just friends,” he murmurs, “just friends, just friends, just friends."

He tries to breathe in deeply to relax himself, but success quickly slips through his grasp as the scent of you lingers on the scarf casually thrown over the back of the sofa. His jaw clenches as his teeth gnash, taking in your alluring aroma. He tries to think of something— anything else, but he eventually gives up, slamming his palms flat on the hardwood floor as he pushes himself up. He lunges toward the couch, throwing himself onto the open cushions as his hands immediately find the soft cotton. He brings the material to his nose, a low moan falling from his open mouth as the intense smell floods his senses.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, readjusting his hips as he feels his body reacting swiftly to the pull of your scent. He hisses lightly as he feels the blood rush to his pants, wiggling his hips around to feel the delicious friction against his hardening erection. He rubs the inside of his thigh gently with his palm, imagining your small hand instead of his on his jean-clad length. “God, this is so fucked,” he gasps, grip strengthening on himself through his jeans. Originally his plan for the evening consisted of fucking Mina senseless and imagining it was you, but seeing as she had cancelled, this was the next best option.  

Kirishima fumbles with his belt and shimmies out of his jeans, ripping his constrictive t-shirt over his head and whipping it elsewhere into the living room. He kicks the denim off from around his ankles next, one hand holding the soft fabric of the scarf close to his nose and the other trailing toward his throbbing hard-on from the bend of his knee; how he imagines your hand would do.

A feral grunt dislodges from the back of his throat as he pictures your hair falling around your perfectly cherubic face that leans down toward his own, one hand pressing his chest down against the couch cushion and the other hand on his thigh tracing the outline of his cock straining against his briefs. His hips jerk as his forefinger runs from tip to base, his thumb sliding backwards over the previous route to caress the head of his dick gently in circular swipes. He seals his lips together by sucking in the bottom one, his canines lengthened by arousal piercing the soft flesh of the lower lip so that a metal taste floods his mouth, but he only closes his eyes and continues his ministrations.

Kirishima continues to skim the pads of his fingertips over the prominent erection that pushes against his underwear in defiance, face pressed into the back of the sofa so the cushions catch his heavy moans instead of his neighbors. He halts for a moment so he can find a throw pillow to sink his fangs into, positioning the scarf above his lip and against the pillow so it presses right against his hypersensitive nose. A strangled moan tears from him, his hand immediately returning to his leaking hard-on. It dips underneath the band of his boxers before it wraps around his width, squeezing tight. His body shakes and he sucks in a breath, squirming to lay flat against the leather of the sofa. Slowly he moves his hand up to encompass the head, a heavy snarl being lost into the throw pillow. He strokes himself teasingly, thumb trailing behind to caress the aching tip. His hips push into the cushion as his body moves to a natural rhythm, thrusting them up slightly as his fist falls back down toward his abdomen. The thick precum dribbling from his tip lathers his palm so his cock slides into it easily. His eyelashes tickle his high cheekbones as his eyes shut tighter, fingertips tracing the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft.

The sofa wheezes as he shifts, impatiently pushing his briefs down in one tug to rest on his mid-thighs. He scoots off of the sofa and onto the hardwood floor, kneeling as he places his fist onto the tabletop, lining his hips delicately before sliding his length into his firm grasp. He whimpers into the pillow, now damp with his saliva, and hunches over the table, his free arm curled underneath his broad torso. The fabric of the scarf tickles his nose but he inhales deeper, hips pushing in and out of his fist quickly. He imagines you beneath him instead of the table and his fist, moaning with him as his canines sink into your neck to mark you as his and only his. His destitute wails are swallowed by the soft pillow and the scarf as he keeps thrusting steadily, imagination running so wildly he can almost feel your legs on either side of him, pushing him further inside of you.

“Oh, Y/N,” he grunts, cuspids fully lengthened and sharpened now in desire, piercing the soft fabric of the pillow almost enough so his bottom and top teeth could touch through the plush object,” Y/N, I’m gonna—“

Knock knock knock.

Kirishima’s body stills as he opens his eyes, disappointment rushing through him at the sight of the coffee table underneath him. He wants to scream, but he just shuts his eyes, taking a breath in before sliding his hard cock out of his fist and tucking the slick inconvenience back into his boxers. His breath is labored and heavy, but he manages to find his jeans and slip them on anyway. “One sec,” he says loudly, fastening the button before hesitantly wiping his hand on the side of the denim. He can’t help but sulk as he walks over and picks his shirt up from the floor, breathing deeply and hoping his canines aren’t too obvious of an indicator as to what he was just doing… not to mention the angrily-pulsing dick resting against the inside of his thigh.  

He strides toward the door, opening it ready to tell Mina he thought she’d cancel when he’s greeted with your sweet face and the scent of Italian food. His jaw almost hits the floor as he gapes at you, dick pressing longingly against his jeans at your familiar smell, but in person it radiates off of you so strong he almost lunges at you. You’re looking up at him with those bright cheerful eyes he loves, a timid smile on your lips as you swing the takeout bag back and forth behind your back in anticipation.  

“Hi, Eiji,” you smile and set the bag on the ground next to the door before you turn around and take his tense body into your arms, throwing yourself onto him.  

A gasp rips from his throat but quickly turns into a cough, body trembling at your singeing touch. His jaw quivers as he conceals his pointed teeth, angling his thigh away from you strategically. “Y-Y/N, w-what are you doing here?” He manages to ask, lips sealing immediately once the words are pushed out.   His hands remain clenched at his sides; he’s scared that if he touches you now he won’t be able to stop.  

“There was a freak accident on the highway ahead of my bus… We had to turn back. My parents don’t mind though, they said we can reschedule. Maybe you won’t need to miss my mom’s noodles this time; you can come if you want. By the way, I brought Italian!” You smile as you pick up the bag and brush past him, leaving him standing there, looking at the door with a glare.

You move around the sofa and sit on one of the leather cushions, setting the bag onto the coffee table. “Ew Eiji,” he sits next to you stiffly, eyes widening as you reach over to the table and poke a finger into the slick trail of precum that had dribbled out of his fist just moments ago. “What is this? Do you ever clean this apartment?” You giggle, unfolding the paper bag the food had come in and wiping your finger on your skirt. “Anyway, I got food from your favorite place and made sure I got the breadsticks with the extra sauce ‘cause I know you lov—“

A quiet groan escapes Kirishima’s mouth as he puts his head in his hands— your scent, your alluring body, your heart-swelling gaze, just you, being here—it’s too much for his raging hormones.  

“Ei? Are you okay?” You ask, scooting closer and pressing the back of your hand to his forehead. He’s shaking and you don’t know why, so you bring his head to rest against your collar, just above your fluttering heart. “Eiji, you’re burning up…”  

He stays pressed against you, the desperation and torture he felt earlier suddenly fleeting and gone from his body as your own erases them completely. He swallows. It feels so good, but he knows it’s wrong. This is wrong when you’re just his friend and his dick is leaking into his underwear for you as you hold him like this.

“Get out,” Kirishima murmurs, eyes set on the paper bag.  

You still, slowly pulling him. “W-What Eiji?”  

“You need to leave,” he says through his teeth, jaw set tight.  

“Eijirou.. I don’t understand— is this how you treat someone when they bring you your favorite food?” You spit, hands curling into frustrated fists.

Kirishima ignores you, knowing he can apologize tomorrow when he’s in the right mindset but you being here with him at the moment could jeopardize your entire relationship.

“I… Is it… her? Is it Mina?” You murmur, and Kirishima’s gaze turns to you sharply at the drop in your tone. His lips part to say something to soothe your confidence as he sees it shatter. “I didn’t realize— I thought—” you breathe in sharply and shake your head, shooting up from your spot and rushing around the sofa.  

Kirishima beats you to the door, palm reaching over your shoulder to slam it just as you can get it open a sliver. He grabs your biceps, spinning you around and pressing you against the door with his hand as a cushion to break your impact.

“It’s never been Mina,” he snarls, knee splitting your legs and sliding up the gap between your thighs to press against your core; your panties and his jeans the only thing separating your center from his skin.

Your eyes widen and you gasp as his hands cup your face with care, scarlet eyes searing into your own with an intensity you’d never seen before. His pupils are dilating with every second, a black coal seemingly swallowed up by the burning fire of his irises.

“It’s you, Y/N,” he murmurs, eyes shutting into a long blink, and when they open again the red you’re used to is flooded with tendrils of electric amber and yellow. “It’s always been you, and it’ll always be you.”

You gape at him as he holds you there, against his front door, professing his love to you.

“I need you Y/N, I need you so bad it fucking hurts not being able to touch you,” he growls lowly. “If you can’t love me back, you have to leave, now. I don’t want your lust, I can smell it from here,” his honeyed eyes roll back as he takes in a whiff of the wanton-perfumed air around you, mouth parting and you watch his pink tongue slide over his elongated canines, feeling a tremor between your legs. His eyes open and they set straight on yours with a certain determination. 

“I can’t wake up next to you tomorrow and have tonight be just for friends with benefits. I love only you, Y/N,” Kirishima delivers, voice never quivering,“now tell me you feel the same, or go.”

There’s a slight fragility in his gaze that begs you not to break his heart. He peers into you at such a small distance that you can see every brilliant fleck of gold in his sinful eyes, warm ginger bursting around the outer ridges of his irises that focus solely on you. The dim lighting casts stretched shadows from his long, dark lashes; his bronzed skin glowing subtly to intensify his passionate gaze.

“Kirishima,” you place a hand on his clenched but trembling jaw, tilting your face to look him in the eye better. “You’ve been hurting all this time for no reason.”  

His scarlet gaze lights with hope and happiness. “Say it then,” he whispers, words soft and nearly begging, as if he fears if his voice is too loud he’ll wake from a dream.

“Kirishima Eijirou, I love you, too. God, I have beein in love with you for so long,” you reply, and he wastes no time as his mouth descends upon yours. He presses your lips to his passionately, hands resting on your hips and rubbing the smooth skin there underneath your blouse. You gasp as they guide your hips gently in circles against his kneecap, your mouth falling open at his forward actions. He takes advantage of your open mouth and darts his tongue in, tangling it with yours in a powerful embrace.  

His steady clutch on your waist drags your body up his clothed thigh, and a soft, unabashed moan falls from your lips at the action. The taut muscle of his leg between his jeans and your panties rubs graciously against your flustered center, making your head loll back to rest against the door.  

“Don’t do that,” Kirishima groans, a hand leaving your warm hip and tilting your head forward once again to look at him directly. His fingers trail against your smooth neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath the tender skin. His palm curls softly around the back of your neck, pressing you closer to him as his other arm hooks underneath your bottom. You squeak in surprise and cling to him, legs wrapping around his midsection and core pressing upon his rigid erection.  

You look at him with wide eyes as he throws his head back, sucking in air harshly between his clenched jaw. “Fuck, yes,” he hisses, holding you tighter and stalking over to the sofa. He places you in between the two cushions, standing in front of you and looking down, breathing laboriously before he tilts his head back again, willing for some kind of miraculous strength to get him through the night without sealing you to him forever.

“How come you get to do that and I don’t?” You frown as he looks down at you before he crouches, his face dropping just below your own to gaze up at you.  

“Because you don’t have the urge to sink your three-centimeter canines into my throat,” his upper lip curls back as he shows you the result of his attraction to you.  

You look at him with unintentionally pouted lips, batting your eyelashes as you take in his words. Isn’t that how werewolves marry or something? You think. Kirishima had explained it all once before, one night when you were both wasted at three in the morning at some bar on the outskirts of the city.  

“God, can you look unattractive for one second while I try to pull myself together?” Kirishima groans, a hand running through his disheveled hair.

“Who said I want you to pull yourself together?” You inquire, scooting toward the lip of the cushion.  

Kirishima looks at you warily with an underlying, longing hunger before you place your hands on either side of his sharp jaw and bring his lips to yours. Your eyes close immediately and his blissfully, your hands gliding down his neck to his broad chest. You grapple onto his wide shoulders, one hand burying into the hair at the base of his neck to push him into the kiss even more.  

His throat vibrates gently with an almost-inaudible growl, and you part his tender lips with a swipe of your tongue, the pink muscle coasting in and gently feeling the warm, smooth hardness of his cuspids.

Kirishima untucks your blouse in one pull, fingers nimbly undoing each button before sliding the clothing off your shoulders and tossing it away. His hands lay strategically on your ribs, fingertips brushing the underwire of your bra just barely.  

He pulls you forward into his arms, hands splaying onto your back with delight, fingers undoing the fastening between your shoulder blades with glee. You lean into him as he flings the bra in the direction of the blouse, mouth instantly latching to your breast and tongue twirling around the swollen bud. You wail, pushing him closer as his teeth bump against your nipple and his lips grow taut with a warm smirk, depraved gaze intense as ever.

You want more than ever to throw your head back onto the top of the sofa, but you know you’re forbidden to do so. Instead, you slide your body further down onto the cushions, hips brushing against Kirishima’s torso as his mouth leaves your nipples, your face coming to a stop directly in front of his. Your hands cup his angular jaw again, coaxing his lips onto yours into an ardent kiss. His long eyelashes flutter against your blushed cheeks, his coarse hair drifting softly through your digits.  

His hands land on your rolling hips, scuttling closer on his knees so his crotch feels the steady rhythm. He hums, a primitive trembling in his throat that sounds more like a soft growl. Your hands fall to the hem of his snug t-shirt, which he gladly expels into the corner toward your blouse and bra. You lean back a bit and admire his toned form. His broad chest, pectorals curving dramatically to his wide shoulders seamlessly; the v shape tapering down to the top of his jeans; the faint trail of dark hair waning below the brass button to his jeans; the way his abdominal muscles flex with each heavy breath; the salient outline against his thigh that both he and you know aches for your attention.  

You can’t help yourself. You reach between his strong thighs, fingers skimming along the bulge mockingly. Kirishima’s head rolls full circle, hand clutching your wrist tightly as he stares into you, lips parting and hot pink tongue gliding along his white, sharp teeth. “That was very naughty of you,” he murmurs, honeyed eyes darkening to a burnt orange. Trepidation ignites in your heart, but also desire floods your senses as well as your panties.  

“Eijirou,” you breathe and his lip curls back into a snarl, a loud growl releasing from his throat. His nostrils flare and he swallows harshly.  

“Say it again,” he orders, leaning into your face.

“E-Eijirou,” it comes out as a whisper, but his sensitive ears hear the slight whine to your tone, and his cock jumps at the sound against your eager fingertips. “You like it when I say your name, Eiji?”  

His tongue runs swiftly over his lip, his eyeing your chest hips hungrily. His hand reached forward on its own accord, sliding effortlessly under the soft material of your skirt to press against your warmed, wet panties. His lips curve into a devious smirk, fangs poking out slightly as his dark, copper-tainted eyes set on yours. “Mmm, and you like it when I growl for you, baby girl?”  

“God, yes Eiji,” you answer and gulp at his overwhelming intensity. He trains his gaze to the movement of your fragile throat, tongue flicking around one canine subconsciously. A deep purr of sorts emanates from him in approval, making your legs tremble and press together around his intruding forearm.  

He smiles devilishly, white teeth glinting in the dim lighting. His other hand circles round your back, pushing your tailbone so your body slides forward on the couch, to the very edge of the cushion. His fingers nudge your thong aside, immediately met with your poignant arousal. The tips of his middle and ring finger separate your folds facilely, gliding over your entrance and clit making you bite your lip to hold in an impatient moan. “Oh baby, you’re so wet for me,” he chuckles. “If only we’d figured this out sooner.”

“Eiji, fuck,” you cry when he rubs your clit gently, your jaw trembling as you sag against his arm’s firm hold and the back of the sofa. You can’t throw your head back so you lean forward, elbows falling on Kirishima’s generous shoulders, the side of your face against his soft hair as his tongue guides a pebbled nipple into his mouth, caressing it slowly and pressing it against his teeth. You whimper pathetically, his thumb replacing his fingers as they slide down and glide half-way right into your awaiting entrance.  

He hooks the two fingers and presses repeatedly, making you shove his face closer to your breasts in pleasure. He slides them deeper, knuckles lapping against your slick entrance as his tongue works diligently on your nipple. You clench around him and moan loudly at the depth his fingers achieve, the feeling of total ecstasy near. It had been a long time since a man had touched you, and it was no where near as incredible as having Kirishima’s thick fingers rubbing inside you.

“Eijirou, that feels so—” you warn but he only picks up the pace. He leans down, tongue replacing his thumb smoothly and you almost scream. He strokes your clit fervently, tongue lapping persistently up and down as his long canines brush on either side, his fingers curling and straightening at the same pace. “Fuck Eiji— I’m seriously gonna cum,” you pant, falling back against the back of the sofa.  

He looks up at you mischievously, dark eyes alight with arousal and a touch of humor. You feel his full lips in a smirk as he wraps them around your clit, tongue lavishing it faster. One hand falls to his hair, gripping it tight as the other curls against your mouth, your eyes shutting tight as your orgasm smashes against you like a wave crashing down upon you. You moan, body quivering in Kirishima’s strong grip, wiggling pointlessly against the sofa cushions.  

Kirishima doesn’t cease until you’ve returned from your high, standing up and unfastening his jeans quickly, pushing them down and kicking them off when they reach his ankles. You sit up from your slumped position, hands landing on his thighs and traveling around to rub the backs of them in anticipation. Kirishima watches you hungrily, his thick cock longing for your attention. You lean forward, almost touching where he wants you most, before you look up at him and give him your most innocent doe eyes you can muster after having his sinful session on you just moments before. You bat your lashes and he growls loudly, fists clenching at his sides.  

“Y/N,” he advises, tone a little menacing. You tilt your head and press your lips against his erection through his briefs, a low groan sounding from above you. You kiss down toward the tip and back up to the base of his shaft before you reach up and untuck him, briefs sliding to the hardwood floor. You smirk as you look at what you’ve done to him. His dick is throbbing gently as you rest it against a palm, beads of translucent-white precum adorning the tip of the red, swollen tip. You repeat your kiss trail on his bare skin, his cock twitching at the action as you feel the vein underneath contract harshly. When you reach the base your tongue pokes out, tracing up and down the prominent vein on the underside.  

Kirishima watches you with a dark, maleficent gaze, throat tightening and a growl tumbling out when you take the head into your mouth, sucking teasingly as your tongue dances around the leaking tip. “Fuck yes, baby girl. Just like that."

You retreat with a loud pop, smiling up at him and his heart flutters in his chest at the pureness of it. With an open mouth you glide your tongue along the sides of him to slicken his entire length before your lips encompass the tip and suddenly his dick is touching the back of your throat and you don’t even seem to mind. Kirishima lets out a strangled moan of shock, watching your head bob energetically up and down his hot length. He watches you in awe for a few minutes, just dazed this is really happening and he’s not waking up abruptly like when he’d dreamt this scenario so many nights before.  

He snaps out of it suddenly, aware his cock is tensing the way it does when he’s about to cum. You’d noticed, too, at the feel of the harsh, bulging vein on the under-shaft, slowing down to a halt and leaning back to catch your breath.

“Baby you did so good,” he praises, hands cupping your face and you beam at him proudly. “Now take off your skirt for me.”  

You comply eagerly, shimmying out of the cotton garment, your thong following close behind. Kirishima smugly watches the stings of your arousal snap as your panties are thrown onto the floor, fist stroking his length slowly to keep himself at bay.

“Turn,” he instructs, other hand guiding you to face away from him,” knees on the couch, now.”  

You do as told, looking back at him over your shoulder expectantly. He smiles and steps forward, and your back arches as you feel his length glide against your dripping entrance.  

“Be a good girl for me, okay? Do not let me get anywhere near your throat, got it? If I do, I’ll sink my teeth into you so fast you won’t know what’s happening. And then you’re stuck with me for life. So watch out for yourself, baby. This is your only warning,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear before a hand lands on your hip and suddenly he’s pushing into you, a gasp tearing from your throat as he stretches you to your capacity. When his hips bump against your ass your eyes have already rolled back in delirium, your lip falling open in shock.  

He pulls out half-way before sheathing back inside slowly, a whine releasing from your mouth. His hand remains on your hip while the other grabs a fistful of your hair, trailing out again before snapping in. The tip of his cock nestles so deep in you that tears dot along your bottom lashes; the feeling is so blissful and fulfilling that your emotions skyrocket.  

“Eijirou— oh, yes,” you whimper as he repeats the action, movements still paced and measured to help you adjust to his size.

“Feel good, baby? ‘Cuz this feels amazing for me— you feel amazing on me, Y/N,” he grunts, fingers gripping the skin of your hip tighter as he angles your face so he can see it with his other hand.  

“Yes, fuck yes, you feels so good,” you commend as the pace intensifies, making a moan spill out of you. He groans from behind you, letting go of your hair and placing his hand on your other hip to keep you steady. You clutch onto the top of the sofa tightly as he pounds into you, and you gasp as a hand leaves your hip for a moment and delivers a sharp smack to your ass, making your back arch into Kirishima’s grasp. You’re babbling now, your entire body thrumming with pleasure. “Oh god—ohgodohgodohgodohgod.”

Kirishima hisses as he watches the bright pink mark on your ass cheek tremble as his hips slam against yours, bottom lip tucked under his offending cuspids. He licks his lip to keep from drooling onto you, eyes trained on your perfect figure that he’s fucking into the sofa. Pleasure courses through his body, intensified at the sound and obvious proof of your own satisfaction as he thrusts into you quickly.  

“Again,” you lament softly, and if he hadn’t been a werewolf with keen hearing he wouldn’t have heard your request over the assaulting sound of your skin slapping against his. He delivers and slaps your other cheek sharply, a lustful mix between a gasp and a moan escaping you.  

“Fuck, you’re so sexy, baby,” Kirishima admires, smirking as you turn slightly to look at him. He grabs your shoulder and pulls your torso back, slamming it against his as his other hand wraps around your throat snugly to stop his innate temptation to leave his mark there. The other hand leaves your arm and instead bands around your waist, pressing you flush against him. His hips retreat and pound into you in the new position, and you rest your head back onto his shoulder since your neck is safe from his view with his large hand covering it.

You stare into each other as he continues, and you move your hips back as he moves his in, making each thrust more powerful. His lips find yours and they mould easily, your hand coming up to caress his jaw and press his face closer to yours.

“Eiji, your cock feels so good,” you pant between his kisses and potent strokes, “God, you’re so big.”

“Mmm, I love when you talk dirty to me,” Kirishima murmurs against your mouth, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face.  

It’s fucked up but his tight hold on your throat is only turning you on more, making your eyes close as each thrust feels better than the last.

“Fuck, Ei,” you groan, slouching back against his toned form as the pleasure is too great.  

“Here, baby,” he says, cock slipping out of you before picking you up, walking briskly out of the common space and into a hallway, then finally into his bedroom. He shuts the door with his foot, laying you gently onto his messy bedsheets and blankets. He rolls you over onto your stomach before he climbs on top of you, hovering above you before he slips back in with ease.  

You moan and tuck your face into the sheets that smell like him, his arms bracing on either side of your head as his forearms rest next to yours, elbows bent and fists clenched. His hips swing effortlessly into yours, making a loud, crude slapping sound echo around the room. You moan almost pathetically into the sheets, turning to lay your face to the side so Kirishima can hear your noises of pleasure. He kisses your cheek sweetly before moving to your jaw and nibbling there gently, his tempo still quick and lethal. His tip, nestled deep inside, assaults your g-spot and you purr in content at the sensation, a gasp escaping you as he plunges in a little more forcefully. His hand wraps around your throat again, lifting your head up as his lips meet yours tenderly. His tongue plays with yours gently, a stark contrast to your hips. The hold on your throat is firm but also soft, and his thumb brushes along your jawline as his fingertips push into your racing pulse.

His hand leaves you and suddenly you’re on your back, Kirishima dragging your body up the bed so your head lays on the pillows. He smiles widely before he swoops in and his lips take yours again. His cock glides right back in, and you moan loudly into the kiss as the tip brushes your g-spot at a different angle than before. Your pussy quivers around him as he picks up the pace again, one arm folding under and around your waist and the other holding your chin, elbow digging into the mattress to keep himself propped up. His kisses trail from your lips to your chin and jaw, tongue sliding out and lathering your skin gently. Your eyes open as it slides down your throat, and the slight point of his canines poke against your skin. You quickly take his head in your hands, guiding his lips back to yours.  

“Baby, I’m gonna cum,” he murmurs against your lips, eyebrows scrunched in concentration, breath heavy as his exhausted hips keep up the erratic pace against yours. He whimpers as your walls constrict around him firmly.  

“I’m close, too, Eiji,” you mumble, legs folding around his waist, your arms tangling around his torso with your hands on each shoulder blade, fingernails gripping his slick skin. One of his hands is pressed into the sheets by your shoulder, propping him up, and the other is going white on your hip from his tight hold.  

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he snarls, voice low and resonating with a growl. You watch his abdomen accordion as he flexes in and out of you with apparent effort, drops of sweat gliding down his broad chest. He throws his head back and whines as your nails dig into his strong shoulder muscles, chasing his imminent ecstasy.  

Watching his body tremble and exert itself to bring you to your euphoria pushes you toward your own climax, and the feeling of his hand on your hip and the way his lip pinches between his teeth makes your eyes roll back and your body tense as you fall off the cliff, hurtling down into the thrashing waves of your orgasm. You call his name in a strangled cry, limbs clutching onto him for dear life as the pleasure shakes through you. His hips don’t stop; plunging further into you and pushing you harder under the tides of your climax. Your body shivers and you’re so out of it you don’t notice Kirishima’s thrusts becoming volatile, his arm that had once propped his torso above yours curling beneath your back to press your torso against his.  

A growl of victory splits from deep in his throat as he approaches his own high, muscles tense in anticipation for the long-awaited prize. He shudders and suddenly his cuspids are lodged deep in your throat, and it feels like he’s just been run over by an eighteen-wheeler of ecstasy. His jaw shakes as his eyes close, abdomen convulsing as he spills deep into you in long, relentless spurts. The combination of his orgasm and his marking you almost make him pass out in an exhaustive pleasure.

Just as you’d come to from your orgasm, searing pain splices through you as Kirishima’s fangs split your skin and neck tissue, your jaw opening but no sound releasing. And just as fast as the pain had arrived, it’s replaced and you’re submerged back into the tidal waves of a new climax, making you clench and flex around Kirishima’s throbbing member that pulses into you.  

His fingers clasp the skin of your hips so strongly the skin turns white, but your own nails lodge into his shoulders to grapple him to you; the both of you holding each other as if your lives depend on it. The sheets around you are twisted and damp from your sweat, but the two of you only seem to care about each other; drifting numbly and blissfully in your shared euphoria.

After a moment Kirishima’s body sags, sliding slightly to the side of yours as his muscles stop tensing and he stops physically releasing into you. His teeth still woven deep into your neck, he doesn’t dare move his face.  

As the tides form your orgasm slowly recede, your body hums in a warm satisfaction and a certain numbness. Your hands rove over Kirishima’s expansive back soothingly, and he exhales with a content but tired moan in response.  

Very timidly, Kirishima stretches his jaw to the maximum before he pulls away from your neck, leaving your head buzzing lightly. He licks the puncture wounds instantly, enzymes in his saliva helping to start the healing process while he cleans away the scarlet blood that beads there. He ghosts a kiss over your jaw before he pulls away, smiling warily as his eyes meet yours.  

The primal amber and yellow shades are gone, leaving behind the warm red you’d fallen in love with. They cast over your face in total adoration, with a hint of fear.  

He looks away as he slides out of you, his release immediately following and forming a wet puddle on his sheets. Your cheeks flush even though it isn’t your fault, but he just smiles and presses a kiss to one of them as if silencing your unnecessary embarrassment.  

Kirishima reclines next to you, pulling the blanket at the foot of the mattress up to rest on top of the two of you. He collects you into his arms, your body weak and unprotesting. His legs entwine with yours, pressing every piece of skin he can to yours. He makes sure to be careful with your neck, kissing it gently once more before settling his face next to yours. The kiss makes the skin tingle and heat, a fuzzy warmth flooding your body as you smile shyly.  

“I told you not to let me get near your neck,” Kirishima says softly as your eyes close, eyelashes brushing over his collarbone. “Do you know what this means, Y/N?” He tries again at your silence, thinking you don’t understand the severity of the situation. His fingertips run up and down your naked spine relaxingly.  

“It means you need to work on your self-control,” you murmur, giggling quietly into his chest.

“Y/N, this isn’t a joke,” he says lowly, “I don’t kno-“

You cut him off. “It isn’t a joke, I know, Eijirou. It means we’re tied together, forever— meaning we, this, us— we’re permanent. We’re wolf-married or whatever the term is now, I know. You can never love another person again, and neither can I,” your hand rests on his pectoral, a finger tracing along his nipple so you have something to look at instead of his face. “If you can’t deal with that, I’m sorry, but I can. I’m yours, Kirishima, always have been, always will be. If you don’t want that, then I’m sorry but you just sealed your fate with mine and there’s nothing I can do about that.”

“Oh,” Kirishima exhales, blinking. The only light in the room is from the window above the desk, moonlight casting the bed in a dim white light. He shuffles, pulling your body closer to his, smiling into your hair with a stupidly happy grin. “I just wanted to make sure that’s what you want. I.. uh, I feel the same,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear giddily.  

“Good,” you reply, eyes closing as you nuzzle your face closer to his warm heart.

It’s silent for a moment before Kirishima clears his throat gently. You peek one eye open, awaiting his words.

“Um… I love you, Y/N… a lot,” he says rather nervously, gulping softly as he pauses for a response.

“I love you too, Eiji,” you kiss his chest gently, sighing contently.

“And, uh, Y/N?”  

“What, Eiji?”

“I’m glad it’s you who I’m wolf-married to.”

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

.

.

when he go from wolf to puppy 🥺 thank you for reading babies <3 & pls don’t be shy to let me know if you enjoyed!! 

➥ masterlist 

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[free-falling-grenade]

Imagine Raya being all cocky once she accepts her feelings for Namaari, they are walking down the palace in Fang and raya goes "i will fight anyone and everyone for your love" or something like that, and Virana is nearby and says "I accept the challenge" and both girls are like :o *insert pikachu meme here *

HA. Omg, Virana totally would accept the challenge. AAA Here’s a mini ficlet for it: “I accept the challenge”

Raya blinks owlishly at the Chief before leaning in to ask Namaari if her mother is secretly a skilled warrior. But she herself doesn't actually know how well the Chief of Fang can fight. Never given the opportunity to see, so when she says that she accepts Raya's challenge, she's quite taken aback.

Namaari just stares wide eyed and shrugs because she can't tell if her mother was just joking or if she was serious, her expression too neutral to guess.

Raya stands there almost faltering from the Chief's challenging stare but she shakes away her fear and nervously nods, "So be it"

Namaari just turns to her utterly shocked, because she can't be serious right now.

They're right outside the throne room, at the bottom of the steps. Fang soldiers and merchants alike have gathered to watch out of curiosity after overhearing the challenge.

Virana just steps forward, and casually asks for the spear General Atitaya is holding. She hands it to her in a daze, not quite sure if the Chief will pull through. She fears for her well being. She knows how well Raya is with her fighting skills, having had the opportunity to witness Namaari's and her spars, and being offered to spar against her as well.

Raya draws out her kris slowly, stepping forward herself, a few feet distance between her and the Chief. She gulps thickly, "Okay. We're actually doing this. Cool, cool." She mostly says to herself.

Virana just raises an eyebrow smirking, "Don't tell me you are backing out, Princess Raya." She taunts as she weighs Atitaya's spear in her hands, flipping it around seamlessly.

Raya just scoffs a little offended, "I never back out from a challenge, Chief Virana. Especially not when it's for Namaari's hand"

Meanwhile the Fang princess stands there glued to the floor, the crowd staring at her, some expecting her to stop the two before literal blood is shed. But the problem is, Namaari knows three of the most stubborn people in her life: one of which is herself, and the other two? The ladies in front of her seemingly ready to cut each others throats out. There is literally no stopping them once their mind is made.

She runs a hand through her hair, keeping it in place as she watches Raya and her mother, who she still has no knowledge of how well her fighting skills are, position themselves into a fighting stance.

In any other day, Namaari would laugh at the comical idea of it all, her mother in her signature white dress, and Raya in way too formal clothing to be comfortable in a fight.

"Just a warning, Chief. I don't plan on holding back" Raya warns, if she's going to this, might as well not let her guard down.

Virana just grins, "I didn't expect you to" she says then charges, skipping the pleasantries. Her dress limiting her steps a little but enough for her to move around smoothly.

Raya, caught of guard, hastily blocks the spear coming at her face. She huffs away her shock, a playful grin coming to her face at the realization that this is definitely not a game. It's indeed a legit challenge the Chief had agreed to and she will treat it as such.

She swings her own blade towards the Chief, her mind consciously pulling back her strength, afraid she might hurt the princess' mother. However, Virana seems to sense this, using it to her advantage to nick the skin on her shoulder. This elicited a loud gasp around them.

Raya backflips away, glancing down at the cut. She looks up at the Fang Chief's face who wore a smug look, "I thought you said you weren't going to hold back?"

The Heart princess can't help the amusement to show on her lips, she now understands where Namaari's infuriating taunts came from.

Instead of replying, she charges with complete intention to hurt, not caring that she is facing the Chief of Fang anymore. She swings aggressively leaving no space for the older woman to strike. She sees her struggling, her dress limiting her movements as she backs away trying to block each of her powerful strikes.

Raya for a second thought to give her a break, so she swiftly pulls the leg under the dress with her own, tripping her backwards. She lands on her back with a loud thud, her white dress now soiled and damaged.

She doesn't notice Atitaya holding back some of the Fang soldiers who were about to step in and help their Chief. Namaari who's rendered speechless stood ramrod stiff. The crowd wore wary expressions watching their beloved Chief on the floor.

Raya turns away for a second to catch her lover’s gaze but she regrets it almost immediately hearing the shuffle from in front her. She fails to react fast enough, feeling the long metal spear swiftly hitting the back of her knees knocking her off balance then the edge of it meeting her stomach.

She huffs out in pain, mustering the energy to roll away quickly when the spear lifts again to hit her.

She doesn’t get time to spit out a witty retort when the Chief starts swinging at her with surprising precision and tentative strikes. The hits as powerful as Raya's previous swipes earlier. She blocks them effortlessly though, looking for a way to knock her out again but the speed is seemingly too distracting to even think of a way.

She grunts in frustration, deciding to put a physical distance between them instead as she uses the Chief's leg that's pushed forward to step on her thighs and jump over the tall woman. She uses the distraction to step back a little, recollecting herself.

She breathes out to calm her thoughts, risking another glance at the other princess who stood way too dazed and in shock to even glance at her back. She huffs out an amused laugh at her face. The Chief charges at her noticing the distracted moment, the end of her spear managing to graze the side of her cheek. She hisses out in pain.

She slides down dodging her next swing but as if predicted, the older woman's knee collides with her face harshly. She sees white spots temporarily as she falls on her knees disoriented. She feels the sharp edge of the spear by her neck.

"Do you yield, Princess of Heart?" She hears the Chief say sounding a bit too winded.

Raya takes in a deep shaky breath, her eyes closing. She exhales out with a grin, "Never."

She doesn't let the older woman react before reaching out and pulling her spear forward, letting it slice the surface of her neck lightly. She uses the close distance to throw a dirty punch on the Chief's midsection. She inwardly cringed at that, her mind still hoping she didn't hurt her too much. But her body reacting by itself, stood up to kick the bent over Chief that sent her skidding backwards.

She waits for a few more seconds to see if the woman would stand again but when she remained on the floor coughing, she walks over pointing down her sword at her opponent's throat.

"Do you yield, Chief of Fang?" Her tone surprisingly serious as Virana stares back at the Princess' determined eyes.

She lets the silence lapse between them, the hushed whispers of the crowd barely audible as she tries to find any ill intent and malice in the young girl's eyes. However, she sees nothing but love and devotion.

A tender smile graces Virana's lips, her arms lifting up in surrender, "I yield, Princess. You win"

She hears Raya's sharp intake of breath before seeing her sword clatter beside them and bending down to pull her up into an embrace. The crowd around them breaks into an applause, clearly entertained from the intense fight.

She grunts in pain at the bone crushing hug the Princess has her in, "You have my blessing, sunlight. But if you could let me breathe, that would be great" she manages to murmur out. 

Raya pulls back instantly, an apologetic look on her face. There are tears that brimmed her eyes, "I'm sorry"

"I'll be fine. You left this old lady pretty bruised but you are quite a fighter, Princess."

Raya bashfully grins, "You left me some pretty nice cuts too. But, who knew the Chief of Fang has hidden skills up her sleeve" “I’m no damsel in distress, Princess Raya. I am a well capable Chief” Virana states half heartedly. 

Raya snickers lightly, not doubting it for a second. She stands up offering a hand for the older woman to take. She willingly accepts, pulling herself upright. She staggers back a little but the feeling of strong arms catches her quick.

Namaari stands behind her mother supporting her. She shakes her head vigorously, a smile of disbelief tugging on her lips, "You both are actually insane and out of your minds"

Raya smiles softly, "Just for you, dep la"

Virana nods in agreement then latches on to her daughter's hold, visibly exhausted. Raya lifts the older woman's other arm behind her neck to support her other side. 

"Let's get you to the healers"

They help the beat up Chief walk, the merchants and guards bowing in respect as they passed, all of them beaming with pride and joy as if she had won the fight.

"You definitely gave them something to write for Kumandra's history books" Namaari comments eliciting a genuine laugh from the older Chief.

"The only time I don't mind being defeated" Virana tenderly says. The two lovers on each of her side supporting her. She really doesn't mind another daughter in the family. -x- This got so long omg. Thank you, anon? Also you can’t possibly tell me Virana doesn’t know how to fight. I doubt she’s all bark and no bite. That woman is hiding her skills coz she doesn’t wanna get her dirty. Should i post this on ao3 or just leave it here LOL

[unbridgeabledistances]

a ✨drunk and clingy ian✨ one-shot

okay so we all know that saint patrick’s day is a very arbitrary and somewhat meaningless holiday (at least in the u.s. lol)- but we also know that the gallaghers are incredibly fucking irish, so i am using this as an excuse to write some drunk and clingy gallavich fluff (bc i think we all need it!! or at least i do!!!!)

hope y’all enjoy<3

--

Mickey and Ian came in the door from their final weed security run of a way-too-chilly and grey March afternoon, kicking the slush off of their lace-up boots in a tired but comfortable silence. Mickey had been fantasizing for a good part of the afternoon about his usual afternoon ritual of collapsing onto the couch with a cold beer in his hand, and taking a long lazy nap while shitty game shows played on the TV in the background— but unfortunately, Debbie had other plans. Or so he realized when he turned the corner and his eyes were met with a forest of green and white streamers blanketing the living room, with Debbie determinedly balancing on a kitchen chair to hang them in the doorway.

Mickey did a double-take, shooting a glance at Ian and then back at the festive room again. What the fuck? He quickly racked his brain— there was no way he’d could’ve forgotten Franny’s birthday, that was in the summer—and he was pretty sure that Liam’s birthday was in the winter sometime; so whose the fuck was it? Too many goddamn Gallaghers to keep track of. Finally, Mickey admitted his own defeat.

“Is it someone’s fuckin’ birthday or something?”

Mickey flashed another gaze to Ian in confusion as he said it, hoping that Ian would silently mouth whatever the occasion was to him, or at the very least raise his eyebrows and goad Mickey enough to jog his memory to remember whatever the fuck today was— but Ian just gave an easygoing grin as he took in the room’s decor and let out a laugh.

“Debbie, isn’t this kind of going overboard?”

Debbie looked over her shoulder from where she was now taping a crudely scribbled picture of a shamrock, most likely drawn by Franny, up onto the wall.

“What? If it’s our last Saint Patrick’s Day in the house, the least we can do is go out with a bang,” she answered nonchalantly, and continued fixating on hanging up Franny’s drawing.

Mickey inadvertently let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. Fucking Gallaghers.

“I’m sorry, fucking Saint Patrick’s Day?”

Ian’s lips formed a playful smile and he elbowed Mickey between the ribs. “Yeah, Mick, Saint Patrick’s Day— also known as the unironically most important day of the Gallagher family calendar year. I can’t believe I forgot it was today, with all the work stuff we had going on.”

At first Mickey couldn’t tell if Ian was actually being serious— but in the same second he decided that it didn’t really matter, since Ian’s eyes were bright and shining and there was this weird giddy grin he was sporting from ear to ear, like he was absolutely fucking delighted that it was Saint Patrick’s Day, instead of just a normal goddamn Wednesday. Fucking softie.

And as endearing as that was, Mickey still couldn’t let him off that easily. “There’s no way I’m celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day. It’s a fake holiday for yuppie rich kids to go bar hopping—I’m not getting involved in any of your Gallagher bullshit.”

Ian’s grin just grew, like he knew exactly what Mickey was doing. “Hey, you married into this family. If anything, this is your own fault.”

Mickey just rolled his eyes, then continued to unlace his boots and throw them by the doorway.

“The fuck do you do anyways, aside from getting trashed?”

Ian put a hand on Mickey’s upper back to steady himself as he pulled his own shoes off. “I think getting trashed pretty much sums up the festivities. Today’s practically a holy day of observance for Frank, and I’m assuming Debbie’s also just gonna use today as an excuse to get drunk on a Wednesday.”

“Hell yeah I am!” Debbie called from where she was putting the chair back in the kitchen.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “I knew Gallaghers were white trash, but I had no idea you were this bad.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t have any Ukranian white trash holidays or whatever?”

Mickey held back a bitter laugh. Yeah, they had “holidays,” in the form of days when Terry was celebratorily drunk enough to leave them the fuck alone for 24 hours, rare occasions when his looming shadow was out of the house and a festive lightness bled in in its place. They sort of celebrated Christmas, which was mostly just associated with too many painful memories of Terry ripping open the presents before he or his brothers had the chance, and too many painful stings associated with him having one too many drinks as they sat quietly inside the sagging house and pretended to be a big happy family for one night a year.

But never anything as gaudy and deliberate and ridiculous as observing a C-list, Irish-American holiday just for the hell of it, just for fun—which yes, was probably fueled by Frank’s alcoholism more than anything else, but also made something swell in Mickey’s insides that he didn’t quite know how to place.

And Mickey didn’t know how to let out that entire internal monologue to Ian while Debbie was standing within earshot. “Nah, man. Milkoviches don’t really do… holidays.”

Ian snaked a hand around Mickey’s back, giving his shoulder a squeeze, a grounding touch. He gets it.

“Well, get ready to have your mind blown, Mr. Gallavich, because we’re about to celebrate this hallowed occasion Gallagher style.”

Mickey rolled his eyes again, but let himself lean into Ian’s touch, lean his weight ever-so-slightly against Ian’s chest that was pressed behind him by the doorway. And, okay— as stupid as this was, maybe there was something sort of warm and solid about tradition, about hand-scribbled shamrocks and streamers on the wall, about having days to celebrate just because you wanted to, just because you could…

Just then Franny came hurdling into the room, wearing a baggy green t-shirt and a face-painted shamrock adorning her cheek.

Ian’s face lit up when she stopped in front of them. “Hey Franny! Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!”

Franny held out two bottles of beer to Ian and Mickey from where she had been hiding them behind her back.

“Mommy said I should give these to you when you came home!”

Mickey smirked, carefully taking the bottles from Franny’s outstretched hands. “Thanks, kiddo.”

And if all celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day took was knocking down a few beers on a weekday afternoon—well, Mickey wasn’t going to complain about that.

**

Of course, hours later Mickey realized how severely he’d underestimated Debbie’s enthusiasm— after lounging around the house waiting for the stream of Gallaghers to trickle in from their various daily activities, Debbie had rounded everyone up and they migrated to the Alibi as the sun was setting, where they’d met up with Kev and V and Lip and Tami, who (thank fucking god) looked as vaguely confused and fully apathetic about this whole “Saint Patrick’s Day” situation as Mickey did.

Now it was late, and Mickey was leaning against the bartop of the Alibi sipping a thick, foamy glass of Guinness, which was as close to embracing whatever-the-fuck Irish heritage his husband had as he was possibly going to get.

All of the Gallaghers were here, swirling around the room—Debbie had put on some sort of peppy music as Kev poured everyone drinks, and a couple of other Southside neighbors had heard the bass thrumming and joined the ruckus. The room wasn’t too crowded, but it was pleasantly full of bodies and chatter— Kev had bought bunches of shiny, tacky green mardi gras beads for everyone to wear, and the air in the room was festive and bordering on sloppy in a way that felt very different from how Mickey had envisioned this evening would go.

Mickey was pacing himself, because it was a Wednesday for fuck’s sake— but his husband was an entirely different story. Between the beers at home and the various drinks Debbie had been siphoning into his hands all night, Ian was teetering on the drunkest Mickey had seen him in years—which partially made the tiniest spark of trepidation start to creep into Mickey’s bloodstream, a spark that he immediately extinguished. It was one night, the first in a long time— Ian deserved to have some fun.

And he definitely, definitely was having fun— casually dancing with Debbie and Sandy and whoever else would humor him, grinning with red-hot cheeks and bright eyes— from across the room Mickey could tell how warm his skin would be if he pressed a hand against it, how flushed. Mickey wasn’t really in the mood for dancing, or whatever the fuck stumbling around and chatting and making friends Drunk Ian was up to for the evening, and he was perfectly content to nurse his drink at the bar— which is why it surprised him when Ian pulled himself out of the crowd, slightly stumbling over his own feet, and made the way across the room to where Mickey was leaning at the bar, immediately boxing him in and putting his hands square on Mickey’s waist. Mickey almost imperceptibly let in a sharp breath.

Ian looked down at him, all smiles and shiny eyes— when he spoke the scent of sweet, hot liquor danced on Mickey’s face and all he wanted was to be closer, to breathe it in.

“Are you having fun?” Ian’s right hand traced up Mickey’s side, then back down to its hold on his hipbone.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “You and your leprechaun family don’t mess around, Gallagher.”

Ian smiled a lazy, tipsy smile, and pecked Mickey’s cheek before Mickey could be embarrassed about it.

“D’you wanna dance with me?”

Ian’s hands slid off of his hips and entangled with Mickey’s hands that had been hanging limply at his sides, walking backwards so their fingers were laced together an arm’s distance apart.

Mickey shrugged noncommittally. “I’ll leave showing the Irish pride to you and the rest of the drunken Gallaghers.”

Ian registered Mickey’s words and opened his mouth to reply, just as Debbie pulled Ian over by the arm.

“Stop sulking with Mickey and do more shots with me!”

Jesus Christ. Ian was going to be wrecked when their alarm went off for work in the morning, and Mickey was starting to debate if he was going to need to have a talking-to with Debbie about the appropriate amount of “Saint Patrick’s Day fun” they were allowed to partake in next year— but for now Ian was happy, and he could stomach one night of hardcore festivities.

Mickey stood at the bar for a while, watching Ian and Debbie get progressively more flushed as they bobbed through the crowd— and then, when Debbie had found some other victim in their mid-twenties to get even more shitfaced with, Ian made his way across the room to Mickey again, plopping onto the barstool beside him and heaving his bodyweight onto Mickey’s left side, burying his face in the crook of Mickey’s neck. Mickey wrapped a tentative arm around Ian’s waist, trying to hold him up from slouching off of the barstool.

“M’tired.” Mickey could feel Ian’s hot breath dancing on his collarbone as he slurred out the words, and felt Ian’s eyelids flutter shut against the side of his neck.

Ian was always giving Mickey measured casual touches, wherever they were—but it was so exceedingly rare that Ian fully let himself go like this, let himself be drunk and happy and just crumple into Mickey, without worrying about holding anyone else up. It felt new, but it felt good— Mickey let the solid weight of his husband’s body leaning against his press him down, rooting him into the Alibi’s sticky floors, feeling the clammy skin of Ian’s forehead that was solidly lodged into the side of Mickey’s neck.

He hated to admit it, but in that moment, something in Mickey was also frozen solid— as much as Mickey had grown in the past few years, something about these situations, about PDA or whatever, still made Mickey feel like he was treading water—like he was fighting to stay afloat while everyone’s eyes were on him, and the strong current was only lifted when he and Ian were in the dark safety of their bedroom. If Mickey was drunk at a bar and sloppily leaning onto Ian, there was no doubt in Mickey’s mind that Ian would hold him, would gingerly touch him and caress him and do more to him than just prop him up— but something in Mickey still hesitated and flashed with warning signs in a crowded room full of people.

But Ian was still breathing hot on Mickey’s neck— so Mickey thought about what Ian would do, if it was Mickey who was tipsy and slumped on his shoulder. He tentatively raised his arm from where it was lying limply by his side, and started to run soothing circles onto Ian’s t-shirt, just above his hipbone where Mickey’s hand was holding Ian up by his waist.

Ian hummed in acknowledgement of the touch— and then he pressed a tender kiss to the crook of Mickey’s neck, where his face was buried. Fuck. Mickey just pulled him in closer, gently tugging Ian’s torso in by his belt loop to hold him steady.

Ian hummed again, then started to press kisses up and down Mickey’s neck. “You smell good.”

Mickey’s heart started to beat a little quicker, his blood running hotter than usual—and Ian couldn’t fucking do this now, while the rest of his family was milling around and dancing and wearing fucking mardi gras beads while flaunting their Gallagher pride.

Ian lifted his forehead off of Mickey’s shoulder, and gently bit at the underside of Mickey’s jaw—and Mickey thought he was going to combust right there, on the spot, in a room full of Gallaghers pressed against the bartop at the Alibi by his very drunk husband.

And in an act of excruciatingly inconvenient timing, Lip sidled up to the bar and sat on the barstool on Mickey’s other side, nursing what Mickey assumed (and hoped) was a diet Coke in a beer glass.

“Hey there, Mick. And, uh, Ian.”

Ian looked up from where he was very engrossed in continuing to nuzzle the opposite side of Mickey’s neck, and glared at Lip from across Mickey’s chest.

“Go away, Lip.” Ian collapsed his head back onto Mickey’s shoulder and closed his eyes again, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s neck like a fucking boa constrictor. Mickey snaked an arm up around Ian’s back, holding him steady on the wobbly barstool.

Lip held back a laugh as he sipped his drink, then took a drag of the cigarette he was holding. “Seems like Ian’s done enough drinking to make our ancestors proud.”

Mickey took a sip of his own beer with his free hand. “Debbie made sure of that.”

Lip raised his eyebrows. “Damn. Guess we’d better keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t also have the Frank gene.”

Mickey grunted in acknowledgement, then took another sip of his beer, mostly because he didn’t know what else to say. Ian’s head shifted slightly on his shoulder— and Mickey realized he probably needed to haul Ian home ASAP, before he was even more sleepy and incoherent and unable to lug down the street.

Lip noticed Ian’s movement on Mickey’s shoulder and smirked. “I’ve gotta say, I’ve never seen Ian being this clingy before. Even with other guys—no offense, Mick— he usually stayed pretty contained. And you guys aren’t usually too into the PDA department.”

Mickey shrugged, trying not to jostle the heavy weight of where Ian’s head was hanging. Lip was right—he and Ian never really were all over each other, especially not like this, outside of the context of their room, when they were very much always all over each other.

Lip kept studying them, and the corner of his mouth eventually ticked upward. “It’s good. He’s definitely not this… comfortable with anyone else. Including me, which is definitely saying something.”

It felt weird, to get something like what felt like Lip’s full blessing at a raunchy Gallagher party months after he and Ian had gotten married—but that was also exactly what it felt like was happening.

Lip’s eyes suddenly darted across the room, to where Tami was holding up his coat and gesturing to the door. Lip rose from the barstool, stubbed out his cigarette, and put out a hand to clap Mickey on the shoulder as a goodbye.

“Catch up with you later, Mick.” Lip reached out and jokingly tousled Ian’s hair. “Make sure this one doesn’t hate himself too much tomorrow morning.”

Mickey smirked. Ian was practically asleep and drooling on his shoulder, his breathing turned steady—Mickey reached a hand up to card through his hair, then gently shrugged his shoulder to get Ian’s head to rise from where it was jammed on his neck.

Ian raised his head, his eyes bleary and confused at first, then softening around the edges when he met Mickey’s gaze.

“Alright, let’s get you home, carrottop.”

[yoichichi]

To Call You Mine

college!tsuki x reader series

Ch. 2 - ew, small talk

warning(s): Tsukishima’s behavior 😐

a/n: I’m happy you guys seemed to really enjoy the introductory chapter!! I hope you enjoy this one just as much, and more tsuki content!! Ahhh I’d love to hear your thoughts per usual, and enjoy !! <3

ch. 1

“So, why d-“

“Thanks for-“

Oh my god.

At this point you’d rather have a failing grade than have to keep talking to this guy.

Maybe it was just the fact you’ve felt like you’ve made a fool of yourself about 59 million times, but you were officially over it.

Tsuki leaned back into his chair with that same smirk he gave you earlier, raised eyebrows and all. You’re starting to wonder if that’s maybe just how his face rests.

“No no, go ahead. You first.” His voice was quiet and monotone, very appropriate for the setting, not so much for your nerves.

The way he held himself was, interesting. You know it’s only been maybe 5 minutes since you’ve met which is most definitely not enough time to start making any kind of assumptions about a person, but with the air around him so tense and serious, how could you not?

You could see his legs were just slightly spread in his seat, as far as it would allow it. And instead of doing the casual thing and resting his head in his hand while he waited for you to speak, it was tilted just slightly upward. Chin just barely jutting out at you, head leaning to the left just a tad. His forearms rested on the arms of the chair rather than the table, too.

Everything about his body language said, go on, I’m waiting for you to answer me. Rather than, go ahead, I’m listening.

It made your nerves congregate in your throat and made it difficult for you to speak.

He does not need to be making me this nervous.

You fiddled with the clicker of your pen as you began to speak, doing your best to keep your nervous fidgeting to a minimum. There should be no reason he should have such a knack for making you feel this way, he’s a random guy who takes your same calculus class. Regardless of the way he seems to carry himself, he’s nothing more than that. Some guy.

Besides, he probably wasn’t doing it on purpose. He just has one of those, faces.

“I was just gonna say thanks for agreeing to help me out. Even if it is so early.” You chuckled lightly and brought your hands up to rest on the top of the table.

Enough fidgeting.

“You’re welcome.” Another monotone reply.

You smiled thinly as you waited for him to continue his sentence, cause surely he wasn’t done.

….

Really?

You sat in another few moments of silence while he sighed and looked down at the open pages of his textbook, unable to tell if he was being serious.

“Alright. Why don’t we start with talking about the last lesson you felt most confident in understanding, okay?”

He was being serious.

“Yeah, sure.” You sighed and took a glance down at your notes.

A long hour indeed.

—

It hasn’t even been 20 minutes, yet you’re already starting to get a better grasp on bits of the material you couldn’t even begin to comprehend just a few hours earlier. It certainly isn’t enough to be rid of a tutor, but enough to know you were referred to him for a reason.

Maybe his aloof attitude was worth it.

“Well, that explains why I couldn’t get the numbers to plug in right on that next weird step of the equation. And why it looked so funky when I tried to illustrate the graph. God, that’s a lot.” You stated matter of factly, dumbfounded at how easy he was making this all seem.

“Go ahead and try these other problems from the back of the book, and then we’ll go over what you get after. And if you get stuck just ask. I’m gonna work on some other homework in the meantime.”

His voice had more lilt to it now. Maybe it was because his own version of morning grogginess had warn off. Or he could’ve been just as nervous as you at first. Regardless, you appreciate he seems to be less stiff than when you first percieved him.

You nodded your head and immediately got to work. Having a sudden epiphany about the content was definitely a boost to your motivation to get it done.

He chuckled softly to himself at your eagerness and got started on his own work.

It was nice, actually.

The next few minutes were quiet, but they weren’t awkward. The pair of you having your own focus on the work at hand, merely keeping each other company at this point with the soft scribbles of pencil against paper. That was until you had a question of course.

You looked up to ask him a question but almost felt bad for interrupting him, you could tell he was really focused.

His head was turned downward slightly making his glasses slide farther down the bridge of his nose. His fingers, which you noticed were slightly scuffed up, looked like they were gripping his pen so delicately no matter how fast he was writing. Your eyes followed the trail from his hand up to his shoulder, past the tendons twitching in his forearms at each flick of his wrist, and past his lean yet distinctly toned bicep.

Your gaze stopped on his shoulder when his other hand reached over to squeeze at the apparently tender spot, watching him roll it a few times before he leaned back down to write some more.

His jaw seemed tight, maybe he was having a tough time with this particular class he was working on. Or maybe it was because he appeared to be sore from, something. Taking in his physique and condition of his hands, you decided it wouldn’t be surprising if a sport was what was straini-

“Are you stuck?”

Your eyes shot over just a bit to look directly at his face, realizing you were staring and he probably assumed you needed help, which technically you did.

He was looking up at you above the top of the frame of his glasses and through his eyelashes, eyes just slightly wider than usual as he waited for you to answer.

You had to admit, he was a pretty guy.

“Yeah, kinda. This integral just isn’t clicking for me, I don’t really know where to start.” You held your stare on his face as he leaned in closer to reach over and flip your notebook around, taking a peek at your work thus far.

He hummed almost silently to himself before he spoke up, realizing what was confusing you.

Hm, he smells kind of minty. But not toothpaste minty more like, organic clean minty. Or maybe that’s eucalyptus I’m smelling? I wonder if it’s a cologne or if he just showered before he got here. Jesus, how early would he have to get up to shower before he got here? Cause his hair wasn’t even wet when - well, was it? I could’ve mis-

“Make sense?”

You blinked once, hard, as you internally chastised yourself for being a bit of a creep as you sat analyzing his smell rather than listen to what he had to say.

Nodding your head you stared back down at your paper, contemplating how you were gonna pretend to do better with an equation you didn’t even know where to begin.

“Oh, thank you for agreeing to meet so early, by the way.”

His words caught you off guard as you looked up to see his nose still buried in his work, but his mouth moving.

“I have a team practice in a couple hours and I’m already tutoring someone else afterwards, and this was the only free time I had before your next class.” He looked up at you and offered the tiniest of smiles.

So he did do a sport.

“What do you play?” You asked, genuinely intrigued to know the answer.

His height definitely made him look like a basketball kind of guy, no, you’d know if he played basketball. Maybe soccer.

“Oh, I’m on the volleyball team.” His hand kept its steady pace at writing down notes in his notebook, not even sparing you a glance when he answered.

“Oh wow. How long have you been playing?” You rested your head in your hand, patiently waiting for his response. It was nice to talk about something besides math for a little bit.

“Mmm, I’ve been playing for a good amount of time. This is my first year on the team though, so not long with them I guess. Do you play any sports?” He set his pen down now, rolling his neck out with his eyes closed, leaning back in his chair and waiting for your response this time.

“No, I don’t. My boyfriend plays basketball, though.”

His eyes opened and locked onto yours for a brief moment before looking back down onto that god forbidden work. It was silent for just a second, an unexplainable tension quietly passing between the two of you, so fast you almost missed it, before you spoke up again.

“He’s a sophomore though, so, a little more familiar with his team you could say.” You smile fondly and let out a small chuckle, doing your best to keep the flow of the conversation going,

“He-“

“Hm, nice.” He let out a deep breath and gingerly placed a hand on your notebook, as if he was unaware he cut you off just now, and continued to speak.

Maybe this wasn’t the time for getting to know each other, then.

“Let’s take a look at what you’ve gotten done so far, yeah?”

—

It’s been three days since you last had your first meeting with Tsuki, you hadn’t seen each other since, and yet somehow he was still working you to pieces.

He’d text you around dinner time each day since then like clockwork, just one word:

- ‘Studying?’

- ‘Yes Tsukishima.’

- ‘Good job.’

And it’d be the same thing in the mornings:

- ‘Study guide treat you well?’

- ‘Lol yes Tsukishima. It was actually really helpful so ty :)’

- ‘👍🏼’

I mean, he hand made you study guides to use. And enough of them so that they would last you till he met back up with you on the following Sunday.

It was like he knew you’d feel bad if you didn’t use them and study. But you’d be lying if you said they weren’t helping. You were walking through the door to said class now, and actually feeling semi confident as you sat at your desk and pulled out your belongings, and you had Tsukishima to thank for that.

You noticed it was quiet today as you waited for class to start. October slump was definitely hitting your fellow peers hard, that and the weather. Even your professor was quiet as he walked in and prepared the lesson.

Feeling fatigued and bored yourself, you pulled your phone out to pass the time when you noticed you had a text from Tsukishima still sitting on your lockscreen. It must be pretty recent.

Hm, that’s odd.

Tsukishima

‘Good luck in class today. I hope it all makes a little more sense. :).’

…

A smiley face?

You shut your phone off quickly and shoved it back into your pocket, not particularly fond of the way your heart swelled just the slightest at the fact he texted you.

And remembered you had class today.

And texted you a smiley face at that.

Hm. Looks like he’s warming up to me.

————————

OKOK DONT YELL AT ME AKEKEKE I’m currently writing chapter 3 already ok 😭 i feel like this is kind of short but it just felt weird to do another transition for what I wanted to write rather than just doing a whole chapter and yeah - MIND UR BUSINESS OK I KNOW WHERE IM GOING WITH THIS. Anywayyysss Ahhhh I hope this fed yall well heheheh and you know I love your thoughts and stuff :3 !! MWAH

taglist for series: @plutowrites @c0rncheez @ruetaro @daniagabriela48 @toyas-wife @devilkou @anime-and-kpop-trash (if you’d like to be added or removed let me know!)

[peachsayshi]

Chapter 10 - Intimate (2)

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Angst, Fluff 

Summary: Gojo uses you to relieve some of his stress after his little argument with your best friend, and poses a question that catches you off guard.

A/N: this chapter was a bit difficult for me to write and I think it's because it turned out to be sort of a filler chapter! Also, please excuse any errors - I am definitely posting this half asleep lol! but I am really excited to share the upcoming ones! I initially said that this was going to be 25 chapters but I outlined the rest of the story and there will be more! Hehe I do plan on doing the few extra one-shots in the end, so I hope you enjoy.

- - - 

“Tell me you’re mine…”  

You blushed at the thought of Satoru’s words, painfully aware of the knot that tightened in the pit of your stomach which then tugged at your lungs, slowing your breath. You reached for the seasoning packets, ripping open the colored wrappers to prepare the ramen broth. You watched as tiny circles began to form from the bottom of the metal pot, bubbling it’s way to the surface. You could hear the shower still running from your bathroom, a bit relieved that Gojo was taking his time because you wanted to bask in the few precious minutes you had to yourself to try and quieten your racing thoughts.

You couldn’t focus on the task of preparing dinner because the word “mine” slipping from Gojo’s lips in a feverish claim was playing on a loop in your head. The way his tone darkened with urgency when he held his body close to yours sent goosebumps to run up your arms. You couldn’t figure out where the possessive streak came from or why he felt the need to assert his dominance over an act that should not have been as intimate as it felt. You folded your arms over your chest, subconsciously pinching your skin as you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat.

There was a difference when you made your own personal comparisons in the safety of your mind versus Gojo bringing it up in the bedroom. Somehow admitting your confession to him made you feel vulnerable and his reaction didn’t make it any  better, appearing to be competitive about the entire situation.

That doesn’t make any sense, why would he care? you wondered.

You never actually paid attention to how Gojo felt about your ex-boyfriend. For the most part he’s always been nice to him. Although the two of them weren’t the closest of friends, they seemed to get along whenever you all hung out together. You never would have anticipated that Gojo would be…

Jealous of him ?

That he would resent him?

Honestly, you didn’t even have an explanation for what it could possibly mean.

“ Pay attention…”

Gojo’s voice startled you, you didn’t even realise he was standing right behind you until you noticed him reach his arm forward to reduce the flame, stopping the water from bubbling over the pot.

“Whoops! Lost my train of thought for a second...” you lied, refusing to look in his direction in the hopes that he wouldn’t catch you blushing.

“That’s a safety hazard, you know?” he teased, still standing dangerously close behind you as he reached for the dry noodles himself and placed them into the pot. “You need sharp eyes when cooking otherwise you’ll end up having an unnecessary accident.”

A nervous chuckle escaped you as you circled to face him. Gojo had borrowed one of your black silk scarves, using it as a makeshift blindfold since his own was now tumbled between your bedsheets on the floor. You could smell your coconut and hibiscus body wash off him, the scent combining with the residual cologne on his clothes. An easy smile spread across that handsome face, his relaxed demeanor contrasting the state he was in when he first knocked on your door.

He’s your friend, you reminded yourself. What happens in the bedroom doesn’t mean anything…  

It shouldn’t mean anything.  

“Whatever you say, sensei ...” you chirped, burying your wayward thoughts. “Why don’t you grab those mats and I’ll bring these over to the table”

You assembled the two bowls, adding a little extra broth for Gojo because you knew he preferred it that way. Meanwhile, he had placed the two mats on the opposite side of the dining table, taking care not to disturb your work set up.

“Here you go,” you said, as you slid the bowl in front of him while he took his seat.

“Thank you!”

At first you both sat in silence, Gojo was responding to a few unanswered text messages but you were studying him with curious eyes, waiting for him to give you an explanation for his sudden visit.

“ Sooo, you want to tell me what that was all about?” you asked.

“That being?”

You waved your chopsticks in the direction of your bedroom, raising your brow before replying, “That being the sequence of events that just transpired…”

“ Stress relief ...” Gojo explained in between bites as he casually tucked his phone back into his pocket.

You thrummed your fingers against the warm bowl in your hands, fidgeting with the chopsticks in the other.  “Well, I’m glad I could help you unwind, I guess...”

He flashed you a wicked grin, “Me too, because I need a repeat of the show...”

“I can’t look at you when you say that,” you remarked, focusing your attention onto the noodles and growing shy at his comment.

“Am I embarrassing you?”

“A little…”

“I don’t understand why, that was fucking hot ...”

Your face burned, the heat radiating all the way to the back of your neck from his words. You cleared your throat as you rolled your eyes at him, desperately trying to brush off his statement in a cool manner. You could feel the knot in your stomach, the thoughts you were having crept back into your mind as you tried to hush them away.

You decided to shift the conversation away from the bedroom and back to Gojo instead. If he wasn’t so flustered by his own emotions, you might have accepted his excuse of needing to relieve stress but you knew there was more to the story.

“Did something happen at work?” you questioned.

Gojo chuckled to himself, “It’s funny how you won’t even acknowledge my compliment... ”

“Are you really going to make me pry a proper answer out of you?” you huffed, and he could hear your annoyance in your tone.

Gojo wished that he didn’t have to get into this particular part of the conversation with you, knowing full well how it was going to bring down the mood.

“No, nothing happened at work,” he said with a sigh, “I was with Rina. She asked me to stop by her shop…”

You knitted your brows in confusion, “That’s kind of random.”

Gojo nodded his head, “I thought so too. She initially told me that she wanted to get my opinion on some new items she was dropping for her menu. Turns out I was only there because she wanted to know how long you and I have been sleeping together for…”

You choked at his statement, his nonchalant words nearly going over your head.

Gojo kept eating, unphased by your reaction. “Need some water?”

“Y-yes…no, ugh, nevermind …she asked you how …”

“ How long you and I have been fucking… ” Gojo replied, flicking his index finger back between you both to fully clarify his statement.

The knot in your stomach cinched, a wave of nausea swirling in your gut as you placed your chopsticks down.

“How... how did she even find out? ” you whispered to yourself as you slumped against the back of your chair.

“She saw us at the park.”

“ Oh .”

You and Rina have both had your fair share of arguments before but sometimes when her emotions got the better of her, Rina’s outbursts often came with her sharp tongue. Over the years you had to explain to her that her words carried more weight than she thought, and in turn she became more conscious around you. However it suddenly dawned on you that Gojo might have been on the receiving end of Rina’s unfiltered anger.

You covered your face with your hands, groaning with frustration. “What did she say?”

“ Hmm ?”

“What did Rina say to you?”

Gojo shrugged his shoulders, “don’t worry about what she said to me. I know she didn’t mean anything by it...”

“But you were upset when you got here…”

“Let’s clarify something, Rina was upset because she was hurt. I was just annoyed by the situation. There’s a difference...”

You wished he would take your conversation a little more seriously and not brush it off with such ease but sighed knowing full well that Gojo wasn’t going to tell you what exactly happened which meant that Rina must have said something deliberately hurtful towards him.

“ I’m sorry… ”

“Why are you apologizing?”

You picked up your utensils, “For dragging you into this unnecessary drama I started. I should have just told Rina what was going on between us…”

Gojo paused after slurping a noodle, “well, why didn’t you tell her?”

“She’s been overprotective recently… ” you explained, not wanting to get into the details that the reason was purely based on your break up and how terrible you have been about getting over it. “I knew that if I told her about our arrangement she would analyze me to death over it and I didn’t want to deal with that…”

“Fair point,” Gojo acknowledged with a hum.

His short responses unsettled you, and you found yourself overcompensating to make up for it. “I’ll talk to her and smooth things over and I’ll make sure she apologizes for whatever it is that she said to you. She shouldn’t take her frustration out on you just because she was upset with me...”

Gojo nodded his head but you could clearly sense that he was not in the mood for any serious conversations right now. Taking himself out of this particular topic, Gojo quickly changed the subject after you made your last statement.

He kept the rest of the chat lighthearted, distracting your worries by telling you little anecdotes he had about his co-worker, Nanami. You suddenly found yourself giggling when Gojo revealed that he practically stalked Nanami for an entire day just so he could force the man to hang out him.

“I feel bad for the poor guy, you completely terrorize him,” you stated, clearing the table once you were both done eating.

You made your way over back to your kitchen where you rinsed off the bowls before placing it in the dishwasher. “You’re free to hang out if you want,” you offered, noticing Gojo get himself together as he was preparing to leave.

“I think I distracted you enough for tonight,” he replied.

You walked him to the door, following in line with his long strides. Just as he was about to reach the handle of your front door, he stopped before turning to face you.

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation about what is going on between us,” he stated, his voice low and serious.

You blinked a couple of times in surprise before parting your lips to respond, “I know I don't owe anyone an explanation but I know what Rina’s feeling and the only way I can see myself fixing this problem is by telling her everything. We never keep secrets from each other and I would probably be equally as hurt if she chose to hide something from me too... ”

Gojo pressed his lips together, navigating the words floating in his mind before reaching his hand out to touch your fingers.

“I get it but I just…”

“ Just ?...”

He exhaled, “I don’t want you overthinking anything between us, okay?”

“Don’t worry, even though we are terrible at sticking to our own rules, I am fully aware of where we both stand…”

You notice the relief wash over Gojo’s face as he slips his fingers away from your touch, “Good, because I like what we are doing.”

“I-I like it too…” you replied almost instantly, your heart racing at your own admittance.

The sorcerer left you a bundle of nerves when he said his goodbye. The knot in your stomach made its presence known, twining itself around your insides as you couldn’t escape this foreign emotion that seemed to have infiltrated your body.

*** 

CHAPTER 11 - FRIENDS

[apexqueenie]

The Blood King (Bakugou x Reader, Medieval AU) Ch1

Synopsis: In fairytales, princesses like you got to marry handsome princes like your best friend Shoto, but you’re not living a fairytale. You find the harsh realities a punch to the face as you and Sho run away outside palace grounds and into the real world. But the harsh brings out the beautiful, and in your case, it took the form of the scarlet covered barbarian king, whose territory you disturbed.

A/N: This is the first long series that I’m writing, I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Swearing, a bit of violence (This is Bakugou lol), eventual smut (I’ll put a warning dw, totally skippable)

[Ch1]->[Ch2]->[Ch3]->[Ch4]->[Ch5]->[Ch6]

You didn’t know how much more badly a plan could go, but here you were, lost, wounded, and scared in the middle of the freaking forest, the sound of a very angry beast trailing after you. You tugged at the unconscious man on the floor, his head bleeding severely. He was losing too much blood and you couldn’t keep pulling him along without stopping the bleeding first. Your only option was to fight. How did this all start exactly? Well, it started when you decided to ditch your wedding.

***

In a daze, you pulled yourself from your slumber, rising to the sound of gentle knocks at your door. “Who’s there?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. 

You shivered slightly and crossed your arms, realizing that you had kicked off your blankets in your sleep. Your best handmaiden, Ochako, barged in, not even bothering to answer the question. 

“Good morning princess” she sang delightfully as she opened your large curtains, allowing the morning light to spill into the huge room. Ochako, although not being of royal blood, was a close friend of yours throughout the years. It was her job to serve you, but you loved her and treated her as your sister. 

“Chako, I told you (y/n) is fine when we’re alone” you said with a yawn.

Ochako hummed as she walked to your wardrobe, sifting through it for the perfect dress. “Ah, but you see your highness, we aren’t alone.”

Before you could question her, a familiar face peeked around the door, heterochromic eyes glancing around the room. “Hi” he says before entering the room and closing the doors behind him.

“SHO!!!” You yelled, launching yourself out of your bed to give your childhood friend a big hug. You haven’t seen him since last summer.

The both of your fathers were Kings of kingdoms who traded with one another, meeting in person once a year to discuss the details. While they both enjoyed a bit of drinking and chess, you and Shoto ran around the gardens barefooted with sticks in hand for fake swordplay. They were always about knights and dragons, and since there were only two of you, you took turns being the dragon or the knight. Princesses weren’t taught to practice swordplay, so Shoto took it upon himself to be your mentor. He taught you what he remembered from his private lessons, insisting that if you were to meet a real dragon like in your games, you would be able to fight it off. 

“But won’t you be here to protect me?” you asked, lowering your stick.

“Yeah,” he said, “but when we meet a real dragon, we’ll be protecting each other.”

Every year, you two would meet to run around the gardens, hiding from your handmaidens and butlers until meal time. Every year, you would shy a bit away from the games and start sparring for real, Sho providing the wooden swords to teach you what he’s learned from the top sword fighters across the continent. Every year your blades danced with his until the both of you could read each other’s movements with a single glance. And every year, you felt a growing affection for the boy that you were too afraid to bring up. 

The two of you talked about your home lives often, sharing stories and complaints about being “perfect” and a “role model” to your citizens. Shoto’s father constantly pushes everyone in their family to their limits, causing the Queen to go insane and burn Shoto, leaving a signature red scar on his left eye. While she was locked in the medical housing part of the castle, Shoto started to understand why his mother lost her mind and silently started to rebel against his father. Your father was similar, always correcting you and forcing you to practice perfect mannerisms. You were his first born, you were supposed to be the perfect example of what a future Queen was to be, especially for your younger siblings; the second born son barely of age to train by sword. If you were anything less, you were to be locked in your room until you had time to “reflect”, your maids unable to speak to you in fear that the King would hear and throw them in the dungeon. Your mother, being too vain to involve herself with any of her children, never saw any of you until your birthdays. She opted to drown herself in self-pampering every other day. Both of your lives were royal hell until “The Meeting”, where the both of you could forget about being perfect for a day.  

You wrapped your arms around Shoto’s neck and buried your face in the crook of his neck, the both of you clutching each other close. His body radiated its own heat, warming you more than the thin fabric of your nightdress could. You pulled away, realising he got even taller this year. 

“I missed you Sho!” you smiled.

“Likewise” he replied, slinging his sword from his back, only there was another object wrapped in silk next to it. “Did...anything interesting happen this year?” 

“Hmmm,” you pondered, walking to your vanity and grabbing a brush. “Well, Jinko is pregnant again.”

“Your mother?”

“Heh, she was never around enough to be a ‘mother’, she’s merely my birth-giver.” you snorted, combing your soft locks. 

“So, is that the fourth…?”

“Fifth.”

“Well then.”

“Yep, and as soon as she’s done pushing it out, she’ll ignore it 364 days of the year. Hell, Ocha was there more for me than my mother ever could be” you say, earning a small blush from the girl.

Shoto sighed, taking a seat on the edge of your bed and placing his sword next to him. 

“Anyways, what’s the meeting about this time?” you asked now moving onto cleaning your face.

“That’s… uh...well, I have to talk to you about something soon, but first, I brought you a gift” Sho said a bit awkwardly. He turned and handed you the silk wrapped object. You took it gently, afraid of breaking it, that was, until you unwrapped it. Your mouth dropped as you felt the silk fall off and onto the floor, completely forgotten as you held up the object in awe. In your hand was a long silver blade engraved with delicately curved patterns surrounding a single mother pearl at the center and down the blade itself. The hilt fit perfectly in your hands, the weight completely balanced. 

You were damn near about to cry. “Sho...its-”

“Get dressed so we can try it out” he smiles and hands you the sheath.

Giddily, you sheath your sword and headed to the dressing curtain where Ochako waited for you with a big smile. She seemed to have known about this whole visit because she held up a bit more of a casual dress, one that wasn’t as long as it normally would be. You never understood why you had to wear dresses as a princess, but it couldn’t be helped, you had no control over your clothing choices. Ochako however, had the power to hem the dresses for you so you could run with a bit more freedom. 

***

“Sho! I can’t believe you did this! How’d you manage to sneak this by your dad?” you ask once you are dressed. You moved to take the direct route to the gardens, but Shoto pulled you to a different route around. “Sho?”

“That’s the thing I have to talk to you about,” he said, peeking into all the rooms and hallways before entering, “I don’t want to run into anyone else right now.” He pulls you along swiftly until you reach the gardens, taking one last look around you before relaxing a bit.

“Hey, Sho, what the heck is going on?” you ask, lowering your voice.

The boy in front of you couldn’t look you in the eyes. He was worried about something, which was totally uncharacteristic of him. Trying to ease his nerves, you reach out and gently squeeze his hand, but he doesn’t respond back. Instead, he just sighs, finally about to say something.

“So...you know how we...always meet up every year?” he asks.

You nod, slightly confused at where this was going.

“Well, our fathers have been discussing…”

“Discussing what?”

“Something very.. special for next week-”

“My birthday isn’t for a couple of months”

“It’s not that-”

“Then?”

He turned his head and sighed. 

“...Discussing our marriage…” he trails off.

“Sho! Oh wow, This-this is great!” you beamed. You always thought about the day you’ll have to marry someone. Your role as a princess was to marry a prince, and become a beloved Queen to your kingdom. You dreaded that it would be for trading purposes, that you’d have to marry some pudgy old man so that your father could share more land, but you had the option to marry your best friend! Anyone would be delighted at the thought...anyone but Shoto.

Your smile quickly faded as you studied his face. He expressed a mix of guilt, awkwardness, worry, and something you haven’t seen before…was that fear?

“What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, still unable to look at you, “I can’t do this-”

“Is it too early still? Because it’s ok, we don’t have to-” The words stung, but you couldn’t let that get to you.

“No! No, that’s not it, it’s just that I can’t”

“You can’t what? Tell me what so I can help you.”

“I… I love you (y/n), just...not like that” he says, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What? Wait, what do you mean?” you asked, stomach dropping.

“I just mean that I, I don’t see you like that.” he said.

“So, I’m not good enough?” you shook your head.

“-No-”

You could feel the tears stinging in your eyes, “so...there’s someone else?”

He lets go of your hand to rub his arm in a nervous manner, “No, that’s not it either, I just don’t know how to explain it-”

But he was lying. You knew Shoto was a bad liar around you. It was bad enough that he couldn’t look at you, but even worse that he was taking steps away from you, slowly inching backwards in the opposite direction. He wasn’t trusting you with something and you didn’t know why, but your anger took over, and suddenly, you didn’t want to know why either.

“Well then, I’ll leave it to you to inform our fathers that this wedding won’t be happening, Todoroki.” you huffed. You saw the hurt in his face when you called him by his last name, but you could care less right now. You turned around and headed back to the castle, back to your room, and back to Ochako so you could cry in comfort. You kept your eyes trained at the ground, a silent message to all your servants to leave you alone. However, the message was left unknown to someone who didn’t live in the palace, someone like King Enji. 

You were cut off from the path to your room by the tall and heavily built man, his eyes cold and harsh staring at you from above. You stopped and immediately curtsied in respect, as you were representing your father every time you met with a leader of another kingdom. 

“Good morning, King Enji.” you said, giving him a well practiced ‘princess smile’.

He only grunted in response, nodding his head to the sword strapped to your back. “I see you received my son’s wedding gift, do you find it satisfactory?”

“Oh-the sword, right! It’s beautiful, your greatness. I am so humbly honored to receive such a gift.” you bow. You had completely forgotten it was there after what happened with Shoto. It was supposed to be a wedding gift, a sign of his love for you, but he didn’t love you like you loved him. You should be throwing this thing away, you should feel disgusted...so why did those words come out so naturally? Why did the sword feel so familiar? Hopefully Ochako could help you answer those. 

King Enji nodded in approval, motioning to some servants he had waiting out of your sight. “You have good manners, young one. Perhaps my son could learn a thing or two from you when it comes to respecting his elders.”

Two female servants took place besides you, awaiting further instructions from their King. 

“Your father has agreed to allow me to provide the dress, courtesy of the profits he helped me make last year. My servants will be taking your measurements, as well as note your likes and dislikes for the preparations.” he says before walking off.

All you could do was smile now. You couldn’t make your father look bad, even in front of servants. You continued to hold back tears as the handmaidens escorted you to your chambers.

So much for spilling your heart out to Ochako. 

***

The maidens were merciless, insisting that every measurement be as precise as possible. You tried to delay them, but your efforts were futile. They brought every bit of conversation back to the dress, and to the wedding plans you know you won’t have. Guards were installed in front to ensure no one came in or out until every inch of your body was measured to perfection. They measured your breasts and behind about five times over to ensure that “your best qualities were perfectly framed” for the wedding. Best qualities? Were you just boobs and ass for the future King? You sighed, still letting them continue their measuring. Shoto wouldn’t have cared…

No, he was Todoroki to you now, until he can give you an explanation. 

But...do you even deserve one?

As King Enji’s servants gave you a break to bring out supplies for your fitting, you walked over to the sword your “fiance” gave you, unsheathed for its glory to shine on your bed. He knew how you liked it, designing it to perfectly mirror you. He took note of everything you loved, remembering your style interests from whenever you two would talk for hours on end. You traced the flawless engravings on the blade itself, almost tearing up again. Turning the sword over, you saw the engraving on the bottom of the hilt, small, yet beautiful nonetheless. 

“Let’s protect each other from now on”

All the anger you felt before was gone, replaced by pure guilt.

He really did love you.

Just not in the way that you had hoped. 

You were being selfish, and you needed to make it right. 

Before you knew it, you were yanked back to the full length mirrors for more measurements. 

Both the measuring and interrogations lasted nearly the entire day with the servants drawing several designs and re-measuring you for each one. Of course, they didn’t accept a “that looks fine” or “this one is good'', so they continued to create new ones, each more extravagant and beautiful than the last. Evening came, and the maidens packed their materials to head back to their own kingdom. You thanked them sincerely for all their hard work and rushed off to say goodbye to Shoto until he disappeared over the hill and into the forest, like you’ve always done...except you weren’t.

You arrived to meet your father, King Enji, and Shoto in the main hall a little out of breath while they said their last goodbyes. King Enji broke his attention away from your father to give you a polite nod, acknowledging your presence. Your father noticed this and turned to give you a big hug, laughing heartily. 

“Can you believe it? You’re getting married in a week! I need to tell your mother straight away! She would be so proud.” he says, pulling strands of your hair behind your ear. 

“Yes, I believe she would” you smile. You weren’t in the mood to explain that she’d only use this as an excuse to out-fashion you on your own special day. 

Shoto hung his head in silence right next to his dad, still not making eye contact with you. You tried to pay him no mind and instead focused on building up your courage to ask something of King Enji in the politest way possible. 

When you got the chance, you squeezed out every bit of bravery left in your system to say “Erm, King Enji, is it alright if Prince Shoto stays?”, twiddling your fingers innocently.

The red headed man looked a bit taken back by the question, but he didn’t seem opposed to the idea. He snorted, waving his hand to Shoto, who stared at you with an open mouth.

“Ah, young love,” your father chuckled, and went to see his comrade out the door.

Without a second to spare, you grabbed Shoto’’s hand and led him to your room, closing the door behind you quickly. 

“(y/n), what are you doing?” he asked, watching you shove a chair underneath the handles of your doors. You had enough palace servants for today. 

You turned around and immediately threw your arms around his waist. He stood rigid with surprise before hesitantly hugging you back with a light grip. He was still confused from the fiasco earlier, but didn’t blame you.

“Sho....I’m so sorry, I should have understood.” you whispered. “I hope you could forgive me..”

He gave you a slight squeeze, “Of-course, (y/n). I’m sorry too, I-”

“Stop. You don’t need to explain anything to me. All we need to do is get this wedding cancelled.” you interrupt, looking up at him. “Also, I’m glad you didn’t say anything.” 

He looked relieved, giving you a soft smile. “Thanks, (y/n).” He pulls away from you and takes a seat on your bed next to where your blade still sat, unbothered. “But, I realized that if I were to tell my father, he’d assume it to be an insult no matter what I say, and end the friendship. with your people. Then he’d have me married off to someone else and make my life more hell than it already was. I’d rather be married to my best friend than a stranger.” he smiled.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the words escaped you. You were stumped. After all of this, it turned in your favor, but you didn’t want this anymore. 

You huffed and stood up abruptly, heading to your drawers and searching through them. 

“What are you-?” Sho trailed off, standing up with you. 

Finally, you found an assorted set of bags you use to collect things on your trips to the forest. With most of your years being devoted to molding you into a perfect queen, you haven’t used these for anything more than bringing home a pretty set of rocks in hopes that your mother would pay attention to you. Now, you were finding the biggest ones, planning to fill them with essentials to help you survive the woods. 

“We’re not going to do anything we’re forced to be into,” you said, “No matter what, our fathers won’t allow us to cancel this, but they can’t do anything if we’re not here.”

“(y/n), you’re not thinking of leaving are you?” he asked, worry apparent all over his face. 

You handed Sho a bag, staring him straight in the eye. “I’m absolutely thinking of that.” You grabbed a bag for yourself and shoved the rest back into your drawers. “We both have siblings who can inherit the throne, right? And if we disappear together and write a note saying something like “oh this is going too fast and we decided to take a break together in the mountains”- neither of our fathers could blame each other, so-”

“Hey,” Sho laid a hand on your shoulder, “we don’t have to do this. I told you, I really thought about this, and as long as it’s you, I’ll be happy-”

“No, Sho,” you said, shrugging off the hand and looking through your closet for extra clothes, “you can tell yourself that, but that’s not going to be true. I want you to be just as happy, and that’s not gonna happen if we go through with this marriage. Look, I know Ocha’s grandmother lives in a small town East of here, past the forest. If we can get there, we can rest and figure out what to do, ok?”

You looked at him for confirmation, his brows furrowed and his lips spread into a thin line. For a few seconds, he contemplated the terrible outcomes of your plan, but he knew you would just do this yourself if he didn’t come with you. 

Finally, he nodded before he could change his mind.

This probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but at least you were together.

[ohbae-me]

okay so, im about to go ham because i truly stand strong in my shoujo fantasy.

In my opinion, im pretty sure (like 89%) lucifer tells us that whenever mammon breaks off a relationship with someone, they go broke completely after. so hes had previous relationships before, as for the rest of the boys, im pretty sure lucifer has, but nothing serious, he wont let anyone in, MC is literally the only person who has pushed past his walls and seen him for more than pride. satan, 100% he has never had a relationship, levi, has had a couple of fwbs and other relationships but they always fizzle out, never lasting. asmo has never had a serious relationship, always just flings. belphie never had a serious relationship and same with beel. i truly believe MC is their first true loves, i know what youre thinking "theyve been alive for so long, theres no way someone couldnt have been special to them" but the thing is, theyre so different with MC; their entire dynamic and relationships changed with MC, MC saw them for more than their sin and got to know them to their very core, while yes the other relationships never lasted, thats not to say the boys didnt love them; but just not in the way they love MC. i believe MC to be a true love, not just a love, the difference for me is all of the boys would gladly give up chasing MC once she finds herself happy with another brother, instead of forcing them to choose yk? the "as long as youre happy, it kills me everytime i look at you smile at him, but i love you too much to let you be miserable with me" and i dont think any of them have experienced. also, with the whole "new relationship" thing, the honey moon phase, while yes every couple has it, i feel like with MC it would just, last. not to say they wouldnt have fights; ofc they would, but its different with MC, everyday the brothers would wake up and chose the option to love and fall in love all over again, speaking further on that, i dont think any of them would truly get over MC. and i mean that; (i dont think MC is going to die, obey me devs have something planned LOL, plus theyre super powerful, like the other anon said i dont think theyd be able to really function without them, even if they do "get over" mcs death at some point.) after MC dies i feel like the family dynamic wouldnt be the same, the brothers would get quieter and would never truly forget about it? and every relationship would fail because theyre not MC (you dont have to agree but i love reverse harems), like i 100% hc that after MC chooses another brother or after they die, mammon would try and try to find new flings, even after its been decades mammon finds someone whos super similar to MC, their look, personality, etc, but one wrong move and theyre out. (say MC doesnt like pickles, but the replacement for MC does, he would immediately start crying and call mc a stupid human who he shouldnt have fallen for.) anyways in conclusion, i truly dont think MC would ever die canonically in the obey me game, the devs are sneaky (love you devs), but even if they would, i really feel like they would never get truly over it. some part of me truly believes that the brothers would go back to being distant, how they were before. they would sit at the table and eat in silence, asmo would begin partying ten times harder (since we already know he uses his ego to cover up his major insecurity of people not liking him and how he feels about himself) and the brothers would become even more indugled in their sin. also, for every relationship they would have, they would just compare them to MC, and yeah but I cannot see MC dying. the other stuff about what the brothers would be like after MC dies could also be applied to when MC chooses her s/o. i think the brothers would be super fucking hurt, that was their first love, their first understanding who walked out and chose someone who wasnt them. anyways thats all, you dont have to reply i just felt like i needed to get this off of my chest, also im gonna be pretty frequent on your blog ( i love ur writing ) so im gonna call myself cake anon! have a great day! - cake anon

Hello Cake! iluuu! Thanks for this, i really love getting every ones take on these things! And there is defs a lot that i agree with here. 

I agree with the Mammon part. Out of all of the brothers, i feel he is probably the easiest to get emotionally attached in a relationship, so i see him as the one with the most previous relationships. Asmo coming in second, but his being mostly flings or poly/open relationships. I’m sure Mammon has had some serious ones as well as many flings, where Asmo’s have never been overly serious and certainly never long lasting. I’m also sure Luci has had a few, some more serious than others, but he wouldn’t get overly attached emotionally. I’m sure he’d be too busy with Diavolo since arriving, being the workaholic he is. I’m sure not many partners would be willing to deal with that level of non-commitment and emotional unavailability from him.Levi I feel like all his relationships never left that awkward early stage, and his only ‘serious’ relationships would have been strictly online, maybe a couple meetups that made him nope right out of it. Satan, again, has probably just gone on some casual dates but didn’t have much interest in actually dating rather than gaining connections. i feel like Beel is the most likely candidate to have had healthy previous relationships. He is pretty well balanced emotionally and has a good outlook on love and family values. I’m sure he’s had a few serious relationships and has dated his share of people. Belphie gives me vibes of had one or two previous serious relationships that did not end well at all and now he’s a salty sob over it lmao. 

I still don’t feel like MC is necessarily their first true love, but maybe the first different kind of love for them. MC has reached them in ways no one else has, they don’t try to change anything, they fit in well with the whole family, they understand their sins etc. I have loved a few different people in my life, and each one was such a different experience for me. The first guy i loved, i consider to be my first true love. However, it didn’t work. And then i met the man I eventually married, he wasn’t my first true love, but it was a better kind of love, yk? 

And uugghh you ripped my heart out with how the brothers would feel if MC chose a different brother!!!! Because they all would be so heartbroken it’s not them, but they really truly just want mc to be happy and cared for, and they know their brother would keep them safe and provide well. 

A few asks ago, i mentioned that the brothers would move on eventually. I think there is a big difference in moving on and getting over that I maybe didn’t articulate very well. If MC were to die or choose someone else, they would move on eventually, but they might not ever really get over it. My heart hurts just thinking about how they would feel trying to move on. Like you mentioned, the empty, quiet dinner tables, lackluster parties and festivals, it would be like they lost their best friend. (i giggled picturing your mammon scenario with the pickle because that’s exactly how he’d react to something so small lmaooo)

I also agree that i don’t think the devs will kill mc off (again), that just seems like a really crappy way to end the game!! I’m curious to see how they would make different routes go if you can only romance one of them end game, vs you being able to have them all? I wonder if we’d get a choice in the whole becoming immortal thing or not? 

Sorry if this reply was too long and rambly, i absolutely love discussing these kinds of things!! I always welcome these asks!!! 

[ttttaehyungie]

secret santa | kth x reader

secret santa | kim taehyung x reader

genre | bff2l, fluff

summary | What you thought was an ingenious plan to figure out the perfect gift for your secret santee turns out to take a whole bunch of wrong turns, but with the best outcomes.

rating | NC-17

word count | 6.2k words

warnings | some profanities (it’s like... once LOL), mentioned breakups, it’s Christmas in the context of a pandemic

a/n | Merry Christmas everybuddy 🎄✨ here is a lighthearted (or at least it was until i hit the 6am point of the night while writing slkdjflkjd) lil christmas gift to everyone, but mostly to myself LOL bcos I’m finally posting a fic about the one who owns my heart in its entirety 😌

Christmas without you would just not be Christmas at all

Bright mistletoes up above us, it’s just you and me

-- V, Snow Flower

“C’mon, ____,” Taehyung whines. He plops down on the couch next to you and puts his big, round eyes to good use, giving you the puppy dog eyes treatment.

Well too bad for Taehyung, having known him for the last decade has granted you immunity against his pouty antics. There’s a couple of things that Taehyung employs in a bid to get what he wants. First, he’ll whine. Next, he’ll attempt to reason it out with you… or as much as he can convincingly reason with the pout still laced thick in his tone. If that fails, he’ll try bargaining. And finally, if none of the aforementioned has managed to sway you, he’ll just pout in silence.

“That’s the thing about Secret Santas, Tae, they’re supposed to be, y’know, secret.”

“Well, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me who your santee is!” he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air.

There it is. Stage two.

You ignore him and return to scrolling through Amazon in what you hope is a nonchalant manner.

“What if I guess who it is?” he tries.

When you don’t reply, he continues, “Is it Hoseok?” He runs a hand through his golden locks in thought. “No, buying for Yoongi is easy because all he ever wants is practical things like planners. You wouldn’t need help with that. Hm… Is it Seokjin?”

He rambles on about different kitchenware that could make a good present for Jin, a ramble that would have been really helpful if only Jin were actually your secret santee.

Taehyung gasps and falls silent, shocking you into finally looking up from your phone. His already round eyes are even rounder, wide as they are in shock. A hand hovers over his mouth as he goes still.

Then, as suddenly as he had gasped, he relaxes into a laugh.

“For a moment, I thought your secret santee was me,” he says, chuckling. A jolt runs through you, and your breath hitches in a way that you pray is unnoticeable. “But you’re too shitty a liar to do that.”

“Hey!” You jab his side playfully and he yelps. “What do you mean? I’m a great liar.”

“That’s a blatant and unconvincing lie right there.”

You fold your arms and turn away.

“I know you’re not actually mad, ____,” comes his sing-song voice, crossing his arms behind his head and reclining into the couch.

Letting out another huff, you turn further away. So when he grabs your hands and pulls you to face him, it startles you a little.

His eyes search yours, and you can’t help yourself from stumbling into their depths. The seriousness in his gaze holds yours intently.

But just as you think he’s about to apologize, his eyes melt into little crescent moons as he grins. “So. Who’s your secret santee?”

His cry comes out muffled under the cushion you hit him with.

An exasperated groan leaves you the moment you close the front door. Tipping your head back to rest against the solid wood, you shut your eyes. You hear footsteps pad closer.

“I take it your plan didn’t succeed?” Irene says, leaning against the wall as she takes in your defeated stance.

“Nope,” you say, picking yourself back up and hanging up your scarf and coat. Your roommate’s still in the same fuzzy pyjamas she was in when you’d left for Tae’s earlier in the day, and honestly, she’s got the right idea. You’re ready to get back into jammies too.

A Lifetime movie plays in the background, and you’d be willing to bet your life’s savings -- not that there’s much when you’re but a struggling student -- that she’s got a mug of hot chocolate to accompany her.

“Another Christmas movie?” you scoff in mock disgust. “How are you not sick of them yet?”

“What else are we supposed to do during a quarantined Christmas?”

“Don’t kid yourself. You’d be doing this even without the quarantine.”

“Hey. If you detest it so much, I heard that Taehyung’s place has many vacant rooms right now.”

You roll your eyes. She got that information from you. Both his roommates were gone from the apartment for the time being, one went back home for the holidays and another had chosen to attend the entire semester from home since everything was online anyway, leaving Taehyung with the luxury of the entire apartment to himself.

Meanwhile, Irene was making full use of the ongoing situation to evade going back home for the holidays. Too much family drama to allow her to binge-watch her holiday flicks in peace, she’d said.

And you? It’s kinda awful, but you’ve chosen to remain in your apartment just slightly off-campus so that you could get a head start on your research for your thesis, the campus library’s offerings much more vast than the local neighborhood library of your small town hometown.

Upon hearing this, Taehyung had offered to stay to keep you company over the holidays. “We’ve spent every Christmas together ever since we were kids, Christmas would just feel too weird without you,” he’d said. “And then we can join the gang’s Zoom Christmas celebration together too! I heard that’s what Namjoon and Jin will be doing since they’re both in the city over Christmas.”

How you’d managed to keep yourself from melting into a puddle of goo at his casual selflessness was a real feat. Taehyung had always been close to his family, and often missed them intensely while you guys were miles apart from home each college semester. So for him to give up a trip back home so you could still have a piece of home with you over Christmas was not a small sacrifice.

“Hellooo?” Irene waves a hand in your face. You jump, jolted out of your thoughts. “Are you actually daydreaming about it? Ooh, staying over at your crush’s place with no one else around… saucy things could happen, ____.”

Although that wasn’t what you were thinking about, you still feel the heat rise to your cheeks at being caught daydreaming about Taehyung. Instead, you give a feeble excuse to get Irene off your back, “I’m just thinking about secret santa gifts again. Ugh, why’d I have to draw him of all people?!”

“Are you sure you aren’t overthinking this because of your feelings? How difficult is it to think of a gift for a guy you’ve been friends with since you were kids? What about his interests?”

“That’s real tough. His hobbies are so whimsical and oftentimes just impulsive. Remember the phase with the film camera? And then the short-lived violin phase? And the piano phase? The only outcome of that phase is him playing the Chopstick Waltz every single time we pass by a piano.”

“Well, what about something that’s been a constant in his life then through all the phases?”

You purse your lips in thought, weighing the thought. It’s not a bad suggestion, but what has been a constant for him all this time?

Coming up with naught, you sigh and turn to head to your room. “I’ll think about it while I get changed back into my jammies.”

When you described Taehyung’s ideas and interests as being whimsical and oftentimes impulsive, this is exactly what you meant.

“Tae, I don’t think it’s gonna fit. Why’d you get such a big one?”

“You just have to believe, ____. We just need faith, trust, and- well actually, maybe just faith and a really good, hard thrust.”

“I feel like there’s so many that’s what she said jokes to be made here.”

“Wasting your energy on that line of thinking is the reason why we haven’t gotten this christmas tree through the door yet.”

With one more solid push, the widest part of the tree finally makes it through the narrow doorway of Taehyung’s apartment, and the two of you go stumbling forward with the extra momentum.

“We did it!” he exclaims, wrapping you up in a hug. “You believed!”

Internally cursing yourself for the way your heart has the audacity to stutter at his touch. The hug is nothing- the warmth that seeps from his body to yours is familiar because hugs are nothing special in your friendship. Even in your grade school memories, Taehyung had always been a tactile person, giving out hugs generously and demanding them in return by simply throwing himself at people to be received in an embrace, coerced or not. As you and your peers grew older, Taehyung became more aware and withheld himself from his sudden hug attacks, especially towards the other girls. But not you. He felt no need to skirt around things with you, and you found a quiet hum of satisfaction in knowing that Taehyung could be his tactile self with you. Hugs were just an expression of your friendship. Nothing more.

That is, until you wanted them to be more.

You shake the thought away. You’ve dealt with this successfully for more than a year now and you can continue on.

Taehyung loosens his hold but keeps his arms around you, leaning back to look at you. The soft puffs in his cheeks and the light creases around his eyes as they bunch up in happiness are just some of the little things you adore about him. The contentment practically radiates off of him. It’s just like him to get this excited over a christmas tree.

“Shall we get to setting it up?” you ask and he nods, releasing you completely then to get to work.

After the two of you find the perfect spot, situating the tree in the corner of the living room by the windows and in reach of a power socket, you grab the bag of decorations.

The oddly small and light bag of decorations.

“Tae?” you ask, pulling out the single box of baubles. “Is this all you got?”

Grinning sheepishly, he nods. “I didn’t have much left for decorations after I chose the tree.”

“Why’d you choose such a big tree then?”

“What’s the point of getting a tiny tree? It’s only nice and festive if it’s large!” he exclaims.

“Well, what’s the point of getting a big tree that will be bare except for six baubles, Tae?!”

“I was thinking we could improvise the decorations.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Improvise?”

“Yeah, like- wait,” he says, running to his bedroom. His voice floats over from the narrow corridor, “just hang on!”

After a little rustling and rummaging, Taehyung emerges with two shoeboxes and a few scarves thrown over his shoulders. Grabbing one of the shoeboxes from him, you open it to reveal a bunch of keychains. Souvenirs from his friends’ travels and some of his own too. In there, you recognize an eiffel tower keychain you gifted him after your family’s holiday to France.

“Here, look!” He grabs a few and begins hanging them on the tree. “Decorations!”

You laugh. It’s a classic Taehyung move, and honestly it doesn’t look half bad. Picking a few keychains of your own from the box, you join him in placing them around the tree.

“What are you going to do about the tree topper?” you ask.

He smirks. “I’ve already got that all figured out.” Unboxing the second shoebox to reveal his collection of polaroid photos, he rifles around till he finds the photo he wants. Brandishing the polaroid of Yeontan, he grins. “Both an angel and a star. Perfect.”

You can't argue with that logic, and you say as much before vacating the step stool so he can clip the polaroid to the top of the tree with a wooden peg. Eyeing the pile of scarves on the couch, you ask, “What about the scarves?”

“Scarves? You mean ribbons?” he says, and begins draping them across the tree. You giggle and reach for one. The soft material is plush, caressing your skin as you run your fingers over the material. It's much nicer than the other scarves, you notice, and way too nice to be stuck on a christmas tree.

“Hey,” you say, “isn’t this cashmere? Are you sure you want such a nice sweater on your tree?”

Taehyung shrugs. “It was a gift from my ex. It’s not like I’m going to wear it anymore.”

His ex. The words hit you like a punch to your gut.

Taehyung's ex, Samantha, was a pleasant person to be around, easygoing and bubbly with a sunny personality that matched him well. At least, from what you could tell based off the first two months of their relationship that you got to witness firsthand. You're not quite sure who exactly initiated the distance -- whether it was from your own courtesy that you gave them space, or whether Samantha had, directly or indirectly, requested for it -- the memories were all too foggy by now.

What you do remember is that one moment they were happy together, and the next they were broken up, the relationship lasting just a little over six months. Taehyung never spoke much about it and when you did probe, he would brush it off with scant excuses that they just figured they weren't compatible after all.

That had been some time in the spring. Briefly, you wonder how many wears the scarf had gotten, and how much sentimental value it held. The quality of the material hinted towards a relationship that had been going strong.

Yet, you muse over it as you drape the luxurious material over the prickly christmas tree, Taehyung brushed it off with such brashness that spoke otherwise.

“Hey,” Taehyung breaks the silence that has fallen between you, clearing his throat in a self-conscious manner as if he’s feeling guilty over the awkward turn that the conversation had taken. You look at him, half-hidden behind the tree pines, his eyes pensive. Maybe he’ll finally open up about the relationship -- it’s been eight months after all. But then he flashes his usual elfin grin. “Any luck with your secret santee gift yet?”

You groan, partly because no, you’re still clueless and stuck on what to get him, and partly because he’s once again evaded the topic of his ex.

The incessant buzzing of your phone gets ignored, vibrating almost violently in its spot on the tinyass coffee table next to your feet which you’ve kicked up ever so demurely. The consecutive, rapid-fire notifications can only be from an overly enthusiastic Taehyung.

Irene nudges foot with her own socked one. “Aren’t you gonna check your phone? I can pause the movie if you want.”

“Nah, I’ve watched Home Alone enough times to not care about missing anything. And it’s probably just Tae being all excited about secret santa gift suggestions.”

“Ooh, how’s that going? Finally got him to spill what he might want?”

An exasperated sigh escapes you. “No, he’s sending me individualized suggestions for everyone that are so well thought out and personalized that I can’t get them for anyone else.”

Grabbing your still-buzzing phone, you flick through your texts. Just as you’d predicted, Tae’s sent you a bunch of Christmas socks he found on Amazon that he thinks would make a good addition to Jin’s collection of festive socks, a set of really nice paints that would pair well with Yoongi’s newfound interest in painting, and an anthology of time-travel short stories that he thinks would fascinate Namjoon.

“Hm, d’you think he’s called your bluff? Intentionally sending you suggestions that wouldn’t be helpful?”

You shake your head, frowning. “Tae’s not like that. Honestly, it was just a bad move on my part, hoping that he would give some generic gift suggestion that would let slip what he really wants. Tae is too thoughtful to get people generic gifts. He puts his heart and soul into the presents he buys for others.”

Reaching over, Irene pinches your cheek lightly as she coos at you, “Awww, you’re so in love with him. I can feel the cavities forming.”

“Pretty sure those are from the hot chocolate with extra marshmallows you love so much,” you say, tipping your chin in a gesture to the mug in her hands.

Irene sticks her tongue out and takes an extra large sip in typical defiance.

As much as you mock Irene for her love for Lifetime holiday movies and hot chocolate, you do have to admit that there’s a certain appeal to it. Curled up on the lumpy couch in Taehyung’s apartment, cupping the hot beverage in your hands, even the uneven lumpiness of the cheap piece of furniture begins to feel comfortable.

The entire room is dark, save for the glow of the television. Taehyung has always insisted that this is the best way to watch movies. Maybe it’s a good thing your makeshift decorations on the christmas tree -- still standing proudly in the corner of the room -- didn’t include christmas lights after all.

Outside, the snowfall has gotten pretty intense, the temperature dipping significantly compared to the previous few days. It is well and truly winter, the cold showing no mercy to anyone who wasn’t prepared for it. You’re thankful to be inside and with a nice hot drink.

But as the film runs on, you get so engrossed in the plot that you don’t even realize you’ve finished your drink till you drain the last of it. Oh.

Looking over at Taehyung, you could always request for more and you know he’d be more than happy to make you another cup. But the movie is at its climax and the way his eyes are glued to the screen, his mouth slightly agape with how invested he is in the film, you can’t bring yourself to interrupt him now. So you try to ignore the way the cold begins nipping at your fingertips.

Soon enough though, the once warm mug that was a pleasant source of heat became stiff cold ceramic between your equally stiff fingers. Scrunching your toes, you wish you’d thought to bring an extra pair of socks over, especially when you think about the pair of socks you’d stuffed into your boots, soggy and cold with melted ice. A shiver runs through you at the thought.

“Are you cold?” Taehyung asks, and you jump. You didn’t realize he’d noticed.

“Yeah, a little.”

He pouts. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? C’mere,” he says, and lifts the edge of his blanket, revealing his plaid pants and sweatshirt combination.

Crawling in quickly, you tell yourself that you’re only complying because you know he’ll put up a fight if you don’t, and you don’t want the cold air getting into the cocoon of warmth he’s created with his blanket. Not because you’re excited to snuggle up with Tae. Definitely not. But now that you’re here, you may as well make the most of it, you figure.

Taehyung yelps as you press your icy toes to his warm thigh. Your arms wind their way around him, desperately seeking out the warmth of his body heat. Nuzzling lightly into the crook of his neck, you sigh, finally getting some relief from the cold.

The tiniest of groans escapes him. Then, a tight gasp. Stiffening, you peer up at Taehyung carefully.

He’s turned to look at you too, his attention that was once rapt by the movie now focused directly on you with equal intensity. Nervous energy accumulates within you and your heart rate skyrockets, now keenly aware of every hard plane of his body against yours. The logical part of you regrets the way you launched yourself at him and gave no regards for personal space. But you’re only dimly aware of that. The part of you that just wants Taehyung, the part that you’ve kept under lock and key, now fights against the restraints you’ve tied yourself into, unravelling you. You gnaw at your lip unsurely, and you watch as Taehyung’s gaze drops to your lips, heavy-lidded as they linger there, then darting back up to meet yours head-on.

The hand that he has on your hip grips you a little tighter, and you clutch the front of his sweatshirt in response. Your heart is pounding now, and the headiness of it all makes you feel swirly. Is he leaning clo-

Slam!

Both of you jump. The noise from the film startles you both, and you accidentally head butt Taehyung’s chin in the midst of it. He yelps in pain.

“I’m so sorry!” You frantically rub the spot to soothe it. “Are you ok?”

He laughs it off in his usual carefree manner. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure? It doesn’t hurt?”

“It’ll be fine in a bit,” he says, pulling you into his chest, his warmth emanating from his chest to your back in a comforting manner. “Let’s continue watching the movie.”

With his arms wound around you, you wonder if he can feel the way your heartbeat continues to beat erratically. If he does, he says nothing about it. And underneath you, you can feel clearly how his heartbeat matches yours in its stuttering pace. But you say nothing about it. Not for the duration of the movie, not when it ends, not when you stand to leave, and not when he wishes you goodnight at the door.

The next day, you wake up with thoughts of yesterday sending your mind into a spiralling whirlpool. You decide it’s time to make an emergency call.

Also, it’s five days to Christmas and you still haven’t thought of a suitable gift for Taehyung.

“Hello?” comes a chirpy voice over the line.

“Jiminie!”

“____! What’s up?”

“Listen, I need your help. It’s about the secret santa thing.”

“What about it?”

“I need a suggestion for a gift for your best friend.”

Jimin chuckles. “Isn’t he also your best friend?”

“Well, yes, but…”

You take him through your original plan to covertly ask Taehyung what he would like by asking what would make a good gift, and how it got completely derailed, to which Jimin just laughed. And then your discussion with Irene on finding something that has been a constant in his life. Since you’re on the phone with Jimin, you take the chance to rant about your annoyance with yourself at not foreseeing Taehyung’s thoughtfulness and the personalized gift suggestions that he’s been giving you.

“____,” Jimin interrupts you mid-rant. “The answer is right in front of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe your plan didn’t really fail. If Tae is suggesting personalized gifts, then…” he trails off meaningfully.

You gasp. “Oh. You’re absolutely right, Jimin, you genius!”

“This was your own plan, ____.” He chuckles. “Now as for what has been constant in his life… Do you really not realize?”

Oh.

“Jimin, you’re a genius, y’know that?”

“So I’ve been telling everyone.”

“Ok, I gotta go now,” you say, excitement zipping through you as your mind fills abuzz with different ideas now that Jimin has set you on the path.

“Seeya on the 25th, you dork.”

“See you!”

Belatedly, you realize you missed out on telling Jimin about what had happened the day prior. But you shrug it off, figuring that you could tell him about it another time.

---

But as it turns out, you don’t. The hectic rush of preparations for Christmas keep you and your friends so busy, you’re thankful everyone’s blocked out Christmas night for each other or you’d just miss each other completely otherwise.

Days on from the eventful movie night you had with Taehyung, the distance has already caused the memories of the night to go slightly fuzzy. You wonder if it had really even happened, or if you were just overthinking everything as per usual.

And since Taehyung never brought it up, your friendship carrying on in the easy status quo, it was simple enough to chalk it up to your own imagination.

The rush towards Christmas keeps itself up even till Christmas day itself. You’re huffing a little as you squeeze yourself and your grocery bags through the doorway of Taehyung’s apartment. The lopsided feeling of your beanie sitting askew on your head is just one part of your disheveled state right now.

“Tae!” You set the bags down and replace the spare key in its hiding place. “I’m here!”

He comes bursting out of his room and running over to help you with the bags. “Is it time to bake?” His tone is bright and shimmering with anticipation. Baking Christmas cookies with each other’s families was a tradition the two of you grew up with, and a tradition you both intended to keep even while away from your hometown.

Pulling the cookie cutters out of the bag, you wave them with a grin. “Shall we? We still have to prepare dinner after this and make sure we log onto Zoom on time too.”

The afternoon is filled with a flurry of flour and butter and sugar, cookie cutters and oven mitts, and a whole lot of messy icing. You pipe out a beautiful blue and white star, if you do say so yourself, taking pride in the baking skills you’ve honed over the past twenty years. Meanwhile, Taehyung scribbles Yeontan on a star-shaped cookie of his own. He adds this to his collection of alien cookies and rabbits on the moon.

When you’re both done decorating and the icing is left to set, you get to work on dinner. It’s a simple affair, just some mashed potatoes that you set Taehyung to work on, some lightly roasted veggies, and a rotisserie chicken from the supermarket in place of the usual Christmas turkey your families would normally have.

Grabbing plates to serve up your dinner, you can hear the chorus of hellos from the living room as Taehyung sets up his laptop to join the Zoom call. It fills you with a warmth you didn’t know you were missing, the cacophony of noise from your friends still as familiar as it always is even though it’s filtered through the speakers on the laptop. If anything, it may even be more chaotic than ever, with everyone speaking over each other, the social cues becoming even harder to read over the virtual platform.

When you finally enter the room with your two plates, the noise only gets louder, everyone shouting to greet you. You say a quick hi and slip back into the kitchen to get the tray of cookies to show off to the rest over the webcam.

You take your place next to Taehyung, seating yourself next to him in a similar cross-legged position, your knees knocking together as you both squeeze to get into frame together. Memories of the movie night come back to you, but Taehyung seems unfazed. Feigning calmness, you try to focus on the ongoing exchange instead.

The conversation drives itself, years of friendship and months spent apart from each other fuelling the chatter. With small talk on how Christmas day was for everyone, quick catch-ups on how everyone’s doing, inside jokes and references to shared experiences of the past, the atmosphere feels just like that one year you all went on a camping trip together and sat around the bonfire on the final night, swapping stories and jokes in a breezy fashion.

Just as the conversation slips into an easy placidity, Hoseok suggests you all move on to the secret santa bit of the night.

That’s when you gasp. Amidst the manic pace of the day and its activities, you’d forgotten to retrieve your present from where you’d stowed it in your apartment. In the same way that you treated Taehyung’s apartment like your own, so was your apartment to him. Taehyung could walk into your apartment any moment, whether you were present or not, and you needed to find a good secret place for your present. Stashing your prepared present in an unused cupboard in the kitchen, you remember commending yourself for having found such a great hiding spot. Turns out, it was so excellently hidden that even you had forgotten about it till this very moment.

But your internal struggle and the guilt that plagued you went unbeknownst to the rest, each taking turns to open their presents. A whole range of reactions and sound effects went on, Hoseok thanking Taehyung for his gifted sunglasses with such sincerity that transcended the boundaries of the webcam and screen. Yoongi had bought Jin a new fishing reel, and the boys were in the midst of discussing their next fishing trip.

But it was Namjoon’s reaction and the chaos that ensued that truly had you relaxing a little from your anxious-frustrated-guilty state.

“Snacks? And wet wipes?” Namjoon’s expression is incredulous as he pulls the items out of the brown paper bag. “Who’s giving me all these freebies?!”

“FREEBIES?!” Next to Namjoon, Jin smacks the table, causing him to jump. “I’ll have you know that those snacks were selected after careful observation, and I even went so far as to scout out for the specific brand you like and some even required shipping from elsewhere because the grocery stores near us didn’t stock it, and I got you wet wipes because you’re always spilling things, or maybe you could use them after you’re done snacking while on the go, but you still have the AUDACITY to call it FREEBIES?!”

At the sight of Jin gone red in the face, the snickers that the rest of you had been holding in came bursting out.

“Ok, I think we’re the last two to open our gifts,” Taehyung says, reading the room and moving on quickly before Jin could get even more agitated. “____, this is yours from your secret santa.”

Ripping open the wrapping paper swiftly, you find a brown leather-bound journal with your initials embossed on them in gold.

“Oh! This is beautiful,” you gush. “And since we’re the last two, this must be from Jimin!”

Even through the screen, the sight of your friend’s smile, eyes all scrunched up with the sincerity of it, has your heart swelling.

“And that means… that I’m your secret santee!” Taehyung gasps. “No way. And this whole time I was calling you a bad liar.”

He rambles on, explaining to the rest about your sly method of attempting to discreetly ask him what he might like for Christmas. The whole time, you’re chewing on your lip, trying to find the right moment to interject and explain what’s happened.

“Ok! So,” Taehyung finally pauses, looking at you expectantly, “I’m ready for my present!” His hands are cupped and ready to receive the present… that will not make it to him tonight.

You place your hands in his, lowering them gently and taking in his obvious confusion. “I’m so sorry, Tae, I left your present back at home. I promise I’ll bring it over tomorrow! Or you can come over after this to grab it if you want.”

“Oh,” he says, puppy dog pout hitting you full-force with guilt. “But I still want a gift now, so…”

Grasping your hands that are still in his, he tugs you forward into his chest, and plants a soft kiss on your lips.

Silence. Both from your brain, and from everyone around.

It lasts for two seconds -- your group of friends has never found it easy to shut up after all -- and then it’s an eruption, pulling you back to the reality that the two of you are not alone.

You can hear Jungkook screaming, “GROSS!” and Namjoon yelling in confusion. But Jimin’s tinkling laughter, filled with unmistakable joy, cuts through the noise along with a raspily muttered, “It’s about fucking time.” from Yoongi.

In the background, you hear Jungkook asking, “Waaaait, so does this mean that Seokjin has to give Namjoon a kiss now too?” and Jin’s immediate, “NO!”

The noise jump starts your brain back into motion. You attempt to pull away from Taehyung, highly aware that your friends are subject to witnessing all of this, but he tugs you back, anchoring you to him with an arm wrapped firmly around your waist. The laughter from the laptop speakers turns into cries of outrage and then an abrupt return to silence with a click, and you realize that Taehyung must have closed his laptop, ending the Zoom call.

Looping your arms around Taehyung’s shoulders, you begin to respond to his kiss, eyelids fluttering closed. It’s new, it’s electrifying. But it’s also like something deep inside has finally clicked, like you’ve finally arrived. You’re home.

“Did you know?” you ask. “About me having feelings for you?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung admits. Heat rises to your cheeks at that, and you hide your face in his chest. Now that you don’t have to be seated on the floor to be in frame for the Zoom call, the two of you opted to move to the lumpy but still much more comfortable couch.

The gentle strokes of his hand in your hair is familiar and comforting, reminding you of the infinite patience he’s always shown to you. It’s a reminder that this is Taehyung. The boy you grew up with through thick and thin. Your best friend. And that gives you the boldness to continue despite your embarrassment.

“How? And when?”

“Honestly,” he trails off slightly, in thought, “I think it was Samantha who made me realize it.”

A pang of jealousy hits you. But you’re immediately wondering if it’s even warranted, now that you guys are… Well, what exactly are you? You make a mental note to clarify that.

“She was jealous, y’know,” he continues. “Didn’t want to say it at first, and tried to put up with it because she understood that our friendship is not something she could just expect me to give up.

“But it got to a point where things just couldn’t go on any longer. What she initially saw as discomfort that she would learn to overcome with time, soon became an awareness that the two of us were crossing the line of just friends, even if we hadn’t realized it at the time.”

Taehyung sighs, causing you to look at him. He smiles down at you, and skims your cheek with his thumb affectionately. “Maybe it’s because you’ve been here by my side all my life, that it was such a gradual thing and neither of us really realized it.”

“Yeah,” you mumble. “It was only after you began dating her that I realized how not okay with that I was. I thought it was just me being the possessive best friend trying to get used to having to share you. But then I realized I didn’t just want my best friend back. I wanted what she had.”

Swallowing hard, you remember the bitterness of the jealousy you felt back then, and that still recurs from time to time.

“What about you then? How did you come to recognize your feelings?” you ask.

“Samantha made me face up to them.” There’s a faraway look in his eyes. “One day she laid it all out, about us being more than just friends. And when I denied it, she asked me, would I choose you over her if I were forced into making that decision. The answer very nearly rolled straight off my tongue. And that was when I knew.”

“Is that why you broke up?” you ask. Taehyung nods. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, you silly girl.” He boops you on the nose. “I’m just thankful that Samantha was as understanding as she was about it. I think that’s why it took me a long time to get over it -- knowing that I’d hurt someone as wonderful as she is with my own blind ignorance.”

“And you too,” he says, leaning down to lay a soft peck on your lips. “I hated knowing that I’d hurt you because of my lack of awareness of my own feelings. That’s why I had to take my time this time around, to make sure that I know for sure.”

“Do you know for sure now?”

“Yes,” he says, holding your gaze with seriousness that has you swimming in its depths. “I’m yours now. Purely and fully.”

When you returned to your apartment the next morning, Irene was waiting to grill you on your whereabouts. It didn’t escape her notice that you hadn’t come back to the apartment the previous night, and she joked about how the vacant rooms in Taehyung’s apartment probably didn’t matter because you could always spend the night sharing his bed anyway.

And when you, blushing madly but holding your own nonetheless, informed her that she was right, well, you should have anticipated her squeals of excitement. “Tell me everything!” she had demanded.

You also should have anticipated the endless teasing that she would put the two of you through, especially in the Christmas season. After a trip out to the stores, finally taking a break from her Lifetime holiday movies marathon, she’d returned with copious amounts of mistletoe to hang all around the apartment, insisting the two of you make up for lost time.

But what Irene doesn’t need to know is just how much the two of you agree with her. Stealing a tiny sprig of mistletoe from around the house -- there’s so much that she wouldn’t even notice anyway -- you pack it into one of the clear baubles you’d bought for Taehyung’s Christmas present, nestling it into the box alongside the other clear baubles that were customized with pictures of the two of you.

[preciouspeterbparker]

i wish i were, part 3

part one

part two

summary: it’s getting harder to pretend that everything is okay. 

word count: 4.2k

warnings: step- inc*st, smut, underage sex, suicidal ideation (oops), ANGST, depression, self-harm mention (doesn’t actually happen, just intrusive thoughts), it’s all mentioned very casually so if this is triggering for you please don’t read!! <3 , ambiguous ending 

this is the last part y’all! thanks for going on this ride with me. this was my first multi-chap fic and it kinda gave me the confidence to know that i’m capable of writing longer stuff without it being super shitty lol. sorry that it’s taken me so long!! 

love you all

- bloo 

It's getting harder to pretend that everything is okay.

Peter hates to say it, fuck, the thought physically pains him, but he’s glad the school year’s almost over. He’s glad that it’s almost time for graduation, time for Tony to leave for the special summer program MIT invited him to participate in. 

He just wants to stop feeling like this, never wants to feel like this ever again. He always feels heavy, weighed down, like his clothes are soaking wet. It’s a feeling that goes deep into his bones, leaving him cold, aching, and tired. 

It’s a good thing there’s not really any work left to do for school, other than exams; Peter spends most of his time in bed, headphones on and staring at the wall, the one that separates his room from Tony’s. 

He keeps hearing Pepper’s voice in his head. He thinks you hung the moon, babe. It’s so cute. The words make him burn inside, make him want to dig his fingers in and peel his skin back until the feeling spills out of him. Until his blood spill out, until he doesn’t have to deal with this anymore- Fuck-

That’s how his brain is working, now. The intrusive thoughts have reached new levels. Peter’s always had them, he’s been passively suicidal for most of his adolescence, but it seems that any minor inconvenience has him ready to end it all. But it makes sense, he supposes. He’s already hurting, already weary and withdrawn. It really wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. 

Too bad he doesn’t really want to die. He just wants everything to...stop. So that he doesn’t have to feel like this.

And because the universe is obviously enjoying fucking with him, the first thing he sees walking out of first period is Pepper walking down the hallway, a faded black t-shirt hanging from her shoulders, exposing the bright red of her bra straps. 

Peter recognizes the garment immediately.

It’s the Black Sabbath shirt, the one he’d kept under his pillow for over a week. The one he’d spilled multiple loads of cum onto before finally putting it in his laundry and carefully slipping it back into Tony’s room once it had been washed. 

And now Pepper’s wearing it. Which means Tony gave it to her.

Peter stops, freezes right there in the doorway of Mrs. Flannigan’s classroom. He blinks, staring blankly in the direction the blonde had gone. His classmates protest behind him, pushing forward until he snaps out of it. Taking a few stumbling steps to the side, he leans back against the wall.

He feels like he can’t breathe. Some kid walking down the hall looks at him funny, and he realizes that there are tears rolling down his cheeks. Hastily wiping them away, he slowly pushes himself off the wall and starts making a hasty exit to the bathroom, head down and eyes trained on the linoleum. 

Then- 

“Hey, Peter- Wait, Pete what’s wrong, what happened?”

Shuddering, barely able to contain the sob that threatens to rip its way out, Peter ignores Tony, just pushes past him and doesn’t stop moving until he’s locked in the private restroom. 

With his back to the door, Peter slides down til his butt’s on the cold ground, arms wrapped around his knees as he tries to muffle his cries as he sits there, shaking.

He just wants it to stop.

***

Something’s up with Peter, and Tony has a sinking feeling that it’s got something to do with him. But he doesn’t know what he possibly could have done. 

They’d had such a nice time celebrating his birthday. He even had a new photo in his wallet, a polaroid of him and Peter cheesing goofily into the camera. Looking at it brings a smile to his face. 

He really does love his little brother. Though he was young, Tony can remember life before Richard and Peter came into their lives. He remembers being an only child as lonely hours spent trying to entertain himself while his mom was busy working, trying to support him as a single parent. He’d been ecstatic upon meeting Richard and finding out that he had a little boy, too, that he was going to get a brother. 

Tony knows that he and Peter haven’t been spending as much time together as they usually do, but he just chalked it up to it being his senior year. He wanted to spend the time with his friends, with his girlfriend, making the best of their last bit of time together before everything changes. 

Peter’s words from his birthday ring in his head. I don’t want you to...forget me. Maybe he’s feeling left behind? 

He’s only got a little over a week left until graduation, and then a week after that he leaves for MIT. That’s not much time at all.

The teen resolves to make some more time in his schedule to spend with his younger brother. Rhodey and the guys and Pep can deal for a couple days. 

***

Peter’s pulled out of the clusterfuck of ruminative thoughts that have kept him awake for the past week by the squeak of his bedroom door being opened. He blinks under the covers, instinctively curling in on himself. He’s been under here for hours, but he still feels so cold.

Tony’s voice comes through the small crack he’s created between the door and the jamb, one eye peeking inside. “Peter? Are you….” He pauses and clears his throat before continuing softly, “Are you okay?” 

The lump under the covers that is Peter shifts a little. His voice is dull and monotone when he replies, as apathetic as he can muster. “...Just leave me alone, Tony.” So much for that. Even saying his brother’s name hurts, a lot more than he thought it would, making his voice crack pathetically. Peter pulls his hands up to his chest and tries to quell the sudden surge of emotion that rushes through him, stifling a whimper. Please just go away. 

Of course, instead of listening for once in his fucking life, Tony opens the door further so that he can slip inside. It closes behind him with a soft click and he takes a tentative step towards the queen bed that’s pushed up against the walls in the corner of the dark bedroom. "Pete…" Peter can hear him softly pad over to the nightstand and flick on the small lamp sitting there. His breathing in the quiet room is near deafening to Peter. “I…” He hovers there for a minute before sighing and sitting at the foot of the bed. “I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong. So that I can… I just want to help, Pete.”

The silence stretches on uncomfortably between them and even under the covers, Peter can feel the worried gaze burning him alive. 

His skin is crawling with how badly he wants to crawl out of the covers and into Tony’s lap, the way he would when they were younger and he was upset. He needs to get Tony out of here. He can’t- 

Peter moves so that his head is exposed, but he looks down at the bed rather than the other teen. "No, it’s fine. I mean I-, I’m fine," Peter sniffles, blinking furiously in an attempt to will the tears away. Fuck. His- fuck, his throat is tight, he can't swallow. His mouth falls open, a shuddering breath escaping as the muscles in his throat spasm. "I get it, Tony. I promise I get it, I really do. I do. She's-" 

Fuck. He must really be exhausted, he wasn’t supposed to say that, wasn’t supposed to let on the truth of why he’s upset. Peter's eyes flit around like he's on speed, darting from one focal point to another without him truly seeing anything. His voice is hoarse, thin. It's as small as he feels. Miniscule. Insignificant. He’s gonna ruin everything but he can’t make himself stop. "I mean, I can’t- I can't compete with-" The words come to an abrupt halt, his mouth snapping shut. 

Tony nudges Peter’s foot with his knee. “What? Peter.” He bumps against Peter again until the younger boy looks up to make eye contact. 

That stupid fucking crease forms between his older brother's eyebrows. Peter wants to slap him. Or kiss him. Mostly he wants to scream. 

"Peter, what? Compete with who? Are you talking about Pepper? I know we haven’t been spending much time together, but I’m gonna fix that before I leave, I promise. I don’t want you to feel left behind, not at all but I still don’t get- What’s this got to do with -," Tony starts, placatingly. But there’s something in his eyes, in the barely there tremor in his voice- And Peter suddenly realizes that Tony knows, has to know at least a little bit. 

He swears his vision flashes red for a second. "It has everything to do with her," Peter all but shrieks, nails digging crescent-shaped welts into his palms. He feels overwhelmed, trapped. Like a hermit crab without its shell- vulnerable, horribly exposed. It comes out without his consent, and so does his fucking stutter. Fuck it all. "And I know- I know- I know I'm fucked up, Tony, I know it, but I love you, the way that you love h-huh-her.” 

He takes a shuddering breath, reeling from saying the words out loud for the first time. “I'm sss-suh-sick, and g-gross and you- I know I'm a fff-fuh-freak and nnn-now- now you’re gonna hate me!" Peter sobs, his entire body shaking as he works himself towards an anxiety attack, a panic attack, a heart attack, fucking something. “I can’t even fu-fu-fu-fucking talk-” There’s snot and tears running down his face, he’s upset himself so much he can’t get through a fucking sentence. He knows he’s making a fucking fool of himself. He’s so stupid, why did he ever think that anything could come from this. He just wants it all to stop, he wants Tony to leave so that he can figure out some way to fix this, to make it all go away-

Tony’s staring at him, mouth parted, dark eyes wide and concerned. "Baby, what- I could never hate you, babydoll." It’s like the nickname comes out instinctually, the sound of Peter’s stutter instantly taking him back to the way he would console Peter when they were much younger, pulling him into his arms and rocking him like his own little baby. 

He climbs on the bed and burrows into the nest of blankets and pillows that Peter has created, but he stays sitting up. His arms wrap around his baby brother and pull him up into his lap so that he’s close to his chest, in spite of the younger’s attempts to squirm away. “Calm down, Pete.” Tony presses his lips to Peter’s head when his cries only increase, frowning at how hot the skin of his forehead is. “You’ve gotta calm down,” he soothes. “C’mon, it’ll get better once you calm down, baby, you know that.” One of his hands glides up and down Peter’s heaving back. 

Gasping, Peter shakes his head. He buries his face in the space where Tony’s pec and arm meet, taking a shuddering breath through his mouth. He’s trying to calm down but it’s not working. “I’m so- I’m so ssss-sss-suh-sorry, Tuh-Tony!” He feels like he’s gonna pass out. Shifting a bit, he pulls his head back in an attempt to get some more air. They almost make eye contact but he hurriedly looks away. He’s ruined everything. Tony hasn’t reacted to his confession yet but Peter knows that it’s gonna be bad, it’s gonna be so bad when he does. 

What’s he got left to lose?

Peter can't help himself; he leans in. The tips of their noses brush, and he pauses there for a moment. He can hear Tony's sharp intake of breath through his own heaving as they finally lock eyes. The look in Tony's chocolate depths is- Peter doesn’t really know. Tony's never looked at him like this before, no one has.

“Tony,” he whispers shakily, breath catching in his throat before closing the distance between them. Time stands still for a moment before something breaks, the tension snapping like a rubberband pulled too tight. Their mouths meet and Peter immediately whines at the feeling of Tony’s lips on his, body instinctively arching up against his brother’s, too lost in it to feel embarrassed of how easy he is to get worked up. 

It’s...everything he ever dreamed of.

Tony’s hands move to cup his cheeks, and Peter’s own hands find their way into the other’s dark, wavy locks as their mouths move against each other. There’s a swipe of tongue across his bottom lip, timidly asking for entrance. The younger obliges immediately, letting the warm muscle slide into his mouth where it meets his own. It sends shivers down his spine and he keens when his tongue is sucked into the wet of Tony’s mouth. His dick begins to fill rapidly in his sweats, leaving him feeling lightheaded and a bit disoriented.

Peter’s never made out with anyone before, but this- 

He thinks he understands what all of the hype is about, now. 

They pull apart, both gasping for air. Tony moves his head slightly, taking heaving breaths that blow onto the exposed skin of Peter’s neck, and his entire body seizes. The elder brother pauses, eyes darkening, before he latches his mouth there and sucking, hard- Fuck, Peter swears he’s about to cum in his pants. 

“Tony.” The name is all but ripped from his throat, ragged and wanton and filthy sounding. He didn’t know he could feel this good. There’s precum steadily leaking from the slit at the tip of his cock, and though he can’t see it at the moment, he’s sure there’s a wet spot staining the crotch of his pants. 

More moist air on the sensitive skin of his neck, now slightly red from being rubbed by the stubble covering Tony’s chin. “Shit, Peter,” comes the eighteen year old’s wrecked gasp and his hips shift, nudging his own erection against Peter’s thigh. “Fuck, fuck.”

Peter feels like he’s losing his mind. “Tony, Tony lemme- Wanna touch you, please-,” he says, unable to put together a full sentence. The cock he’s been dreaming about for almost a year is within his reach and he doesn’t know how they got here, has no idea what’s going to happen after, but he’s so fucking close to getting what he’s wanted for so long but thought he could never have. His hands flutter restlessly near the front of his brother’s basketball shorts and the bulge that’s pressing insistently against the loose material. 

“Yeah,” Tony gasps, shifting Peter out of his lap so that he can lie down on the bed on his side and then he pulls Peter down with him, facing each other. “Me too, can I…,” he trails off, the fingers of his right hand running down Peter’s body from his shoulder down to the sharp point of his hip bone. 

All Peter can do is nod jerkily, already reaching to tug at the dark red fabric that’s wrapped around the older teen’s waist. He lets out a desperate, frustrated sound when they get caught, but Tony’s hands take over for him, so he pushes his own pants down to his knees instead. His dick hangs down heavily once it's free of its confines, and there’s a quiet thud as Tony’s slaps against the dark hairs smattered across his lower belly. 

Looking at his big brother’s cock for the first time in the dim lighting makes Peter’s mouth water. He can make out the slight shadow of a vein running the length of it, and his tip is big, a drop of precum sitting there just waiting for him to lick at it. He’s bigger than Peter, in both length and girth. It’s perfect, something right out of his fantasies. 

Tony rocks his hips forward and their erections rub against each other, prompting them to let out synchronous groans. “Holy shit,” Peter whines, his own hips stuttering as they start to rut against each other in earnest. They quickly get into a slightly stumbling rhythm. It feels so good, their cocks both so hot, so hard. He already knows this is going to be over before it really even starts but he couldn’t care less. “Tony, Tony, yes-”

The brunette all but growls. “That’s it, Petey. Fuck, your cock feels so good, I never- Shit,” Tony pants before spitting into his palm and wrapping his hand around both of their shafts. “Fucking hell-” His toes twitch against the inside of Peter’s ankle. “Pete-”

Peter’s movements get jerkier, his hips stuttering at the feeling of Tony’s wet hand, the way their dicks are sliding against one another. He’s so close, so fucking close. “Please,” he whimpers, fingers digging to Tony’s shoulders where he’s holding on in an attempt to ground himself. HIs tongue licks at his brother’s bottom lip. “Wanna cum, Tony, lemme cum-”

“Yeah, fuck, yes Peter, cum, cum for me-” Tony groans, the speed of his stroking increasing. The rhythm is jerky, and it’s so uncoordinated when combined with their frantic undulating, but it feels amazing. 

“Tony, Tony, Tony,” Peter chants as his orgasm slams into him like a brick wall. His muscles lock up, and there are probably crescent-shaped welts in the skin of Tony’s shoulders and back. Thick, white ropes of cum shoot from his cock and make a mess in his brother’s hand. A whine escapes him as he grows more sensitive in Tony’s grasp. 

The feeling of the warm liquid smearing over his erection is what does the older teen in. He crushes his mouth to Peter’s as he cums, fucking into his fist and rubbing against the other’s softening cock, licking lewdly into the wet of his mouth. “Pete,” he sighs, pulling away after he’s ridden out the wave of his orgasm. 

“I love you,” Peter whispers contently, snuggling in and pressing a kiss to a freckle on Tony’s shoulder. This is everything he’s ever wanted, to be held in his big brother’s arms like this: like a lover. Maybe he was worried for nothing, maybe everything will be okay. Sure, they’ll have to hide it from everyone, especially Mom & Dad, but once they’re both in college… They have different last names, no one would ever have to know. They could be happy. Peter just wants to be happy, just wants this feeling to stay. 

Tony shifts slightly and takes a deep breath, the puff of air ruffling Peter’s sweat-slick auburn curls. “Pete,” he says again, softly. “I love you too, I do.” He pauses, pulling back slightly and loosening his hold on the younger boy and rolling onto his back so that they’re both looking up at the ceiling. “But I-”

Peter freezes, the afterglow fading instantly. His heartbeat picks up, and there’s a slight ringing in his ears. He grips the sweat damp comforter in his hands, fingers twitching restlessly, stroking back and forth over the fabric in an attempt to soothe himself. No. No, no no, this isn’t- Tony- He can’t-

Another heavy sigh. “We can’t- We can’t do this again, Pete,” Tony says into the quiet of the night, still slightly out of breath from exertion. His voice is soft, gentle. He’s trying not to hurt Peter; Peter thinks that’s bullshit.

There’s a lead weight in his stomach. He feels like he’s drowning. He feels like he’s gonna be sick. He feels dirty. He feels- 

He’s so tired of feeling.

Tony hesitates before pulling his shorts up and sliding out of the bed. He reaches out, brushing his fingers over Peter’s hand, jerks back when the younger immediately tenses and recoils from the touch. “I’m sorry,” he whispers before hastily making his way to the door, shutting it gently behind him. 

“Just go, Tony,” he croaks before rolling over in the bed, away from the love of his life his brother. 

Peter lays there for the rest of the night, unmoving, staring at the ceiling, tears running down the sides of his face, seeing nothing. 

If only he could feel nothing, too.

*** 

“Where...where ya goin, Pete?” 

Peter is putting clothes in a small duffel bag. He makes a mental note to remember to grab a new thing of toothpaste when he gets his toiletry bag together. “I’m, uh, gonna go stay with Ned. For a few days.” More like a few weeks, but he doesn’t need to tell Tony that. 

It’s only been two days since they- 

Peter’s already had enough. He can’t be here, he can’t skirt around the elephant that is his feelings towards Tony, can’t handle the awkwardness in the air as his stupid fucking brother tries to go on as if nothing ever happened. As if it meant nothing to him. 

As if Peter meant nothing to him, means nothing to him.

Peter can...he can be okay with that. He has to be. But he can’t be here. He can’t.

“What about mom and da-” Tony cuts himself off, and Peter can tell that’s not what he is really trying to ask. Of course he’s so fucking disgusted, so fearful of someone else knowing, that he can’t even say it. No, what he really means is- 

“I didn’t tell them I kissed you, Tony,” Peter hisses, tears burning in his eyes. He yanks the zipper of his bag closed, biting back a scream when it gets stuck for a second. “I’m not stupid. Why would I tell them what we did? I don’t want them to hate me, too. Don’t worry about what I told them, they said I could go.” 

Maria and Richard are under the impression that Peter’s just stressed about his grades and going a little stir crazy. When they’d talked last night, Mom had frowned gently at him, mentioning how down he’d looked lately and letting him know that he was loved and cherished. Dad had actually been the one to suggest spending some time with Ned; maybe seeing his best friend would help pull Peter out of his funk.

If only they knew. 

Tony gapes at him, an incredulous look on his face. “But what about Tuesday? You’re gonna miss my graduation? For what, to fuck around with Ned? Peter-”

Something in him snaps. He clenches his jaw, swallows harshly. Glares tearily at his brother. “Would you please just stop it?” 

The taller boy sets his shoulders and crosses his arms, defiant. “I don’t want you to go.” His eyes are narrowed, searching Peter’s face. For what, the younger has no idea. Nor does he care. 

“It doesn’t matter what you want, Tony,” he yells, glad that Mom and Dad are out at the grocery store, getting supplies for Tony’s graduation party. His voice cracks on his brother’s name. Always on his name. “Not anymore. I don’t- I know you don’t- Do you know how much it hurts me? To- to hear you? To know, to have to listen to-”

Tony’s mouth opens, but no words come out. “Hear us? You- you heard us? When?” His eyes are wide. He must realize exactly what Peter’s talking about, when he’s talking about, and he looks uncomfortable, vulnerable in a way that Peter’s never seen him before. Something ugly deep inside the younger teen feels satisfied for a moment before it deflates. He’s left feeling just as drained as before. 

Tony continues, “Peter, I-” He cuts himself off, looks away. 

Of course he can’t even come up with something to say.

“For fuck’s sake, Tony, you don’t have to explain everything to me!” It comes out as a sob. Peter feels like he’s a volcano; the words are erupting and he can’t do anything but allow it, powerless to stop them. “Nothing you say will make it better! I know you’re straight! I know it’s- that it’s wrong. I know Pepper is-,” he chokes, gasping. Why is this happening? Everything is going so fast. How is he freezing and on fire at the same time? 

“She’s gorgeous and I’m just the path-th-thetic little br-brother who th-thinks you hung the moon.” Peter’s spluttering, flapping his hands at his sides as he tries to do something with the energy humming inside him. He wants out, he needs Tony to go so that he can finish packing. He has to get out of here. 

Tony takes a step towards him. “No, Peter, how could you-”

Peter’s sniffling, eyes squeezed shut. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, trembling. Why won’t Tony just leave him alone? He just wants to be alone. “I know I’m ugly and I- I bet you can’t w-w-wait to go to MIT, to go away from me!” 

“Babydoll,” is what leaves Tony’s mouth, so soft Peter almost doesn’t hear it. His hands are shaking as they land on his younger brother’s cheeks. Warm tears are gently brushed away by his thumbs. “Pete.” 

Brow furrowed, Peter slowly opens his eyes and blinks the tears back in order to look at his brother. Tony looks...scared? What does he have to be scared of? 

Peter tries to pull away, out of Tony’s grasp but the older teen just clutches him tighter. “Tony- What? It’s fine, j-just stop! Let me go, I need to finish-”

Tony closes his eyes and crashes their lips together.

don’t hate me 

@spidey-sins @silkystark @thegreenmetblue @snailshome @hp-nv-221b @lemondrop313  

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