#did you guys know i got accepted into grad school
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Alya ma'am you don't look like a hot topic employee I'm afraid we're going to have to ask you to leave the paris special
#ml#miraculous ladybug#ml spoilers#miraculous ladybug spoilers#ml paris special#alya cesaire#why do they always give my girl the best designs#like she deserves it but#art#ml paris#ml paris spoilers#thank you vaporwave alya for breaking me out of my art block briefly and temporarily#i can now return to my natural form: making ml shitposts#for maybe a day or two until school gets busy again#did you guys know i got accepted into grad school#i wrote a paper that can be checked out only of my institution's library#it's cool if you are easily impressed
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you are in love series - part one
one look, dark room
PAIRING: tfawts!bucky x grad student!reader
Summary: Moving to NYC to go to grad school, your friend's dad has a connection with the owner of a rental building in Brooklyn where you can live on your own, for cheaper than you could get anywhere else. On a student's budget, you strive to still make your place your own by thrifting as much decor as possible. Meeting your quiet and somewhat secretive neighbor, James, you gain some free labor to help you move the random stuff you buy, and with that he may be growing to love parts of the modern world he has been missing. With you in a big, new city feeling alone for the first time and Bucky wanting to make a connection with someone other than Sam and his therapist, maybe online marketplaces and a turntable will bring you both what you need most.
warnings: mild language
word count: 4.7k
a/n: this is my first time EVER writing fiction, usually I only ever write academic papers so this is fun. :) I read over and revised this chapter so many times, so I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed and I'm excited to start on the next chapter.
a/n: also!! sorry for it being so long genuinely just so much had to happen in this chapter for it to be set up the way I wanted, which I think I did well enough. lmk what you think <3
Why did I think carrying this by myself was a good idea? It might be cute and a great deal, but I donât think I'll be able to feel my arms tomorrow. I might need to hit the gym again before I find more bargains like this. Hell, maybe I'll even invest in a neck towel, because this heat is unbearable. Iâve been searching for some larger pieces to fill my apartment, and this vintage bar cart should fit perfectly. Just five more blocks to go.
Moving here alone has certainly come with its challenges: being on my own in such a big city, dealing with a lot of stress, and managing on a tight budget. But Iâm determined to make it work though and prove everyone wrong. Growing up, you see so many romcoms where the heroine leaves everything behind to chase her dreams in NYC, landing a job at a magazine or fashion house, living in a gorgeous high-rise, and meeting the perfect guy. Itâs a beautiful fantasy really, but the reality is much tougher. New York isnât a movie set; itâs a real city with real people, and you have to work just as hard, if not harder, to be here. I know that, but it feels like a majority of my people back home DONâT know that I know that.
I came here for school. In about two months, Iâll be starting my Masterâs program at NYU. I donât think Iâve ever been as proud as when I received my acceptance email. I worked my ass off in undergrad to earn strong recommendations and good academic standing, and seeing it all come together was a huge reliefâuntil the reality of the cost hit me.
Luckily, a friend's dad has a connection with a landlord in Brooklyn and got me a good deal on a place of my own. Itâs incredible not to have a roommate in this market, especially in a place where your bed doesnât touch your stove, though it can be a bit lonely.
Finally, reaching the stoop, out of breath, you set the cart down on the pavement. Wiping your brow, you notice the street is unusually quiet for this time of day. The city never truly sleeps, but the residential streets seem to take occasional naps. A little breath of air somewhere where it feels like oxygen is running out sometimes. Light filters through the trees, momentarily blinding you, and you turn back toward the building.
âHow on earth am I going to get this up to my floor?â
Carrying it down the street was one thing, but hauling it up the stairs is a whole different challenge. Plus, who knows when the building's maintenance has last been here, the steps might not hold up under the cartâs weight. They usually feel like they could give away holding one person.
Deciding that falling to your death and being crushed isnât really how you want to go, you open the double doors and drag the cart into the lobby, using the wheels on one side. Passing the main desk where the worker, who looks completely uninterested, engrossed in a crossword puzzle, you make your way to the end of the hall and start pulling the cart backwards up the incline of the stairwell.
âNah, I canât,â you say aloud, after struggling up two floors, letting the cart rest on the landing. Thereâs still three more floors to go, but your body is clearly telling you the cart belongs right here. Maybe the universe wants it to stay hereâwho knows, maybe the entire second floor needs a communal bar more than you do.
âExcuse me,â a quiet but rough male voice comes from behind me. You turn around to see himâa guy youâve seen around your floor a few times, though youâve never talked. One of the neighbors. You quickly realize youâre blocking the entire staircase.
âSorry! Oh my gosh, Iâm so sorry. Iâll move this um â just give me a second.â
You shove the cart closer to the wall to make some space for him to pass, but he stays put, his gloved hands in his pockets. Heâs definitely handsomeâtall and solid, but not intimidating. His furrowed brow and tight-lipped expression donât exactly scream âwelcome,â but heâs still got a certain charm.
He shifts a bit, clearly wanting to say something but hesitating. Feeling a bit awkward under his gaze, you decide to try talking to him again.
âYou can just squeeze by if you want. Itâs just really heavy, so Iâm taking a quick break before I try lifting it up again.â
After a moment, he seems to make up his mind and asks, âDo you need help?â
Looking back at him, you consider saying no. You pride yourself on being independent and capable, and part of you wants to insist you can handle it. But then you think about the struggle of getting the cart up the last two flights of stairsâonly this time, it's threeâand decide against it.
âYou wouldnât mind? Youâre headed down, Iâm sure youâve got somewhere else to be.â
He gives a little smirk that makes you feel a bit dizzy.
âWell, Iâm already here so.â
You nod slowly, a small smile appearing on your face.
âSure, you can take this end, and Iâll get this oââ you start to say, but before you can finish, heâs already in front of you, lifting the cart with ease and starting up the stairs without breaking a sweat.
âHey! Be careful, uhâ,â you pause, realizing you donât know his name.
He picks up on your hesitation and hesitates himself, considering whether to give his name. Heâs wary of how others might perceive him, potentially recognizing his name from past news broadcasts or papers, still dealing with the shadows of his past despite his efforts to make amends. Not wanting to be dishonest, he chooses the safe option.
âJames.â
âBe careful, James. I donât want you tripping and falling on my account.â
âWonât happen, doll.â
âWhat-,â you start, caught off guard by the pet name, âwhat if it does?â
âIt wonât, see?â With the last few steps, you and James arrive at your floor. âAlready here.â
He must have seen you around before too, to know where you live.
He gives you a quick look and then carries the cart to your door.
âThis is yours, right?â He turns and looks at you expectantly. You rush over, fumbling for your keys to unlock the door. If heâs willing to move it all the way, who are you to turn him down?
You lead James into your apartment, wondering if it looks anything like his. The layout canât be that different; itâs not exactly a luxury building.
He strolls further into the room.
âYou can set it right here,â you say quickly. âThank you for bringing it up for me. I was honestly thinking about giving up when you showed up.â
Setting the cart where you indicated, he straightens up, rolls his shoulders back, and gives you a look that feels intense.
âItâs no problem.â
His gaze wanders around your apartment, taking in the mix of vintage furniture and eclectic decor. On a studentâs budget, youâve filled your space with secondhand finds. Itâs more affordable and personal that way. The place might not be filled with new things, but itâs entirely curated by you. Finding beauty in the mix of old and new is something you do well, and now, thanks to James, you have one more piece to add.
Jamesâs eyes land on your turntable setup. He seems intrigued by your collection of records but doesnât say anything, turning his attention back to you.
âI have to go.â
Your eyebrows lift at his abruptness. Sensing your surprise, he quickly adds, âIâve got an appointment.â
You nod vigorously, urging him to go and thanking him again for his kindness. Feeling a bit sad that this chance encounter with your new neighbor is ending so quickly, you call out as he heads for the door.
âIâll see you around then? Since you live here too.â
He turns on his heel, giving you one last smirk.
âYeah, youâll see me.â
As he heads down the stairs, you shut your door and lock it behind you. Wandering over to where Jamesâs gaze lingered, you pull an album from the shelf, lift the acrylic cover on your turntable, and set the record down. You close the cover, push play, and let the needle softly drop onto the vinyl. As the music starts, your mind drifts back to James.
Embarrassingly, you find yourself hoping this isnât a one-time encounter. You donât know much about him beyond his name, but thereâs something about him that makes you want to see him again.
âTwo hundred bucks for this is crazy,â you mutter to yourself, staring in disbelief at the sofa youâre eyeing on Facebook Marketplace.
âPeople are practically giving this stuff away.â
Not wanting to miss out on such a good deal, you message the seller to check if itâs still available.
Since you got the bar cart about a week and a half ago, you havenât picked up anything else. With the July heat blasting, just thinking about moving a sofa in this weather makes you want to rip off your skin to cool down.
You canât help but think of James, who youâve seen briefly in the hallway since your last encounter. He just nodded as he passed by, and that was it.
Your phone dings, snapping you out of your thoughts. The seller confirms the sofa is still available and offers to deliver it since they have a truck.
Excited, you reply with a yes, and they let you know theyâll head your way soon.
You get up to rearrange your furniture, making space for the new sofa. You donât have much to move since youâve been slowly collecting things. As you shift the pieces around, your turntable stops, signaling itâs time to flip the record. After you do, you take a moment to picture how the sofa will fit in the space.
Then it hits youâmoving a sofa is way heavier than the bar cart. If you struggled with that, how on earth will you manage this?
âIndependent woman, my ass.â
With the delivery imminent, you decide on the only solution you can think of. Without hesitation, you head to the apartment across the hall and knock softly on the door. You wait, hoping James will answer. After a moment of shuffling and then silence, you start to wonder if you should just try something else.
Just then, the door cracks open, revealing half of Jamesâs face. He looks curious but not annoyedâno one usually visits him.
âHey! James! Great to see you again! I hope Iâm not interrupting anything, but I was wondering if you could help me out a bit? I just bought a sofa from this marketplace deal, and the sellerâs coming to drop it off right now. He said heâd deliver it, but didnât offer to help get it up to my apartment. I realized a sofa is way heavier than a bar cart, and you saw me struggle with that, so I was kinda sorta hoping you could help me bring it up here?â
After your rambling, you offer him a hopeful smile, waiting for his response.
A few moments of silence later, that smirk youâve been missing appears on his face. Opening the door wider, he comments with a grin.
âYou bought another thing you knew you couldnât get up the stairs?â
âI honestly didnât think it through. The deal was too good to pass up. Iâm really sorry for bothering you. I can try to find someone else if youâre busy.â
âI didnât say I wouldnât help, doll.â
The smile that blooms on your face is unavoidable.
As the delivery guy drives away, James shows you where to grab the sofa and effortlessly lifts the other end. He encourages you to take the lead, making sure the weight is on him as you both navigate the stairs. With minimal effort, you get the sofa up to your place.
After some awkward maneuvering, you finally get the sofa into your apartment through the thin door and set it down. You put your hands on your hips and exhale deeply, only to find James already looking at you with that same intense gaze from before. It makes you a little nervous.
You canât help but feel gratefulâthereâs no way you would have managed this on your own.
âI could have handled the bar cart,â you say, nodding toward the cart now adorned with bottles in the corner, âbut this? No chance. Thanks so much for your help.â
âDonât worry about it,â he replies. âI wasnât busy.â
As you look at him, you start to feel like you know him from somewhere beyond being just a neighbor. Maybe youâve seen him around the city before you moved?
Brushing off the thought, you offer, âYouâve helped me out twice now, and it doesnât feel right not to return the favor. If your whole evening consists of not being busy, why not stay for dinner? I promise Iâll cook something totally good and not poisonous.â
James looks surprised by your offer but quickly hides it.
âYou donât need to do that. You donât owe me anything,â he says, not wanting you to feel obligated or uncomfortable. He worries that his presence might not be enjoyable.
He wishes he could be as charming as he was back in the 40s. Being friendly used to come easily, and if he were still the same person he was at 26, he wouldnât have left so quickly after helping you on the stairs the first time. He wouldnât have had a therapists appointment to go to and he wouldnât have a hidden arm made of metal. Heâd have asked you to dinner or for you to let him take you dancing instead in return for his brawn. Now, he struggles to make new connections beyond a few familiar faces, like Sam, and asking someone for a dance feels out of reach.
âNo, no! Stay, I insist! It gets kind of lonely around here, doesnât it? Why not have a friend dinner?â you press, hoping heâll take you up on the offer.
Seeing your sincerity, though still feeling a bit miffed, he finally agrees.
âYeah, sure. I can stay.â
James settles onto the sofa while you work in the kitchen. Youâve decided on making some stuffed ravioli and garlic breadâeasy, delicious, hard to mess up.
Before getting into cooking, you switch out the record, letting new music drift softly through the space. Unbeknownst to you, James watches closely, paying attention to how you handle the records and the turntable. The care you take when putting a record back in its slip, taking a new one out of its dust cover, and gently putting it on.
Seeing you focused on cooking, James gets up and strolls over to your setup. He runs his fingers lightly across the spines of the record sleeves, feeling a surprising sense of comfort. He hadnât realized people still used record players so often.
The setup looks quite familiar to him, with many aspects reminiscent of the record players he used back in his earlier days. In his life before this one.
As you finish preparing the pasta and pull the bread from the oven, you call out, âHey, foodâs ready!â
You glance back to see James hovering by the turntable. He quickly moves to the table and sits down.
Over dinner, the conversation flows comfortably. James seems to be relaxing a bit, his initial reserve fading. Heâs still somewhat guarded, but what he does share is genuinely interesting. You sense that opening up is challenging for him, so you respect his pace and take whatever he is willing to give. Laughing with each other a few times and getting through some odd topics, he mentions that he hasnât had a home-cooked meal in quite a while and thanks you with a smile.
After a pleasant dinner, you decide to bring up something youâd been curious about.
âYou like records?â
Caught off guard by the question, James tries to answer without revealing too much about himself. It feels strange to be here, knowing you donât really know who he is, but he worries that being too open might scare you away. He decides to keep his secrets for now, selfishly hoping to get to know you better before revealing more.
âYeah, I used to have quite a few records as a kid. My ma would play them too, especially when she was cooking, just like you. I didnât realize they were still so popular.â
Excited by this glimpse into his past, you push further.
âOh, thereâs definitely a huge market for vinyl. Lots of people who think it makes them superior, but also a lot who just love the physical aspect of it.â
âSo which one are you?â he asks.
You laugh and reply, âMaybe a bit of both.â
You glance up at him from beneath your lashes, catching his rare smile.
âBut really, I just like having it. Thereâs something different about the listening experience. It requires more effort than just hitting play on a playlist. Itâs about choosing a full album and actually sitting down to listen. That feels more intentional to me, and thatâs why I do it.â
James seems to ponder your answer, his expression softer than before. He then turns his gaze back to the turntable.
âSo, since you mentioned you had records as a kid, do you not have any now?â you ask.
He shakes his head.
âHavenât had any for a long time. Talking about it makes me miss them. Everything these days feels so complicated. I like simple things like that.â
Watching him as he looks away, you hesitate but notice the nostalgic shine in his eyes. You sense he might appreciate physical music even more than you do.
âIf you ever get any and donât have a place to play them, youâre welcome to use mine.â
He turns to face you, his expression unreadable.
âI mean, I know itâs not the most convenient offer, but itâs there. One record lover to another,â you add with a smile.
He returns your smile, saying, âOkay⊠thank you. Iâll keep that in mind, Doll.â
That night, Bucky lies on his makeshift bed on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and replaying the events of the day. You knocking on his door for help with the couch, inviting him over for dinner, and all the easygoing conversation you shared. It was such a stark contrast to his usual rigidity. He'd let his guard down just a littleâletting himself smile or flirt ever so slightly.
He wishes he were better at this. It used to come so naturally. Hell, before he left for war, heâd gone dancing with both his own date and Steveâs at the same time. Now, he finds himself listening to you talk while struggling to share anything of his own.
He doesnât want to pass up your invitation, especially since youâre inviting him into your space again. Clearly, his reserve hasnât put you off too much.
âWhat would I even bring?â he wonders aloud.
All heâs ever listened to is 40âs music and big band. He doubts thatâs readily available these days.
Rolling onto his side, he grabs the cell phone Steve had insisted he get before he went back in time to live his real life, without Bucky.
âYou can do anything on here, Buck!â
Scrolling through the three contacts he has, he taps on the name of the guy whoâs been trying to reach him for weeks.
âSo, is there a valid reason why you havenât picked up my damn calls?â Samâs voice comes through.
âSam, hi.â
âDid you finally learn how to click the screen? Is that why Iâm hearing from you now, old man?â
âLook, Iâm sorry. I just donât like the thing. Too confusing,â Bucky says, grimacing as he fiddles with the phone.
âOkay, okay, whatâs going on, man? You doing alright?â
âIâm fine. I just have a question and Iâd appreciate it if you didnât harass me about it.â
âIs it about wizards?â
âWhat?â
âWizards. Is the question about wizards?â
âNo, what the hell. Look, I had dinner with one of my neighbors tonightââ
âWas it a girl?â
âDoes it matter?â
âHell yes, it matters. And from that response, I KNOW it was a girl, soââ
âIt doesnât matter. She has a record player, which I didnât know people still used, and she offered to let me use it, but I donât have anything to play on it.â
âIâm not getting the problem.â
âI only like the stuff from the 40âs andââ
âDid you listen to that Marvin Gaye playlist I sent you?â
âNot interested.â
âCâmon, man, itâs good stuff. Give it a listen.â
âNot feeling it.â
âAlright, your loss, I guess. Still not seeing the problem though.â
âWhat do I bring? I canât just bring around the stuff I know because where would I even get it?â
âWhoa, man, what do you mean, where would you get it? Just go to a record store and hit up the vintage section or something.â
Bucky pauses, mulling over Samâs words.
âThey have that?â
âDuh. You know, you could answer these questions a lot easier if you just looked them up on your phoneââ
âThanks, Sam. Talk to you later.â
Lying back down, Bucky decides that the next time heâs out to see his therapist, heâll first stop by a record store to find something to bring over to your place.
Your easygoing presence was so comforting, and he found himself longing for it as he drifted off to sleep. Heâd see you again soon enough.
Later in the week, as you wind down from a busy day, you focus on making your space as calming as possible.
You light some candles and turn on an orange floor lamp, the soft glow wrapping around you and setting the perfect mood to sink into your sofa with the book youâve been neglecting.
Youâve just started settling into your reading when youâre jolted out of your half-nap by the sound of someone knocking on your door.
You get up and peer through the peephole, and thereâs your dinner guest from earlier in the week.
Opening the door with a smile, you greet him.
âHey James, unexpected visit! Whatâs up?â
His eyes linger on you for a moment before he speaks. You glance down and realize your outfitâshorts that really lived up to their name and a tank topâmight not be the most guest-appropriate.
Brushing off your embarrassment, you look back up at him.
âIâve got something Iâd like to play, if thatâs alright?â
Buckyâs mind races. Standing at your door, he worries maybe you only offered your place to be nice, and now heâs making a fool of himself. Of course, you didnât want him thereâhe could barely talk.
Just as heâs about to get lost in his own head, your bright smile pulls him out of it.
âOh my gosh, please, come in. What do you have?â
His doubt fades away as he sees your genuine excitement.
âBrought some Sinatra. Not sure if youâre into that, but I used to like his stuff when I was younger.â
You spin around abruptly, staring at him in disbelief.
âThereâs no way you think I donât know who Frank Sinatra isâŠâ
Bucky stumbles over his words.
âWell, I mean, itâs not exactly new stuff soââ
âYou think I wouldnât know âFly Me to the Moonâ? âSinginâ in the Rainâ? âNew York, New Yorkâ? I mean, I even moved to New YorkâI had to get the romanticism from somewhere.â
âWhat are those?â
You pause, confused.
âLike, the most iconic Frank Sinatra songs. You are talking about Frank Sinatra, right? Not some other Sinatra Iâve never heard of?â
âNo, youâre right, itâs Frank.â
âThen what do you mean?â
âI guess I donât know those ones.â He admits.
âSo, what era are we talking about?â You ask, reaching for the record.
As you grasp the sleeve, you notice a glint of light catching Jamesâs bare hand. Realizing heâs not wearing gloves, confusion sets in before it clicks. You HAD seen James before.
Looking up at him, he seems frozen, obviously panicking. He planned to tell you eventually, but not like this. Not when you werenât close enough yet.
He thought there is no way you are going to want anything to do with him now.
You thought there is no way was there's an actual Avenger in your apartment right now.
Youâre frozen, just like him, but more in shock rather than fear.
âDo you⊠usually go by James?â you ask cautiously.
Hesitating, he shakes his head.
âWhat do you usually go by then?â
Bucky feels anxiety creeping up his back. Youâre both still holding the record, and he canât tell if youâre scared or just surprised.
âBucky.â
You stay silent for a moment while Buckyâs nerves are on edge.
âSo⊠metal handâŠâ
Clenching his jaw, he replies, âArm.â
âYouâre that Bucky.â
âYes.â
After a long pause, you start again.
âYouâre an Avenger and you didnât tell me?â
Bucky hesitates, his discomfort visible. âIâmâ Iâm not an Avenger.â
âWhat do you mean? Youâre totally an Avenger! Why wouldnât you tell me? How did I not recognize you before?â you ask, laughing in disbelief.
Buckyâs taken aback. You really thought he was an Avenger? Youâre not scared of him at all, which surprises him. You must not know much about his past if youâre still standing this close.
âNo wonder you donât know âNew York, New York,ââ you say, almost to yourself. âItâs from after your time! This is crazy, Iââ
Youâre interrupted by his response.
âAre you not scared?â
âOf course not.â
Bucky closes in on himself, panic evident. âIf you really knew me, youâd want nothing to do with me. Iâveââ
âI might not know the version of you youâre talking about, but Iâve met James, who helped me not once, but twice carry stuff he definitely didnât have to up the stairs, stayed for dinner, has been very polite to me, and has given me zero reasons to be scared of him.â
He looks at you, his piercing blue eyes revealing an internal struggle. That one look holds more weight than his words. You can see the battle within him, torn between his past and the present moment.
âListen,â you say, finally letting go of the record, âif you donât want to stay, you donât have to. But Iâm not scared of you, and I actually like your company. So, regardless of whether youâre James, Bucky, or whoever, youâre still welcome here.â
You pause, adding, âAnd we can still play this if youâd like.â
Bucky struggles with his inner turmoil. The idea that you know who he is but still want him around is foreign to him. He doesnât feel worthy of the kindness youâre offering, but itâs been so long since heâs received such warmth that itâs almost impossible to turn it down.
Heâs not comfortable with his identity or his past, but in this moment, he wants to push it aside. If you donât care, maybe he can allow himself not to care, even if just for a bit. Maybe he can prove something to himself, or even his therapist.
Handing you the record, he relaxes his face slightly. Youâve always thought him handsome, but in the dim light of the dark room, he looks almost ethereal.
Youâre hoping he believes you because your excitement for his company tonight feels more significant than it probably should, but youâre okay with that.
âIâm Bucky.â
You smile warmly at this change. âAlright, Bucky. What do you want to do?â
He gazes at you deeply, his look sending a shiver down your spine and warming your chest. âPlay it.â
a/n: well, hope this was alright. as I mentioned before, ive never wrote fiction before, but ive definitely read enough to get the gist.
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#james buchanan barnes#winter soldier#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky fic#bucky fanfic#james bucky barnes#Bucky Barnes x reader series#marvel fanfiction#Bucky Barnes slow burn
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Hello there! This is my first time I am requesting something, but I came up with a Matt Rempe request: You met him some time ago. Your friends and family know you are talking and being friends with a guy, they just donât know who. Reader is pretty strong with what their goals are and one of those is finish college and go to graduate school in another country. Reader is quite busy all the time and is determinate to achieve their dreams. Therefore they think is not appropriate to have a relationship when they know they wonât be able to commit to one in the meantime. Matt knows this and he tells reader that he will wait, even thought he just confessed. He supports the reader to achieve their goal, reader manages to do it, after some time, Matt kept his word and is still in love with them and they go full on that relationship. You can add the paparazzi craziness after they announce it and the whole thing. Also, Matt is beaming with happiness and canât stop talking about their future together.
Itâs been a wild few years since you first met Matt Rempe.
Back then, your priorities were set like stone: finish college, get into graduate school abroad, and build the career youâd dreamed of for years. Relationships? Not on your list. Even when Matt entered your life with his infectious laugh and endless support, you made it clear: your goals came first, and you werenât ready to commit. But heâd just grinned at you, his voice warm as heâd said, âIâll wait for you.â
Youâd been skeptical. He had a rising career in hockey, a world brimming with fast-paced action and high stakes. The thought of him waiting was⊠well, it felt too good to be true. But he did. He checked in on your late nights, even timed calls around your study schedule, often staying up just to hear about your classes and projects, and cheering you on whenever you felt doubts creeping in.
Through grueling exams, applications, and countless sleepless nights, Matt was there, encouraging you. And somehow, that distance between you became the quiet rhythm of your friendship, blooming into a love you didnât even realize was growing.
When you finally got accepted into grad school overseas, heâd been there on the other end of the phone, practically shouting with joy. Heâd told you, âYouâre doing itâyouâre really doing it!â as if your dreams were as important to him as his own.
Time passed, and every time you returned home, you noticed the way his gaze softened, like he was saving that look just for you. Despite his own growing fame, he never once let his own world overshadow yours. Matt kept his promise.
Finally, after years of late-night talks, shared milestones, and enduring distance, you both knew it was time. No more holding back, no more what-ifs. The announcement took the internet by storm, and the frenzy that followed was unreal. Paparazzi swarmed, trying to get every bit of the story, and suddenly, you were both the latest headline in sports and entertainment news.
But through it all, Matt was just beaming. He couldnât stop talking about your future together, openly sharing his excitement with anyone who asked. Heâd been so patient, and now that he finally had you, he couldnât hold back. And in his interviews and stories, there was always this glowâlike heâd won the biggest game of his life.
âI always knew Iâd wait for you,â he told you one evening, his hand resting over yours. "And every minute was worth it.â
Your journey together had only just begun, but this time, it was a love you could fully commit to. And as he wrapped his arms around you, whispering promises about the life youâd build together, you knew that no goal had ever felt as fulfilling as being with him.
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If Betty returns in season two, what kind of plot lines and character arcs would you like to see for her? Which characters do you want to see her interact with?
oh man. okay buckle up because you are about to endure my full frontal autism.
first you're going to have to go into this post knowing that i am insane about betty grof. i am aware of this. but they also called me crazy back in 2012 when i said simon and betty probably loved each other very much despite the fact she disappeared, and that she was probably a huge chaotic badass, AND I WAS RIGHT so.
all of this aside, here are a couple things i think would be epic and sexy of them to address:
~betty's past~
GIRL WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS.
no, seriously. i hate that the cut content from the storyboards revealed so much about her that didn't make the final 'jerry' cut. betty is passionate, intense, and liked simon's work because he was this weird little guy who proudly had all these "out there" theories. she even stated that "ancient magic" was once her major, so it's no fucking wonder she was so jazzed to find the one other guy who studied and believed in the strange things she did.
how did betty come to have these strange beliefs, and to the point of pursuing it in fucking grad school? was she just always like this? did her interests and beliefs put her at odds with others when she was growing up, little miss dig-her-way-down-to-the-devil, and that's part of the reason she wanted all the more to support simon?
reading that scene in temple of mars where magic betty laments "what remains" of her original self after spending so long dedicated to simon, even if you take into account the way MMS is warping her perspectives and cranking her obsessive tendencies to 11, i find it hard to believe betty didn't grow up with some kind of instability or trauma that made her more prone to throw herself completely at someone who showed her genuine love and kindness. this isn't necessarily a fault on simon's part, he probably didn't even clock it because he was so caught up with trying not to fuck things up with her (he's got his own issues). but it definitely seems like this is something deeply coded into her being, especially when you consider she was willing to leave everything she knew behind in an instant for him.
and i NEED to know more about the wacky shit she was up to in ooo, before and after becoming magic betty. did she ever go to wizard city? did other wizards even know about her? what does she think about her time as magic betty? moreover, how the hell did king man even get betty to agree to his weird idea of cognitive behavioural therapy?? how did she actually go from literally willing to kill herself via time travel to actually accepting that she needed help getting over simon?? did prismo and the cosmic owl get involved?? what is their connection to king man and mars anyway, i mean we know grob gob glob grod hung out with them?? do you think betty knew at any point about simon's head holding the fionna and cake universe?? SO MANY QUESTIONS RAAARRGHGHHGHH
also, not to get super sappy, but i want to see the enchiridion expedition from her perspective!! i want to see her progression from 'hell yeah im going on an adventure with that guy whose research i admire' to 'oh my god i love his stupid ass help????'.
~betty's guilt (feat. regrets)~
i don't care what the alternate bus stop scene said, you will never convince me betty grof has "no regrets". i think she has 'no regrets' in terms of loving simon, and she would never want him to think that she regrets their relationship because of what it "did" to her (turned her into a kaiju). i think this scene was betty trying to give simon a modicum of closure by reassuring him of that fact, and trying to help him reckon with the fact that there's no going back and changing how things ended up for the two of them; from here on out they can only move forward.
that being said, we know that betty will often push simon into doing things she thinks are best for him, whether he wants these things or not, such as not getting held up by snakes or not dying. she's a quick thinker and a risk taker who doesn't like looking at the 'big picture', and these are things she's probably very aware about herself.
i think, in the 12 years that they were apart, betty probably had a lot of time to reflect on her decisions after the crown came into their lives. how her hubris in trying to study magic ended up in her becoming "magic betty", how magic betty nearly ended/condoned the end of the world multiple times, how she ultimately did cure simon but almost killed him in the process. most of all, you cannot convince me betty wouldn't agonize over how her split-second decision to jump into the future affected simon. you really think betty fucking grof would've have been totally unaffected by the revelation that simon spent nearly ten human lifetimes agonizing over driving her away?
in her last interaction with him, magic betty's recklessness cured them... only to then be grotesquely crushed to death inside of golb. but he didn't get upset with her, he didn't panic, he didn't even fight it, he just... gave in. there's this air of acceptance to him, an acceptance that comes after prolonged and complicated grief, that i'd argue, wasn't the culmination of being cured, but the culmination of his long and painful battle over losing her; he was content to die as long as he was with her. that must have been... really something for her to mull over.
i could easily see her developing a bit of a complex over it. i think it would be fascinating to see a betty who now, after all the dust as settled, has looked at their history and concluded that she was the common denominator in all of this, that she is bad for simon, that in a way she is a "curse" to him. and that it would be the perfect justification for her staying away from him all these years, thinking without her influence he could finally move on from her and live the rest of his human life happily with his new magic future friends.
i don't think betty has necessarily "moved on" from simon, i think she still loves him dearly... but as i said, thoroughly convinced she'll only damage him further if she keeps trying to pursue him, and that simon's breakdown during season 1 was only more evidence to that fact.
i think she's trying to lead him to get over her 'for his own good', and that she's purposefully being vague and simplifying conclusions about their relationship so he doesn't try to fight her on it like he always does when she makes these huge decisions for them. she's not bringing any of the stuff she actually regrets up with him because only betty sees it as a problem. simon is so enamoured with her he probably wouldn't even entertain the possibility that she had negative effect on him, but he would believe the reverse in a heartbeat.
this isn't me saying they're ""toxic"" at all, i'm saying that these are two very damaged people who would benefit from multiple types of therapy. and that, as they are, they currently are more likely to keep going in loops with unhealthy behaviours and blaming themselves ad infinitum rather than try to reckon with how they can change, and how it is a problem that they'll always do it for the other, but never for themselves.
even if all of my above ramblings turn out to be bunk: betty grof needs some kind of therapy for her pre-existing self sacrificial tendencies and self worth issues, a space for her to process and work through all of the things that happened to her in ooo, couple's counselling, and the biggest blunt known to man.
you might be wondering "emery, why are you talking about her like she isn't beyond such things? she's golb now, the embodiment of chaos! her ""arc"" is over."
~golbetty conspiracy theory time~
i'm not entirely convinced betty is golbetty as we've come to understand her. i stand by this with my crumbs of a conspiracy theory in that when simon first did the ritual, it was ORIGINAL golb's face that flashed over the scene (not golbetty or even the statue's face), and how golbetty seemed to transform back into Golb Classic after she blew simon away into the void. there's also this weird thing where golbetty had these holes or rips on her leg when she rotated; i thought it was an animation error but then it was also in the storyboards so idk what to believe...
plus the boards ive seen seem to only refer to them as "GOLB", never 'GOLBetty', which i just find... interesting
and i keep thinking about simon info-dumping about golb to betty in the 'come along with me' flashback and the specific wording that was used: "imagine if we could somehow harness all that dank energy..." and then comparing it to the specific wording of betty's wish "... however it has to happen, I wish for the power to keep Simon safe"
there's a couple lines in 'you forgot your floaties' regarding betty's work before becoming magic betty that i feel often get overlooked, one being how tiny manticore describes the situation as "she thinks she can save her BF, Simon, by finding the source of magic," and in betty's own words: "studying [magic madness and sadness] could lead me to their underlying cause, and then I'll control the forces that hold sway over Simon"
i've always wondered if part of the reason betty's wishes to "banish golb from this world/for golb to disappear" didn't work was not just because they didn't tap into her heart's deepest wish (keeping simon safe), but because a wish like that would also require some kind of fundamental change to the laws of the universe first in order for it to work. magic betty even references golb as "the most powerful force in the universe," so how would the crown ever hope to compete with that? according the ancient candy elemental, wish magic has the potential to cause "irreversible damage to the very structure of existence". maybe the crown itself couldn't banish golb with a simple wish, but it could restructure the world to create someone who was powerful enough to control even golb, if only it were structured through the correct wishing language.
and it would make total sense for betty to become that person.
i've been thinking about the way the candy elemental tries to warn evergreen from using the crown: "this wish may see things in you you cannot see yourself, can you truly say you know your heart's truest desire?"
i wonder if there may have been two elements to betty's wish, and the part of it that betty "didn't see in herself" was her worded in the language of "power"; betty's desire to gain control over forces of the universe no human could ever hope to fight against, let alone win.
she spent her human life fascinated by ancient magic, fighting to get her's and simon's work recognized as valid and worthwhile. then, she's suddenly in the future, fighting to stop simon from dying, physically fighting at times, and fighting to find a way to gain control over these "forces" that held him prisoner. she essentially is fighting to become the conqueror of magic, madness, and sadness... and she fails, becomes a victim of it. and it all goes downhill from there, the loss of control over herself, over her mind, over her goals, yet the most 'betty' thing about her is that she's still fighting, albeit a bit crooked and to the detriment of all else. in the end, she's even fighting with herself, fighting to remember who she even is without the fight, not even sure if that person exists anymore.
and then she's freed, suddenly, from the confines of MMS to the literal confines of a quickly shrinking prison. when you watch the two of them in that scene, she isn't fighting to escape the same way finn is literally fighting the wall, but you can tell she's not giving up. part of her is still fighting to think of a way out, even when it feels like there's absolutely no hope left.
her desire "for the power" could mean, in a sense, to have the ability to be in control of all that she couldn't at one time or another: time, fate, magic, life, death, chaos... but this was articulated through her love for simon, because it's the only way she probably even recognizes it within herself.
this is why i don't entirely think betty and golb are fused, or that betty is solely "golbetty". i think being "fused" with no possibility of escape would be antithetical to the language and possible wider implications of her wish. this is why i think she's something above even golb, like a being with the ability to possess/harness the power of other deities. and i think she does this specifically in scenarios where simon is in immediate danger and she needs to control them or harness their power in order to protect him.
i'm ready to be proven wrong, and i probably will be. still, i rotate these thoughts in my head at a dangerous velocity, and none of you can stop me.
~ok i'm done ill stop being insane now (lying)~
so to... actually answer your question, i REALLY want betty to meet fionna and cake, because it sounds to me like they remind simon a lot of her. i would just love to see the absolute fucking tornado they'd be when put in a room together.
also, obviously first and foremost, I NEED BETTY TO TALK TO MARCELINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
anyway, as far as season 2 goes, something is definitely up with prismo. and since he's guardian/creator of multiverse entities, who the fuck knows what that means for the fabric of existence if he's glitching out.
all im saying is, i wouldn't be surprised if our main trio end up having to save the multiverse and have to do so with help from other... entities. bettities, even. (hehe. bettity)
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Loveâs Maze (BretShawn)
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AO3 link
Shawn is convinced by his boyfriend, Marty, to pursue a career in wrestling, which ultimately leads the pair to the WWF.
Many would describe Shawn Michaels as being a cocky, arrogant, flamboyant, and overly confident man with the talent to back it up. But he hadnât always been that way.
Amongst his family and peers, he was usually the shortest, the youngest, or the smallest in the room, far from the stereotypical idea of what society deemed as an âalpha male.â
His insecurities only grew as he got older, causing Shawn to develop a bit of a Napoleon complex. He always made it a point to be the loudest in the room, as if he had to prove a point, obviously overcompensating for what he lacked. Â
That soon became a constant theme throughout Shawnâs life.
Despite being popular, attractive, the captain of the football team, and having a great personality, it wasnât enough. It was never enough. The blond constantly sought validation from whoever would give it to him.
The one person that always made him feel like he was enough, like he didnât need to put on a front to feel accepted, was his friend-turned-lover, Marty Jannetty. Theyâd known of each other throughout high school but hadnât really associated with one another until senior year.Â
Marty thought Shawn was so unbelievably pretty, as most guys at school did, but didnât have the guts to say it aloud. Shawn was so easy for Marty to spot in a crowd. Whether it was looking at him from across a classroom, or briefly locking eyes when they passed each other in the hallway, Shawn always caught his eye.Â
Meanwhile, Shawn thought Marty was some creep who couldnât stop staring at him in 4th period.Â
It took some time, but Marty eventually worked up the courage to talk to Shawn. Shawn was a little hesitant, and understandably so with how weird Marty seemed at first. But all it took was one conversation for the two to realize how much they had in common. Pretty soon, what started as a genuine friendship quickly turned into something more.Â
Shawn had always known he was different from his brothers, often drifting out of the conversation whenever they fawned over how hot some girl was. Itâs not that he didnât find women attractive. But when it came to getting butterflies in his stomach or his heart skipping a beat, he only felt that way with guys.
Shawn hadnât been with a guy before being with Marty. Everything was so new to him. Marty was more experienced, so Shawn often followed his lead. Their flirting turned into kissing, which turned into experimenting, which eventually turned into Shawn losing his virginity to Marty his senior year. They began dating shortly after that once Marty worked up the courage to ask the blond out.
Throughout their relationship, Marty made it a point to constantly remind Shawn of how beautiful he was. How talented and athletic he was. How Shawn didnât have to be the tallest or loudest guy in the room to command attention.
He just needed to be Shawn.Â
As confident as Marty made him feel, Shawn still thought he was crazy for the wild idea he threw at him after graduation.Â
Run away and become wrestlers.Â
Theyâd been lounging around, cuddling in Shawnâs bedroom as they watched a wrestling tape when Marty brought up the idea.Â
Shawn snorted, lifting his head off of Martyâs chest as he said, âYeah, right.â But the look on Martyâs face told him he wasnât joking. âWait, youâre serious?âÂ
Marty shrugged, âYeah, why not?â
Shawn raised a brow. âYouâve got to be kidding me. Weâre not as big as those guys.â
âHey, I thought you said size didnât matter,â Marty said suggestively.Â
Shawn gave a playful slap on Martyâs chest. âIâm being serious, you pervert! I mean look at us and look at them,â Shawn said, pointing at the wrestlers on tv. âWe wouldnât stand a chance.â
âYou donât know that though, Shawn. Come on. What else does Texas have to offer you?â
Shawn had thought about that question on multiple occasions.
Before graduation, Shawn had no idea what he wanted to do with his life, and he still didnât. Thankfully, his parents werenât pushing him to make a quick decision. If anything, they would love for him to stay under their roof for as long as possible. But he didnât want to depend on them forever.
But wrestling? It didnât seem like a likely choice for him.Â
âMarty, I donât know.â
âWhy not? Whatâs holding you back?â
âHow do you know if this would be worth it in the end? If weâll even be able to make ends meet?â
âWeâll figure it out. Weâve got to at least try, Mikey. Remember when you told me that you wanted to be free? To see the world?â
âYeah, but-â
âThis is our ticket. Letâs do this together, baby,â said Marty as he tightened his arms around Shawn.Â
It took some convincing, but thatâs how they decided to start training, determined to take on the wrestling world no matter their size.Â
Things hadnât been easy for the two. There were times where either Shawn or Marty considered quitting, but the other one was always there to remind them that the pain was only temporary. They had to keep moving forward.Â
âI canât do this anymore,â Shawn sobbed into his hands from the passenger seat of their rental car.Â
It had been about eight months since theyâd decided to give wrestling a try. They were still amateurs, which meant that they were often put in shitty matches, jobbing just to get some more experience under their belt. Sadly, it also meant that they were given the most grueling traveling schedules, oftentimes running on little to no sleep.
Theyâd just finished up a show a few hours ago and were on the road, driving another three hours to the next town. Marty shouldâve known something was wrong when Shawn spent the majority of the car ride in silence. He thought the younger man was just catching up on sleep, but he was proven wrong when he heard Shawn breaking down next to him. Â
Marty swiftly pulled the car over to the side of the road, parking so he could properly give Shawn the attention he needed. He leaned over to get a better look at Shawn, saying softly, âBaby, whatâs wrong?â
Shawn sniffed as he rubbed his eyes. âFucking everything! Iâm just tired, Marty. Iâm so fucking tired. My bodyâs exhausted and I just need a break. I need a moment to breathe! I miss my family and I just want to go home,â he sobbed harder at the thought of seeing his parents again. He really missed them.
It hurt Marty to see Shawn so upset. The younger man was really good at bottling up his emotions, Marty sometimes not even knowing anything was wrong until Shawn had an outburst like this one.Â
He grabbed Shawnâs hands that were still rubbing at his eyes, bringing both of the blondâs hands to his lips to place a gentle kiss on them. Shawn responded best to affection, so Marty was doing his best to get the man to calm down.
âI know youâre tired, and I know you want a break. But youâre doing so well, Shawn. JosĂ© has said nothing but good things about you during training. I promise you, this is all going to pay off. I just know it. Just hang in there, ok? For me?â
Shawn sniffled, âIâm trying-â
âI know you are. And Iâm proud of you. Weâre in this together, ok? Remember that.â
To be honest, Marty knew Shawn was the better of the two. Their trainer made it pretty evident during their sessions with the amount of attention he gave Shawn compared to Marty. Shawnâs in-ring ability was unmatched. Marty really wished Shawn had the confidence to see it himself.Â
Marty leaned forward to place a light peck on Shawnâs lips, wiping a lone tear from the blondâs cheek as he said, âWe have a couple more hours to go, so get some rest. Youâll feel better once you wake up. I love you.â
Shawn didnât respond, staring blankly as Marty pulled away to crank up the car. Once they were finally back on the road, Shawn decided to do what Marty suggested and get some much-needed rest.
Theyâd get past this. They always did.Â
âWhy the Midnight Rockers?â Shawn asked the question with a look of disapproval on his face, as if the name alone was a war crime. Â
He and Marty had been wrestling full-time for a year and a half before they caught the attention of the American Wrestling Association, the promotion desperate for young new talent.
It was a huge milestone for the two, their hard work finally seeming to pay off.
The only issue Shawn had was their name. Well, that and their ring gear. They hadnât made enough money to afford better outfits, but Shawn wasnât a fan of the bold neon colors Marty insisted on them wearing. But he went along with it, trusting Martyâs judgment.
Marty snorted in amusement as he walked up to Shawn, poking at the blondâs bottom lip that was jutted out. âYou got a better name?â
ââŠNo.â
âExactly,â Marty gloated, placing his hands on Shawnâs shoulders. âJust trust me on this.â
Shawn nodded, giving a small smile. âOk, I trust you.â
 Much to Shawnâs surprise, they did pretty well after debuting as The Midnight Rockers. It took some time, but both Shawn and Marty were proving to the wrestling world that they were just as good as the big guys. The fans, as well as other wrestlers, were amazed at the agility the two had in the ring for guys their size. Â
Their popularity was not only due to their talent, but their looks as well, mostly Shawnâs as he was dubbed the heartthrob of the duo. The promoter was also pleased they were attracting more women to the shows who made it known that they only came to see The Midnight Rockers.
Their popularity did wonders for Shawnâs confidence. Slowly, but surely, the insecure man who once questioned their ability to be successful in the wrestling industry was nowhere to be found. Marty was so proud of him. Shawn was finally starting to see what Marty had been telling him all along, that he didnât need to be anything or anyone else but Shawn Michaels.
As great as their popularity had been, there were times where their relationship seemed to suffer because of it.
The relationship wasnât perfect by any means. The couple had plenty enough arguments throughout their wrestling career, most of which were caused by Martyâs jealousy, and Shawnâs heartthrob status only seemed to make it worse.
Marty had gotten into quite a few arguments and fist fights with men he thought were hitting on Shawn, which certainly didnât help dispel their unruly reputation as troublemakers.
But despite all of that, they still stuck by each otherâs side. Shawn didnât know if heâd have made it as far as he had in his career without Marty.
Shawn thought he was dreaming the day he and Marty were offered contracts from the WWF.
Theyâd been wrestling as The Midnight Rockers at various wrestling promotions for a few years at that point, improving each year since their debut. With the buzz theyâd created for themselves, it was no wonder why Vince wanted them.
It was a huge accomplishment for them, not only as a tag team, but as a couple as well. Theyâd been together for four years at that point. It amazed Shawn that after everything theyâd been through, they were still together, which was something he was extremely grateful for. Â
Bret had to do a double take the moment he saw The Rockers arrive. Heâd heard that Vince was bringing in new talent, but he was expecting the typical burly men with bad spray tans. Nothing could have prepared him for the moment heâd first laid eyes on a certain blue-eyed blond backstage.Â
âClose your mouth before you start drooling,â Owen teased as Shawn and Marty walked past them towards the general locker room area.Â
Bret quickly averted his eyes. âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
âSure, you donât,â Owen said sarcastically. Of course, Owen didnât believe Bret. Heâd known him his whole life and knew the look his brother got when someone caught his eye. But before he could tease him any further, Bret had already walked off to talk to Jim Neidhart.Â
This should be fun, thought Owen as he practically skipped along the hallway, thinking of various ways to annoy his big brother about his little crush.
 Unfortunately for Bret, Owenâs teasing continued that night, Jim and Davey Boy Smith joining in after Owen informed them of Bretâs interest in the new guy. It also didnât help that Owen noticed Bretâs failed attempt to not look at Shawn who was sitting across the bar from them.
âWhat are you waiting for? Go talk to him,â Owen egged on. Â
âYeah, you better lay your claim on him before someone else does,â Davey commented with a giggle before downing another shot.
Bret rolled his eyes at their antics. Theyâd been chastising him all day about making a move on Shawn. It was pretty annoying. Heâd barely seen the guy for a second backstage, and Bret had idea if the guy even liked men. Or if heâd even like Bret for that matter.
He may be Bret Hart, but even he knew he wasnât guaranteed to get any guy he wanted.
But no amount of reasoning could stop the teasing coming from his brother and brothers-in-law.
âJust go right on over there,â Jim encouraged. âWe believe in you!â
Bret glanced over at Shawn again, catching a certain twinkle in his blue eyes caused by the neon lights in the bar.
That seemed to be all of the encouragement Bret needed.
âFuck it,â he said, downing a shot for liquid courage as he leaned forward to stand up.
âThatâs what Iâm talking about!â They all cheered in support as it seemed that Bret was finally going to make a move on the young blond.
And that was the intention.
That was until Bret looked back in Shawnâs direction, noticing Marty sitting in the chair next to him. But not just that.
Bret also noticed just how close the two were sitting, how close their faces were to each other, how Martyâs hand was placed on Shawnâs waist as his other hand traveled up Shawnâs thigh, gripping it tightly before whispering intimately in Shawnâs ear, earning a smile from the young man once he pulled away.Â
Bret didnât like jumping to conclusions, but based on what he saw, there were two possibilities floating in his head. Marty and Shawn were either really close friends or, unfortunately, Shawn was taken.
Deflated, Bret sat back, turning his attention to his now empty shot glass. âIâd better not.â
Owen looked at him like heâd lost his mind. âWhat?! Why not? You better get in on that before someone else beats you to it.â
âSeems like someone already has.â
Everyone at the table then glanced to see Shawn and Marty hastily leaving the bar hand in hand with mischievous grins on their faces. Bret didnât even want to imagine what they were so excited about.Â
âDamn,â was the only word of comfort Owen could offer.Â
âYeah,â Bret said as he picked up another shot glass, this one full of Jack Daniels. âDamn.â
A/N:Â Found this pic of baby shawn; too pretty to be legal đ„”
#hartbreak#shawn michaels#bret hart#bretshawn#past marty and shawn#bret hart x shawn michaels#wwf#wwe fanfiction#alternate universe#this one's a wild ride#divider cr: @saradika
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"Geraniums" (The Complete Stories of Flannery O'Connor)
Racism!
So yeah, I don't know if I'm going to make this into my third book to be reviewing but short stories do work better than actual books (I'm about 30 pages away from ending Hound of the Baskervilles and starting Les Miserables but I'm not going to review that one chapter by chapter because reading Les Miserables could be enough of a chore. And I found out that I can still be bored by classic books with Tale of the Genji where almost every chapter was "who are these people? Why should I care about these people? Did he just adopt that girl to groom her? Was that acceptable back in the day? I bet if I knew Japanese these poems would be really cool" and even found out that it was the favorite translation.
So I'm going to start reviewing these stories because I did like the Flannery O'Connor stories I read in grad school and I'll be getting to those, but it's a complete collection. It's not even a cultivated complete collection like with John Cheever who had some duds at the beginning of this collection. O'Connor died in her thirties so this was one of those "hey this great 20th century writer needs to have all of her stories published now" collections.
The first 5-6 stories were stories that she wrote in her 20s while in grad school. Or college. Grad school. I think it was grad school. I just read the damn introduction and I forgot the details. Wait.
Worse. She sold this story to a magazine called Accent at the age of 21 and the first six stories were published in her MFA thesis for the University of Iowa. Seriously fuck the University of Iowa. Granted there was a time when I was impressed by it because there was a very pretentious dude at a Theater party talking about how he was going to be a great writer and go to the University of Iowa which was the writing program of writing programs (he also had an idea for mounting a play where a closeted homosexual date rapes his friend. That also impressed me so much I wanted to play that character. Thankfully, that never got off the ground) and his favorite writer was Raymond Carver (sigh) so yeah the complete 20th century "let's not get too political here as we talk about these character sketches" package.
But of course, this one was political because everything is political. But this one is more political than most because it's written by a Southern writer in 1946. But it's also not political because it's supposed to be a character sketch.
So anyhow (I really thought I was going to write fuck this ofay and leave it there) the old man is living with his daughter and we don't even know at first that he's living in New York City. He's obsessed with the geraniums that the people across the street put in their window at 10:15 am. Unlike their neighbors who don't know anything, they know that you don't just leave geraniums in your window indefinitely.
Then there's a lot of exposition because this story is 90% exposition about how he moved to New York City because his daughter insisted. His son-in-law doesn't like him and he used to go fishing and even had a guide who knew the river and "there was no other N----- who knew it like him"
And then a N----- moves in. Should I just do the white guy safety word of Ninja? Or would that make that even more confusing. No. Best just use Ninja when singing along to rap songs. Else Old Dudley being confused when he sees a Ninja go into the apartment building and thinking that the neighbors have a Ninja servant only to find out that his daughter is going to be fine with living next to a Ninja.
Ok that's a funny image, but yeah, that's what happens. Only not with a Ninja. And goddamn Flannery O'Connor is not shy about that work. Hard er, even.
So poor Old Dudley, the protagonist who is feeling sad because he has to live in New York with his daughter, is upset because there's a N---- living next door. He's got a lot of internal monologue/exposition about how he raised her better than to just choose to live next door with one of them.
And her response of "I don't want any trouble with the N-----" doesn't exactly make her a paradigm of "woke" (sorry guys). She's just slightly less racist than her very racist grandfather.
The ending is that the geranium fell and the guy who had the geranium is yelling at Old Dudley. Only aren't they on the opposite sides of the street? I mean he's not looking out the window at the next building in the alley? Even then, you can't have a fucking conversation yelling across the street and understand a damn thing. This is the literary equivalent of people speaking from a tower that happens in fantasy movies (Return of the King deleted scene and the scene between Cersei and Tyrion in Game of Thrones - NO ONE CAN HEAR ANYONE THAT WAY)
Anyhow, we are supposed to feel bad for the old racist. But seriously fuck that guy.
Now how racist was Flannery O'Connor? Who knows. I don't think she's endorsing her racist fuck of a protagonist character. There's no "of course, there were demons because of race mixing" lines like you see in Robert Howard. And with the University of Iowa, there's really not supposed to be judgment of these characters. So who knows. Actually I kind of how I write my stories. Or something I aspire to. Sometimes.
#Flannery O'Connor#short stories#Tim LIeder#racists#very racist racists#holy fuck how racist can you get#ninjas#ron desantis#Florida School district#Gallant South#Strange Fruit#New York City#New York#IMpossible conversations#The University of Iowa#Tale of the Genji#old racists#rivers#n-----#les miserables
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3, 10, 25
3) Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year?
So the thing about me is no matter what, I barely listen to all the songs of a single artist. But I did listen to more than just the 3 songs I already did by Olivia Rodrigo, and I liked all of them a lot. Other candidates are Reckless Love and Breezy Supreme
10) Something that made you cry this year?
The ending of The Batman (2022), specifically the âpeople need hopeâ monologue. It really hit hard to finally see a Batman adaptation really understand the importance of hope to Bruce and his character. Also then I checked my email during the credits and found out I was accepted into grad school lol
25) Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one
god, so many. Iâll talk about Rohan tho bcs heâs my special guy
So, Rohan Khan is for my fps concept, Elysium. Heâs the child of immigrants to the US, and turned 18 just around when the US was joining World War II. He enlisted as soon as he was able to, knowing that joining the military and the benefits that come from being a veteran were the most likely way heâd be able to make something of himself and because he wanted to take a stand against the Nazis. He ended up being a flying ace, but got shot down and severely burned in the wreckage of his plane. While he should have died, his life was saved by Oswald Ambrose, a doctor from an island called Elysium, and he was outfitted with ridiculously advanced prosthetics that were also from Elysium. The two of them became closer, and Ambrose invited Rohan to come to Elysium and join the islandâs council, as well as be closer to the technologies that keep him alive. Rohan accepted on the condition that his childhood friend (also secret girlfriend) Cynthia Morandi-Hyun get ti come as well. The members of the council are granted immortality, so heâs technically a hundred but only looks like heâs in his 40s
Personality wise, Rohanâs a person thatâs very loyal and determined, but also very stubborn. He definitely has some undiagnosed PTSD, and he has a tendency to push away others in part from that and some of his hypervigilance. He is very close and affectionate with Cynthia, though. Heâs a little bit of a complicated case in a lot of ways because while he is very loyal to Ambrose, heâs having some doubts about him too, especially because heâs been failed in a lot of ways by Ambrose and the whole system that Elysium has. I want to touch with his storyline on how veterans are often heralded as heroes in the US, but they rarely get the institutional support they need and often get kind of cast aside by society. Because while Rohan does have a nice title and all the benefits that come with that, he gets no help in addressing his mental health issues and he doesnât get to actually do anything, and that drives him nuts
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NICE.
+ pairings: eren yeager + (fem) reader
+ genres: rich kid au, college au, friends to lovers au, fluff, light-ish angst, smut/nsfw content (everybody gets a piece)!
+ warnings: mentions of depression/anxiety, mentions and use of drugs and alcohol, some of the smut happens under the influence so be cautious if thatâs something you donât like, i swear this is all more idiots in love than angst tho i just wanna disclose everything fairly
+ notes: this is alternatively titled super rich kids and you can probably figure out why. some of this is based off of real life, some of it is straight out of gossip girl and i challenge you to separate the facts from the fiction :â) anyways, i hope we all remember the lyrics to in my feelings
+ more notes: one quick reference for ages in this ficâall the vets are older but not by that much, think various stages of grad school. armin, connie, sasha, annie, and bertholdt are all college sophomores. eren, the reader, and pretty much everybody else are college seniors, so theyâre about a year or two older. also here is a playlist for your reading pleasures, shoutout to ryn for letting me mooch of their spotify account :â)
+ word count: 19k. iâm sorry.
+ summary: fuck you, fuck you, youâre cool, fuck you.; or the story of notorious rich kid and self-proclaimed bad boy eren yeager, and his not so goody two-shoes best friend.
âSo youâre saying that you donât love me? That youâre not riding? That youâll actually leave from beside me?â
âIâm saying that itâs ass oâclock in the morning and Iâm not driving in the rain to Brooklyn to pick your sorry ass up.â
âBut⊠but I want you, and I need you, and Iâm down for you.â
You check the time on your phone screen and groan. 3:57am. Far too early to be dealing with the likes of Eren Jaeger. âJust get an Uber or something. I donât know what you and your idiot friends were up to this time, but I donât want any part of it.â
âFirst, theyâre our idiot friends. Second, I donât think they let you take Ubers from jail, and even if they did, itâs, like, four in the morning, so I donât think there are any Ubers driving around, so could you pretty please come pick me up? I promise Iâll make it up toââ
âFrom where?â you cut him off, slowly sitting upright in your bed. You hold your phone closer to your ear, ready to listen again; because, certainly, you must have misheard him the first time. You wait, but the line is silent, save for Erenâs awkward chuckling. âEren Asher Jaeger, tell me that that was another stupid lyric from that stupid song, and that you are not in prison right now.â
Eren makes a sad attempt at laughing. âTechnically, itâs a holding cell, not really prison⊠and I would leave, but they suspended my license for a month, and Min canât drive yet, so we kind of need you,â he explains, âUh, no pun intended.â
âMin?â you pull your eyebrows together at the mention of the youngerâs name, âIs Armin with you?â
âUh, yeah.â
With a frown and a heavy sigh, you push yourself out of bed, wedging your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you grab the nearest pair of sweatpants.
âWhy did you get him caught up in whatever stupid shit you were doing tonight?â you complain, scanning your dark bedroom for a shirt to wear, âErwinâs going to castrate you when he finds out.â
You curse as you stub your toe against the edge of your bed on your way out of the room. Given the time, weather, and the fact that you have several exams to start studying for, hanging up and leaving Eren in the middle of god knows where Brooklyn doesnât seem like such a bad idea, but you couldnât go back to sleep knowing that Armin would have to suffer with him.
âRelax,â Eren breathes in a tone all too nonchalant for the situation at hand, âHe didnât get charged with anything, and nothingâs going on his record.â
âYou donât know that,â you retort, sliding your raincoat over your free arm, as you paddle down the stairs of your apartment, âThe NYPD suck.â
âTrue,â he hums, âBut I paid off the cop, so itâll be fine.â
You pause in your steps, but really, you shouldnât be surprised. âOf course you did,â you mumble, moving again and grabbing your car keys off of the kitchen island.
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â he questions. His tone is actually genuine and it tempts you to roll your eyes.
âWhat it always means, Eren,â you sigh, stepping into the elevator, âIâll be there in thirty minutes.â
âThank you, baby. I love you.â
âEren?â
âYeah?â
âGet off my line.â
He doesnât have time to throw in another pitiful âI love youâ before the line goes dead and heâs met with static silence. He hangs up the station telephone with a silent chuckle, turning around to face Armin and Officer Hannes.
âSomeoneâs coming to pick us up,â he says, trying to focus on Arminâs sigh of relief and not the warmth creeping up his neck and into his cheeks, âIâll, uh, call a tow for the car in the morning.â
The cop, too tired to care, only shrugs, and pays them no further attention. He hands Eren a plastic bag with his car keys and newly suspended license, escorts him back into the cell, and returns to his desk. Eren gives Hannes the finger while his back is turned.
Beside him, Armin is still quivering; bouncing his leg up and down, fiddling with his fingers, gnawing on his bottom lip. Eren frowns, a heavy wave of guilt washing over him as he takes in the youngerâs anxiety ridden state. It wasnât fair that Armin could have potentially suffered legal consequences because of his stupidity.
Erenâs lucky that Hannes was sleazy enough to accept his bribe and let him off with minimal punishment. With that they were doing, things could have ended up far worse for the both of them tonight.
âIâm sorry, man,â he apologizes, hands stuffed in his front pockets, âAbout tonight, I mean. WeâI shouldnât have done that, not with you there.â
Armin looks up at him with sparkling, doe eyes and Eren wants to punch himself in the gut for making him go through all of this, even if it didnât amount to an actual arrest. âYou couldnât have known this was going to happen.â
âI could have prevented it,â he says. Because itâs what you would have said, too.
âItâs not your fault, I wanted to come, remember?â Armin tells him, redirecting his gaze to the grey floor of the precinct cell. He takes a deep breath, almost calming down completely when a sudden thought reignites his nervous ticks, âYou⊠theyâre not gonna tell my parents, right?â
âNo, noâof course not.â
Armin was legally an adult; he, nor Eren, nor the police had to tell his parents anything. Sure, Hannes could rat them out, but honestly that sounded like way more work than he was cut out for; not to mention heâd be bound to reveal that he let them off easy for a couple thousand bucks.
Armin nods, âAnd⊠that wasnât Erwin on the phone, right?â
âAre you kidding me? Heâd murder me on the spot,â Eren says. He pauses before tacking on, âI, uh⊠I called (_____).â
âOh,â the younger gapes, âSheâll kill you, too.â
âYeah,â Eren sighs, scratching the back of his neck in nervous anticipation, âTrust me, I know.â
âYou have your access card on you, right, Armin?â you ask. He nods sheepishly, hand on the car door handle.
âThanks again for coming to get us,â he says meekly, âIâm sorry about waking you up and everything.â
You offer him a warm smile through the rear view mirror, âDonât worry about it, Iâm just glad youâre safe. Text me when you get up tomorrow, okay? We can get brunch, my treat.â
His face lights up at the prospect of free food, and he nods once more, enthusiastically, but his expression falls again when he speaks, âOkay, and Iâll, um, pay you back for the tickets and stuff as soon as I canââ
âItâs fine, really, donât worry about it,â you repeat.
âIt was almost three thouââ
âYou forget who youâre friends with,â you cut him off with a smile, âDonât worry about it, okay? It wasnât your fault.â
Arminâs eyes dart to Eren quickly, before clearing his throat, a light pink tint to his cheeks. You know that the prospect of money can be a sensitive subject for Armin, one easily triggered by his very environment, but this wasnât negotiable on your end. You know that Armin doesnât like the feeling of owing anyone anything, but he knows he wonât get you to budge; so, he quietly nods, appreciative of your generosity, before bidding you and Eren a final goodnight and sprinting towards the dorm. Once you see that heâs safely inside, you wave one last time, and wait for the door to shut behind him.
Slowly, Eren turns to the driverâs seat to look at you. You were eerily calm when you came to pick him and Armin up from the station. You didnât yell, cuss, or punch him in the face like he expected. You politely talked to the officer, thanked him for his service, paid their fees, and up until now, youâve shown no signs of being angry with him at all.
The two of you drive back to your shared apartment in complete silence, Eren too confused, and borderline scared, of initiating a conversation. He wonders if youâre too tired, or if you really donât give a damn anymore, but when you pull into the underground lot of your building and put the car in park, he finds out the silence was simply the calm before the storm.
You take your hand off of the gear shift and turn towards him. Itâs a quiet stare down for nearly a full minute before you break the mime act with a slap to his thigh.
âDrag racing? Are you out of your fucking mind? Of all the stupid shit youâve doneâand youâve done a lot of stupid shitâthis has got to take the cake. Just what the actual fuck were you thinking?â
âOuch!â he inhales sharply, rubbing over where youâd hit him, âWe were just having fun! Then these other guys showed up and started talking shit soââ
âHaving fun?â you echo, âYou couldnât think of anything fun to do thatâs not illegal in every borough of New York City?â
Eren feels his cheek flush, but he only huffs with the illusion of disinterest, âI donât know why youâre freaking out so bad. Iâm a good driver, it was those other squids that got us into shit, Iâm telling you. They showed up looking for a fight, then ran like a bunch of pussies when the cops came.â
You exhale slowly, shaking your head in disbelief. You seem to have no other words to say to him, choosing to step out of the car and slam the door behind you. Eren quickly follows, slamming his door equally as hard, and hot on your trail as you march towards the elevator.
â(_____), come on, enough with the silent treatment,â he whines when you stick yourself in a corner of the elevator after pushing the button to the penthouse, âI told you I didnât start shit, Armin and I got ratted on.â
âI couldnât give a ratâs ass about whether or not they started it, Eren. Youâre still the problem here.â
âMe? How am I the problem?â he pulls back, eyebrows drawn together in genuine confusion, âI just told you I didnât do shit.â
You scoff, crossing your arms and shifting your left leg, âIâm not doing this with you right now.â
âDoing what with me?â he presses, tone growing icy.
âThis, Eren!â you reiterate, âIâm too tired to hear your bullshit right now.â
The elevator dings and opens into your apartment. You push past him, continuing your deliberate strides through the living area, and to the stairs, but Eren catches you with a hand on your wrist before you can go any further.
âWill you fucking stop that,â he growls, âIf youâve got something to say, then stop running away from me, and just say it.â
âFunny,â you sneer, pulling your wrist away from him and settling both your feet on the bottom step, âYouâre one to talk about running away from things.â
He takes a step back, standing just a notch below you, perfectly frozen in place. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âIt means your little drag racing episode was not only dangerous and immature, it was you running away from your problems like a spoiled child, yet again.â
Erenâs features narrow at your accusations; eyes fading into hooded slits, lips curving downwards, and voice bobbing low, âIâm not running away from anything.â
âOh, please, Eren,â you roll your eyes, arms retreating to their crossed position in front of your chest, âCut the bullshit.â
âI donât know what the fuck youâre talking about.â But he bets that even in the dim lighting of the apartment, you can see the tips of his ears growing red, just like they always do when heâs lying.
âOh, really?â you ask, eyes widening in mock surprise, âYou donât think I donât know this whole thing has something to do with the fact that your mom came home on Friday?â
Another pause. âWho told you that?â He asks, but it comes out more like a statement.
âNobody had to,â you snap, âJean said he caught you with a sack of coke over the weekend, and I knew something was up.â
âIt wasnât mine, I wasââ
âI said cut the shit, Eren. If I went up into your room right now I bet your ass Iâd find more than enough of it in a shoebox somewhere.â
He retreats, almost bashful, but unapologetic all the same. âFine, whatever, I did a few lines. Big deal.â
âThe big deal is that you think this is fucking normal, and now youâve upgraded from coke to getting yourself arrested! Itâd be one thing if you were acting like a misfit on your own, but to drag Armin into it because youââ
âDrag him into it?â he echoes with the snare of sarcasm dripping from each syllable, âYou talk about Armin like heâs six. I donât know why you think heâs some helpless little baby, but you have no goddamn responsibility over him. Heâs not your fucking charity case.â
âI never fucking said heâs my charity caseâdonât you ever fucking say that,â you say, âHaving some basic respect and concern for my friends isnât charity.â
âWake the fuck up! You baby Armin when heâs a grown ass man. I didnât force him into the fucking car to get sympathy points from you.â
âGrown? Armin is barely nineteen, disowned by his parents, is on a full fucking ride to an insanely expensive university, and you got him arrested tonight! Do you know what could happen if NYU found out? They could fucking kick him out, take his scholarship awayâand then what, huh? Or were you just gonna buy off the headmaster, too?â
âYouâre acting like I fucking planned for it!â
Heâs screaming now, voice bellowing throughout the apartment, face redâand he doesnât mean to, he doesnât mean it at all; but itâs late, and heâs tired, and those shouldnât be excuses, but heâs too prideful to back down.
âOf course you didnât! You didnât plan for anything, you were just being a reckless, irresponsible asshole like always,â you tell him, too blind-sighted by anger and the need to chide him that you miss the teary undertones in his words.
âAnd whatâs it matter to you?â
âIt fucking matters to me when you call at some godforsaken hour asking me to pick you up from prison!â
He takes a step forward, right leg elevated by the same step that both your feet rest on. âWell, what else am I supposed to fucking do!â He shouts even though heâs mere inches from your face, âTell me just what the fuck Iâm supposed to do instead!â
âYouâre supposed to act like an adult and fucking talk to someone!â
âWho the hell am I supposed to talk to, huh?â he presses, taking a step forward and forcing you to retreat backwards, and up a step, âMy mother whoâs never home or her bastard boyfriend?ââanother step forward for him, another step backwards for youââThe step-brother I canât get in contact with?ââone step forward; one step backwardsââOr maybe the dad I never had, right?â
âMe, Eren!â you yell back with equal vigor, throwing your hands up at your sides, and planting your feet firmly. âArmin, Mikasa, Jeanâanyone! You have people who fucking care about you! Stop treating us like correction officers, weâre your fucking friends!â
Thereâs silence for a while, just you and Eren staring at each other, heavy breathing, waiting for the other to make the next move. He opens his mouth, but when he tries to speak, his resolve washes away, his throat tightens and the words get sucked back in.
It would be easy to keep yelling, screaming, blaming you for blowing up on him. He used to think the scolding he got from you after pulling some stupid stunt was the worst part; but now, he thinks it might be his favorite part. He hates to hear you scream, and it hurts to see you cry, but if youâre yelling, youâre angry that he hurt himself; you care that heâs okay.
âIââ he stutters, words quiet and broken, âIâm sorry. Iâm sorry, I didnât mean for it to get like this tonight, it was an accident Iââ
âYou never mean for any of it to happen, yet it always does,â you interrupt, voice soft yet strained, âI know you have your own shit to deal with, but so does everybody else.â
â(_____), please, youâre right, okay? I should have said something before,â he admits, mouth small as he voices his confessions, âI should have talked to you or one of the boys, but IâI donât know what else you want me to say.â
Heâs groveling now. Mouth in pout, eyes wide, voice small, and honestly, he thinks he might cry. At this point he doesnât care if he does.
âI want you to mean it,â you finally say, and when he looks up, he hates the look he sees in your eyes. Itâs something between sad and hurt and empty and itâs awful. Someone like you shouldnât feel that way. He shouldnât make you feel that way.
âIââ
âWhen youâre ready to tell me exactly whatâs going on with youâwhatâs happening that made you think going to jail would be better than facing your issuesâIâll be here to talk,â you continue, eyes watering, âBut until then, goodnight, Eren.â
Eren winces when you turn around and ascend up the remaining stairs. He flirts with the idea of following you, going to your room to finish talking, but youâre probably angry enough to have it locked. His room is up there, too, but he opts for part of the sectional, laying down with the palms of his hands kneading against his closed eyelids.
For as long as he can remember, youâve been there for him. Your friendship, at times, was like a game of tagâEren always on the run with you loyally chasing after him; heâd always run amuck, and youâd always be there to catch him in the act. Now, itâs five in the morning, thereâs no more yelling, no more chasing, no more racing, but heâs still running.
The following morning, you take Armin out to brunch, as promised. Jean tags along too, something about hanging out with the two of you being infinitely more entertaining than his genetics lecture. It doesnât seem like Jean knows anything about Armin and Erenâs late night antics, so you donât bring it up yourself.
Oblivious, Jean chats your ears off as if nothing is awry. Whether he knows it or not, he does a great job of distracting Armin from his own thoughts. They both eat to their heartâs content when you remind them youâll foot the bill; and you donât bat an eye when Jean convinces Armin to order his third round of pancakes. He deserves it.
Afterwards, Jean convinces the three of you to go window shopping with him in SoHo, claiming that he needed inspiration for his latest fashion assignment (you donât question why heâs taking a fashion class as a biology major, but you suspect it has something to do with Mikasa). Window shopping soon turns into actual shopping, so almost completely unprompted, and with little effort on his part, Armin gets a few pieces of clothing on your behalf, while you try to ignore Erenâs words itching at the back of your mind.
Arminâs not a baby, but he certainly is a kid with a rough past and rough relationship with his parents at a time in his life where he arguably needs them the most. A little extra support from his friends wouldnât harm him.
Itâs nearing six when the three of you are wedged in a small booth inside a cafĂ©, indulging in overpriced hot chocolate. Three sips into his second cup, Jean excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving you sitting across from Armin.
âYou know, you donât have to keep buying me stuff to make up for Eren,â Armin says, a small smile playing on his lips.
âIâm not trying to make up for him,â you sputter, careful not to spill your drink over your lap, âYou had a rough night. Just accept my gifts, donât be a brat.â
âI do accept them. Erwinâs been eyeing that Off White sweater for, like, three weeks now. Heâs gonna have a hissy fit when he sees me wearing it.â You chuckle, and he continues, âBut you know, as much I love spending time with you, you canât use me to avoid Eren forever.â
âIâm not avoiding him,â you frown.
âYou said you were going to take us to brunch, and then spent the whole day with us.â
âFunny, I recall you saying something about how much you love my company about thirty seconds ago.â
âHeâs called you at least ten times today.â
âI was spending the day with my favorite NYU student⊠and Jean,â you bat your lashes, âI see you maybe once a week. I live with Eren, I have to see him every day.â
Armin calls your name with a pout, âHeâs sorry, you know.â
âNot sorry enough,â you mumble. Armin opens his mouth to say something again, but then Jeanâs sliding back into the booth, chatting about how heâs finally come up with the perfect anniversary date for Mikasa.
Armin doesnât notice your sigh of relief, but he does take note of the way you wipe away your notifications when a text rings through. If Eren could spend his days running away from his problems, then you could, too.
Despite being arguably the greediest of you all, Jean loves company, so he doesnât hesitate to say yes when you ask to crash at his place after your shopping escapades. You expect to be welcomed with sounds of screaming, laughter, and loud music, but to your surprise his apartment is completely silent upon your entering.
âBertholdt has class and Marco has a meeting,â he prompts, as if he could read your thoughts. He shimmies his coat off his shoulders and tosses it over the bar in the foyer.
Their apartment has the same amount of rooms as yours and Erenâs, but is all stretched along a single floor. Itâs more of a maze, really, with intricate turns, and hallways, that all more or less open up into the expanse of the foyer and bar. Their living room is your favorite part. A dark, brown leather sectional wraps around the back three walls and an oversized flatscreen encased in an ebony frame takes center stage. A collection of vinyl records litters the walls above the couch; each of the boys contributing their favorite discs as dĂ©cor.
âIf he has class, shouldnât you have class?â you question, fingers dragging over the ridges of the closest record.
âIâve had class all day, but that doesnât mean I go,â Jean shrugs, walking up behind you and taking your jacket off your shoulders and your bag from your hand, âBesides, Bertholdt will probably cut half-way to go see Reiner, if he can even stay awake that long. Going with him is just as productive as staying home.â
âYouâre all a mess,â you scoff, turning around as a cheesy grin grows on Jeanâs lips. His smile is infectious, and soon you catch yourself grinning just because.
âYou want something to drink?â he offers, throwing your coat over his elbow and tilting his head in the direction of the bar.
âYouâre bad at mixing drinks,â you remind him, but follow him anyway. Â
Jean laughs, not bothering to deny the jab. He doesnât try his hand at anything mixed or complicated this time; simply offering you a glass of your favorite red, and pouring himself a smaller amount.
He puts the album you were gawking at earlier on the record player, the two of you sinking into the couch as lovely melodies radiate throughout the apartment.
He spends the first hour bitching about how Marcoâs supposed to become a CEO in less than a year, yet has the attention span of a squirrel; but the playful lilt in the brunetteâs voice, and the begrudging smile on his face lets you know that itâs all love. He gushes about Mikasa for a good half hour, cramming you with stories about his girlfriendâs talent for sewing and fashion. You also learn that Bertholdtâs been busier than usual these days, and Jean suspects it has something to do with a secret lover.
You pinch your eyebrows at his hunch. Bertholdtâs never been one for dating. Heâs had many friends with benefits in the past, but they werenât relationships, nor were they secrets. In fact, you donât think that he could keep a secret to save his life.
âWhy would he be hiding it if he were seeing someone?â you question, swirling your newly refilled glass.
âDunno,â Jean shrugs, âBut itâs sus, Iâm telling you. Heâs been oddly busy for someone with a 2.3 GPA. Either way, Iâll pry it out of him eventually.â
âYouâre so fucking nosey,â you chuckle, watching the mischievous, satisfied grin settle onto his features.
âI kinda think itâs Armin,â Jean says after a while, downing the remaining wine in his cup, while you choke on your own drink.
âWhy on Earth do you think if Bertholdt had a secret lover that itâd be Armin?â
âBecause he was in love with him for, like, two years in high school,â Jean says, as if the information should be painfully obvious.
âYeah, and Bert also hooked up with a million different people in high school.â
âThat doesnât mean he wasnât still in love with Armin.â
âI donât think Arminâs kissed another human, let alone is in a secret relationship with one.â
âHm, true. I forget heâs still a virgin.â
âHeyâthereâs nothing wrong with Armin being a virgin, leave him be.â
âI know thereâs nothing wrong with it,â Jean whines, âBut itâs soâhe doesnât have to be. Arminâs cute! And very attractiveâdare I even say sexy. He could go outside and get laid right now if he just tried.â
âStay humble, Jean boy. If I remember correctly, you only started breaking hearts a year ago,â you tut. Jeanâs nose goes pink as he shoves you away when you continue, âBut, if youâre so concerned with Arminâs virginity, why donât you go help him out with it.â
âActually, if I remember correctly, I think thatâs more your gig,â he shoots back, a smug smile tugging on his lips. âNot to mention, Iâm not trying to get beat up by Annie. Though, I wonder how much longer itâll take before she finally snaps. Hey, maybe the both of you can tag team him, Iâm sure Annie wouldnât mind, and it might even make Armin less nervous to have youââ
Itâs your turn to shove him now, throwing in an extra punch when his head bobs back with laughter. Youâre very certain Annie would mind; you would mind if someone inserted themself in your kind of, sort of, not really relationship, and ruined your four years of pining.
âSpeaking of lovers,â Jean prompts, once his laughter dies down, bending his knee and turning closer to you. âWhy are you and lover boy fighting? Trouble in paradise?â
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â you hum, sipping your drink in between words. Jeanâs eyes pinch together. âMarco and I would never fight.â
âMy god, will you let your Marco fantasies go already? Youâve already caused him one sexuality crisis,â Jean groans, âYou know I mean Eren.â
You sigh, lowering your glass and reaching forward to pinch his cheek. âItâs nothing you have to worry your pretty little head over.â
âPlease,â he scoffs, flicking your offending hand back, âHeâs been texting us nonstop since this morning at, like, nine. I didnât even know he was capable of waking up before noon.â
Itâs your turn to roll your eyes, but Jean continues, âWhy he would ask us for advice on you is beyond me. He knows you better than all of us combined.â
âAnd why youâre saying all of this is beyond me.â
âOh, come on, whatâd he do,â Jean pushes, borderline whines, as he puts his empty glass down in a cup holder embedded in the couch. Heâs always been the most prone to gossip, but you forget that wine makes him even more of a nosey prick. âMust have been pretty bad. Or stupid.â
âTry both,â you mumble, âWellâI donât know, it wasnât⊠the worst thing anyone could do, but it was really fucking recklessâand why he did it, I couldnât even tell you. I donât know what goes through his mind half the time, but I swear he must have been on crack last night.â
âHe probably was. On crack, I mean. I told you, I took an ounce from him over the weekend, but that was after Eren and Ymir did, like, five lines.â
âDo they really do that regularly?â you nearly cry, a hand massaging your temple, âFucking Christ, if he really was high while driving, Iâll kill him myself.â
âWell, I donât know if regular is the right word,â Jean ponders, âMaybe for Ymir, but god knows what sheâs on half the time, anyways. Besides, coke isnât the worst thing they could do.â
âYou sound like you speak from personal experience.â
âMaybe,â he shrugs, pausing when you shoot him a disapproving look, âOh, come on! Youâre no angel, eitherâif memory serves, you were high as shit at Moblitâs birthday party, and kept singing the star spangled banner all night.â
âYeah, on weed! One time! It was on a rooftop and the stars were out and it has the same rhythm as the happy birthday song, cut me some slack!â
He finds laughing at your expense to be much more fun, however, as he continues to chuckle while you throw a fit. Heâs also not one to let a topic of gossip go undiscussed, and has no problem bringing the conversation back to Eren.
âItâs because you two donât talk, you know,â Jean tuts, âThatâs why you fight like this.â
For the second time, the youngerâs words have your eyebrows growing close together. âI mean, I guessâbut itâs more than that. Eren and I live together, we obviously talk, butââ
âI know, I know, but just hear me out, okay? You and Eren talk about a lot of things, yeah, but you also⊠donât. And sometimes you donât have to, because you guys, like⊠get each other.â
âWow. What a way with words you have, Jean Kirstein. You should write a self-help book.â
âWhat I mean,â he sneers, unhappy with the sarcasm being thrown his way, âIs that you guys understand each other in weird ways. Itâs actually kind of cuteâsometimes a little freaky, in all honesty. Itâs why you donât always have to talk about serious things. But you take it for granted and let shit bottle up, and then get in denial about it until you blow up in each otherâs faces.â
âPlease, you barely passed one philosophy class and now you think youâre Plato.â
âYouâre doing the in denial thing right now!â he taunts, âCome one, when you two fight like this, whatâs it usually about?â
You sigh, sinking back into the plush leather of the couch, and wrapping your hands around a fluffy throw pillow. Thinking about arguing with Eren isnât particularly something you like to do, and truthfully, you donât really get pissed at each other that often. Not to the point of ignoring each other, at least.
âI donât know,â you drawl, âDrugs, me forgetting things, him doing stupid shit, him thinking Mikasa could do better than you, school, drinking, the fact that he leaves his big ass shoes at the top of the stairs for me to trip over and fall to my death every morning, whenââ
âHis parents?â Jean cuts you off.
âIâwe donât really⊠itâs not so much fighting over his parents, itâs all the stuff he does to deal with his parents. He never gives his momâs boyfriends a chance, and he never really talks about why, either. I know heâs secretly just angry and insecure about his dad, but⊠I donât know. That doesnât really make it better.â
âTrue,â he nods, âSeeâhe doesnât talk about it.â
âI know, and I told him that last night, too, but⊠itâs a sensitive subject for himâhis dad, I mean,â you sigh, âAnd youâre right, he shouldnât bottle his feelings up, but, on the other hand heâs watched his mom get married five times. I donât always blame him for not wanting to talk about it.â
âYeah, but just because itâs hard to talk about doesnât mean he shouldnât,â Jean lolls, âWouldnât you have rather he said something than have done whatever stupid shit he did to make you want to sleep here tonight?â
âOkay, Socrates, I get it,â you lighten up, âIâll talk to himâor get him to talk to me. Are you happy?â
âQuite,â he says, annoyingly chipper as he rises from the couch. âI hate seeing my favorite power couple fighting.â
Jean knows his words would elicit a slap to his arm, so he takes off just before you can reach him, prompting you to chase him out of the living room and down the hall. The brunette cackles ridiculously loudly as you scream his name with profanities sprinkled in-between. You catch a hold of the bottom of his shirt and pull him back, finally flicking him on the forehead.
He accepts his punishment with pride, offering you a signature smile in return while you both catch your breaths. Itâs a sweet moment, the two of you looking at each other with stupid smiles on your face, exhalations tickling your cheeks.
Jeanâs eyes break the gaze first, as he looks down the remainder of your face, and back up to your eyes again. His words could get caught in his throat, but he doesnât let themâhe shakes his head, and swiftly turns around, beckoning for you to follow him.
âCome on, we can steal Marcoâs clothes for your pajamas this time.â
Jean spends all of three minutes pulling apart Marcoâs dresser before swiping a t-shirt and Christmas themed pajama bottoms from his room. He tosses them in your direction before leading you back down the hall and to the left, opening the door to the guest bedroom for you, before leaving you to change.
They have more than one guest bedroom, but this one is unofficially yours. Little pieces of you can be found littered throughout the room, from spare jewelry to mismatched makeup. You spot a single, gold, teardrop shaped earring on the vanity and sigh as you run your fingers over it.
You swear youâd lost it a few months ago. Trust Jean to put it away for safekeeping without telling you heâd found it. The boy in question returns moments later, knocking while walking through the door with your purse in hand.
âHowâd you know I was about to ask you to get that?â you question, a smile on your face as you retrieve the small bag from his hands.
Jean offers you a cocky grin, âCause Iâm the best.â
âDonât go getting a big head, now,â you tease, âOr, well, an even bigger head.â
Jean ignores your insult, as you take a seat at the edge of the bed, fishing through your bag for your phone to plug it in for the night. Heâs about to turn around and bid you goodnight, when the flash of something orange peeping out of your purse prompts his next thought.
âHey, you picked up your refill, right?â he asks innocently, âIt should have been ready last Thursday.â
You sigh, head falling slightly when you close your bag and place it on the vanity. âUh⊠no.â
Jeanâs mouth is already open, ready with equally friendly and scolding words, but you cut him off before he can talk. âI was going to on Thursday, but I had class late, and then I forgot on Friday and I havenât really had time since then. But I have a few left-overs from the last two months, so Iâve been taking those!â
Jeanâs mouth closes, but his eyes narrow as he begins to walk towards you. You know heâs putting two and two together, so you speak ahead of him again.
âI know, I know, I shouldnât have any left over, but itâs only five, I promise! Iâve been really good, lately.â
Jeanâs eyes remain in concentrated slits, but his resolve is waning when he reads over your expression. His facade fades as he takes the final steps towards you to stand directly in front of your body.
âOkay,â he says, voice soft through his smile, âIâll go with you to pick them up tomorrow before I drop you home, yeah?â
It elates him more than it should to see the smile you flash his way. Unfortunately, itâs short-lived, as his next question leaves your face twisted with guilt.
âHave you⊠told Eren yet?â
You consider lying and saying yes, but something tells you Jean wonât buy it. Your silence seems to speak loud enough, as his shoulders drop with a quiet sigh.
âI want to, I just⊠well Iâm mad at him right now, and even when Iâm not⊠I donât know why itâs so hard,â you confess.
âHeâd wanna know, you know,â Jean says, and itâs not the first time heâs said it to you, either. âYou know he wouldnât judge you or anything.â
âI know that. But, truthfully, if I had things my way, not even you would know, Jean.â
It was an accident that Jean found out that youâd been taking anxiety medication.
It was at somebodyâs house party where the majority of your friends and their guests had gotten piss drunk. Reinerâs date had suggested mixing their alcohol with molly sheâd supposedly had in her bag. In her drunken stupor, sheâd mistaken your purse for her own, but luckily, a not so drunk Jean had noticed the label didnât match her name, and snagged the bottle before the worst could happen.
They ended up not finding her molly, anyway, but itâs a moot point. Jean had cornered you about the bottle later in the week with honest intentions; heâd been concerned that might be another kind of drug disguised by a prescription veil. However, youâd assured him that it was indeed your prescribed Lexapro, and not a shady mixture of black market substances.
And, heâd been more than understanding in the aftermath. Quite frankly, he had somewhat made it his business to ensure that you got and took your medication on time and felt comfortable getting to and from your therapy appointments.
Itâs endearing in a way that made you pause and count your blessings sometimes. Jean had been nothing but unequivocally supportive in his understanding about anxiety and had gone the extra mile to comfort you where need be. It made you wonder why you hesitated to tell Eren on several occasions.
It was probably the very nature of anxiety itself that had you doubting your trust in Eren. You wanted to tell himâof course you didâbut, you couldnât. You know that Eren would do everything in his power to make it better, even if that was just being. You know that heâd want to know and heâd kill to understand. But you couldnât possibly burden him with your problems, not when he has a million of his own.
The one person in the world you wanted to tell, you were terrified of talking to. And you know itâs irrational to be afraid of him, but you canât seem to control those thoughts. Itâs a tiring, consuming, endless cycle.
Jean watches the way your gaze lowers to the floor. He knows exactly what youâre thinking, and, god, he swears if he could take that train of thought away from you, heâd do it in a heartbeat.
With a heavy heart and tired eyes, he takes a final step forward and wraps his arms around your body. He counts three, four seconds before you hug him back. He raises a hand to the back to your head, cradling your face into his shoulder and squeezing you tightly.
âHey, Iâm proud of you, you know that,â he speaks, just a notch above a whisper, âI know youâll tell him when youâre ready.â
âI will,â you murmur into the fabric of his shirt. You hug him back a little tighter and close your eyes, âThank you, Jean.â
And Jean holds on, and hopes you know that he wouldnât let you go, âYouâre welcome, (_____).â
You come home to find your entire apartment littered with flowers; in the hallway, on the sectional, atop the counter, up the stairs.
There are several boxes of your favorite macarons stacked in a small pyramid on the kitchen island, and you wouldnât be surprised if you checked the labels to find that they were shipped straight from the south of France this morning. Thereâs too many bottles of Ace on the coffee table, sparkling next to a basket of what looks like your regular skincare products. A pretty, gold bow rests atop an even prettier pair of red-bottomed heels, and if youâre not mistaken, thatâs a limited edition, vintage YSL clutch on the sectional, resting against your favorite throw pillow.
You sigh, making your way to the couch to pick up the orange envelope sticking out of the handbag. Just as youâre about to open it, you hear footsteps, and a voice that follows.
âYouâre back,â Eren chirps from mid-way on the staircase, âI, uh, thereâs catering coming from Butter coming soon. I know itâs your favorite,â he continues as he descends the stairs.
He has his hand on the back of his neck and thereâs a faint, pink tint to his cheeks as he slowly makes his way towards you. You cross your arms, looking him up and down when he stands in front of you.
Heâs wearing dark jeans and a tweed sweater with patches at the elbow. His hair is split down the middle, longer than usual, so the ends of sweep over his eyelashes; and there are telltale signs that heâd been toying with it.
âEren, what is all of this?â you finally ask, shifting your weight to your right leg.
âPart one of my apology and explanation,â he replies, a hopeful timbre to his voice. You roll your eyes, but he continues anyway, âActually, part two is in that envelope.â
Skeptical, you unfold your arms and open the envelope. You donât know what you were expectingâa card, maybe tickets to a musical or something; but what you definitely werenât expecting were two tickets to Paris.
âFrance?â you look up, tickets in hand, âYou donât get it do you? You canât just buy all of this shit, jet us off to Europe and expect everything to be okay.â
âNo, no itâs not like thatâI swear!â he interjects, hands moving sporadically, âItâs just, well⊠Can we sit? Then I can explain everything.â
Eren looks at you with those big green eyes and that sad pout to his lips, and you find yourself sighing and taking a seat on the couch against your better judgement. Thereâs a small smile to his lips when you doâa little victoryâand he sits next to you, your knees resting against each other as you face him.
Heâs shaking, and your resolve to punish him with whatever solid exterior and half-assed silent treatment dissolves as you take his left hand in your right, and recall your conversation with Jean. âHey, itâs okay. Itâs me, Eren. You can talk to me.â
When he feels your smaller hand envelop his, the shaking stops, and for a moment, it feels like he can do this, like everything is okay. He smiles, and takes a deep breath.
âThe other night, you were right, about my mom and her boyfriend coming home,â he starts, words slow and heavy, âI didnât even know she was comingâI knew she was visiting this month, but she didnât tell me when, and I thought it was going to be just her, you know? But then she showed up with him, and, well, I donât know. I was upset. Sheâs been home for a week now, and we havenât even gone to dinner or anything.â
He pauses, and you squeeze his hand for reassurance, âWe were supposed to get lunch on Thursday, but she cancelled. Had some meeting or something, I donât know, I donât care. Friday comes and she says she wants to have dinner, right?â
You nod, he continues. âI thought it was just going to be us, but he was there. Thatâs when she told me that⊠that theyâreâŠâ he squeezes his eyes shut, âTheyâre engaged.â
Your mouth falls into a small o-shape. Everything made perfect sense now.
Itâs not that Eren didnât love his mother, quite the opposite actually. Heâs a mamaâs boy through and through; sheâs his role model, his everything, he adores her. Her career as a designer often takes her on long business trips, most frequently as prolonged stays in Paris, so much so that she relocated her primary office there shortly after Eren graduated high school.
Now, she only visits home for one or two weeks at a time, sometimes only for the weekend. Upon her decision to permanently relocate, she planned to leave Eren under the unofficial supervision of Mikasa. Instead, Eren bought Mikasa her own three-bedroom apartment in Midtown (according to his logic, it was better for her to have her own place than to move in with Jean), and a shared two-story penthouse for the both of you that overlooks Central Park.
Eren misses her more than he cares to admit, but he puts on the same facade every time she comes home because he hates the company she brings.
Paris is where she met her newest boyfriend, Mitchell, and Eren swears he hates that man with every fiber of his being. Itâs not saying much, though, not when Erenâs hated every single one of his motherâs past romantic partners, right down to his own father.
âIs⊠is that why youââ
âRented a brand new Corvette and went drag racing at one in the morning?â he chuckles, âYeah. It was stupid, I know, but I was just angry, I guess. I dunno what I was feeling, but it wasnât good.â
You nod, wrapping both of your hands around his now and offering him a warm smile. He smiles back, just for a moment. âThatâs what the tickets are for, actually. The wedding.â
âTheyâre getting married in France?â you question, to which he nods, âOn the first? Isnât that a little short notice to plan a wedding?â
âI think youâre underestimating the power of Carla Jaeger,â he chuckles, âApparently, itâs been in the works for a few months now. He proposed with fireworks or some shit. Said she wanted to tell me in person, though.â
âThis ticket is for next week,â you say, rereading the dates on the papers. âThe wedding is three weeks from now.â
âWell, I kind of figured we could take a little vacation before then,â he grins, âI texted most of the boys earlier, and they can probably come to the wedding, but I want to spend some time with you before it gets hectic, you know? Consider it an end of the semester present.â
Your eyes flicker down to your hand, still wrapped around Erenâs, when he starts to trace circles into your skin, âI thought I just told you, you canât jet us off to Europe to fix things.â
âYou did,â he hums, âAnd I know I canâtâIâm not trying to, I just⊠Truthfully, I reserved the plane and the hotel a few weeks back and it really was just going to be a surprise for usâwell, more like a gift for you because I know youâve been busting your ass in chemâbut then⊠everything else happened, and I think a break sounds perfect before I watch my mom get married for the sixth time.â
You watch him continue to toy with your hands for a while, processing your conversation. It was typical of Eren to surprise you like this, so you canât figure out why this particular present leaves you feeling warmer than usual.
âYou sure you donât need a break from me?â
Eren beams and takes the opportunity to lace your fingers together. âNah, youâre annoying, but not Jean level annoying.â
You scoff, âIâm telling him you said that.â
âItâll sound better coming from you, anyway,â he shrugs, âBesides, I might just murder Mitchell if youâre not there with me.â
You chuckle, on the verge of accepting his proposal, but the mention of Jean prompts another thought to cross through your mind. âIâd love to, but I⊠I donât know. I donât want Armin to spend the first few weeks of winter break here all alone.â
This Christmas would mark one year since Armin had seen, or even talked to, any of his immediate family members, with the exception of Erwin.
Last year, you all tried to salvage the damage by sticking around so, at the very least, he didnât have to feel alone. You and your friends decided that Armin ought to be celebrated, not ostracized for any aspect of himself, so you all chipped in for a cute, impromptu trip to the Catskills so that everyone could be together and close to home.
This year, however, there seemed to be quite a few conflicts of interest. Even if Armin was one of the boys who was planning on attending the wedding, you doubt he had plans leading up to it. You know that Marco, Bertholdt, Mikasa, and Jean had invited him to go to Aspen with them, but Armin declined the offer. Similarly, Connie, Sasha, Annie, Reiner, and Ymir would be off to Dubai as soon as classes ended; an invitation Armin had also turned down.
You werenât sure what Erwinâs plans were, though youâre certain they involved his own friends in some way or another. At the very least, it was unlikely that he would leave his younger brother completely stranded over the break; but you didnât want to make plans without knowing Armin wouldnât be alone.
âHe wonât, actually heâll be closer than you think,â Eren reassures you, âHange and Moblit wanted to go skiing anyways, so Erwin is taking all of them to the Alps instead of Aspen. Armin doesnât know yet, but heâs going with them.â
âShouldnât Erwin spend his break campaigning, and not skiing? Last I checked, he wasnât too popular in Queensâ
âAh, you know Erwin,â Eren shrugs, âHe has a way of making people devote themselves to him. Heâll win the election with or without campaigning, trust meâthe point is, that little baby Armin will be safe and sound under Erwinâs protection, and you donât have to worry about him.â
âHow come you get to call him a baby?â
âBecause Iâm a hypocritical asshole who doesnât deserve you, but is hoping youâll come with me anyway.â
Eren smirks, but thereâs a genuine undertone to his words as he moves his fingers to toy with the ring around your pointer finger. The same one he gave to you two Christmases ago. Well, kind of.
The ring he originally gifted you was a Harry Winston piece, with an encrusted band that wrapped into two sunflowers, both made of classic, white diamonds with emeralds sparkling in the center. After seeing the design, and the price tag, you demanded that he take it back, or at the very least, get it sized to fit on your index finger or thumb so that people didnât get the wrong idea.
Instead, he came back with a simple, silver chain for the original ring to hang from, and the current ring on your finger; a rose gold band with tiny diamonds studded around it. Likely equally as expensive, but more appropriate according to you.
âFine. But you have to be on your best behavior,â you agree, paying no mind to Erenâs thumb twirling your jewelry, âDo you promise me no drag racing or antics of any sort while weâre there?â
Eren shakes his head at the memory, eyeing the first ring that sits against your chest.
He smiles. âI do.â
The afternoon after your last exam, you bid the remainder of your friends goodbye, grab your bags, and hop on a plane with Eren. It arrives in Paris, but youâre rerouted off to Nice before you can so much as blink at the Eiffel tower; youâd be staying there for the two and half weeks leading up to the wedding, in a small villa.
You had to hand it to him, Eren really outdid himself. Itâs dark and nearing three in the morning when you arrive, but even in your sleepy stupor you can admire your accommodations. The villa is secluded, the perfect distance from the water, and decorated lavishly almost to your exact liking. You wouldnât be surprised if Eren sprung it on you that heâd bought the place, and wasnât merely renting it for this vacation.
Every day after that, Eren proves he was honest in his intentions of this being a getaway gift to you. Heâs planned every activity under the sunâfrom hot air balloon rides, to helicopter tours, to jet-skiing. The days are certainly fun and filled with beautiful memories, but thereâs something special about Nice at sunset; something about the sound of gentle waves brushing up against the beach, and the spotlights carved from sun-cast shadows on the buildings.
Itâs just after dinner time, bordering on your eighth night here, when you and Eren are walking along the cobblestone streets that border the beach, the length of your sundress flowing every which way with the breeze, and the tail of Erenâs blazer flailing like a cape behind him.
He looks nice tonight, but, truthfully, he always does. He claimed he hadnât put on the casual green suit because of your outfit, but you swear he was wearing khakis before he saw your dress. The tips of his ears go red when you tease him about it at dinner, but it doesnât really matter to you; he would have looked good, regardless. Those suits are made for him, after all; tailored to fit perfectly, and designed by his own mother.
The streets tend to settle down after six, locals and tourists retreating indoors or heading to the beach to relax and draw in the evening. Tonight, however, thereâs much more commotion than usual on your route.
âMaybe we should take the long way,â you suggest. On the tips of your toes, you realize that thereâs some kind of special event happening in the square, filled with lights and music that grows louder with every step you take.
But the crowd and the lights and the smell of food only piques Erenâs interest. âNo wayâletâs check it out!â
You donât have the time to refute before his long legs surpass your own stride, headfirst into the sea of people. You can only follow with a smile and a shake of your head. The soft green of his suit jacket serves as your guide as he navigates through the crowd, but the closer you get to the center, the more people there are.
You can feel palms of your hands growing uncomfortably warm as you become hyperaware of just how many people there are. You clutch the end of your dress in your hand, for both practicality and as a sort of comfort mechanism, as you try your best to calm the anxious wave threatening to crash against you.
With a deep breath, you begin to walk again, unaware of Erenâs actions until you physically walk into his hand, long fingers poking at your belly. You hadnât realized he stopped walking, or that youâd caught up with him, and your eyebrows crinkle when you look down to see Erenâs left hand extended behind him and towards you, palm facing upwards.
He doesnât say anything, or look back at you at all. Only wraps his larger fingers around yours when he feels the weight of your hand in his, and continues to guide you through the crowd, his pace slower, and hand firm around yours.
The mass of people becomes more spread out when you approach what appears to be the center of the event; and it looks like a party, maybe a wedding of some sort. Thereâs food and champagne galore, and more than enough happy guests dancing along to upbeat music in the streets.
Erenâs eyes light up as he takes in the scene, âYou wanna dance?â
âWhatâEren, no!â you refuse, âWe cannot crash these peopleâs party!â
âWhy not?â he counters, without a care in the world, âSeems like an open invitation to me! Come on!â
And for the second time that evening, you find yourself being pulled into his schemes; this time in the direction of the open space dubbed dance floor.
Youâre both terrible and ostentatious and people start to watch, but it doesnât matter because youâre smiling too wide and laughing too hard to care. Eren has a way of moving both with and against the music, forcing your body to follow his lead.
He shouts something over the noise, but you donât have time to register his words before he laces your right hand with his left, and places his right hand on your waist. Thereâs a blink of confusion for a moment before youâre being swept off your feet and into a dramatic dip. You donât have time to secure yourself against his shoulders, but Eren does a fine job of supporting you with a single arm against your back.
From what you can tell the song is far from over and the dramatic pose is completely unwarranted, but you and the crowd alike are victim to his charm. You indulge yourself, looking up at him with eyes too fond to memorize every feature of his face in this moment; the way heâs laughing with that big, dumb, wide smile of his that makes his nose crinkle and his eyes light up.
Youâre too busy looking at him to hear Erenâs voice calling out to you, or even realize that heâs moved you from your pose to standing back upright. Heâs equal parts amused and concerned at the glazed over look in your eyes.
âHello? Anybody home up there?â he teases, elongating the vowels and squeezing your waist to alert you.
The reminder of his hands on your hips pulls you back to reality, your eyes fluttering down to his arms, then back to his face. It feels stuffy suddenly, too close to function.
âYeaâyeah! Do you wanna get a drink? Yeah, letâs get a drink!â you exclaim, haphazardly pointing and walking towards the food.
You donât see it, but Eren looks on with glittering eyes, his verbal agreement heard only by himself as you veer towards the buffet. He can still feel your body in his grip, still see the specks of gold in your pupils as he lingers on the back of your silhouette lovingly. And before you can realize, he snaps himself out of itâan out of body experience similar to yours a few moments agoâbefore catching up with you.
You end up socializing for much longer than intended. Eren makes friends with everyone, to no surprise, and, uncharacteristically, you feel influenced by his actions, and converse with a few people yourself. You let him take the lead, though. Partially because heâs better at it, and partially because you just like listening to him speak French.
âHey, we should probably get out of here,â he whispers into your ear after waving goodbye to a lovely couple youâd just met, âBefore the host of this party realizes weâre miles better than his actual guests.â
You nod with a smile, more than happy to play by his rules for the evening. He offers you his hand again, that same, dopey smile on his face when you take it.
He leads you out of the crowd and back on to the path to your villa, the smell of warm food and sounds of vibrant music growing dull as you venture further from the celebration. Itâs much darker than it was when you began your trek back from the restaurant, but beautiful all the same.
Your sandals pad against the wooden dock that leads up the villa, and Eren unlocks the door silently, ushering you inside before entering behind you.
âI know I said I wanted to leave, but Iâm not really tired yet,â Eren confesses, pulling his blazer off of his shoulders.
âMe neither,â you say, placing your small wristlet on the table with a shrug, âWhat do you wanna do though, Iâm notââ
âGreat!â he cuts you off, smile too big. You narrow your own in suspicion. That tone of voice with that look on his face usually meant something mischievous, at best. âRemember when you said the first time youâd smoke would be with me, and then pranced away and took a bowl from Hange and got high as shit at Moblitâs party?â
âWhy does everyone remember Moblitâs party but me!â
âDonât worry about it,â he chuckles, waving the topic away, âAnyway⊠Do you wanna smoke now?â
You blink. âI⊠did you⊠smuggle weed all the way to France?â
âNo, of course not!â he refutes, ââŠI got it here.â
You scoff, but donât have the time to question him further before Erenâs tugging on your wrist and pulling you into the bedroom. You take to sitting on your bed while he rummages through his suitcase to retrieve a small, clear jar with several rolled joints inside and a lighter to match.
He shuffles next to you in the bed, mindlessly handing you the lighter while he unscrews the top off the jar. He takes out two of the joints, places one next to the jar on the nightstand, and tucks the other between his teeth. He asks you to hand him the lighter, and you do so wordlessly, distracted by the sight of Erenâs gaze and the blunt poking out his mouth.
âThisâll be fun, yeah?â He reassures you, âTechnically, you let Hange take your weed virginity, but Iâll be better.â
âCan you not phrase it like that,â you roll your eyes, âYou already took my virginity virginity, donât be bitter.â
An all too smug grin settles on his features as he recounts the fact. âBesides,â you tack on, âIâve never done it like this before. So, itâs still a first, kind of.â
Eren cups one hand around the joint, sparking the lighter with the other until it catches fire. He inhales, slow and deliberate, as if he were putting on a show, or a lesson, of sorts, taking the smoke into his lungs and out through his mouth.
Youâd gravely miscalculated how attractive Eren would look doing this. Sure, heâs hot, you knew that, but the pronunciation of his jawline when he exhales, and the confidence with which he drags on the blunt is a stark reminder to you. He takes a few more hits, just as slow and sensual as the first, and the room begins to feel warmer.
âCome closer,â be beckons, smoke rolling off of his tongue with every syllable.
You snap yourself out of the haze of your imagination and scoot closer to him. He silently hands you the joint, and it feels heavy between your fingers. At the distance, you take in the smellâpungent and off-putting, but too familiar.
Eventually, you bring it to your lips, careful not to let your tongue press against the tip, and inhale slowly, like youâd seen Eren do before. You do your best to hold the smoke in your lungs for a bit, but seeing as the last time you did this you were amped up on adrenaline and drunk off your ass, the task proves to be much more difficult. It tickles before becoming uncomfortable and you exhale ungracefully, puffs of smoke punctuating your coughs.
Eren watches with a grin, amused at the sight of you fanning the excess smoke away with your nose scrunched in distaste. âYou should have warned me you were gonna cough like a bitch.â
âOh, fuck off,â you whine, trying to hide the hint of a smile creeping onto your face. You hand the blunt back to him, âYouâre supposed to teach me, not tease me, asshole.â
Eren pauses his laughter, unsure of what to make of your tone; rushed, a bit embarrassed, but testy. Itâs quiet while he stares at you, trying not to let the implication of your words run wild in his mind; but itâs futile when youâre pouting like that, the room is growing foggier, and heâs been semi-hard since you accepted his offer.
âFine. Watch and learn,â he breathes, words coming out more jagged than heâd intended.
This time, he completely exaggerates every motion; he inhales at a tantalizing pace and flutters his eyes closed while he lets the smoke swish in his mouth, down his throat, and expand into his lungs. He cranes his neck upwards, and purses his lips to let the clouds exit in the streamline that follows the slope of his jaw.
Maybe itâs the drugs getting to you, but your mind is filled with nothing but sheer clouds that arenât thick enough to block out thoughts of Eren. The weed is unattractive, potent in smell, and all kinds of wrong; yet, everything about him is soft, sultry, and pulls you in.
âWanna try again, or do you need another lesson?â
You faintly mutter a profanity under your breath. His words end with giggles, a sign the drugs have already begun to take their effect on him, his expression is still smug. You forget Eren knows just how attractive he is. Motherfucker.
âActually,â he cuts your train of thought, âI have a better idea, come âere.â
Eren beckons you forward again, closing the gap between your legs so that your knees graze each other under the fabric of your clothing while youâre sat next to each other. He leans over, far too close into your personal space, as if to test something; he freezes when his nose is mere inches from your face, a dissatisfied scrunch taking over his features.
He reinstates his hold on your wrist, motioning your body backwards until your back is against the frame of the bed. He hums in approval, positioning himself next to you again, equally as close, but far more comfortable for what he has planned next.
âIâmâIâm gonna try somethinâ, okay?â he stutters, the first word mistakenly coming out in broken German, âJust, donât freak out on me. Itâll be good, promise.â
You nod, unsure of what youâve just signed off on, but you donât have time to ask questions. Eren takes another hit, then passes the blunt to his non-dominant hand. He turns to face you, leans forward, and places his free hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer; the expanse of his palm leaving room for his thumb to venture over the bottom half of your cheek.
Eren pulls you in until your lips are millimeters apart, and he can see the pattern of your eyes in beautiful detail. He shifts his hand now so that the majority of it covers your face, the pad of his thumb running across your bottom lip. He applies the perfect amount of pressure to pry your willing mouth open, and then, finally, exhales.
This time, you can taste it. Itâs woodsy, and bitter, but the sweet undertones dance on your tongue. This time, thereâs more to think about than just the smoke in your lungs; like the burn of Erenâs hand on your neck; the pressure of his thumb against your bottom lip; the proximity of his lips to yours; the look in his eyes.
âFeel good?â he doesnât bother to pull away before asking, and the words ghost over your lips with the remaining smoke. You nod; he smiles. âWanna try again?â
You let out a breathy note of affirmation, and then heâs inhaling and exhaling into you, and you welcome him with pried lips and a heavy thumping in your chest. The confidence with which he maneuvers his body and the drugs is nerve-wracking, yet comforting at the same time; he has an expertise and power that intimidates, but compels you to follow.
Together, you finish the first blunt, and Eren lights the second without missing a beat. His hands are more demanding this around; they guide you into submission, and heâs pleased to find that youâre willing to listen.
After the third exhale, you stop focusing on his hands, and more on his lips. After the fourth, you think you might be highânot to the stars as you infamously were during Moblitâs partyâbut with a comfortable, dull buzz in your head. Everything feels a little fuzzy, out of touch, but you host a burning want for something more, something tangible.
You donât know it, but Eren feels the same.
After the fifth exhale, Eren pulls away, the blunt a simple stub as he flicks it away onto the night stand, and you miss him being too close. You miss his hands, you miss his warmth, you crave his touch.
âEren,â you call, unable to think of or see anything but him in the haze. He answers with a strained, âYeah?â keening towards the sound of your voice, wide eyes flitting all over your face.
Itâs too much, too close, too hot. Thatâs when you cup his jaw, pull him forward, and meld your lips together.
Kissing Eren is painfully familiar, and unnervingly satisfying. Itâs certainly not your first kiss with him; and, yet he has a way of making you feel like it is while reminding you of your history. His lips are soft, and they taste like smoke and the chapstick you swear by because he refuses to buy or test out his own.
You pull away too soon, gauging his reaction with blown-out eyes, before dipping forward to have him against you again. Then again, and again, and again, until Eren is tired of your leaving, and his hands are back on your neck.
This kiss is deeper, Eren searching to satisfy the hunger aching inside of him, and youâre happy to comply when his thumb is pressing at your lower lip again. You open your mouth for him and he doesnât waste a moment, brushing his tongue against yours experimentally, and then flush into your mouth.
He groans when you rake your fingers into his hair, and pulls back with a hissing noise when you scratch at his nape. Large hands move to grip at your waist, and he pulls you into his lap with a concentrated gazeâa brief second for him to admire the sight of you on top of him, before he resumes kissing you. He sucks on your tongue, rolls his past your teeth, and bites on your bottom lip.
You know he relishes in the sounds he elicits from you, and under any normal circumstance, youâre willing to put up a fight with him, but not now. Now, you let him unzip the back of your dress and snake his hands beneath the fabric. The rubbing motions of his hands turn into gripping, gripping into grinding, and eventually, an unfiltered moan slips past your lips when you feel Erenâs erection roll against you.
âFuck,â he pulls back with a suck of your swollen lip, âYouâre so hot.â
Eren quickly switches your positions so that heâs hovering over you. You chuckle lightly underneath him, taking the opportunity to run both your hands through his hair and cradle his head in your hold, âHavenât done anything yet.â
âI know,â Eren murmurs, dipping his head down to press kisses into your neck, âStill so sexy. So pretty, always.â
Eren bites a hickey into your collar bone, and everywhere he can touch; your neck, your ears, your cheeks, your lips. Your moaning serves as the spark to keep him going, but heâs barely coherent himself the way you keep pulling at his hair and grinding yourself against him. Even through his clothes, you can feel how painfully hard he is.
He barely catches your tongue between his lips when you moan again, sucking harshly before bruising his lips over yours again. His hands are grabby again, finally pulling your dress completely off of your body, leaving it to form a puddle on the ground. Theyâre back on your as soon as possible, massaging over your tits, and running his index finger over your nipples.
âEren... Eren, please,â you whimper, chest heaving as you look down at him. He rolls his index finger over your right nipple, with his left hand teasing the other with his thumb. You canât tell if the look in his eyes is a product of the weed, or just his glassy, borderline predatory stare, but it makes you shiver with pleasure when he wraps his mouth around your nipple and sucks.
âI want you.â
âWant you, too,â Eren hums, pulling back with a thin trail of spit from your breast, before moving to give your left nipple the same treatment, âMore than you know.â
You keen to him when he teases his teeth against you, finally having had enough you force him off of you with a tug of his hair. âThen take off your clothes.â
Eren blinks, wide-eyed but glazed all the same. He chuckles lightly, a blush spreading over his cheeks as he nods. He sits back on his knees, pulling his shirt over his head, forgoing undoing the buttons, and pauses briefly with his hands over the zipper of his pants.
âPlease tell me youâre not that gone that you forgot how to undo your zipper,â you tease him, chest still heaving from his previous ministrations. Eren smiles, doe-eyed and hazy, and shakes his head.
âNo,â he reassures you, finally undoing his zipper and shimmying his pants off his legs, âWas trying to remember what underwear I was wearing. Didn't want it to be embarrassing.â
His honesty makes you laugh, and Eren pauses for a moment to soak it in. Even like this, even with him stumbling over the steps to undress himself, and you almost completely naked in front of him, he can make you smile. Thereâs something equally sexy and endearing about your giggles; a juxtaposition that makes him want to hug you or kiss you or something in between. And youâyou like the look in his eyes even through your giggling; the way he smiles back and blushes and tells you exactly what heâs thinking.
âItâs okay,â you tell him, âDonât think mine are particularly sexy either.â
Eren hums, shuffling back on to the bed so that heâs between your legs, and leans forward to kiss you again. He still canât seem to keep his hands off of you, his fingers immediately flying to your underwear and peeling them off your legs, pulling you closer despite the lack of space between your bodies.
âYeah, doesnât matter,â Eren echos, tossing the offending item to the side, before cupping your face in his hands, âIâd still wanna fuck you in your granny panties.â
âYou wanna fuck me?â you question, eyes sparkling and hopeful.
âYeah, I do,â Eren canât help but to smile again, happy and high and drunk on you, too, âWill you let me?â
Your feverish nodding is all it takes for Erenâs mind to go hazy again; clouded with you, you, you. You pull him into a kiss, arching your body into his, and running your hands down the sides of his back. He moans at the feeling, punishing you by nipping at your lower lip and pressing your stomach back to the mattress with his palm.
Your eyes meet his as Eren lines himself up with your cunt, teasing your folds with the head; but it doesnât take long before he finally pushes in, sheathing himself inside you completely without movement. He waits a minute, whether itâs to make you comfortable, or to gather his own bearings, youâre not sure; but when heâs ready, he flashes you a smile and waits for one in return, before he starts thrusting.
You know Erenâs not gentle; rough whether or not he intends to be by virtue of his size in comparison to you, but you seem to have forgotten just how capable he is of making you lose your senses. He has you gasping, grasping at him at him unintelligibly, feeling full with his cock inside of you.
Eren groans, borderline growls, when he feels you clench around him, when he sees you shaking beneath him. He could do this all; could watch you all day.
âSo pretty, the prettiest. Prettiest girl, my favorite girl,â Eren praises, eyes raking up and down your thrashing body, âMy favorite fucking girl.â
âYouâyou, too.â
âYeah? Iâm your favorite, too?â Eren coos, reaching out to guide your arms over your head, the force of his body pinning your hands down; you can hardly gasp before he lacess your fingers together, and gives you a reassuring squeeze.
âPromised you, didnât I? That Iâd be good to you, be on my best behavior,â Eren reminds you, leaning forward.
He eyes your necklaceâeyes glued to ring around itâbouncing with your body. He bends his head down to kiss it, bites at the skin near it; a possessive streak overcoming him as the diamonds shine against you. âI said Iâd treat you good, always. Meant it.â
He stutters, when you squeeze him back; fingers tightening around his hold, your pussy clenching around his cock. Your whining is insistent, and mixes with Erenâs low moans and guttural noises. Eren doesnât let up his pace, fucking you fast and deep, and itâs only a matter of time before you feel a knot twisting in your belly.
You attempt to move your arms, searching for a release of the feeling building up inside of you but Eren is strong; stronger than you, and he keeps you in your place. Keeps your arms pinned above you, keeps his palms pressed into yours, keeps his lips hovering above yours, just out of reach.
âEren,â you call his name through shaky moans.
âYeah? What, baby?â
âKiss me.â
And so he does, his lips needy and hungry over yours. Eren fucks you and kisses you through your orgasm, tasting your moans on his tongue in timing with him cumming inside of you. You donât let up; kissing him lewdly while you both come down from your highs.
âSo good,â Eren croons against your lips, down your jaw, into your skin, âSo good for me.â
You both moan in chorus when he finally pulls out, Erenâs head laying on your collar, nose nuzzling into your neck. He lets your hands free, and immediately you wrap them around his back, holding him close as you both attempt to catch your breaths.
You donât know how long you lay there like that, with Eren on top of you, and your thumb rubbing circles into his cheek while he sleeps soundly. Maybe an hour, maybe more, maybe less; but the euphoria of your sex doesnât quiet seem to fade.
It might last all night, maybe even for the rest of your trip but you donât mind. You think back to earlier in the evening, when youâd caught his gaze after your dance. The feeling isnât all that different; warm, and fuzzy, and too much and not enough all at once. It feels good, it feels like Eren.
You hum softly to yourself, careful not to wake up the sleeping boy on your chest, when you realize exactly what these two moments have in common: a rare event in which Eren is still in front of you, steady and stagnant, no running or chasing; and you donât want to let him go.
Sometimes Eren thinks you act oblivious on purpose just to fuck with him, because thereâs absolutely no way youâor any human with a functioning nervous system and social cuesâcanât tell that heâs completely, stupidly, and embarrassingly in love with you.
Long gone are his days of trying to deny it or get over it. He realized that sophomore year of high schoolâalmost eight years agoâthat no matter where he went, what kind of drug he inhaled, or how hard he tried, youâd be permanently etched into his heart. That doesnât make it any less exhausting, and, in fact, only makes it more astounding that you havenât caught on yet. Honestly, Erenâs considered hiring a private psychiatrist just to make nothingâs wrong with you.
Amazingly, the remainder of your vacation continues just like the former half. The only exception being that now youâre in Paris. And that heâs shamelessly coerced you into letting him fuck your brains out on several occasions. But besides that, everythingâs chill.
Just two best friends traveling through France together and stopping to fuck in any semi-private location they can find. Just two peas in a pod walking along the Champs Elysées at damn near midnight. Just two best buds with linked arms tasting (see: feeding each other) every macaron flavor they come across while violinists play stupidly romantic, classical music in the background.
He knows he should probably talk to you about it, but for some reason he canât. Like telling you would make it all too real, and give it a meaning that could so easily be taken away from him; give you a reason to want to leave him. Right now, itâs just a fantasy, and heâs free to keep dreaming, believing that heâs special and worth enough for the affection youâve shown him.
He doesnât want to be one in a list of your boyfriends, or fiances, or husbands; he wants to be your only one, and if he canât be, then heâd rather be stuck to your side as your best friend. At least that way, in someway, he could remain special to you; not a forgotten, ordinary ex of your past.
Though, a best friend who heâs sleeping with regularly and heâs in love with and will always be in love with is starting to sound a lot like a husband to him. At least, the kind of husband he would like to be to you.
You call his name, asking him if he wants to try another sweet. Eren rolls his eyes. What he wants is to fuck you, and marry you, and have you bless his stupid little existence with two runts for kids that look like him but act like you so his life savings donât run out by the time theyâre twelve. But sure, heâll settle for having you feed him another macaron in the meantime.
âThis one tastes just like the coconut one,â he mumbles, chewing his way through the pastry youâd stuffed into his mouth whole.
Itâs the seventh bakery youâve stopped at tonight, and even though Erenâs growing pretty sick of the sugary treats, heâll walk with you to every damn bakery in Paris tonight if thatâs what you want.
He blinks at the thought. Heâs so lovesick itâs disgusting. And he wouldnât do a damn thing to change it.
âThatâs probably because itâs almond and coconut flavored,â you say, wiping the stickiness from your fingers onto a napkin.
âI didnât taste any almonds.â
âI donât even think you could spell almond, much less tell me what they taste like.â
Eren simply pouts in refute, leaving you giggling at his expression. He doesnât know if itâs possible, but you seem even prettier in Paris than in Nice. But, thatâs probably his rose-colored glasses speaking.
âYou think thereâll be macarons at the reception?â you question, biting into yet another pistachio flavored treat, âAnd if not, would it be rude to bring my own?â
He chuckles. âYes, babe, Iâm sure there will be macarons there.â
Heâs always loved Paris, even when his mom moved away here and left him in New York, and heâd always loved it more when youâre with him. He feared that having to attend another, what he considered to be wasteful, wedding in arguably one of his favorite places in the world would leave a bitter taste in his mouth; but, thankfully, heâs only fallen deeper in love since being here.
âYou sure you wonât be sick of them by tomorrow?â he asks, watching you debate between taste testing another variation of vanilla bean or rosĂ©.
âHow could I get sick of them?â you answer offhandedly, not sparing him a glance away as you choose the pink snack. How could he get sick of you.
âBy the time we get back to New York youâll have forgotten all about them,â he scoffs.
âDonât worry Iâll quit it soon. Iâll have to eat something solid if I wanna take my meds and go to bed,â you spew with a smile, unaware of what youâve actually just said, âBut they are delicious and I have no regrets.â
Eren pauses. Then so do you, mouth stuffed with sickly sweet.
âI meanââ
âI know, you know,â he cuts you off, âAbout the meds and stuff.â
You look like you could pass out, or scream, or cry, or everything in between. Eren figures saying more is better than saying less, so he continues.
âI saw a bottle in the bathroom a few months ago,â he admits shyly, but careful about his tone, âDidnât understand half the words on the label, but it had your name on it so I just, uh⊠Googled it.â
Of course he knows. Erenâs always kind of known, just never had the words to express it. He imagines thatâs what youâre feeling right now.
âOh,â you finally gape, âWhy didnât you, um⊠you know, like, say⊠anything?â
âIt seemed like your secret to tell,â Eren shrugs, features softening out, âBesides, I figured youâd tell me when you wanted to.â
Erenâs always been better at showing than saying, anyway. He hopes that his actions, small as they may seem, might have provided you with any sort of comfort in the past few months. Maybe even before that, too.
âOh,â you repeat, continually blinking at him, âThatâs⊠thatâs it? Youâre cool with it?â
Now itâs Erenâs turn to blink. âWhat do you mean am I cool with it? Theyâre your meds.â
âYeah, but like⊠youâre not mad I didnât tellââ
âOf course Iâm not mad,â he cuts you off with a soft smile, âItâs not really my business. I mean, like, youâre my business because I care about you, but you have your own private stuff, too, which is cool. Besides, when I was, uh, researching it, I learned that it can be hard to tell people stuff like that even ifââ
Eren shuts up when he feels your weight against him and your arms wrapped around him. Shell shocked, he takes a moment to hug you back, and slowly comes to rest his chin atop your head after leaving a flurry of kisses.
âYou didnât have to look it up or do any kind of research, you know,â you mumble softly into his jacket. Eren borderline chortles, but only hugs you more tightly.
âOf course I did. If not for you, then for myself, because I meant it when I said Iâd never seen half the words on the prescription before in my life,â he replies, heart glowing at the sound of your small chuckles.
Heâs expecting an equally witty response, but you surprise him when you pull back just enough to face him, a hazy smile on your face. âYouâre amazing, Eren.â
Donât blush, fool. Donât blush, fool. Donât blushâfucking idiot.
âYeah, Iâm pretty great,â he boasts, leaning back into the coolest pose he could muster up while ignoring the growing heat creeping up his neck. Itâs all in vain as you reach over to playfully tug at one of his ears.
He thinks youâre pretty like this. All the time, but most notably when he has you in his arms. So pretty, that he has to lean forward to kiss you; you donât seem to mind, if the way you smile into the kiss is any indication of your feelings. Eren finds himself mirroring your grin; moving his arms from around your waist to the sides of your face.
The workers in this poor little cafĂ© probably hate the two of you, but he doesnât fucking care. Heâs got his favorite girl in his arms right now, and you taste like almonds and coconuts and like the love of his life.
And he should tell you. Eren wants to tell you, and he finds himself wondering if those same intrusive, fearful thoughts were part of the driving force behind your own reason to keep your secrets from him.
You pull away from him, hands lightly draped around his neck, and you smile like youâre shyâlike he hasnât known you your whole life. Still, Eren finds himself smiling back; and thinks that if you were brave enough to tell him how you were feeling, then he should do the same.
â(_____), I⊠I gotta tell you something,â he starts, voice soft as his fingers curl around your waist a little more tightly, âThough, Iâm kind of hoping you already know.â
You blink at him, almost innocently. Eren bites the inside of his jaw; youâre going to have to stop doing that before he jumps you again.
Better now than never, he supposes. He tries to shake his nerves when he takes your hands in his, completely covering them with his palms, and closes his eyes. Despite that, you try to offer him comfort, squeezing his fingers as best you can; and Eren takes that moment to thank his lucky stars for whoever decided to put you in his life. Because he knows that no matter what, even if he royally fucks this up, youâll find some way to be there for him.
He slowly blinks his eyes open again, gaze resting on the ring around your neck. A faded chuckle escapes his lips when looks at it. The only one who got the wrong idea about his gift was you. But, he supposes thatâs his fault; he never did explain it, after all.
âItâs nothing⊠Itâs just that, Iâm inââ
But Erenâs startled by a voice that makes him freeze. He almost wants to believe he misheard it, but he can hear the telltale clacking of vintage heels on the floor of the bakery and he knows that he didnât mishear a thing.
Eren turns his head, and sure enough, there is his mother, in all her five foot glory, adorned in designer clothing from her beret to her shoes. With a fucking street urchin on her arm.
âWell, well, well, what a lovely surprise,â Carla beams, red lipstick perfectly in place even after a long day of wear.
Erenâs eyebrows draw together, as he takes in his mother and her fiancĂ© standing in front of him. He can just barely register you calling out towards her, carefully maneuvering yourself off of his lap, and into the neighboring chair; but still keeping your right hand wrapped around his left. He can feel you squeeze itâwhether to give him comfort, or warning, heâs not sure yet; probably both.
âItâs so good to see you!â you beam, excitedly offering her and Mitchell a seat across from the two of you at the table. Eren opens his mouth to refute, but you squeeze his hand again; a warning.
Carla leans forward to encase you in a hug, exchanging cheek kisses, and leaving Eren to stare at the street rat across from him. Mitchell seems to know better than to make eye contact with him, irises scattering from Carlaâs back to the dĂ©cor of the bakery while the two girls catch up.
âWe missed you at the rehearsal dinner on Sunday,â Carla recounts, eyes fluttering to Erenâs briefly. One look into her sonâs eyes, and she understands why; one look into his motherâs eyes, and Eren knows she has him all figured out. âI was worried you might not show at all.â
Eren strategically averts your gaze when you turn your head towards him, choosing to look at his mother instead.
âI didnât even know there was a rehearsal dinner,â you tell her, tone polite, but Eren can hear the clear jab directed towards him, âIâm sorry, Iâwe would have gone, otherwise.â
âNo need to apologize, darling,â Carla smiles, âIâm sure you two were very busy.â
âWe were,â Eren cuts in, words definite. He sees a hint of surprise flash in his motherâs eyes briefly, expertly covered up with her sweet demeanor. She only nods in understanding, sitting back a bit to wrap her arm around Mitchellâs.
âWhat are you even doing here, Ma?â Eren questions, even as you do the same with his hands under the table, âIsnât it bad luck to see the groom before the wedding.â
âAfter the third or fourth wedding, you grow tired of pleasantries and superstitions, my love,â she replies, âThis place makes Mitchellâs favorite macarons, we thought weâd share a few before the big day. Maybe get some tea as a pre-celebration.â
The topic of sweets has you speaking up once again, engaging both his mother and Mitchell in a discussion about them, and your other findings from bakery hopping earlier. If Eren didnât love you to pieces, he would have left the table a long time ago.
It carries on much longer than he can bear to endure; almost an hour of you, and his mother, and Mitchell making pleasant conversation while he tries his best not to brood beside you, but itâs futile. He feels like a little kid again. Stuck at the dinner table with his mother and a man he was being forced to get to know, only for him to become a stranger to him in a matter of months.
Eren grinds his teeth into each other when you laugh at something Mitchell says. Heâs not going to sit through his any longer; or ever again.
âWell, this has been fun,â Eren says, voice blatantly monotonous as his cuts through the conversation, âBut we should all probably head back go to bed. Big day tomorrow.â
âEren, we shouldââ but, he stands up quickly, hand wrapping around yours to force you upwards too.
He doesnât care to look at you, knowing the dissatisfied expression heâll be met with. He fishes for his wallet and pulls out too many Euros, neatly tucking them under an unused knife to pay for the meal.
Erenâs steps out from between his chair and the table. âWeâll see you guys tomorrââ But is stopped before he can take three steps away.
His motherâs hand wrapped around his wrist. She stands, significantly shorter than Erenâs full height. âActually, Eren, could I borrow you for a bit?â
And he doesnât want to, because he knows exactly the conversation waiting for him. But he looks down at her, lets his eyes flicker to you, and back to her, and he knows he doesnât have the heart to walk away. Not even if he tried.
He sighs with a shallow nod. He can feel your hand on his shoulder, the proud smile on your lips when you tell him that youâll meet him back at your hotel. Mitchell ensures him and Carla that heâll make sure you get back safely, and Eren still canât stand the guy, but heâs grateful that he can at least be of use for something.
Eren kisses you on the forehead briefly, a promise to you and himself that heâll finish his confession later. After all, he probably should come to terms with the woman who taught him what love is before he vowed to love you for the rest of his life.
The walk to his motherâs hotel is silent, Eren choosing to keep to himself, hands stuffed in his pockets to prevent his mom from holding them. Heâs probably acting like a child, but isnât that what he is to her; isnât that she treats him as.
âLook, Ma, you donât need my approval to marry him,â Eren grumbles, when they finally exit the elevator into the hotel room, âIt doesnât matter to me.â
âOf course I donât,â Carla offers him a small grin, even if he wonât look at her directly, âBut it matters to me.â
âWhy does it matter now? It didnât matter with Keith, or Henry, or Henri with an I, or any of the others,â Eren mumbles, reluctantly taking a seat on the stool opposite the vanity.
His mother tracks his movements with soft eyes and an amused grin as Eren absentmindedly bends a knee and begins to fiddle with the hem of his pants. Just like he used to when he was upset as a child.
âIt mattered then, too, Eren,â she tells him, sitting on the stool and facing him.
Heâs surprised by her words, his wide eyes giving him away even if he attempts to act unfazed. âIt didnât seem like it.â
Carla opens her mouth to speak, but closes it, words stuck in her throat. She watches Erenâs hunched figure, her tall son not even bothering to look her in the eyes. She exhales slowly; if he were five feet smaller, heâd have tucked himself under her arm, still refusing to look at her, but heâd have snuggled his head into her side while he pouted anyway.
âI suppose it didnât,â she admits, âIn the end, the love wasnât enough to make it last, then.â
Eren is quiet for a bit at that, pulling at his pants leg. âAnd⊠and you love him enough, now?â
âItâs more than love, Eren. Itâs... happinessâfor yourself and another personâitâs being okay with somebody knowing you now, and forever. Whichever version of you that is.â
âThen why did you marry them before?â Eren asks, âIf you knew it wasnât enough, if you knew it was just going to end up as another big mistake.â
âMaybe the marriages were a mistake, and some of what came with them, but I donât think the feelings were,â Carla muses, âLove is never wasted.â
âHow can you say that?â Eren questions, disbelief and exasperation painted on his face, âOf course it isâyou wasted your time, and your money, and yourâyour everything on those people who couldnât care less about you now!â
âErenââ
âYou let them into our house,â Eren speaks over her, âYou let them into your life, and they left. They always leftââ
âErenââ
ââAnd you even let some of them come back! Everyone, you let everyone have another chance, another anniversary, another wedding,â Heâs ranting, crying, hot, irrational tears streaming down his face; hiccups interrupting his speech, âSoâso, so if itâs not wasted and everyone gets another chance and another chance and another chanceâwhy didnât he come back, huh? For his?â
Erenâs standing now, arms flailing every which way during his breakdown, but his mother doesnât try to stop him. She lets him continue, hears him out.
âIf itâs loveâif itâs not wasted, and itâs realâthen why didnât he come back? Why didnât he want to? Whyâwhy didnât he want me? Why did I end up the bastard?â
Eren looks his mother in the eyes for the first time in the duration of their conversation with that final question; with his vision blurry, and chest heaving, and cheeks wet. Carla has no words to say; can only carefully open her arms, and wait for her son to come crashing into them. And he does; and it rains and pours, and Eren holds onto his mother for dear life, and onto the pieces of her breaking heart.
âAm I not good enough to have that kind of love?â Eren asks through tears, âAm I not special enough to want to know?â
âEren,â she finally speaks, moving to cradle his head in her hands, âYou donât have to be special or good, to be known or loved. Itâs enough that you were born. Thatâs enough to make you deserving of love.â
She doesnât mind the tears against her palms or the hiccups of Erenâs breathing, âAnd you already have it.â
And Eren looks at her with eyes wide and wild like a child, staring at the first person to have ever loved someone as messed up, and plain, and ordinary as him; and he can feel more tears bubbling at his eyes.
âMa, IâmâIâm so sorry,â he chokes out, wrapping his arms around her even tighter, chin resting on her shoulder while his shake through his tears, âIâm so fucking sorry.â
Carla hugs her son as close as she can, like heâs five years old and the apple of her eye and she can take all his pain away. âYou donât have to be. Youâre my son, and Iâll love you always.â
It feels like they have all the time in the world like that, to hug and cry and apologize; but Carla hopes Eren knows that he was always forgiven; that he never had anything to apologize for in the first place.
âShe loves you, too, baby,â she coos, holding Eren as tight as possible, âBut you have to let her know that. That you accept it.â
âDo you think she knows?â Eren asks, words muffled into the fabric of her clothing, âThat I love her, too?â
âI do,â Carla confirms, pulling away to look at Eren in the eyes; his beautiful, shining, green eyes, âBut I donât think that either of you really realized it. I mean, you did give her an engagement ring, darling.â
Eren huffs at the memory, âShe thought it was a gift.â
âBecause you gave it to her as a gift.â
âI thought it was pretty obvious.â
âLove has a way of making people blind,â Carla muses, âEspecially two lovesick semi-adults with too much money on their hands.â
Erenâs cheeks grow pink at the accusation, âItâs your money!â
âYes, and Iâm very happy to have it,â Carla chuckles, motioning for Eren to stand up. He does, and she looks up at him with glimmering, proud eyes. âNow, go, shoo. You have a girl to propose to, donât you? There might be two Jaeger weddings this weekend.â
Eren nods, certain of himself for the first time in a while. He turns on his heel with a vigor igniting his footsteps, but pauses when he reaches the elevator. He makes a sharp turn, running back to his mom one last time, and squeezing her suddenly, and tightly against him.
âI love you, mom,â he says; the words too foreign on his tongue, and he vows to not let them be a stranger to his vocabulary from here on out.
âI love, you, too, Eren,â Carla calmly wraps her arms around her son one last time, âAnd I always will.â
You half-expected your walk back to your hotel with Mitchell to be painfully awkward, but he proves to be a pleasant conversationalist, even in Carlaâs absence.
You know that Eren isnât fond of him, but you wish that he would at least give him a chance. Thereâs no way to know if a marriageâif any relationshipâwill last forever, but, sometimes, you think itâs not about knowing about forever; but, rather about wanting it to make it there; about willing to go the distance with that person.
You can see that want, that willingness that works alongside love in Mitchell and Carlaâs relationship, that stands out from her past marriages. You get the feeling theyâre going to last; and that, most importantly, they both want it to, too.
Itâs quiet out as you both walk the streets of Paris, Mitchell taking the time to point out small notes in architecture that interest you. You readjust your jacket as a gust of wind washes over you, careful to make sure your necklace doesnât snag against your clothing.
âThatâs a beautiful ring,â he calls to you gently.
âThank you,â Surprised, you quickly let out an embarrassed cough, looking down to your left hand resting atop the uppermost button on your coat. âIt was a gift.â
âI meant that one,â Mitchell corrects, carefully gesturing to his own neck to indicate that he was talking about the ring on your necklace, and not the one on your finger.
âOh, thank you,â you repeat, âThat one was actually a gift, too.â
The older man hums, continuing your walk to your hotel. âMust have been one hell of a gift. I donât know many people who give out engagement rings as presents.â
âOh, no, no, no, it wasnâtâitâs not an engagement ring,â you tell him, feeling a warmth creep up your cheeks even in the chilly atmosphere of the night, âEren gave it to me, actually, a few years agoâit was a Christmas gift.â
âEren, huh?â Mitchell smiles fondly, âThat makes sense. Carla tells me how much he cares about you.â
âYouâshe does?â you stutter. Mitchell nods. âIâI mean, I care about him, too.â
âEnough to accept an engagement ring from him, it seems,â Mitchell taunts, âIâm no specialist, but I know a Harry Winston piece when I see it. Theyâre not cheap.â
âTrust me, I know,â you scoff, âI almost killed him when I saw how much he spent on it.â
âAnd you took it, anyway?â
âWell, heâhe was supposed to return it,â you defend yourself, âBecause I didnât want anyone to get the wrong idea! But he just, well, he gave me the other one instead, so I wear that one on my hand.â
Mitchell pauses, just as you both stand to the entrance of your hotel. âAnd what was the wrong idea you didnât want people getting.â
âThat... that...,â you pause, thinking back to that Christmas day.
Even though Eren is known for spending ludacris amounts of money, the ring came as a genuine surprise to you. A couple thousand on shoes, sureâyouâre victim to that yourself; a couple hundred thousand on a lavish vacation wasnât out of the ordinary, either; but a million, maybe even more, on a ring that you could have only ever asked of him in your dreams was another thing completely.
And, sure, even a few million didnât mean much to you or Eren at the end of the day, but it wasnât just the price; it was the object of the money, too. To accept a house, or a car, or a jet for that amount is something you could rationalize; but a ring seemed foreign, and far out of your league.
Then there was the display and value it held beyond money. Itâs beautiful, gorgeous, but more than that, itâs tailored to your exact liking. The synthesis of your aesthetic and everything you could ask for, garnished with the memory of Eren in the very design; the diamonds you love, the flowers that remind him of you, and the way they stems wrap around each other and the petals meet in the middle.
A small gasp leaves your lips and instinctively, you reach to clutch the ring in your hold. There was no way this was an engagement ring... Eren hadnât proposed to you when he gave it to youâin fact, he was so casual about it, that it had you stunned that he hadnât thought to consider that other people might think it meant something more than what he intended it to be.
But, looking back, it seems like youâre the only one who didnât understand what was going on. Because Eren told you, even then, that heâd wanted you forever; you didnât know how to hear him. It was all right thereânot just in the ring, but in all his gifts, in the entirety of your friendship.
Eren loves you, more than you could ever know.
âItâs an engagement ring,â you say aloud, but more to yourself than to Mitchell, âOh my god, itâs an engagement ring.â
Mitchell canât do anything but smile at your revelation. Youâre practically bouncing off the walls, connecting the puzzle pieces of your relationship in the middle of the street at damn near midnight, but you donât care; because it finally feels right, and it finally, finally all makes sense.
âHe, but he never proâoh my fucking god, Iâm going to kill him.â
You feel elated and confused and happy and murderous all at once. Eren wanted to marry you; Eren loved you. He wants you for the rest of his life, and youâve been too blind to see it this entire time.
Still, you think that maybe a verbal proposal might have helped to open your eyes a bit.
âMitchell, I have toââ
Youâre cut off by the echo of your name coming from the opposite end of the street, and you can just barely make out of Erenâs figure in the faded lights of the street lamps. His name falls from your lips like a whisper, and you hardly register Mitchellâs amused, soft laughter from beside you.
âI think thatâs my cue,â he says, patting you on the shoulder, âI better get back to Carla. Something tells me you two have a bit to talk about.â
You can barely nod at him, eye still wide and stunned, but a smile on your face even in your fearful anticipation. You donât have time to thank him before he turns away, bidding you goodnight; and then you have something else to focus on, as Erenâs footsteps grow louder, and his silhouette grows sharper the closer he gets to you.
He practically crashes into you, chest heaving, hair wind-swept and wild from his running. He puts his hands on your shoulders, to steady himself physically and mentally, labored breaths ghosting over the top of your head.
âHi,â he finally squeaks; and that stupid, big, dopey grin is on his face.
Itâs ridiculous, so utterly ridiculous that you canât help but greet him back. The two of you stand there, smiling like fools for god knows how long, before the realization strikes you for a second time.
Eren opens his mouth to finally speak, but a pained squeal leaves his lips instead as he feels the back of your hand slap his chest. âOuchâhey, what was that for!â
âWhat the hell do you think you were doing proposing to me without telling me?â you screech, packing another punch to his chest for good measure, but itâs a poor barrier and does nothing to stop your tears from falling, âYouâre an idiot, I should kill you for this, you know that, Eren Jaeger?â
Eren laughs softly, only to be heard by you in close proximity. He takes your offending hand in his, and reaches for your other, pulling both of them between your bodies. He can feel tears welling in his own eyes, as he looks down at the necklace, glimmering perfectly under the moonlight. Â
âIn my defense, the first thing you told me to do when I gave it to you was to return it.â
âI might not have said that if you told me what it meant,â you can hardly choke out a laugh through your tears; and Eren canât stop his from falling either, âItâs insane, you know. This whole thingâto ask me to marry you at 19. For me to not realize until weâre 21.â
âI know,â Eren agrees, inching closer even though thereâs barely any room between you, âI know. But I know I love you, every version of you. I always have, I always will.â
You close your eyes as Erenâs hands move to your face, gingerly sweeping your tears away from your cheeks. He feels too close, it feels like too much; but you donât want him to move.
âYou know... if you had asked me, then,â you start, blinking your eyes open with a sniffle; youâre met with Erenâs emerald greens one with far too much hope and love glimmering in them, âIâI donât even know what I would have said.â
âAnd if I asked you now?â
You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, slowly raising your hands to wrap around Erenâs wrist, and lower them to your neck, before looking at him again, âAsk me.â
Eren blinks, carefully trailing his hands up and around your neck, nimble fingers undoing the clasp of your necklace. He hardly lets the chain pool into his hand before itâs tossed aside, and the ring is still between his thumbs and index fingers as he lowers himself on to one knee.
âYou are the love of my life, and thereâs not a single version of lifeâa single version of you, or meâwhere I donât want to be with you forever,â Eren says, âAnd you know how shit I am with my words, but I fucking mean it. I swear to you, that Iâll do my best every day to show you how much you mean to me; marry me, and Iâll prove it to you, I swear, I will.â Â
Your lips are wobbling at Erenâs confession below you, and you can just barely beckon him upwards in your state. Heâs hardly back on two feet before youâre pulling him against you, ghosting the word âyesâ on his lips before you kiss him.
You both melt into the kiss, Erenâs hands skillfully cupping your cheeks, while he keeps the ring in his hold and bruises your lips together.
âYou donât have to prove it to me, Eren,â you assure him, hand shaking when you pull apart and let him slip the ring onto your fingerâwhere it belongs, âYou already have.â
For his first birthday as a married man, Eren requested something intimate. He wanted just a small celebration with all of your mutual friends, some good food, alcohol, and lots of fun.
Supposedly simple and intimate for him entailed renting out the top floor of the Whitney, which was currently encasing an exhibit portraying some kind of abstract modern art that allowed for a very drunk Eren and Armin have to entertain themselves by trying their best to recreate the paintings using very flawed couples aerial yoga.
The art, paired with the dimmed lighting, Jeanâs choice selection of overtly sexual music, and Erenâs pick of overpriced champagne also meant that Marco, Bertholdt, Connie, and Sasha found everything ten times funnier than they wereâwhich meant they were a million times louder than usual.
Jean stands next to you by the bar, watching as Eren attempts to hold Armin above his head by holding on to just his waist. Theyâre unsuccessful, of course, resulting in both boys toppling onto the ground as the majority of their older friends laugh along.
âLucky me, I get to take him home at the end of the night,â you drawl, turning to the bartender to order another drink.
She smiles, easily preparing your martini and sliding it you with an inquiry. âThatâs your boyfriend? The tall one with the brown hair?â
âNo,â you sigh, eyes closed for a moment before taking the glass between your fingers. âThatâs my husband, unfortunately.â
Ă even more notes: this fic. is my baby. itâs been a draft of mine for over two years at this point. itâs gone through various fandoms but iâve never quite been able to complete and post it, so iâm very happy that itâs finally here! i hope you all enjoyed, and i just wanted to say that iâm glad to finally have been able to share this with you all!
#attack on titan#aot x reader#snk x reader#eren x reader#aot imagines#snk imagines#eren smut#eren fluff#levi x reader#I DONT WANNA TALK ABOUT IT
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Currently thinking about going to the store with mad love Michael and running into an ex, one that wasnât particularly good to reader, and Michael going into protective husband mode đ„” got me feeling some type of way tbh
Running to the store with you is something that Michael is still pretty new with. Considering the last time that Michael was at a grocery store without you, he killed a butcher, you see where his hesitancy towards going to a store came from. Still, he's gone with you a couple of times now, making it through incident-free.
That streak might end today.
It's just a quick trip to the store, your pantry missing a couple of necessities and you not wanting to bother the staff by making them go out of their way to pick up such a small order. Michael wanted to come with you (mainly because then he gets to pick out what ice cream you buy), and you were both enjoying loping up and down the aisles while talking and just being in each other's presence.
Your enjoyment of this grocery store trip ends when you turn into the frozen aisle and see him standing at the end of it. Michael feels you tense up next to him, and his eyes go to where you're looking. Quickly, you pull him out of the aisle and hope that you weren't seen. Your distress is obvious, and Michael tries not to jump to conclusions and burn the place down before hearing what you have to say.
"What's wrong?" he asks, his hands resting loosely at your waist. "Who was that?"
"Just...some guy that I dated freshman year." Michael knows that you're not telling the whole story, and he stares at you until you finally give in with a groan. "He wasn't the nicest to me while we dated."
Michael's eyes go black, and you can see his face flickering between the demon and him. "He hit you?"
"No! No, he didn't hit me." Michael's face goes back to normal, but you can still see his heavy breathing as he tries to control himself. "He was just mean, he would make fun of me a lot or purposely antagonize me and then ask why I was so upset. I don't know why I bothered to stick around with him for two months."
"I should kill him. I'm going to kill him, in fact."
Your hand jumps to his arm, gripping his sleeve to keep him from going anywhere. "Michael, don't. Let's just go before heâ"
"Hey Y/n! Thought I saw you."
Your heart stops. Not because you're scared of Joe, your ex-boyfriend who's currently standing before you. But because you're scared of what Michael's going to do to Joe now that he's standing before you.
You awkwardly laugh and push yourself out from in front of Michael, who refuses to let go of your hand. "Hey Joe. How's it been?"
"Good, good." He nods. "You?"
"I've been great." God, you're pretty sure you'd rather get shot than have to engage in small talk with anybody, let alone an old ex. "Thought you graduated already?"
"I did, I graduated last year! Got accepted to grad school here though, and the offer was just too good to pass up."
"Congrats man, that's awesome." Michael continues to seethe next to you, and you can tell it's working by the way Joe glances between the two of you.
"Thanks, I'm enjoying it so far. I'm sure that'll change by next semester though." Joe shoves his hands into his pockets before smiling at you. "You look great, by the way."
"Oh!" You're flustered by this, caught off guard at his sudden compliment. You're preparing to say thanks before mentioning that there's something you need to be doing (oil change? walk the cat?) when Michael puts on his most earth-shatteringly brilliant smile and looks at you.
"She does, doesn't she?" His smile falls easily to his stone-cold business demeanor as he sizes Joe up. It's moments like these where you can see just how easily Michael gets world leaders to tremble in their seats. "I'm Michael, by the way. Y/n's fiancé."
For his part, Joe has the decency to look pleasantly surprised instead of just bewildered. "Awesome! Congratulations, Y/n, nobody told me that you got engaged."
You want to say that yeah, nobody told him because he doesn't have any friends that deserve to even follow you on Instagram. Instead, you place your left hand on Michael's chest and nonchalantly show off your ring. "We like that it's not a well-known fact, it feels more intimate that way."
"I totally get that."
Michael looks back to you, kissing your cheek to gain your attention. "We should be going now, love. I have a virtual meeting with Washington in an hour." He looks at Joe as if to say 'what can you do?' and Joe smiles like he's in pain.
"Shit, that's right, I totally forgot." You didn't forget, because Michael has no such meeting today (it's tomorrow). "Well, it was good to see you."
"Yeah, great seeing you too!" Joe grabs his cart again and begins to push it back and forth.
Michael smirks, nodding at Joe. "Nice meeting you, Jake."
"It's, uh, Joe."
"That's what I said." With one last grin thrown his way by Michael's and a wave goodbye by you, Michael pulls you down the aisle with his hand in your back pocket, acting like nothing out of the ordinary happened.
Neither of you mention what just occurred while you're hurriedly grabbing the last items you need. You don't mention it in the self-checkout line, nor in the parking lot. It's not talked about when you ride the cart back to the cart corral, or when Michael opens the car door for you. You almost think it's not going to be brought up by Michael, until he closes his door and laughs loudly.
"Really?" Michael asks. "That guy?"
Your cheeks heat up and you shrug, finding your hands to be very interesting to look at. "It was freshman year, okay? I was lonely and in a new place and he was the first guy to ever really show any interest in me."
"I'm the only guy showing interest in you that matters." He says it almost defensively, like he's trying to convince you of this.
You take his face in your hands and kiss him. "Yes, and that's how it'll be for the rest of our lives. You played the role of possessive boyfriend very well, by the way."
Michael scoffs. "'Played?'"
The rest of the day goes without any mention of your awkward encounter in the grocery store. You do keep an eye on obituaries and social media a bit closer for the next week, though. Just in case Michael actually decided to make good on his promise to kill your ex.
#mad love musings#michael langdon#michael langdon imagine#michael langdon x reader#ahs imagine#american horror story#american horror story imagine#michael langdon imagines#ahs#it felt good to write for my love again
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it takes two | one shot (myg)
summary: min yoongi was the one who came to understand you and took you for you. but, when boundaries start getting crossed and priorities begin to change, you start to question if your relationship with your bestfriend is strong enough to make it through.
pairing: athlete!reader x athlete!myg
genre: bestfriends to lovers au, basketball au | fluff, angst, smut
words: 12.3k
warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, protected AND unprotected sex (later on), slight breast play, oral (f. receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, missionary, riding/straddling, mentions of alcohol consumption, dancing, mention of marijuana, sex on the beach kinda?, some heavy angst, insecurities, crying, injuries (like a cut/ankle sprain), yoongi is just kind of an idiot at one point
note: heavily inspired by the movie love and basketball. unedited for the most part, pls excuse any spelling/grammar errors.
tags: @ggukkielandâ @miinoongiâ @bluesharksandfishâ @unicornbabyloverâ
âïž now playing: triggered - jhenĂ© aiko ; sorry enough - chris brown
First Quarter: 6th Grade
You didn't really have a lot of friends in elementary school. Any, actually. Hell, the girls in your class purposely ignored you because you acted different. Dressed different. Enjoyed the shit boys liked, like playing ball and video games. You couldn't relate to their gel pens, Lisa Frank folders, cute binder stickers and bracelet charms. None of that shit was you. But you didn't care, you were fine by yourself. Nobody to please, nobody to care for.
The only person that came to understand you was Min Yoongi and that's because you played basketball with him and his friends during daycare. At first, it came as a surprise because truthfully, you felt like Yoongi only let you play because he felt bad for you. Which, okay, whateverâ so be it. But, after the last round during a game of two versus two, you found yourself on the ground, huge gash on the knee from chasing after the ball before it could go out of bounds.
"Ouch! Crap!" You groaned as you sat up and checked out your knee. Yoongi walks towards you and crouches down, examining the bloody gash.
"Come on." He says, holding out a hand to help lift you up. He swings your arm over his shoulder, already knowing that any sudden movements to your knee can make the wound sting. He takes his time and walks with you as you hop on one leg towards the office, not really saying much. Yoongi wasn't the most talkative in class. He hung out with two or three other boys in your class on the daily, but they were quiet. Weren't much troublemakers, didn't cause ruckus like the other boys did. But, he was still popular among the girls because he was a little cutiepie. You remember walking into the bathroom, hearing Angie and her friends tease her about her crush on Yoongi. Then, the following week, one of her friends also ended up crushing on Yoongi and they bickered [weirdly] in the bathroom about it.
Getting to the office, he sits you down on the bench before approaching the office admin to grab some bandaids and ice for you.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Min?" Mrs. Yao comes over to greet him.
"Y/N's hurt. Can I get a bag of ice and a bandaid for her, please?" Mrs. Yao looks over her shoulder and does a head tilt before sighing. She knew you weren't like the girls in your class, always getting hurt one way or another, being more hardheaded and stubborn than the usual. She grabs a bag of ice and hands the supplies over to Yoongi before placing her hands on her hips.
"You think you can take care of Miss Y/N, or do you need me to help?" He shakes his head.
"I got it, thank you Mrs. Yao." He politely says, giving her a small toothless smile. You silently watch as he walks over, crouching down once again to tend to your wounds. "I don't think this will hurt, but stay still so I can put this bandaid on." He says softly as he spreads the small Neosporin packet across your wound. He wipes his finger down on his pants before removing the back of the bandaid and pressing it against your knee. "There. You should keep the ice on it so it doesn't bruise and stuff." He stands.
"Thank you." He nods as he watches you stand and slightly limp before you adjust your steps to the right pressure. He follows you out, coming back to your side with his hands in his pockets.
"Why don't you act like the other girls?" He asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.
"What? Not liking all the girly stuff that they like?"
"Sure, or you playing basketball. You know girls are usually like cheerleaders and cheer the guys on instead."
"Well, I don't wanna be a cheerleader. I just would rather play. What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing, it's just weird to see."
"You're weird." You snapped back.
"How am I weird?"
"You shoot weird."
"And you don't? I shoot better than you." He furrows his brows.
"No you don't."
"Fine, wanna play one more time? Unless you're a wuss and can't play cause of your knee." You rolled your eyes at the sudden change of events.
"I'll play you, I'm not a wuss. Unless you're afraid to lose to a girl." You taunt him as you both walk back to the court.
"Whatever, I'm not afraid cause I won't lose." He grabs the ball and checks it in. "My ball first."
"Sure, if you think that'll help."
And that's how Yoongi lost to you, busted knee and everything. From there, it was history. You became inseparable, Yoongi becoming a large part of your days and vice versa. His parents eventually became close to yours after the numerous times you both have been dropped off to hang out, or catching rides home after school. Yoongi lived in a nearby neighborhood, only being a good 7 minute walk, to be exact.
Second Quarter: High School, Senior Year
In high school, it became a little different. Yoongi grew up, played varsity basketball and became a fucking jock even though he claimed he would never. Yeah, bullshit. You too, played on the girls varsity basketball team, and surprisingly, you two kept each other close. It was a blessing and a curse though, because you couldn't see your life without Yoongi. He's been there since the 6th grade. However, girls took note of that shit. Trying to use you as their way in to Yoongi's heart, or pants, or both. You made it very clear though that you weren't interested in being a fucking messenger. Girls thought you were mean, but really, they just couldn't handle you. Hence, why you really couldn't relate and be one of them.
Yoongi was still the only person who could understand you and handle you, bad attitude and all. Tomboy habits and all. Not wanting to make friends and all.
"Jesus fucking christ, the day just started." Yoongi says as he watches you toss your duffle bag and backpack aggressively in the back seat of his car. "What's your deal?"
"Nothing, I'm just tired." You slump in his passenger seat after buckling your seat belt.
"Chill, don't start your day like this."
"Whatever, dad." You rolled your eyes, causing him to let out a pathetic chuckle.
"Are you coming to my game later?"
"Yeah, if I'm not too tired from practice."
"Y/N, I always make it to your games even if I'm tired."
"Do you?"
"The fuck? Yes I do. When haven't I?" His tone raises with yours. "Don't try and justify your shit by coming up with lies."
"Yeah, yeah bighead. You'll have plenty of cheerleaders there for you."
"Yeah and?" He smirks. "You're the one I'll be looking for though." He caresses your chin, making you smack his hand away while he laughs loudly.
"You're stupid." You groan as you sink lower in his seat. The rest of the ride to school, you shut your eyes and enjoy the peace before you're having to walk down those annoying, congested hallways.
People rave a lot about senior year, but it honestly hasn't felt special to you. Maybe because you kept the same routine since freshmen year, or maybe you really just didn't care as much as everyone else did about how "special" it was. You've always been locked in to basketball even if your mom wasn't a big fan of it. She wished you were more into cute, girly shit, like makeup, shopping, manis and pedis and dresses and heels, but she came to accept this was the way it was going to be. Especially because your dad was your biggest fan. You came to love basketball, more than just a side hobby. You joined the varsity team and practiced day in and day out. When basketball wasn't in season, you'd play with Yoongi at the park or sign up for camps and tournaments. You just wanted to keep bettering yourself so that you could play in college and get into the league post-grad. Yoongi was the same, and he may or may not have influenced your passion for ball. Either way, he was always supporting you and cheering for you even if the other females hated it.
His ex for sure hated the relationship you had with him even though you really steered clear when she was around. Wasn't your fucking problem or responsibility to take care of her insecurities. Same with his flings.
"Hey, so later, yeah?" He asks in between throwing nods and smiles to girls passing by.
"Mhm." You hum. "You gonna be free for lunch later?"
"I don't know. I know where to find you though if I am."
"Have a good day, punk."
"You too, bub. See you in English." He turns on his heel, walking towards his friends, aka his team members. Aka his jock ass group. Aka the ones females flock to.
Namjoon, Jimin, Eunwoo, Lucas.
They were all pretty boys who knew they were pretty boys and used that to their advantage to make big asshole moves. You hated that Yoonks got pulled in from time to time, but shit, it wasn't your life, you were only a small part of his. Sometimes, they also pulled in the football boys, Jungkook and Seokjin. Even the baseball boys, Hoseok and Taehyung. It was all a huge pretty boy, jock, asshole group in the making outside. A big fucking party for a lot of the girls at school, though.
So even if Yoongi was really the only one in your life, you weren't the only one in his. It is, what it is. As long as he doesn't go switching up on you, then whatever, so be it.
The first half of your classes go by quick, being that you enjoyed your chemistry, french and english classes. You had your english class with Yoongi, Namjoon and Hoseok. You had gotten to know Namjoon and Hoseok a little through it, and it was enough to know that they weren't all that bad. At least in this classroom setting.
"You two going to prom together?" Namjoon asks, making Yoongi snort.
"No, what the hell?" Yoongi responds.
"You guys can have fun at prom." You roll your eyes.
"You're really not gonna go?" Joon bites on the end of his pencil.
"No? The fuck I look like?"
"Y/N, I know it'd be weird as fuck to see you in a dress, but it's senior year. You didn't go last year, did you?" Namjoon asks from Yoongi's other side.
"Really, Namjoon?" You give him a look as if it could state the obvious.
"Well shit, I don't know. I know it's not your thing but can't really say I would have noticed either way." Hoseok laughs, causing you to throw your pen at his head before flicking him off.
"Miss Y/N!" Mrs. Maxwell calls you out mid-movie, eyes wide and in disbelief at how you're acting.
"What?! He started it." You slumped back in your seat and let out a sigh.
"Not another word." She says sternly.
"Not another word." You mock her under your breath.
"Aye, stop. You and that attitude boutta get in some trouble the last weeks of senior year." Yoongi puts his hand on your wrist, causing you to shake your head and click your teeth.
"Anyway, you should go." Hoseok whispers as he leans over on the table to look at you.
"No. Besides, with what date?"
"Take the basketball." Joon snickers.
"You're a complete dumbass, Namjoon. Stop talking." You snap.
"Maybe they're right, bub. It's senior year and it's coming to an end quick. I'd hate for you to regret it." Yoongi turns to you and says lowly.
"You know that won't happen." But really, part of you did feel a little bad. You knew it wasn't your scene, and you really didn't care what people thought of you when it came down to it. However, you always wondered what it would be like if someone liked you. If someone wanted you. Crushed on you so hard that they couldn't keep their hands off of you, couldn't stop thinking of you. Your first love. To feel pleasure, pain. Mixture of emotions simply by being in love. You wondered what it would be like to lose your virginity and have good, good sex. Besides, you were a human with needs. But the only person you have ever been close to was Yoongi. For the most part, you didn't see him that way because you knew he definitely didn't. But, you also couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to take your relationship to that point. If it was anyone, he would be the one you'd have feelings for. He would be your first kiss, your first everything. Because Yoongi was comfort and security for you.
But you valued your friendship more than anything.
"Just saying, think about it." He follows up.
"Think about getting an expensive dress and painful ass heals to wear for one night, just to dance around in 'em and take one professional pic with a date? Maybe get railed if I'm lucky?" You playfully wiggle your eyebrows making Yoongi shake his head.
"Don't be such a party pooper for once."
"Mmm. Great reasoning. Really convincing me here." You laugh it off even though in all honesty, you were thinking about it.
The bell rings and thank god it's finally lunch because you were fucking starving. Appetite and attitude on na-na, no doubt. You silently part ways with Yoongi to stop by your locker and grab your lunch. You make your way to the rowdy ass cafeteria, quickly scanning the room to catch a sight of Yoongi. You see him sitting on top of one of the lunch tables with Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin and Taehyung sitting around him. Clearly, Yoongi wasn't free today.
"Wassup baby? Wanna trade that ball in for me?" Jimin says as you pass by their table to make your way outside to the bleachers. You flick him off before rolling your eyes and pretending to gag.
"Fuck off, Park." The group laughs except for Yoongi.
"Wonder if she's got that bad attitude in bed, too." Yoongi doesn't hesitate to smack Jimin upside the head because yeah, no matter what, he was gonna protect you as much as possible. "Owwww, I'm just kidding Yoongi."
"Don't let me hear you say that shit around me ever again."
"Fuck, I'm sorry. It was just a joke." Jimin winces as he rubs the back of his head.
"Damn Min Yoonks, why don't you take her ass to prom if it's like that?" Taehyung says, chewed up food coming into full view as he smacks loudly.
"Why don't you learn how to close your mouth first?" Yoongi spits back.
"Y/N is really rubbing off on you."
"It's manners, idiot. You should've been learned that." Namjoon says, laughing.
"But foreel, why won't you take her? You both are close, you've never seen her that way?" Hoseok asks making Yoongi shake his head in response.
"She's my bestfriend. I value her just the way she is, no more no less."
"Ah, you must have thought about it at least once." Yoongi keeps silent. Luckily, the group easily gets distracted and starts paying attention to Seokjin and Jungkook coming over as they talk about the dates they've scored for prom.
Yoongi has thought about it. Still does. Just like he is for you, you're the only one who understands him and takes him for who he is. You know the real him besides basketball player Yoongi. You're the only one who keeps it real. But he would rather keep it this way than ruin things between you and him. He'd hate to fuck up with you because he knows he can fuck up, there's no hiding from it. He'd never forgive himself if he lost you.
Practice is hell today for you and fuck, you really wanna just go home and lay down for the rest of the evening. Coach had you all running suicides and conditioning drills on the courts outside and pulling scrimmages against each other left and right. Let's not forget how coach is always on your ass right before a game too. Hell, she catches an attitude way worse than you before game time and after a loss. You wanted to avoid that at all costs. But, to avoid taking the bus home and instead hitching a ride with Yoongi, you throw on a hoodie and haul your ass to the gym in some nike slippers. You take a seat on a free end at one of the bleachers, holding Spalding in between your legs with your duffle next to you on the floor. The game is off to a start in about 5 minutes, Yoongi catches sight of you on the bleachers and nods. You give him a small smile as a gesture of good luck, which he reciprocates.
The game starts off intensely, both teams scoring closely even with the boys putting straight pressure. Towards the end of the first half, Yoongi and Eunwoo are the leading scorers, putting their team up by 10. Halftime is a bunch of hoo-haa, with cheerleaders in their itty bitty skirts, trying to shake their asses as they cheer for the boys. The boys don't even hide the fact that their ogling, and it's clear as day they all want some pussy. Quite frankly, they walk around thinking they deserve it cause of how hard they try to pull some wins and put the school on the map. Student government comes up for a bit too, pulling some kind of skit to weirdly promote prom. It makes you cringe and in all honesty, it makes you not wanna go even more, but it is your senior year. If you can snag a date, then maybe.
"Hey." Terra [not a cheerleader but still a pretty, popular chick] plops next to you with a smirk on her face. Immediately, you want no part in it because you already know what she's trying to do.
"Hi?"
"I'm just gonna cut straight to it. Do you know if Yoongi is seeing anyone?"
"How the hell would I know, Terra?" You furrow your brows at her.
"Because you're close to him, aren't you?"
"And? Doesn't mean I'm telling people his business. Besides, he's not obligated to tell me everything just cause we're close." She rolls her eyes.
"Whatever. Look, can you do me a favor and give this to him?" She tries handing you a little ass piece of paper folded neatly with a pink heart decorated on the front.
"Why don't you give it to him yourself?"
"That's no fun." You scoff and roll your eyes. Really, miss girl? "Be a doll for once, yeah?" She winks and slips the note in between your wrist and Spalding so it stays put. You take the note and eye it, letting out a deep sigh as you shove it into your pocket. You weren't in the mood to be extra rude today so you'll give it to him later when he drives you home.
The game finally finishes with Yoongi making a final three, the boys keeping their lead up by 10. Everyone cheers and showers the boys with love after the team has finished shaking hands and high-fiving their opponents. You stick around until the crowd dies down, watching Yoongi flirt with Terra as you swing your duffle bag strap onto your shoulder before slowly heading down the bleachers.
"Hey bighead, good game today." You lightly punch him against the chest.
"I knew you'd come."
"Shut up. I'll be at your car."
"For what?"
"Cause you're taking me home, punk."
"No please?"
"Please." He shakes his head and chuckles before you part ways to let him gather his things in the locker room. When you finally catch sight of his teeny head coming towards you from the gym, you hear him unlock his car to let you in while he continues to walk over.
"Fuuuuuck." He says, throwing his things in the back before buckling his seat belt and switching the gear into drive.
"You have fan mail." Yoongi looks over and sees you clutching the note Terra gave you.
"What's that, a condom?"
"You're sick. It's from Terra."
"Who's that again?" You make a face at him.
"You were just telling her sweet nothings earlier after the game?"
"Oh, Terra with the tig o' bitties. Got it." He shakes his head. "I wasn't telling her sweet nothings."
"Right. You're an absolute dipshit, you know?" You prop up a leg on the seat while you unfold the letter.
"Give it!" You move it away from his grasp and begin to read it out loud.
"Yoongi, you're honestly so hot. If you don't have a date for prom, I just want you to know that I'm free, and I promise I'll give you a good time if you take me." You cackle. "Boy, what the fuck is this? Ew."
"Shut up." He blushes before laughing along with you.
"Look at her, writing her coochie out on paper."
"She isn't."
"Oh, really? Pfft." You softly scoff. "So, are you taking her or what?"
"I don't know? Maybe, damn. What about you?"
"What about me, fool? I told you I'd think about it."
"Go with Jimin. He still doesn't have a date." He hates to say it with how much of an asshole Jimin can be, but if it meant you'd be at your senior prom then Yoongi will let it pass. He'll make sure Jimin doesn't try any slick shit.
"Ew, god no."
"Look, I'll make sure he doesn't go overboard. I promise."
"Why do you want me there so badly, Yoongi?"
"Because it's our last year in high school together and I'd really like to celebrate with you somehow." You sigh heavily.
"Fair enough. Let me sit on it."
"Better hurry and stop keeping that seat warm."
"Don't rush me." You punch his arm, causing a groan to erupt from him.
- - -
Really, you'd rather be anywhere than at prom with Park Jimin holding onto your waist the way he is for the pictures you're taking with him, Yoongi and the rest of their group and dates. After all the pictures and fake smiles, you feel him slowly slip his hand down your dress to try and get a grip on your ass, but before you could do so, you're grabbing his wrist with full pressure and making him wince.
"Don't you fucking dare or else I'll cut your dick off and throw it in a blender."
"Aish, ah, fuck! Okay, I'm kidding, let me go!" He whines lowly. You let go of his wrist after one more good squeeze, causing him to wiggle his hand to get the feeling back.
"Get me some punch, will you? My mouth is dry."
"You know, I might know something else that can help." Jimin wiggles his eyebrows as he continues to hold onto his wrist.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me."
"Or not. I'll be back." He accepts defeat by smiling from ear to ear before walking off. You sit off to the side, the heels a huge pain in the ass on top of Jimin already being a huge pain in the ass. You lean over on your knees, completely forgetting you have a short dress on, causing boys passing by to whistle and eye at the easy access.
"The fuck are you looking at? Keep it moving." Yoongi says pushing the guys forward before shooting you a look. "Y/N, really?"
"Shit sorry, I forgot. I'm not used to this." You sit up and adjust your dress before rubbing your arms at how self-conscious you suddenly [and unexpectedly] feel.
"Are you having fun at least?" He sits next to you, manspreading on the seat in the navy suit he has on.
"Mmm, sure." You slightly smile at him. "What about you? You actually took Terra, huh?"
"Yeah, it's pretty fun." He chuckles. "Don't lie, I saw you dancing a bit earlier."
"That's when the alcohol hadn't worn off yet." You snort, remembering Seokjin's older brother giving the group alcohol after all the parents were done taking their pictures of you all. Yoongi laughs along with you before he looks over and simply stares at you, hair all done, makeup done perfectly without it being too much. You in a dress.
"You look beautiful tonight, bub."
"You don't look too bad yourself, bubby." You blush before Jimin interrupts the moment with your cup of punch.
"Here, princess."
"You better not be trying anything slick, punkass." Yoongi says.
"Mm, don't worry. I haven't been able to." You kick his shin as you chug your punch, causing him to cough and choke on his own words. "I'd like to peacefully have this slow dance with you at least, damn." You swallow the last bits of punch before you're taking Jimin's hand to the floor. Yoongi watches as you two make your way to the dance floor for a slow dance, slightly regretting that he didn't just ask you to dance.
"Let's dance, babe." Terra's baby voice comes out as she pulls him up from the seat to find a spot on the dance floor. Yoongi is honestly tired of having to keep up with Terra's energy and her clingy ass, but nonetheless, he was happy you were around for prom.
He was really happy you were around for prom, even though you hated this shit more than anything.
He had you in full view ahead, and so did you. He couldn't help but direct his attention towards you and keep his eyes on you. Fuck, he has never seen anyone so beautiful until you walked through Seokjin's doors with Jimin. Look, let's get this straight. Even though you had your own way of expressing yourself, he always loved your natural beauty, your natural glow. He loved watching you on the court and how happy it made you to play ball. He remembers every accomplishment, every milestone you've reached. How you've grown tremendously as a ball player. He would never admit it to you in person, but he definitely admires how you push yourself and how you always do what you can to improve. Hell, you might just be the better player between the both of you. And when you catch him looking over, he doesn't even try and hide it. He doesn't even care that he's still holding onto Terra and slow dancing with her.
Something within you flips. You feel that shit in the pit of your stomach, at the heat of your core.
But, you brush it off and break eye contact first, even if he doesn't stop staring. This couldn't happen, no. This was your bestfriend. You weren't gonna let the things you felt get in the way of that.
Nope.
Suddenly, the song changes to something more upbeat and twerkable, Jimin taking the opportunity to spin you around and grind on you. You really need a distraction anyway, something to rid you of those god awful thoughts about your bestfriend, so you let him and you have fun with it. Everyone around you is having fun anyway, and fuck, you wouldn't have to do this ever again so fuck it.
"Let me get a dance with my bestfriend." Yoongi says to Jimin.
"Go dance with your date!"
"Shut up and switch for a second!" Yoongi says, pushing him off of you so he could get behind and dance with you.
"Yoonks, what the hell?" You laugh.
"Go with it, bub. It's fucking senior year, we're graduating soon." You go with his movements, having the time of your life with everyone around you as prom quickly comes to a close.
When you get into Jimin's car, you knock off your heels as he continues to talk nonstop about the night. Jimin was a cutie but god, you could not stand his mindset for the life of you. You were grateful he had agreed to take you to prom, but damn. Prom was done and all you wanted was some peace and quiet.
"I hope you had fun with me tonight." You give him a toothless smile before slipping your heels back on.
"I did, thank you for taking me. Really." He smiles from ear to ear before leaning over near your seat.
"Can I get just one good smooch for the night?" You look at him before you smirk and lean over near his lips.
"Sure." You whisper.
"Oh fuck, this is actually happening."
"Close your eyes, I know you don't fucking kiss with your eyes open. What are you doing?"
"Right. Sorry." He closes his eyes and puckers his lips. You lean in a little closer, feeling his breath against your lips.
Then you flick his nose.
"Ouch!"
"Peace out, Park." You throw open his door to step out and shut it behind you to quietly walk into your house.
The lights are off and your parents are already tucked into the room for the night, leaving you a note on the fridge reminding you to make sure all the doors are locked before retreating to your room. You do as you're reminded before quietly shutting your door and tossing your heels to the side. You let the pins down from your hair, ruffling it around a bit and relieving any pressure on your head. Before turning away from your dresser, you notice a letter from the one university you had been waiting on. You had been waiting to hear back from Stanford for the longest time, and quite frankly, you had been upset you hadn't heard especially when their scouts were at your game awhile ago.
You had broken down to your parents, to Yoongi, automatically assuming the worst when you heard that other people had already been accepted and scouted for Stanford. Suddenly, you found yourself working harder and harder because you felt like you were lacking in so many areas. You felt low, and like your dream was running miles and miles away from you. Faster than you could keep up.
You take the letter in your hand, but don't want to open it because you don't feel ballsy enough [surprisingly]. You call up Yoongi, not caring that he could possibly be in the middle of getting his dick wet.
"Sup?"
"Are you busy?"
"I was just about to walk into my house."
"Oh, nevermind."
"Need me to come by?"
"I got a letter from Stanford."
"Shit, I'll be there in 2 mins."
And in 2 minutes, he surely was knocking at your window. You slide it up enough for him to climb in, Yoongi still in his prom get-up as well.
"Here." You instantly hand him the letter.
"What, why me? It should be you."
"I can't, I really can't." He sighs.
"Are you sure you won't regret this?"
"No, bub. Please." You sit on the bed and fiddle with your fingers as you watch him rip the envelope open and tear out the letter. You can't even keep your eyes on him as he reads the letter and starts backing away from you.
"Shit."
"What? What?!" You stand, trying your best to keep your tone low. He covers his mouth, causing you to pinch his bicep at how dramatic he was being. "Just say it!"
"You're not going." Your heart sinks, but before you could process it, Yoongi speaks up again. "To any other college because Stanford wants you."
"I'm going to fucking kill you!" You whisper and shove him.
"Congrats, bubby. Guess we'll be together in college too." Your eyes widen.
"Y-you're going? T-to Stanford?" He smiles and nods.
"Yeah, I am."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Look, I just wanted to give you your space. That's all. I found out before you went all cry baby on me."
"Shut up." You say before laughing and jumping into his arms, throwing your legs around his torso while he swings you around. As he sets you back down onto your bedroom floor, your hands linger around his neck, gently tugging on the hair that rested there. He keeps you close, his hands resting around your waist as your chests are still touching. You honestly have no idea what takes over youâ perhaps all the feelings you felt tonight at prom taking over, or feeling overjoyed from finally hearing back from Stanford, you couldn't decide. But you crash your lips against his, immediately pulling back after you realized you've just kissed your bestfriend.
You just had your first fucking kiss through accidental causes.
Well, shit.
Was it accidental or no?
Mind is going off on a tangent.
"Woah. I'm so sorry, Yoonks, Iâ" He doesn't allow for any space between you two, keeping your body flush against his as his lips crash onto yours again to cut you off. To be quite honest, things are moving fast and the kiss deepens quick. You follow his motions, gaining some rhythm as your tongue dances along with his in the [now] wet, sloppy kiss.
"Wait, Y/N." He pulls away as the moment intensifies. "A-are you sure you wanna keep going? To be honest, I don't know if I'll be able to hold myself back and I know you haven't exactlyâ" He knows it would be your first time and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. I mean, sure, he loved you. You were special to him. But he wanted to make sure your first time was also special, whether it be him or whoever else.
"Please. I want this. I wanna do this with you."
By the looks of tonight, it seems like it's meant to be him.
You press your lips back onto his with the same intensity and start to unbutton his shirt when you feel his hands hike up your dress. He gently pushes you on the bed, crawling over to you as he kicks off his shoes and finishes ripping off his shirt and tie. He slowly removes the straps of your dress down your shoulders and undoes the zipper on the side before slipping it down and leave you in your panties.
You had no bra on.
Yoongi's eyes widen when he realizes such, your cheeks heating up while you watch him stare down your body. You begin to feel incredibly self-conscious so you cover your chest with an arm. Yoongi senses your uneasiness, your confidence shooting down below zero.
"You're beautiful, bub. Don't." He says, gently tugging your arm away and letting it fall limply to the side. You simply nod and let him take the reigns because you had no idea what the fuck you were doing. So many emotions were flooding your mindâ you were nervous, you were scared, you were shy, you felt lost and too innocent under Yoongi, even if he knew you like the back of his hand.
And because of that, he could pick up on it with the way your body continued to tense up. He shook off his pants, leaving on his boxers until you were ready for him. Cause fuck, he was ready for you, but he had to take this slow. He had to take care of you.
He lowers himself onto you after the two of you have climbed under the sheets, lowering his head against your neck to press light, feathery kisses along the surface. You felt the tingles shoot down your spine every time his lips made contact, causing you to softly gasp and arch your back at how sensitive you were already feeling.
"If you ever feel uncomfortable, just tell me to stop okay?" He says lowly. You nod in response, Yoongi taking it as leverage to plant a kiss on your lips before moving down to your breasts. He keeps his eyes on you, making sure you don't seem uncomfortable in the slightest bit. But you don't, and it's indicated in the way you bite your bottom lip and arch your back at the way his tongue wraps around your hardened bud. He does the same on the other breast before peppering kisses down your stomach and abdomen.
"Yoongi." You slightly gasp, shy at how unusually close he is to your lady friend.
"What's wrong? Want me to stop?" His thumbs gently caressed your thighs as his head hovered over your pelvis. You shake your head and nervously swallow before speaking once more.
"I-I'm just scared, what if you don't likeâ"
"Shh." He shushes you. "You're everything to me, you know that. You don't have to change just so I could enjoy you in bed. I'll take good care of you, bub. I promise."
"O-okay." He nods, placing a kiss over your clothed clit before pulling them down to get lost within your sheets. He swipes a finger down your folds, causing your breathing to hitch slightly. You watch as he slowly inserts the same digit inside of you, biting onto his bottom lip watching your facial expressions turn from uncertainty to straight pleasure. "Another." You moan.
"You sure?"
"Yes, please." He inserts another digit, curling his fingers upward as he starts to finger fuck you at a steady pace.
"Shit, you're so wet Y/N." He says lowly before lowering his mouth onto you to get a taste and tease your clit. You gasp at the overwhelming sensation, feeling the pleasure bubbling in your core and you had no idea how to deal with it. He picks up his pace while tonguing your clit and sucking at the right pressure until suddenly, you short circuit and tremble under his grip. You purse your lips together to prevent yourself from moaning too loud with your parents at the other end of the hall [jesus fucking christ], knuckles turning white as you grip the sheets tightly.
Your first orgasm came and washed over you quick.
"Did you justâ" He removes his digits from inside of you, drooling at your cum accumulating all over his fingers.
"Holy fuck." You whisper as you regulate your breathing, twitching when Yoongi places a quick kiss on your pussy before coming back up to you.
"How was that?"
"So good. Wanna feel you." You whine, tugging him down towards you.
"I got you, bubby." He says, kissing your jaw, cheek, nose and lips. He reaches over into his pants on the floor, grabbing a condom out of his pocket. You furrow your brow and chuckle, confused if this was something he always did.
"You just carry that around?"
"The guys and I split on a box and carried one each for tonight. Just in case."
"Total fucking assholes." He chuckles.
"Better safe than not, right?" He rips it open with his teeth, spitting the wrapper out onto the floor before rolling it down his cock. He was perfectly thick and long, and it made you a nervous wreck all over again thinking about how this could feel. "Ready? I'll go slow." You nod. You immediately felt immense pressure when you felt Yoongi dip his body and slowly enter you. You winced, Yoongi immediately pausing until you tapped his arm to continue. And so he does, and you continue to breathe through it until he bottoms out and lets out a soft groan against your neck. "Fuck, you're so tight bub. God, you're gonna make me cum quick." He slowly pumps in and out, steadying his pace when he feels you buck your hips up to go along with his motions.
The pleasure skyrocketed; You shut your eyes, letting yourself be in this moment. Feel this moment.
He picks it up a little faster, careful not to bang your headboard against the wall. His forehead is pressed against yours, watching as you let out soft whimpers against his lips.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yoongi-Yoongiâ" You whispered. "You're gonna make meâ" It was becoming overwhelming, your clit rubbing against him as he steadied his pace and continued to fuck into you. He nods, pressing a kiss against your forehead.
"Yeah, that's it. Let go. It's okay." And that was enough for you to reach your second orgasm tonight. Quick, but fuck. Yoongi made you feel so good, and you wouldn't want it any other way. You shut your eyes as you hurdled over the edge, mouth open with silent, inaudible moans being released. "So fucking pretty." Yoongi says as he feels himself reaching his high with the way your walls pulsated against his cock.
God. So, so good.
He holds onto the headboard and quickly fucks into you until he's spilling his seed in the condom, muffled moans being released against the crook of your neck. It takes a moment before Yoongi raises his head, your hands running through his black hair while he presses a tender kiss against your lips. He slowly removes himself, wrapping the condom in a tissue before tossing it into your trash can. He plops next to you and welcomes you into his arms, caressing you to soothe you from your first time.
"You okay?"
"More than okay." You say, the both of you trying to savor the moment before trying to navigate where to go from here.
What now?
Third Quarter: College, Junior Year (Present)
You bent down, hands resting against your knees as you tried to catch your breath during the timeout Coach Chu had called with 5.2 seconds literally left on the clock. He laid out the play he wanted you and the team to pull off in order to gain the win over Berkeley.
It had to be executed perfectly. No flaws.
Coach Chu had been riding your ass since you were a freshman. But, over the years, you've learned how to work through his tough love and turn it into positives, bettering yourself on and off the floor. It paid off, and he saw the fire in you, finally moving you up to starting point guard right before the season ended. Some team members hated it at first, but eventually, grew to work with it as well.
The plan was to have you come down into the paint and lay up the ball or take a shot at the very last second to avoid Berkeley from getting another chance at scoring. Sometimes you hated the pressure, but you've also learned that a big part of playing ball was thriving under pressure.
Your team closes up the huddle before you and your teammates are heading back out onto the floor to try and get this win. You shake off the nerves, bouncing the ball out of bounds until you check it in with your teammate. After thatâ it was like a blur. Shit happened so quick, you couldn't even process it. You passed the ball and dashed over to the other side of the court while your teammate put up a screen. You rose your hand as you ran into the paint, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you awkwardly lay up the ball in the position you were in and stumble onto the ground from losing your footing. You turn your head as the buzzer went off, noticing that the ball had bounced off the rim.
You missed a fucking lay up.
How could you miss a fucking lay up?
"Fuck!" You cry as you sit up and smack the floor.
"Aye, it's all good girl! Ain't a big deal! You win some, you lose some! We still got a ways to go!" Your teammate [roommate, and closest college friend] Clarice said as she helped you up. She was right, but every loss to you was a big loss no matter what. Coach was for sure gonna drill you about this too, and you were already mentally preparing.
"Thanks." You mumble. You look out at the disappointed crowd slowly dispersing, wishing you could still catch a familiar face in the crowd.
But, Yoongi hadn't been to your game in years. So you thought. You never caught him if he ever stepped foot into your game.
Your head hung low as the familiar feeling of pain and loneliness came rushing back while you headed to the locker room. Too bad you didn't see him hiding out on the side of the bleachers with Lucas.
"Y/N, a word." Coach Chu says, leading you into his office.
Fuck, here we go.
You shut the door behind you and stand awkwardly in front of his desk, fiddling with your fingers.
"Look, I just want to say that you put on hell of a show tonight, win or lose. We still have plenty of games left, plenty of opportunities to lock in play-offs. Alright? Don't be upset."
"Thanks Coach." You give him a tiny smile.
"Are you doing okay?"
"Uh, yeah. I think so."
"What's on your mind?"
"Nothing coach, just been a hectic couple of weeks." In which, it was no lie. You crammed for test after test, project after project. You barely had any time to breathe this year.
"Well, my door is always open if you need to chat." You nod. "I'll see you at practice. Enjoy your night."
"Thanks again." You say as you exit his office and get yourself showered and into comfier clothes.
Meanwhile, Yoongi heads back to his dorm room alongside Lucas, hands dug deep into his pockets while his head hung low.
"You ever gonna talk to her?"
"I don't know." He sighs. "Pretty sure I fucked up any chance of that."
"Look, dude. You haven't really been the same since you and Y/N fell out." Yoongi stays silent as they slowly climb the steps up to their room. "Why are you just gonna leave it like this? It's been so long already. Doesn't it bother you?"
"Positive she doesn't want me around." Lucas shakes his head.
"You haven't even tried. You just gave up and that shit is cold, to be honest. I know Y/N always held it down for you, I would have expected you to do the same." The words cut through Yoongi so deep, he doesn't even know how to respond and leaves it at that.
As you heavily dragged your body back to the dorms and took your sweet ol' time, your mind began to wander back to Yoongi as well. After he had taken your virginity that night, things took a turn for the worst.
He treated you differently, created this distance that allowed you to grow farther and farther apart from each other until he was no longer in your grasp and vice versa.
You went from Yoongi being a part of your every day to nothing. And fuck, did it hurt you. You cried and cried, until you were so tired of crying. You had to pick yourself up and keep it moving no matter what. Life waits for nobody.
You reminisce on those days of debating over who could really be considered the greatest. Although, you did pay your respects to the bigs, the greatsâ Kobe, Magic, MJ, Lebronâ you paid respect where it was rightfully due. However, Derrick Rose at his prime? Rajon Rondo? Chris Paul?
Hell, even Baron Davis, Monte Ellis. Rookie Steph Curry? Shiiit. They were it for you, and Yoongi used to dog your ass on how unrealistic you were being.
That was all gone.
He must be having a ball watching Steph climb up those charts now, though. You wonder what he would say to you.
The days of going to basketball games, to each other's basketball games, to ordering hella pizza and creating chaos in either house over the dunk contest during the NBA All Star Week or yelling all around the living room and jumping on couches during the NBA playoff season and championship gamesâ All gone.
If you knew this would drastically change you and Yoongi, you would have never let that night happen. You continued to put on your brave face, your thick, tough skin even though deep down, it took everything in you to suppress the hurt, betrayal and confusion. Even after all these years.
He meant everything to you. Did you not to him? You could never understand until this day. How could he dispose of you so, so quickly?
You see him on campus and quickly break any eye contact, or run the opposite way. You were tired of doing this even though you felt like you needed closure. Some explanation. You deserved it. But you weren't gonna initiate that. Even if Yoongi did, you don't even know if things could ever go back to the way it was. He promised he would never hurt you, but he has. He still is hurting you. The woundsâ it cut deep. Deeper than he could ever imagine.
"Hello?" You smile, hearing your dad on the other line.
"Hey dad."
"Hey baby! How was your game? I'm sorry I couldn't catch it tonight, work kept me behind." You sigh.
"Eh, it's probably good you didn't. Didn't turn out so well." He picks up on how your voice cracks ever so slightly, enough to indicate that you were trying your hardest not to break down about your performance. "I missed the winning shot."
"Oh sweetheart, you'll get 'em next time. You always do. You still have a couple of games left don't you?"
"Yeah, but it doesn't change the fact that I played shitty as hell tonight."
"There's always room for improvement, only way to go is up from here right?" He says softly, making you smile. "You'll get 'em next time, I have no doubt. You always know how to better yourself even when I think you've already reached your highest potential."
"Thanks Dad. You always were my number one fan."
"I still am." He chuckles. "How's everything else? School?"
"Fine." He always has to stop himself from asking about Yoongi, even to ask if there's been the slightest change to your relationship.
"You sure?"
"Course." You lie.
"Alright, well you know me and your mom are here for you if you need anything."
"I know."
"I'll let you go and get some rest, alright? Don't be so hard on yourself."
"Mmm, I'll try." You chuckle. "I love you."
"Love you too. And hey, baby?"
"Yeah?"
"Always remember that you deserve everything good in this world. If someone can't handle you at your worse, they sure as hell don't deserve you at your best."
"Thank you." You smile as if your dad can see you through the phone before hanging up and unlocking your dorm door.
"Sigma Nu party going on tonight, wanna come and slide through?" Clarice asks as she watches you toss your duffle aside.
"I'm tired, not in the mood."
"So aren't I, but I think we both need it. Come on girl, just for a little." You sigh. Clarice had also been there by your side since you both were freshmen recruits. One day, she came into the room and found you a crying mess, causing her to wrap her arms around you and craddle you until you calmed down. You had spilled the beans about Min Yoongi, especially when he quickly became the talk of the campus as a ladies man and one of the best freshmen recruits Stanford has ever seen. You hated it, but a part of you still found yourself happy that he was getting the recognition he deserved as a ball player.
He wasn't the tallest, or the biggest, but boy had heart and played every game like it was his last. You had been his number one fan, and even though you hated him, that fact would never change.
Anyways, without Clarice, you weren't sure where you'd be. Definitely not here because you'd be too busy running away from your past and all the issues that came with it.
Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and say it. You would be stupid enough to not go to your first choice just because of a stupid boy.
"Fine, fine. I'm leaving as soon as someone wants to start acting up and getting all crazy though."
"Deal." She chuckles. You've learned how to dress up a little moreâ and by a little we mean baggy sweats, a crop tight fitting tee and chapstick. No way in hell you'd get dolled up for a party. Out of the years you've already been here, you probably went to two parties. One being the party Coach Chu threw at his house for a record-breaking season. The other was a legit party that you stepped foot in for all of 2 seconds before you figured it was time to head home, especially after seeing Yoongi hugged up with some chick and disgustingly tonguing her down while groping her ass.
Shit, you were never gonna get used to it.
The frat house is fucking packed and wreaks of weed even down the corner. You and Clarice push your way through, greeting people who were acknowledging your presence and waving at your other teammates that were also present.
"More basketball babes have arrived, let's go!" One of the frat guys cheers as you and Clarice make your way to the kitchen where all the alcohol is laid out.
"One shot?" She asks as she already has her hand wrapped around the Svedka handle.
"One and done." You tell her. You shouldn't have let her pour the shot though because now, you're stuck with nasty ass vodka near the halfway mark of the cup. "Clarice, what the fuck is this?"
"It's called savoring our one."
"You're fucked up." You joked as you tap your cup against hers and take the shot in three chugs. "Really fucked up." You wince.
"Come, lets go see what the other girls are up to and hang out for a bit." You follow her lead to the corner of the living room, chatting it up with your team before dancing around in the little corner you all occupiedâ keeping as far away as possible from sloppy and messy dudes.
You turned to eye the crowd at some point, catching Yoongi coming down the stairs, a female following from behind holding his hand. Then, they disappear to the outside of the house. You swallow the lump in your throat, the room feeling hotter than it already was.
Why he still had this affect on you, you had no idea.
Clarice and your teammates are too busy cracking jokes that they don't realize you've slipped away to get some air. You're finding that the crowd has come bigger in the short amount of time you've been here and navigating through it has become difficult. You're having to bob, weave and shove your way out, letting out a sigh the closer you get to the front of the house. You're also really glad you've been able to steer clear fromâ
"Shit, my bad." You unintentionally bump into someone making your way to the front from the side of the house due to you keeping your head low.
"Y/N?" You whip your head around to see Yoongi raising a brow, dropping his arm from the same chick's shoulders.
"Hi." You give him a fake, tight-lipped smile and rush your way to the front of the house. Thank god you finally make it because you were starting to feel claustrophobic, even being outside. However, you weren't prepared for Yoongi to come after you and grab your wrist the way he did.
"Wait, I didn't expect you to be here." Out of defense, you quickly snatch your wrist away from his grip and furrow your brows at him.
"Yeah, and now I'm leaving."
"Why, hang out for a bitâ"
"And what, Yoongi? Watch you be the life of the party? Watch you walk around all fine and dandy like shit never happened between us?" You feel the tears welling up on your bottom lids, but you promised yourself you would never cry over him again. You refuse to. He had already taken up so much of you that you refuse to give him any more.
"Is that what you really think?" He says, the hurt apparent in his expression. To be frank, no. Yoongi really, really never meant to hurt you. And just like he had mentioned before, he would never forgive himself if he ever hurt you. He hasn't forgiven himself. He hasn't forgiven himself for how he let you slip out of his grasp when it was his own fault for pushing aside his feelings for you. He thought the world of you, the only woman who kept it real with him and stuck by him through the highest of highs, lowest of lows. There was no one as special as you, no one who could ever be as special as you, no matter how many times he tried to sink his dick into other females.
No one was real like you.
But, he was also conflicted because of that. He felt like he couldn't give you the love you rightfully deserved, he didn't think he could love you properly. He had so much to learn and he didn't wanna hurt you in the process. It sounds so fucking stupid [because it is] that he thought distancing himself was better than just being honest. He was a dumbass high schooler, he didn't know any better. But, he never meant to make you feel special for one night, then run from it. You were always special to him. You had always been. You always will be. And these past years hurt like a bitch, but he coudn't find the words to explain. Eventually, he just believed he would do less damage if you both remained distant this way.
Although, he longed for you. He really needed you just as you needed him. He always has, always will.
So when the two of you bump into each other tonight, he felt like maybe, it was a sign. Maybe it was time to stop being childish.
God, he missed your face.
God, he was a fucking asshole.
"No, I'm not doing this shit." You shake your head. "Justâ continue to stay away from me, okay? I'm better off without you." The words sting you, but it doesn't sting you as much as it stings Yoongi. You glare at him once more before you turn on your heel and begin walking down the street to head back to your dorm.
"Y/N! Wait up!" Clarice calls for you, eyeing Yoongi as she passes him to catch up with you down the street. "Hey, hey. You okay?" She swings her arm around you when she catches you silently crying to yourself. "What did he do, Y/N?"
"He fucking exists, that's what." You groan. "Ugh, fuck! I'm not supposed to be crying over his dumbass, I'm better than this Clariceâ Why the fuck am I crying over it?" You break down, crouching down to your knees, causing Clarice to hover over you and pull you into a hug.
"Maybe you just need to let it out and stop forcing yourself to not feel anything."
"I hate him, I hate him, I hate him." You bawled into your arms. "I hate him so much." She caressed your back. "But he still finds a way to mean so much to me."
"I think it's time for you two to talk."
"I can't. It's just better this way."
"Are you sure? Because look at you, Y/N. You're a mess, and this hasn't even been the first time you broke down about him. As much as you want to believe that you're fine without him, you're not. He was your bestfriend and I think you need him more than you even know yourself."
"He's doing fine without me."
"You don't know that, baby. Dudes are annoying as fuck because they can literally go on about their day and mask that shit well. If he's ready, let him explain. Hear him out. You both may be misunderstanding the entire situation." It takes you a good minute before you can finally gather yourself and make it back to your dorm room with Clarice.
She was right.
But you were so angry more than anything. You were angry and you weren't sure how you could get past it.
He left your side.Â
And so the next day, you go about your day in class, staying quieter than usual during practice. For the most part, Coach Chu was always on your ass because of how vocal you were and how much you caught an attitude when things didnât go the way you'd like it to. So, to see you this quiet, almost sullen even, concerns him. But, he already pressed you once and he wasn't gonna do it again to avoid irritating you any further.
You run the usual conditioning drills, practicing play by play before a final scrimmage game for the night. You push yourself hard like you always do, almost coming out of practice dry heaving from how tired you are. It was your bad habit though, you wouldn't quit until you got it right. Until you felt right. And unfortunately, it's another one of those nights where you feel unsatisfied with your performance. So, you take it upon yourself to continue practicing in the empty gym that was set to close within the next hour. You're tired out of your mind, and you know this is probably a bad idea, but you can't shake off the feeling of dissatisfaction. To you, that was the next worst thing. Right behind Yoongi.
You begin to work on your three pointers, lay ups and shots out of range before you start to play a scrimmage game with yourself.
"I'll play you." You suddenly hear, the sweat beads dripping down your forehead at this point. You watch Yoongi as he drops his water bottle off at the side of the court before walking over to you.
"Go away."
"Afraid you'll lose?"
"No, I just don't wanna play your ass." You shot up the ball, only for it to bounce off the backboard and land in Yoongi's hand.
"Ball up. Let's play till 10."
"Why the hell do you wanna play me, Yoongi? Don't you have a random chick to bone?"
"I'm clearly standing right in front of you aren't I? Quit fucking talking and play." He aggressively passes you the ball to check it in, you following suit, making the ball damn near bounce off of his chest with how hard you pass it back. He knew exactly how to rile you up.
You get into the zone quickly, trying to find some kind of redemption for the way you had been feeling lately. Redemption, validation, way to take the edge offâ anything, really. It was only until the first person scored to 10, but Yoongi was putting up one hell of a fight, jet black hair parted down the middle and matted to his forehead from the sweat building up. You take the lead, sitting at 8 while Yoongi sat at a sad 6 points.
"Ball." You call out as you scored a layup, ramming yourself against the padded wall with the force you had put up.
"That's 10."
"Ball, Yoongi." You huffed and puffed.
"Stop, don't overwork yourself. You just gotâ"
"Suddenly you care? Stop being a pussy and pass me the goddamn ball." He furrows his brows as he passes you the ball, crouching down to meet you at eye level to try and guard you. You run towards the right of the court, pulling a pump fake before you pivot to get away from Yoongi's guard. You pivot hard and drive it up to the basket, only to fall on the wrong footing and twist your ankle on the way down. "Ouch, fuck!"
"Shit, Y/N!" Yoongi comes to your side, hand supporting your back as the other is on your ankle.
"I'm fine, leave meâ"
"Stop being so fucking stubborn and let me help you." He says angrily. You don't say anything else while you fix your position on the floor. "Can you wiggle it at least?"
"Y-yeah." You wince as you wiggle your foot and roll it around a couple of times. Phew, at least this shit wasn't gone for good. But Coach Chu still wouldn't be happy to hear you sprained your ankle releasing your anger on Yoongi during a dumb game. Yoongi helps you stand, arm around your waist as he throws your arm around his neck and holds you steady by the wrist.
"Try walking on it."
"I can, but it hurts a little." Yoongi sighs.
"You just sprained it. Let's go get you some ice or something at the nursing center before going back to your dorm." You silently nod as you hang onto Yoongi for extra support, careful not to make the situation any worse than it already is. He has you sit on the chair within the nursing center, the nurse coming over to wrap your ankle nicely before giving you crutches and some instant hot compress to pop onto it. She orders for security to drive you two over to the dorm building in their go-cart so that you wouldn't have to do much walking on your foot while you focused on healing.
Yoongi doesn't leave your side, even after you've walked into your dark, empty dorm room, not really knowing where Clarice is at right now [possibly library]. He shuts your door and sits you on the edge of your bed, setting your crutches near your bed side and your instant hot compress.
"You need anything else?" Your head hangs low as you slightly chuckle and shake your head.
"Why are you doing this?" You ask him lowly before looking back up at him, tears clouding your vision. "Hm? Why, Yoongi?"
"You're hurt, why wouldn't Iâ"
"Hmm." You hum. "I'm hurt? So where the fuck were you after prom night? When I was hurt then, where the fuck have you been?" You began to cry.
"Y/N." His tongue swipes over his lips before he sighs. "I'm sorry." He says, close to a whisper.
"Are you? Because I don't think you really understand how bad you hurt me." You aggressively wipe away your tears while continuing to look at him, his body language soft and full of regret. "You didn't care about me."
"How could you say that? I caredâ" He sighs as his head drops for a second. "I care about you more than you know."
"If you did then why the fuck was it so easy for you to drop me the way you did?!" You yelled. "You just don't do that to the people you care about, especially if itâs your bestfriend."
"Look, you're right. I have no excuse for the way I acted, and if I could turn back time to re-do it, I would. But I can't, and the only thing I can do is apologize and do my best to make it up to you." His bottom lip trembles as he steps closer to you, a small frown forming at the corners of his mouth.
"Yoongi." You cried. "I did everything for you, I stuck by you through everything, even during the times you didn't deserve that shit from me. But I stayed! I stood by you because you meant everything to me and godâ" You groaned. "I needed you. I needed you and you weren't there! I fucking hate you for doing this shit to me but part of me will always have love for you no matter how fucked up the situation is. I will always drop everything for you. I will always care about you, and it's so unfair." It broke Yoongi's heart and he didn't know what to say, but he wraps his arms around you anyway, keeping you in a tight hug against his chest. He's surprised that you let him, even more surprised at how he feels your body soften under his touch.
"Fuck, I'm so, so sorry bub." He says lowly as he presses a kiss on top of your head. "I'm so sorry."
"Please don't ever go again." You cry against his chest.
"No, I'm not. I'm gonna be right here." He says hugging you tighter. "You're the only one who's ever understood me, who's ever kept it real with me. I don't deserve you, but I know damn sure I'll work hard to make up for letting you go in the first place." He places another kiss on top of your head. "I'm right here. Not going anywhere. I'm so sorry."
- - -
5.
4.
3.
2.
1.
"THE STANFORD BOYS TAKE THE CHAMPIONSHIP!" The commentator screams into his mic, Yoongi running a lap around the court before he's cheering loudly with his teammates and joining the group hug. You run down the bleachers, dashing straight into Yoongi's arms while he swings you around.
"That's what I'm fucking talking about!" You squeal and giggle as Yoongi places you back down and plants multiple kisses around your face, hands resting on the small of your back.
"Let's get out of here." He whispers in your ear.
"I'll wait at your car, bighead." You wink, causing him to smile that gummy smile of his that you adore more than life itself.
There's obviously a huge party going on tonight to celebrate this huge achievement, but Yoongi says he doesn't wanna join for once. He's happy, yeah. But the way he wants to celebrate is in peace. After so long, he feels like he can finally say he's content with where his life is at and where it's going. He drives over to the nearest beach, backing into a space so the both of you could sit in the back and try catching all the shooting stars up above. Yoongi leans against the side of the trunk, allowing you to lay your head on his lap while you curled up beside him listening to the waves slowly crash against the sand.
"Saw one." He says, looking up at the sky.
"You're a punk, no you didn't."
"What?" He laughs. "How are you about to say that? I caught it with my own two eyes."
"Oop! I saw one!"
"Now that's a lie. I was looking up too."
"Shut up." You laugh, causing Yoongi to tickle you along the sides before he stops and plants a kiss on your lips. It's silent for a minute while the two of you take in the night viewâ The sky and ocean coming together as one, forming a view that seemed endless.
"Hey."
"Hm?" You hum as Yoongi's fingers gently brush through your hair.
"You know I love you right?"
"Ew with the sappy shit, Min Yoongi." He laughs.
"Seriously."
"I know." You smile up at him. "I love you too."
"Come here." He says softly, tugging you upwards. You sit up, allowing Yoongi to press his lips against yours. He pulls you in by your shirt, having you straddle his lap while he grips onto your hips and immediately grinds against you. You let out a small moan feeling how quickly he hardened, his cock hitting you in the right places as you continue to grind on him. "Fuck, wanna feel you babygirl."
"Here?"
"Yeah." He chuckles and bites onto his bottom lip.
"What, all of a sudden you're scared?"
"Fuck off." You fire back, releasing his hardened member from its confines as you stroke him gently. He tilts his head back in pleasure before tugging your shorts and panties to the side, enough for him to cop a feel of how wet you are.
"Baby's all wet."
"What're you gonna do about it?" You whisper against his lips, biting onto his bottom lip and pulling back slightly. He hisses at the sensation before he moves your hand from his cock and takes control. He pushes you upward, positioning you enough to line up with your entrance.
"Take this shit off."
"Yoongi, we're in public."
"So, you're all talk and no play."
"I hate you."
"Nobody's here." He groans. "Just take off your shorts, pleeease." He begs as he slowly strokes himself. You toss aside your shorts, Yoongi immediately hooking his finger at the bottom of your panties and tugging it aside in order to push himself into you. He does enough before he lets you do the rest of the work and sink down on his length, a gasp leaving your throat as you take all of him in. He grips your hips tightly, setting the pace as he groans into your neck, your fingers tangled in his hair resting at the nape of his neck.
"Shit, babe." You moan as you tilt your head back.
"Fuck, you always ride me so well." He presses light kisses against your neck before he's nipping at the surface.
"Godddd why do you feel so good?" You whimper.
"You like how I feel inside of you?" You nod. "Yeah? Like how my cock fills you up?"
"Never gonna get tired of it." You moan, Yoongi making you pick up the pace aggressively. Besides the waves crashing, the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin fills the car, along with your soft moans and Yoongi's groans. Your clit is constantly rubbing against him, causing the pleasure to build so quickly it becomes overwhelming. You try to hold off as much as you can butâ
"My pretty baby. All I fucking need." He almost growls, the words enough to send you over the edge. You let out a loud moan, not even caring for the houses nearby as your orgasm hits hard and ripples throughout your body, sending aftershocks. Yoongi continues to have you ride him fast and hard, the overwhelming sensation causing a hint of pain to mix with more pleasure until  you feel him feel you up. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He groans as his nails dig into your skin, giving two good thrusts upwards into you to help ride out his high. You both sit in the position for a minute, trying to come back down from your highs. Yoongi gives you a delicate peck on the lips, smiling into the kiss before he pulls away. "Swear you're all I need."
"See, I don't know if I could say the same." He smacks your ass as you hike up and off of him to put on your shorts.
"Take it back."
"I'm kidding." You blush.
"My ride or die. Are you with me?"
"Always have been. Are you?"
"You know I am."
"Good. You know it takes two." He smiles before pulling you into another hug and pressing a kiss against your temple.
#bts#bts fanfiction#yoongi fanfiction#min yoongi fanfiction#myg#yoongi one shot#min yoongi one shot#myg one shot#suga one shot#suga#bts suga#yoongi#min yoongi#yoongs#yoongi x reader#min yoongi x reader#writing#yoongi smut#yoongi angst#yoongi fluff#xpeachesncream#bts smut#bts angst#bts fluff#min yoongi angst#min yoongi fluff#min yoongi smut#myg angst#myg fluff#myg smut
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Touchdown
*gif not mine, credit goes to the owner*
I just want to take a moment to say thank you for the love on my last fic! It made my lil ole heart swell to see that peopled enjoyed it enough to leave a like or reblog.
This is just something special I had in my arsenal that I wrote for a friend a few months ago. I touched it up a bit and added a few things here and there. It all started when we were talking about how much we loved when Chris' accent got heavier after he'd been drinking, and well, I couldn't help myself lol. I hope you enjoy the fluff! xoxo
I apologize for any grammatical errors, I tried to proof-read but am also a little exhausted lol.
Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader
Word Count: 2844
Warnings: I don't think there's anyway? Mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol, cursing, and illusions to sexy times, but that's about it.
You hadnât noticed how furiously your knee was bouncing up and down until the person sitting next to you on the subway got up to move seats once the train squealed to a stop. You sighed and ran your hands down the front of your thighs. Normally being a little late didnât bother you as much, but tonight you were meeting him.
You flipped your wrist over to check your watch. 8:30pm. In all honesty, it had probably been only thirty seconds later than when you checked it the last time. Another deep sigh escaped from your lips as you started to become hyper aware of the train remaining still at the current stop. What could possibly be taking so long? You knew he wouldnât care if you were running late, but the time the two of you had together already felt so minuscule. You wanted to capitalize on every second you could.
The train began moving again and you slumped back into your seat, feeling only a small amount of relief. It was becoming painfully apparent that you needed to try and relax. You could feel the sweat building up on your body, the sting on your palms from where your fingernails were pressing in with a vengeance moments ago, and you could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Your hand dug around in your purse for a few moments before finding the small case you were looking for. Opening it, you slipped your headphones into your ears and let your head rest on the window behind you as music intertwined with your thoughts.
Once upon a time, you made fun of people who decided to go to grad school. What kind of a clown would spend thousands of MORE dollars and go BACK to school?? Not to mention the stress of the assignments, the due dates - it was not for you...or so you thought.
Now here you are, a regular booboo the fool.
NYUâs graduate program for design and merchandising wasnât necessarily part of your 5-year plan, but when the opportunity landed in front of you it was difficult to pass up. NYU was a school you had only dreamt of attending back in high school. When you were a senior in high school you were able to tour the campus and fell in love immediately. Hours upon hours were spent researching grants, scholarships, and all sorts of ways to try to make it happen. However, the dream ended as most teenage dreams do - crushed. There was no way you or your parents could afford the loans that it would surely wrack up to attend the out of state university, and there was no way you could ask your parents take on that kind of debt just so you could go to college. UMass was the way to go - close to home and familiar. Not to mention you were able to obtain several scholarships and grants that helped bring down the cost tremendously. Little did you know, boring ole UMass would bring you one of the most important things in your life.
Applying for graduate school wasnât an easy decision and one you couldnât really take all the credit for. A smile crept across your face as you reminisced on the night you nervously brought up the idea to your long-term boyfriend.
âI think you should do it,â
âI know, right?â you scoffed, âitâs insane, why would I do something so stup...wait, what? You do?â
âOf course I do. This is something you love and that youâre passionate about. Do you know how many hours of my life were spent listening to you ramble about NYU?â he questioned with a grin.
âIt will open up so many doors for you. We can make things work,â a chuckle escaped from those beautiful lips as he saw your dumbfounded expression. He wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you close, âWhat? Did you expect me to forbid it? Cmon, baby, what kind of guy do you take me for?â
You didnât have a lot of wins in your life, but you did have Chris.
When you got accepted, he took off a week from work to drive you 3 and a half hours south to help get you settled and moved into your temporary new home. The two of you ate a disgusting amount of pizza, moved a ridiculous amount of heavy furniture in the middle of a summer heat wave, and enjoyed each otherâs company before the long-distance thing would set in. Chris spent that week encouraging you every step of the way, talking you off the ledge when you were convinced you had made the wrong decision, and made sure to help you christen every possible surface of your new place in the most deliciously sinful way.
You bit your lip slightly at the thought and a warm feeling spread across your face. Chris was one of the most incredible people you had met in this world. Kind, caring, funny, intelligent, passionate, and god was he sexy. The connection the two of you had was scary at first, but now you just couldnât imagine spending your life with anyone else.
The robotic voice came over the loud-speaker in the subway car and you were rudely ripped back to reality as it pulled into your stop. You hurriedly scooped up your bag and jogged off the train.
It had been a promise between the two of you when you moved that there would be equal effort when it came to visiting and keeping in contact while having good, open communication. Long distance was hard but the two of you were determined to make it work. FaceTime calls, hours upon hours of texting, and even as far as writing the occasional letter back and forth (because your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic and you loved it so much). This weekend was your turn to come home to visit, and of course your last class had to go longer than anticipated. Fuckinâ Tiffany and her stupid ass questions.
The muscles of your calves burned as you kept up your hurried pace, weaving through the crowds of people gathered on sidewalks outside of various clubs and restaurants. It was a weekend night and the Patriots were playing, which meant the city was more alive than usual. New York was it's own beast, but it was a different type of hustle and bustle. Nights like these made your heart ache for home - the thick Massachusetts accents, the rowdy voices of bar patrons arguing about the game, the hugs shared between family members as they parted after dinner, and the faint smell of nicotine and alcohol that hung in the air.
As the neon sign that hung in the pub window came in to view you felt your heart dip down into your stomach. Last weekendâs visit had to be cancelled due to some stuff coming up with Chrisâ work and a surprise assignment for you, so you hadnât seen your boyfriend in 2 weeks. With a deep breath you swung open the door and scanned the crowd for him. He told you that he would be there promptly at 7:15pm for pregame shenanigans with his friends - which actually translated to how many pitchers of beer could they suck down before kick off.
âAw, come ON! That is such a bullshit call!â
You heard him before you saw him. Of course. A grin spread across your lips as you shook your head. The thought of leaving to avoid secondhand embarrassment crossed your mind briefly before you picked up your feet and made your way through the crowd toward the sound. A room full of people from New England and you would still recognize that voice anywhere.
Everyone else seemed to fade away as you saw the outline of the tall, dark haired man standing at the bar. The slight freckles that spattered the back of his neck, the Brady jersey that he spent WAY too much money customizing, and the signature backward ball cap were ingrained in your subconscious memory. Not to mention if you didnât recognize his outline or his voice, you would definitely recognize that ass anywhere.
You loved how passionate he got about sports and the way his Boston accent seemed to get thicker with each beer he consumed. Growing up in the area, you wouldn't think the accent would send a tingle down your spine the way it does, but it was different - it was Chris. Not to mention the sparkle in his eye when he would watch his favorite team or the way he would get in to arguments whenever someone tried to say something negative about them. You loved your big, handsome, over-sized toddler man so damn much.
A light tap on his shoulder made him whip around, his slightly opened mouth from his interrupted conversation curved upwards into a wicked grin as he made the connection of who was finally standing in front of him.
âHey there, handsome. I donât see a ring on your finger. You single?â You grinned, feeling your entire body fill with warmth as Chris leaned back and grabbed his chest as he erupted in laughter.
âNah, nah, nah, unfortunately for you I am takenâ he responded as he snaked his arms around your waist, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he pulled you into his figure.
âThat is too bad,â you tsk'd, running a finger down his toned bicep, âsheâs one lucky girl.â
âI think Iâm the lucky one,â he grinned. He leaned down to meet your lips in a kiss. You sighed into it, allowing your body to mold itself so perfectly into his. The taste of beer on his lips and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating - it was home. You immediately allowed him entrance as you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip. Your body felt small in his strong grip and you couldnât help but laugh a bit as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. Normally, this type of bold, public display of affection would make you cringe away but at this point you were lost in Chris that you had absolutely no shame. Each time the two of you embraced had always felt like the first. Your heart still fluttered and your knees still got weak, like you were a 16 year old being kissed for the first time.
In the middle of your reunion moment, however, something happened in the game that made the entire bar erupt in booâs and curses. Chris lifted his lips from yours to look over his shoulder and inspect what he had missed. You laughed and shook your head as you pushed him back towards his friends and took a seat in the bar stool he had been standing behind initially. His large hands found a natural place on your shoulders. While his eyes remained glued on the TV he began applying a moderate amount of pressure to your neck and shoulders. You didnât realize how much your body craved that touch, his touch, until you immediately melted back into him.
The bartender slid a beer in front of you with a wink and you mouthed your thanks. You felt a twinge in your heart as you looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. This was a typical weekend night for the two of you whenever you were living together. Football, drinks, pub food, and friends. If it wasnât this pub it was your living room, just a couple blocks away. You didnât even mind that it was your first night back and you werenât alone, spending it immediately wrapped up in your satin sheets. The atmosphere, the people - it was so warm and familiar that you really wouldnât rather be doing anything else. Plus, being wrapped up together in the sheets was sure to follow.
âI missed you,â hummed a pair of lips as they placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. A shiver shot down your spine at the sensation of his warm breath fanning over your neck. You reached up a hand and connected it to the nape of his neck.
âI missed you too,â you replied, turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek.
His arms changed position as he wrapped them in front of your shoulders and crossed them, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed his forearms as you nursed your beer and placed your focus onto the game for the first time tonight.
The laughter seemed to escape from your chest naturally and effortlessly the entire night, as it always had a habit of doing when Chris was around. The camaraderie between him and his buddies during a game was something youâd grown to enjoy over the years. Chrisâ competitive nature and the way his jaw clenched when something wasnât going the way he wanted was always kinda...hot. All of his friends were huge assholes, but in the best way. It was always entertaining to hear them jab at each other and do what they could to rile someone up. They were the life of every party you had ever attended and they had a way of making a boring night a lot more interesting.
Thankfully (for the integrity of the bar) the Pats won the game with a surprise touchdown in the last 30 seconds of the game. Chris, being the guy he is, bought a final round for his friends and a nearby group they had been going back and forth with all night. You couldnât help but laugh as he drunkenly leaned across the counter and slurred his order to the bartender.
âI need a round for mâfriends and for these assholes over here who thought Tom Brady was anything but a winner!â the group started yelling in protest and he simply waved them off and started sliding beers down the bar.
The group eventually moved to a bigger round top so everyone could shoot the shit and banter about the outcome of the game. You were tucked into Chrisâ side, hands intertwined as he was passionately discussing the importance of Bradyâs legacy with a stranger who made the mistake of stopping to talk to him. Your eyes followed the motion of your thumb as it traced small circles onto the back of his. Your other hand under your chin, holding up the weight of your head as your exhaustion started to catch up with you. Chris, although slightly drunk, picked up on your body language and raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.
âAlright, fellas,â he said as he stood up from his seat, pulling you up with him, âthe lady and I are gonna call it a night. See you boys next weekendâ.
âChris, we donât have to go,â you began to protest as he tucked his jacket around your shoulders.
âMm, âcourse we do,â he replied with a soft smile, âyouâre so tired, baby. I can see it in those beautiful eyesâ.
You could feel your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at his attempt at laying it on thick. After what felt like a proper 10 minute goodbye session, the group said their final goodbyes, hugs included, and you walked out of the pub hand in hand.
The walk home was filled with the sounds of cars passing by and conversation of what each other had missed in the week prior. Small talk typically felt like such a chore, but with Chris every conversation came naturally. Even when he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, he would listen intently and ask all the questions as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world.
The lock on the apartment door clicked as you pushed it open and entered. You smiled as you stopped into the middle of the living room, taking in the home you missed so dearly. A soft tapping of toenails against the hardwood made your heart soar as you met the eyes of your sweet pup, Dodger. A squeal left your lips as you squatted down to give love to the sweet boy. Chris always made fun of you when you came home, saying that you always seemed to miss Dodger more than you did him and I mean, he wasnât entirely wrong about that statement.
Once again lost in your own world, you didnât even notice Chris leaned up against the wall watching you with a smile.
âOh my god,â you gushed, standing up, âdo you like...like me or something?â
Chris grinned as he crossed the room and caught your belt loop with his finger, pulling you into him slowly.
âYeah,â his voice had dropped down an octave, âyou could say thatâ.
âMm,â your tongue swiped across your lower lip and you wrapped your arms around his neck, âcare to show me how much?â
The look in his eyes made your core burn. The tension building between you two became too much to handle as you crashed your lips into his. The kisses were messy and you could feel the sense of urgency between you two. His beard scratched against the column of your throat with a delicious burn as he left wet kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck. Chrisâ hands found their way back into the ass pockets of your jeans as he started walking you back towards the direction of the bedroom.
Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and you felt very sorry for your neighbors. It had been a long time, but Chris always had a way of welcoming you home.
#eeeeeeee#i love soft drunk boston frat chris so much it pains me#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans x reader#chris evans#chris evans headcanons#chris evans imagines#chris evans fic#chris evans fluff#chris evans x you#chris evans x y/n#chris evans/reader#chris evans/you#fluff#imagines#headcanons
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Silver Moon Ch. 8
Fandom: ë°©íìë
ëš | Bangtan Boys | BTS Â Â Â Relationship: Jeon Jungkook/OC
Words: 6,946   Chapters: 8/__    Language: English    Rating: Explicit    Warnings: Past trauma, violence, slow burn but the smut will hit hard, corny hybrid tropes (I will probably add to this list as I write)    Category: M/F
Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37537594/chapters/93691681
Story Summary: Â Hybrids are hardly the biggest part of Alinaâs life. In fact, she tries her best to ignore anything hybrid-related. She is content to study for her entrance exam to grad school and try to live as innocuously as possible. But the events of her past will com back to haunt her when she becomes indebted to a hybrid named Jungkook. Their lives have become inextricably intertwined, but will they be able to trust each other? Will they be able to stand with each other in order to survive?
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Notes: there may be a teeny-tiny bit of smut in this one đÂ
Chapter 8Â
âHey Hobi and Namjoon want to have you over next week after you take your exam. Theyâre gonna cook a celebration dinner,â Jungkook said from his bed. Alina was sitting at her desk correcting the practice test sheâd just taken.
âOh thatâs nice of them,â Alina said, âisnât that kind of a premature celebration though? I wonât know my score for a while.â
âAh come on Alina. You deserve to celebrate just for taking it. Iâm gonna text them and say weâre in. The other guys will probably come too.â
Alina smiled, looking back at him. He had his headphones on, head on his pillow, one leg resting over the other. His foot was keeping beat with whatever song he was listening to. She had to admit, it was easier to study when he was here. His quiet company helped her, unless he had decided to be impatient and talkative that night. But even then, she rarely kicked him out. If anything, it helped her take breaks.Â
She turned back to her studies for a while, slowing making her way through her to-do list for that night. She was in the middle of a question when she realized something.
âHey, we never celebrated you getting your job at the gym,â she said, frowning.Â
âThere wasnât any reason. Iâm pretty sure Namjoon was just throwing me a bone anyway, not sure why,â Jungkook chuckled.
Alina didnât laugh, though. âJungkook donât say that. It is a big deal that you got that position. Namjoon took a chance on you, and now youâre proving what an asset you are. Heâs told me as much.â
Jungkook tilted his head up to look at her from his position in his bed. Seeing how serious she was, he let his grin drop into a gentle smile. âI appreciate what youâre saying, I really do. But this week is about you. Youâve put in a lot of work, and itâs not like the rest of your life has been uneventful,â he told her.
She decided to just accept the praise, but she would remember to do something for him later.Â
*****
Her exam came and went, and she could only hope that she did well. She promised herself that she would cast it out of her brain at least while they were at the dinner party.
A lot of people ended up at Hobi and Namjoonâs apartment. All the boys were coming, and Mina and Courtney were both going to show up later in the night. Jimin greeted Alina and Namjoon when they had arrived. Alina had learned a while ago that even though Jimin was registered under Namjoonâs name, apparently he lived in a different apartment in the same building. It was pretty rare that hybrids lived on their own, but after knowing the group for a few months now, Alina had gotten the picture that none of them were exactly typical.
In fact, sheâd been thinking about it more and more. The dynamic between all of them - Namjoon, Hoseok, Tae, Jimin, Jin, Yoongi, and now Jungkook, was such that you would forget some of them were hybrids and some of them were humans. Obviously the humans looked slightly different from the hybrids, but in terms of social differences and power imbalances, you couldnât see any if you tried.
It went without saying that the shock collars were never used. Because of the groupâs dynamic, sheâd been tempted to ask Namjoon or Hobi if they ever thought about getting rid of Hobi's collar, in secret of course. She had a fantasy that one of them might know someone who could help. But at the same time, the collars were never acknowledged, not in front of Alina at least. And all the hybrids in the group wore them. So maybe they all just accepted the devices as fact and chose instead to ignore their existence. Perhaps that was all one could do.Â
In addition to that, she remembered what Robert had said, about the how those involved with collar removals tended to be extremely seedy people. Namjoon and Hobi did not give off that vibe at all. She suspected Namjoon came from money, though she would never ask, and everything the couple did in terms of their gym business seemed extremely above board.Â
She had thought about asking the other boys too, like Jimin or Tae, but they seemed very wrapped up in their respective studies and jobs. They were also still quite young, and all of this made her feel like they were even less likely to know.
Then there was Jin and Yoongi. Like Hobi and Namjoon, they clearly had a very close relationship, not to mention the fact that Yoongi so visibly had Jin wrapped around his little finger. Sheâd gotten closer to Jin, but she still felt way too intimidated by Yoongi to even think about bringing up the subject with either of them. He had been more friendly to her recently, but Yoongi was still pretty distant. She didnât know much about him, and she knew better than to prod him about it.Â
In the end, she was beginning to trust all the boys a lot, but she was still scared to bring up something so sensitive. What if sheâd read them wrong? They seemed to function fine as it was, so maybe they didnât have a problem with the hybrid laws. They might even want to distance themselves from her and Jungkook if she brought collar removals up, and she really didnât want to ruin something Jungkook so clearly valued.
She had all this in the back of her mind as the group sat around eating snacks and drinking, waiting for the food to be done. Namjoon and Hobi had insisted on cooking, much to Jinâs chagrin.Â
Courtney and Mina showed up a little after the food was ready, and they had all sat in the living room of the apartment to eat. Namjoon and Jimin had brought out extra chairs for everyone, but there were still one or two people on the floor. Alina sat on a fold out chair with Jungkook sitting cross-legged at her feet, having given his seat on the couch to Yoongi. Throughout the meal, Jungkook would occasionally rest his head on her knee. At first it made her stiffen, trying to stay still so as not to disturb him, but eventually she grew comfortable with the action. On the other hand, it took everything in her not to put her fingers in his hair to touch his ears. Sheâd never felt so tempted by them, and the impulse embarrassed her. Nonetheless, she enjoyed the meal immensely. The spread was so delicious that it even won praise form Jin.
*****
Everyone hung around after diner, nursing their drinks and enjoying the company. Tae was talking to Alina and Mina about nursing school, bragging light-heartedly about his talents and faults.
âI think Iâm just too handsome to take patientsâ blood pressure! Thatâs all Iâm saying! Every time Iâm doing clinical, itâs always the same thing. Itâs not like I can control it,â Tae said, waving around his beer in emphasis.
He had them both practically doubled over with laughter.Â
âHey you donât believe me?â Tae said, leaning forward in feigned indignation.
âNo, no I believe you,â Alina said, putting her hands up in front of her in submission.
âMaybe theyâre just nervous because they can tell youâre kinda clumsy,â Mina teased, triggering another spiel from Tae in response.
Alina smiled, shaking her head. As much as she was enjoying the fun, the alcohol was starting to make her feel warm.Â
She excused herself and stepped out to get some fresh air on the porch. She greeted Namjoon and Jin, who were already sitting on deckchairs, enjoying the cool night air. Jin offered her his seat, and after some persuasion she let him give it to her. Tae followed after her a few minutes later, resting against the railing next to Jin.
âHey congratulations on your test, Alina,â Namjoon said, raising his beer towards her.
âThanks, Iâm just glad to have it over with,â Alina said.
âItâs a big deal. Youâve put a lot of work in. Do you have any ideas about where youâre headed next for school?â Jin asked.
âIâm not sure. Ideally I would stay here, but I donât know where Iâll get in to. You guys will be some of the first to know, though. I want to make sure I donât interrupt Jungkookâs life too much. So if I end up having to move away, Iâm sure weâll figure out something so that Jungkook can keep his job and stick around here most of the time.â
âYeah I canât have you taking away one of my most promising trainers,â Namjoon said. âAlmost all the women at the gym are harassing him about taking them on as clients,â he laughed.Â
Alina smiled. Jungkook was certainly magnetic, and she was quite confident that he was getting good at his job. She needed to make sure she didnât mess that up for him.
âHey Alina,â Tae said when the conversation lulled. âWould you happen to know if Mina was seeing anybody?â
Alina grinned knowingly at the question. She could see that Mina and Tae got along well, and Mina had been asking about him more and more. She decided not to make it too easy for him, though. âUhm I donât know. Should I let her know you wondering?â
âNo! No, I mean, canât a guy just be interested in a little gossip, geez,â Tae said, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck.
Jin laughed, poking Taehyung in the stomach. âCome on donât be so chicken,â he teased.Â
Tae grumbled something back but seemed to take everything with good humor. Alina relented and told him Mina was unattached, hinting that he would be successful if he made a move. At some point Jin and Tae went inside to get away from the cold, leaving Namjoon and Alina alone on the porch. Theyâd been sitting in comfortable silence for a few minutes after chatting. As soon as theyâd stopped talking, her mind went back to hybrid collars. The opportunity was too good; she had to ask him.
âNamjoon, Iâve been meaning to ask you something,â Alina started, keeping her eyes down. âIf you donât want to answer, you donât have to. And itâs just me wondering, not Jungkook.â She wanted to distance JK as much as possible in case the topic made Namjoon dislike her. âYou and HobiâŠyou guys seem - you just seem really happy together,â she said.
She went quiet for a second, trying to figure out how to proceed. She knew that Namjoon was watching her carefully.Â
âAre you and Jungkook thinking about a romantic relationship? â he started to ask gently.
âWhat? No, no. Weâre notâŠuhm,â she was making things awkward. She needed to just spit it out.
âWhat I meant is, I think Jungkook is happy right now. And I think finding friends like you guys has a lot to do with that. But I know he has lost something that canât be replaced, by being registered, that is. The collar - I just donât know if he can ever really be happy with it. And I know he misses his freedom. His freedom had meant everything to him. Heâd spent most of his life protecting it, before he met me,â she said, trying to get everything out in one go. âI donât mean to put you in an uncomfortable position, Iâm just wondering if you know anything about getting the collars off,â she finished.
Namjoon didnât respond right away. He broke eye contact before he said anything, which Alina took as a bad sign. He seemed like he was thinking, Alina just didnât know what he was considering.Â
âIâm sorry, Alina,â he said after a moment. âYou donât have to worry about asking me - although I donât recommend you going around asking other people. Itâs a dangerous subject, which Iâm sure you know. But Iâm afraid I canât really help you.â
Disappointment settled in her stomach. âThatâs ok, I understand.â She didnât know what else to say, so she stayed quiet. It sounded like he wouldnât turn her in to the police at least.Â
âDo you mind if I ask why you came to me with this question?â Namjoon asked.
âI donât knowâŠlike I said, you and Hobi seem to trust each other so much, I figured you might have pursued this option.â She hesitated for a moment. âYouâre not offended by that are you?â she asked, worried.Â
âNo! No,â Namjoon laughed a little, even though Alina didnât see what was funny. âIâm just,â he cut himself off, instead asking, âhave you asked anybody else? About removing collars?â
Alina wasnât sure she should tell him. She had decided she didnât think he would try to report her, but maybe it was a bad idea to tell him how seriously she had tried to find a collar engineer. If he didnât have anything to do with that world, if it even existed, then it wasnât like he could help her.Â
âYou donât have to tell me,â Namjoon said. âI only ask because Iâm worried. If you say that around the wrong people, the government will start monitoring you. It can get you in trouble, even if you havenât done anything illegal yet.â
âI asked around Courtneyâs political science department and some old friends of ours from college. Most of them are radicals who want reform, but none of them were really able to help me. Iâm starting to think these engineers donât even exist,â she said, figuring she may as well tell him everything. âI got an address for a clinic downtown. But it turned out to be more of a brothel. They threw me out when I asked about a âhyrbid freedom clinicâ. I donât think they really knew what I was talking about anyway. They said hybrid smuggling was illegal and they didnât have anything to do with it.âÂ
âAh, maybe the organization that used to be there smuggled hybrids to New Zealand where they can live more freely,â Namjoon said offhandedly.Â
Alina nodded, agreeing that this was likely the case. From what she could tell, that was even harder to do than removing collars, in part because with the collars on, it wasnât worth going to New Zealand. The hybridâs home country could still track them, and New Zealand still compiled with extradition requests.Â
Namjoon looked over his shoulder, seemingly to check on the other guests at the party. Maybe he was tired of this conversation. It wasnât exactly light-hearted, and Alina felt bad for ruining the mood. She looked over, too, realizing sheâd been neglecting her assigned duty as Courtneyâs drink-count-watcher.Â
When she looked through the glass door she immediately made eye contact with Yoongi. Most of the others were talking and laughing, but he was clearly watching her and Namjoon. She felt like a dear in headlights, unable to turn away.Â
After a few seconds Yoongi looked to his right, saying something to Jimin, who was sat next to him. Alina turned back around, probably a little too fast.Â
âAlina, I just want to say -â Namjoon stopped when they heard the glass door open.
Alina felt her stomach drop. It was probably Yoongi. She didnât know what she was so afraid of. Even if he somehow knew what sheâd been saying, Namjoon wouldnât let him turn her in. At least she hoped he wouldnât.Â
Fortunately she didnât need to worry for long, as Jungkook stepped out on to the porch. He came to sit on the arm of her chair, putting his arms around himself.Â
âNamjoon are you holding her captive out here or something? Alina arenât you cold?â He asked.
âNo Iâm okay. I guess I had enough beer to keep me warm,â Alina said, giving him a sheepish smile, pulling her sweater closer around her. Sheâd been too invested in their conversation to notice, but she was getting cold now that she thought about it. It was the first week of December, and the winter weather was nearly in full gear. Theyâd probably get snow soon.
âPfff, you know thatâs how people freeze to death? Youâre not actually warm you just donât notice youâre cold,â he said. Alina was about to retort that she did in fact know that, but Jungkook surprised her by opening up his black flannel over-shirt and bringing it around her shoulder. Then he put his arm around her, hugging her close so they could share the warmth of the shirt.
It was more contact than they usually had. But Jungkook seemed confident in the movement, so she relaxed against his side. He emitted heat like a furnace, so it was nice relief from cold. And she liked being near Jungkook.
She wondered what Namjoon had been about to say, though. She supposed it didnât matter. He couldnât help her. And heâd essentially been her last line of recourse. Everyone was telling her the same thing. She wouldnât be able to find someone, so it wasnât worth the danger. Stop trying.Â
Alina sighed, which made Jungkook look down at her. She couldnât see his face, but sheâd felt him shift.Â
âItâs getting pretty late,â he said, âand you abandoned your post with Courtney. Sheâs trying to drink Jimin under the table.â
That made all of them laugh. If those two were in a drinking competition, it was probably time for the night to end. Mina had kindly offered to be the designated driver, so they could go home whenever they were ready.Â
âMaybe we should get going then,â she said, sitting up.Â
âDonât forget to take leftovers,â Namjoon said as he rose up from his seat and stretched his back.
They stepped back into the apartment, Alina rubbing her arms, already missing the warmth of Jungkookâs shirt. They were greeted with the sight of a very drunk Courtney and Jimin, both laughing while Jin and Tae cheered them on and Hobi gently tried to pry the champagne bottle from Jiminâs hands.Â
*****
Jungkook and Alina helped get Courtney into the backseat of the car and Mina brought Tae around to the passenger side. As soon as Mina started driving, the three in the back fell asleep. Courtney had brought her arm around her seat belt so she could put her head in Alinaâs lap, which Mina decided to allow just this once. Alinaâs head had fallen to Jungkookâs shoulder, hair falling in her face. Jungkook was leaned against the window, but he had his head tilted towards Alina, lips slightly parted in sleep.
Mina let herself glance at them in the mirror as she drove. She was happy that Jungkook wasnât leaving. At first sheâd been worried about both him and Alina, since the whole arrangement was so odd and Alina usually didnât do well with disruption, but in the end she decided that the two were very good for each other. It was an unfortunate situation, but Jungkook was able to bring Alina out of her shell in a way Mina hadnât expected.Â
Taehyung was sobering up next to her and caught her looking in the backseat. He turned around and smiled at the three of them, asleep on each other.Â
âYouâve known Alina since college right?â He suddenly asked, straightening to face the road again.Â
âYeah her and Courtney both.â
âShe seems like a good person. Iâm glad her and Jungkook have each other, and all you guys.â
Mina smiled, not figuring Tae for the emotional drunk. The car was quiet for a little while until Tae spoke again, softly this time. âI think Jungkook might like her.â Mina was about to snicker but stopped when realized how serious Tae was being. She looked over at him for a moment. âIs that a bad thing?â She asked. Maybe sheâd read Tae wrong, maybe he was into Alina.Â
âNo..Iâm just a little worried about him is all. Relationships between hybrids and ownersâŠit can be messy. I havenât known him for a crazy long time, but I know he rides hard for the people he cares about. Iâm pretty are Alina is the same way, but I donât know how she feels and things can go wrongâŠâ he let his sentence drift a little. âIâm not making any sense,â he said, laughing, lightening his mood.
But Mina was thinking about what he said. Honestly Alina kept herself so emotionally isolated that she hadnât even thought about Alina developing feelings for Jungkook, or the other way around. But Alina had been able to do things for and with Jungkook that sheâd never been able to do before. And she seemed happy.
 âI donât know what will happen between them. But I can tell that they care about each other. And they seem to put each otherâs well-being before anything else. Actually theyâve done that since the start, I guess,â thinking back on how the two met. For a moment she wanted to tell Tae about Alinaâs past. She didnât know why. Maybe she just wanted people to know how much her friend had to overcome to get to where she was. Or maybe it weighed a little heavy on Mina, being one of only a few people who Alina told. Even then, Mina was sure she didnât know the whole story. But sheâd never betray Alina like that. It has once gotten out in college, and it had devastated Alina having to relive all of it in public. Courtney had told a very shortened version to mutual friend of theirâs, someone she thought they could trust, and it had gotten out. Courtney hadnât meant anything by it, in fact she had been defending Alinaâs outwardly neutral stance on hybrids. Alina had long since forgiven Courtney, but Mina knew that the whole thing was very hard on her.
No, it wasnât Minaâs story to tell. She was pretty sure Alina hadnât told Jungkook, either, and maybe that was for the best. If Alina wanted her past to stay buried, that was her prerogative. Â
*****
Jungkook couldnât sleep. Heâd been feeling antsy all week and wasnât sure why. It didnât help that heâd fallen asleep in the car on the way home. This also wasnât his favorite time of year, that could be part of it. He pulled his comforter closer to his chin. Usually he tried to get somewhere warm and wait out the winter there. It was a practical comfort primarily, or at least thatâs what he told himself. It was easier to survive on the street when it was warm than when it was cold. But if he was honest with himself, the heat bothered him much more than the cold. He remembered one winter he spent in a desert town. It was bleak and hot and boring, and the ground was just as hard as in the northern cities.Â
He closed his eyes, sighing deeply. He let himself focus on the softness of his bedding and the smells in the room. If he concentrated, he could smell ink and graphite, clean wool from a blanket, the little plant on the window sill. There were obvious things, too, like detergent and shampoo and mint tea. Then there was Alina, whoâs scent was often muddled by hair products or perfume. He sometimes found himself wishing she wouldnât cover it up so much. Nothing she used was particularly offensive to him, but he liked her natural scent better.Â
His own scent had settled into the room, too. He didnât notice it much, but it was likely one of the reasons he felt so protective and safe in this space. He hadnât had that in a long time. Maybe heâd never had whatever he had here.
He curled up on his side facing Alina. Sheâd fallen asleep hours ago. He couldnât see much of her from his position on the floor, but he could see her shoulder and back rising and falling with her breath. He wondered if they would end up having to move when she got into law school. Sheâd told him she was applying to the university here, and that she would prefer to go there, but she didnât know where sheâd get in. It would be hard to leave the friends heâd made here. Really hard. Alina had already broached the subject, saying that he could live wherever he liked, no matter where she went. But he was pretty sure heâd follow her. He could split his time, too, and visit with his friends here.Â
It was funny, how much things had changed for him. Now he had to think about how to keep people in his life. Heâd spent most of his time trying to the do the opposite before. He thought his life would be over if he ever got collared, but in some ways he had more now than he had before. It wasnât like he was grateful for the thing. He wanted it off more than almost anything else. But he was grateful for Alina. And all the people heâd met because of her.Â
As his mind circled back to her, he suddenly noticed a change in the pattern of her breath. It was quicker now, which had happened more when he first moved in. He wondered if it was a product of normal dreaming or if she was in distress.
He quietly got out bed to go check on her. She was starting to sweat more, too. When he ventured close enough to see her face, he saw that her brows were pinched together in her sleep.Â
He should return to his bed, he thought. She was probably fine and wouldnât appreciate him bothering her. And it was weird to kneel here looking at her.
But before he got the chance to move away, Alina gasped, shooting forward in bed. The sudden movement had Jungkook falling back on his behind, staring at her.
She sat there for a moment, gasping for breath. Just when he thought it couldnât get any worse, she burst into tears.Â
'What the hell is going on?â He thought, frozen in place on the floor.
She hadnât noticed his proximity. Should he move away? She had her hands hiding her face as more gasping sobs broke from her body.
He needed to help her, but he didnât know how. Certainly staying on the floor in a daze wasnât the answer.Â
He got up slowly, kneeling by her bed again. When sheâd cried that other time in the woods, holding her had seemed to help. But he didnât want to upset her further with unwanted contact.
âAlina, Alina are you ok?â He asked.
A startled noise interrupted her crying, and she immediately moved away from him.
 âIâm sorry! Iâm sorry I didnât mean to scare you,â he said, holding his hands up in front of him.
She stated at him for a second, and for one horrible moment it was like she didnât recognize him. Then she blinked, her chin started to wobble, and more tears started rolling down her cheeks.Â
âDo you want me to get Courtney or Mina?â He asked. She shook her head no. He couldnât stop himself. âCan I sit with you? Will that help? To have someone next to you for a while?â He asked.
She nodded her head yes. He didnât know which one of his questions she was answering but it was enough for him. He sat down with his legs off the bed first, unsure of how close she wanted him. But she took his hand in hers when he offered it, so he decided to move a little closer, brining his legs up next to hers.
They sat like that for a while, Alina trying to breath evenly and calm down, Jungkook sitting next to her holding her hand. He stayed on top of the covers but kept his shoulder pressed to hers. She smelled scared, but it was getting better. He hoped he was helping.
Maybe her nightmare had something to do with how she grew up. He didnât know how her parents died, it could have something to do with that. But it could just as easily have something to do with growing up in the system. He looked down at her. Some fresh tears were still rolling down her cheeks, but she was breathing easier. He suddenly realized it was very important to him that she was able to be happy. Sheâd had a hard life, probably harder than he knew. She at least deserved to keep the peaceful life sheâd built.
âThank you for sitting with me,â she said, eyes closed.Â
âAre you getting tired again?â he asked. It was still the middle of the night, and she had a shift at work in the afternoon.
âYeah. I think I cried myself out.â
âDo you want me to stay with you?â He asked. Was that a weird offer? He was probably overstepping, but he was still a little worried about her. Even if he felt awkward after asking, he knew it would feel worse doing nothing.
She was quiet for a moment. âYou donât mind?â
He shook his head. âI donât mind.â
âOk,â she said. She stayed where she was for a few seconds before moving down the bed and lying down, facing the wall and pulling the cover up to her shoulder. He stayed sitting. Her back was pressed up against his thigh. She looked like she was going to fall right back asleep, if she wasnât already nodding off.Â
Jungkook would have thought the whole ordeal would make him feel more awake, but his eyes were feeling more and more heavy. He could feel Alinaâs body heat through the comforter. Or maybe it was his body heat being insulated between them. Whatever the case, she looked calm again, which made him feel more relaxed. Her cheeks were still flushed, but her brow was less tense.Â
He carefully repositioned himself so he was laying on his back, moving so that there were a few inches between them. Now that she wasnât awake he felt shy. He didnât want her to think he was trying to take advantage of her. He didnât really know what she meant when she said he could stay with her. Maybe she just meant until she was back asleep.
He brought an arm up behind his head and closed his eyes. Maybe he should move back to his bed. Yeah, heâd stay here with Alina for a little while longer, just to make sure she was ok, then heâd ago back to his own bed. It would be less weird that way when they woke up.
*****
Alina woke up before her alarm, but it was late enough in the morning for sunlight to spill into her room.Â
She knew she should get up. It would only get harder to get out of bed if she went back to sleep. But she was so warm, and she felt more peaceful this morning than she usually did.
As she started to turn over and sit up, she felt something beside her. She froze, the events of last night rushing back to her. Jungkook must still be in bed with her. She felt her face and ears flush.
It had been one of her usual nightmares, although she hadnât had one in a while. The dream was essentially a memory from the night her family was killed, except in the dream, she could see what tore down the door. The creature differed night to night. Sometimes it was a grotesque unintelligible monster, sometimes it was the woman with blond streak in her hair, sometimes it was as simple as a wolf. She should be used to it now that she was older, but sheâd been grateful for Jungkookâs help. At first sheâd been worried heâd press her about the content of the dream. She couldnât tell him about it, of course. Any amount of detail would risk suspicion. But heâd just sat down next to her, holding her hand. She smiled thinking about it.Â
Now that she knew Jungkook was still next to her, something in her desperately wanted lay back down and press herself against him, put her arms around his neck. What would that feel like? It would be warm, for sure. And if he put his arm around her, let her close enough that she could be pressed up against his stomachâŠshe closed her eyes and sighed. All she wanted her whole life was to feel safe. And by some twist of fate, that feeling had only ever truly come when she was close to Jungkook. But these impulses she had, which ranged from innocent and forgivable to deeply inappropriate, needed to be dealt with. It was unfair to Jungkook - her feeling like thisâŠwhatever this was.
She continued her attempt at sitting up, moving slowly so as not to wake him. He had been an extraordinarily light sleeper when sheâd first met him, but that had progressively changed over the course of living with her. Now he slept like a rock; even her alarm wouldnât budge him. Once she got herself upright, she could get a better look at him.
He was on his side facing her, cheek smushed into the pillow. His cheeks were a little red, and his breath puffed out of his mouth in small gusts. One of his arms was pulled up to his chest, the other was placed closer to her, just brushing her leg. His knees were slightly bent towards her hand he was still only in a t-shirt and boxers â suddenly she had to stop an embarrassed gasp that tried to escape her mouth, quickly averting her eyes.
He definitely had morning wood. She hadnât meant to look, but then suddenly it was too late. She felt like such a creep. If she thought she was flushed before, that was nothing. Her whole body felt like it was on fire. He eyes traveled back to his lips, seemingly out of her control. Those little bursts of breath seemed so innocent before, now she saw small sensual gasps falling past his pink lips.Â
She pinched her eyes shut. At some point her hand had come to rest over her mouth. She needed to stop looking at him. Sheâd never been a voyeur before, why now? He could wake up at any moment and see what a pervert she was.Â
She gingerly removed the covers from her legs, letting them drape softly onto Jungkook. She was worried the movement might wake him, but she had no where else to put them. Then she slowly scooted down to the foot of the bed, getting off that way. She grabbed some clothes and her phone on her way out and quickly slipped out of the room. Only when she closed the door quietly behind her did she let out a deep breath.Â
*****
It had been a few days since Namjoon and Alina talked that night on the porch. Hoseok wanted to go to the rest of the pack immediately, but Namjoon had needed a little bit of time to think. He decided he wanted to tell Yoongi separately, before the others.Â
Heâd just walked into Yoongiâs workshop, greeting him with coffees in hand. Yoongi was working on something at his desk, so Namjoon set the coffee down next to him.
âAre you finally gonna tell me what you and Alina were talking about the other night?â Yoongi asked, not looking up from what he was doing.Â
Namjoon couldnât help but smile, shaking his head. Nothing would ever get past Yoongi.Â
He walked over the other side of the small room and took a seat on a stray stool. âMaybe we were talking about something incredibly mundane,â he said, trying to lighten Yoongiâs mood.
Yoongi put down the gadget he was working on and swiveled his chair around to look at Namjoon, not saying anything.
âLook I understand you donât trust her. I understand you want to tread carefully. I want to respect that. But I need you listen to what Iâm going to tell you,â Namjoon said, voice serious. âBut first, how about you tell me if you found anything else on her background.â
Yoongi sighed. Frankly, he hadnât found much, which was what bothered him. âA friend of mine was able to get some files form her time in foster care. Not much was new. There was some physical abuse in one of the homes, which was why she was moved. I dug deeper in into her college years, too. She truly has no recorded history of any involvement with anything hybrid-related,â Yoongi recited. âThe problem is, before entering foster care, thereâs nothing. The records arenât sealed. They donât exist.â
Namjoon frowned. That was odd. And it meant there was a part of Alinaâs life that they couldnât account for.Â
âNamjoon. Sheâs hiding something from us. She said her parents died when she was young. Now, it would be ok if she just didnât want to talk about something so traumatic, or even if she was hiding some other run of the mill family secret. But there is no record of her family ever existing. There is no record of her before she entered foster care, not even a birth certificate,â Yoongi said. âSomeone has gone to great lengths to cover something up. And I donât even know if that someone is Alina.â
Namjoon brought his hand up to rub at his eyes. This made things more complicated. But his decision remained the same.
âYour turn,â Yoongi said, watching Namjoon expectantly.
âShe asked me about collar removals.â
That got a reaction out of Yoongi, albeit a small one. But the surprise was evident on his face.
âIâm almost certain she has no idea about what you do,â Namjoon continued.
âThen why did she ask,â Yoongi interrupted.
âShe said she wanted to ask me because me and Hobi seem so happy. She thought maybe weâd considered it. And she claimed that Jungkook did know her asking. I think she was worried if the question went down badly with me Iâd take it out on him. I mean, maybe she just sensed something about us, but honestly Yoongi she took a big risk asking me. That has to count for something.â
âOr maybe sheâs trying to get you comfortable enough to out us. Maybe sheâs nervous around me for a reason. Maybe sheâs figured out that Iâm one of the people that can take the collars off.âÂ
âYoongi sheâs nervous around you because youâre a jackass to her!â
Yoongi scoffed, turning away.Â
âThis hole in her past, I admit itâs troubling,â Namjoon said. âBut she has only tried to do the right thing in the whole time weâve known her.â
âWhich is not very long.â
âItâs been almost half a year. Jungkook trusts her. And she has only tried to do right by him this entire time.â
âJungkook is her prisoner Namjoon. Have you forgotten that? Do even realize what that does to someoneâs head?â
âWhat do you think her malicious plan could have been, Yoongi?â Namjoon asked loudly, starting to get frustrated. âDo you think she purposefully got mugged, assumed a hybrid would help and subsequently be captured? Then she chose to completely destabilize her life - a life she clearly worked hard to create - to register him, risking her safety and security on a person she didnât know, to save his life and repay him. Then she brought him to our studio, somehow knowing we had something to do with illegal hybrid activities? That makes no sense! She could just call in a tip without any evidence.â
Yoongi sighed, closing his eyes. âOk. Enough. Youâre right,â he said. âBut there is another reason to be cautious. Her and JK, we canât help them anonymously. Most of our usual precautions and fallbacks wonât be helpful. They know us already. If we help them, even if itâs just a collar removal, they will have to know that everyone in our pack knows about our activities. Iâm not saying she will report us, but if sheâs questioned, she will most likely break. And it will put all of us in jeopardy.Â
âIf you ask anyone in our pack whether they would be willing to take that risk, both for Jungkook and Alina, I think they would say yes right away. Which is why I want to discuss it with everyone tonight. My assessment is that itâs worth the risk. If you come to a different conclusion, I will respect that. Once we talk to everyone else, we will have a better idea of how to move forward. But we need to decide quickly. Iâm worried that sheâs going to try to find someone else who can help, which will inevitably attract attention from the authorities.â
Yoongi nodded. After a moment he looked at Namjoon. âDo you still think heâs from the Jeon Pack?â
Namjoon pursed his lips. The Jeon Pack had supposedly been dormant for the better part of a decade, but both he and Yoongi recognized Jungkookâs coloring.Â
âIt could be a coincidence,â Namjoon said.
âMaybe.â
âWhat I know is that Jungkook isnât anything like that pack. Not even a little bit. Either way, he hasnât mentioned them to us and Iâm willing to let sleeping dogs lie. We canât control what family weâre born into.â
#jeon jungkook#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook fanfiction#bts jeongkook#jeon jungkook x ofc#jeon jungkook x you#jeon jungkook x oc#jeon jungkoooook#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x you#jungkook x oc#jungkook x ofc#jungkook smut#bts hybrid fanfic#bts hybrid au#hybrid jungkook#hybrid!jungkook#hybrid fic#hybrid jungkook x you#jungkook fluff#Silver Moon
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im not sure if youâre still accepting requests, please ignore this if you are not, but maybeeee.... just maybe (?) a continuation of shy stem kook? i frikin adore how you write and you make my day so much better!! just wanted u to know!!
aHHHHHH this means a lot bestie omg i love u so much
stem major koo is taking up his missing lunchbox case to student affairs >:(
a continuation to this drabble :D
cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist
âitâs a... major crime??â
holy fuck seokjin has not had his coffee this morning and he bADLY needs it if he wants to get serious
about uh...
whatever the fuck this is
âprecisely, mr. kim. someone has been stealing my lunchbox this entire week, and i know for a fact that the esteemed student affairs office would not let me down in finding the thief.â
did this kid just say,,,,,,,,, lunchboxes?
oh my god he definitely did not sign up for this
he is a talented fresh grad and jin could not (for the life of him) bELIEVE that he is hearing out a college student, wanting to file a complaint for his missing lunch
this should not be funny
it should nOT be funny
jin knows that he technically should know every student in this uni, but his gut is just telling him to stall for a little while so he could gather his bearings and not lose it
âname?â
he sees the junior extend his lanyard, making him do a double-take because LMAOOOOOOOOO he has never seen a college student ever wear their ID cards as proud as this guy does,, or even wear them at all
âjeon jungkook. do you need my student number?â
heâs mEMORIZED his student number????
lol what a fucking nerd
seokjin shakes his head no, coughing to his hand as he brings up a file
uhhhhhhhh
yeah this seems about right
a presidentâs and deanâs lister, alma mater hoodie-loving, stem student whoâs in the running to be summa cum laude next year..... treating his missing lunchbox case to be a major crime
yeah uh heâll humor him
âcan you describe your lunchbox for me?â jin grabs his notebook so heâd look more sophisticated instead of typing, hand trembling from suppressing his chuckles
âno, mr. kim. lunchboxes. there are five. i havenât been getting any of them.â
HUEFFGSFSBHVSJQAKWDAF
âf-five? you have five lunchboxes?â seokjinâs pupils tremble but jungkook confuses his reaction for genuine concern, making the student hunch closer and look more somber, âuhm, this is still relevant but â may i ask wHY you have five?â
âfor each day of the week, of course,â jungkook scrunches his eyebrows, lips pursing in thought
thereâs a silence that stretches between the two of them, jinâs eyes slowly blinking and heâs trying,, heâs rEALLY trying to quell the screams inside his head
my DUDE have you ever heard about dishwashers???? :///
âright, right. of course,â he bounces back, tucking his thumbs as he tries to employ his Professional Tone and not the iâm actually an alumni from this school and i cannot believe iâm doing this tone
donât ask it donât ask it donât ask it donât ask-
âso jungkook, you say theyâve been missing the whole week, right? and you have a lunchbox for each day of the week. if uhm, if your monday lunchbox has been stolen, and so did your tuesday, and literally eVERY day of the week â why did you keep bringing the new ones in? because yâknow, if i walked into an alley and got mugged, i wOULDNâT walk into that alley anymore ya feel?????â
jungkook could only blink at that
..... right
mr. button-up polo guy with the safety pins on the shoulders does raise quite a valid point, aND much confusion on his own side
âthatâs because i donât bring the lunchboxes. someoneâs been leaving them out for me and-â
hold on
hold the FUCK on
âtheyâre not your lunchboxes?â
alright maybe thatâs jungkookâs fault
no nO his case is still serious :((
âb-but technically, theyâre mine!! someoneâs been leaving them out sPECIFICALLY for me and everyone knows that!!! someone must have been jealous o-or something that they keep taking it away from me!!â
seokjin may have been annoyed then entertained at first, but now he kinda feels sorry :O
how is he supposed to break this
â...... jungkook....... have you ever considered that maybe whoever this person this is, they may have just stopped giving you lunchboxes? and no oneâs really stealing them because thereâs nothing to steal?â
...
....
.......
jungkook looks like heâs going to throw another tantrum again uh-huh
âbut why though?? literally wHY??? i-itâs been going on for two weeks and i donât see any reason to why theyâd suddenly stop! thereâs no probable explanation for this a-and-...â
kookâs burying his face in his hands and heâs about to tear his hair out if his mind keeps spiraling even more
this is an interesting morning to seokjin
heâs awkwardly patting jungkookâs shoulder, definitely writing about this interaction in his daily journal because heâs definitely gonna get a good laugh from this
YEAH RIGHT UH JUNGKOOKâS WAILING
â.... i uh, the office next to mine offers counselling...?â
#drabble nights#jungkook imagine#jungkook oneshot#jungkook drabbles#stem koo#jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#jungkook au
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The House Call
Summary: As a full time grad student and part time drug dealer, you have a lot on your plate and Namjoon being a shitty school project partner is NOT helping, ok?!
masterlist.
Okay, so you were a drug dealer.
Nothing major! It was just weed, which would be legalized quickly, given the way the rest of the world was going. It was just to get you through grad school, you only sold to friends. You kept your circle tight, not many people even knew you dealt. You were very selective, which is why when Seokjin asked to share your number with his friend, you were unsure. But he was your most reliable customer, so his friends must be too.
What made it even worse was that he apparently was too busy to meet up at your usual drop spot- insisting to pay extra if you did a house call instead. You agreed, obviously, but still. It was annoying.
You had things to do, there was a huge project due the next morning and your partner hadn't done his part of it. He looked smart enough when you were paired up- he had glasses and everything. How were you supposed to know he was lazy as shit.
A buzzing in your pocket interrupted your internal rant- who the hell was calling you this late at night?
"Hello?" You snapped, letting your bad mood seep through your tone.
"Uh, hi- I had a question about the project."
Namjoon- your project partner. Of course. You groaned, walking up the steps to the apartment complex to where you were meant to drop off the weed. All of your conversations with this new customer had been through Jin, a fact that you regretted deeply.
"Get it over with, you know you really should've done this sooner," You sighed, checking the apartment numbers twice before knocking on the door.
"I normally would've but I've been really stressed, ok?" He apologized, a shuffling sound coming through the line.
You rolled your eyes as the door in front of you opened, revealing-
"Namjoon," You gasped, taken aback. He was Jin's friend? What are the odds. You hung up quickly, raising your eyebrows dramatically, "What are you doing buying weed instead of working on our project?"
He looked shocked himself, towering over you with his phone still pressed to his ear. He was dressed more casually than you were used to seeing, his hair disheveled in a way that oddly looked better than when he tried to tame it.
"I told you I was stressed," He mumbled, "Come in. I didn't know you were a dealer."
"I didn't know you smoked," You bit back, rolling your eyes.
You pursed your lips but stepped into his place, looking around curiously. It was nice, decorated in a way you wouldn't have expected from a 20 something year old boy. His place was relatively clean, other than the multiple empty cup noodles placed in random areas and the insane amount of paper laying around, "is this all schoolwork?"
"I'm taking a lot of classes," He shrugged, "How much is it?"
"Uh- thirty," You answered, picking up the nearest piece of paper. It was for micronutrients in the human body. the human, a class you had taken two semesters ago on a whim. "No wonder you're stressed out."
He handed you the money wordlessly, trading you for the paper in your hand. You looked at him for the first time since you walked in, only now noticing the dark circles under his eye and the way he had seemingly bitten his lower lip raw. You groaned, feeling all of the annoyance you had minutes ago turn into sympathy.
You shoved the money in your pocket and handed him his weed, pulling your backpack off your back, "Get high, take a break."
"I can't take a break right now, I'm so fucking behind on all of my classes-"
"Chill, I'll help you. Light up, we'll work on the project together and then I'll help you on micro. I got an A in it, I'll tutor you."
So that's what you did, working through the mountain of shit he had piled up in his living room side by side. You never really noticed how funny he was before, both unintentionally and intentionally. He offered your own weed to you and you accepted, feeling nice and relaxed by the time you had gotten around to tutoring Namjoon on other subjects.
"Do you understand it a little more now?" You asked, looking up at him. He was sat beside you on the couch, thighs touching yours with an arm stretched behind your head on the couch. He nodded and frowned, correcting his work and leaning towards you to show you. "Y-yeah, that's right."
He smelt really good- like sandalwood and honey. You couldn't help but stare at the way he was sucking his cheeks in in concentration. Why the hell was this guy a environmental science major? He could be a model.
"You're a really fast learner," You noted, your voice soft and hazy, the way it always was when you were high.
"You're a good teacher," He mumbled, smiling sleepily at you.
He looked so cute you couldn't help it, leaning forwards to kiss him. Namjoon was caught off guard, freezing for a moment but his lips were soft and his skin was warm, drawing you in before you snapped back to reality, pulling away sharply.
"I shouldn't have done that," You gasped, leaning away from him awkwardly. You had to get out of here- eyes already searching for your belongings. Embarrassment crept up on your skin, heating your cheeks. Maybe you could blame it on being reallt fucking blazed, which you were.
"No," He said suddenly, catching your arm with a hand around your wrist, "I should've done it."
What?
"Why do you think I wanted to be your partner for this project?" He smiled, eyes lighting up in a cute way you hadn't noticed before.
"Um, because I'm the smartest person in class?" You guessed, playing with his large hand idly. His fingers felt good between yours, tingling shocks sparking in the places where his skin touched yours.
He laughed softly, nodding sheepishly, "That too- but more than a good grade, what I wanted was you. Part of the reason I'm so behind in class is because all I do during lecture is stare at you- you're not very good at controlling your facial expressions, did you know that?"
You pulled your mouth into a tight line, smiling awkwardly. It was true, you had been known to show every thought passing through your mind on your face. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"
"You're really scary," He shrugged plainly, as if it were just an obvious fact. "You yell at me a lot which makes me nervous and horny at the same time and I've been trying to figure out whether that means I'm a freak or not."
"It's a good thing I enjoy yelling at you," You noted, more to yourself than him.
"You can yell at me whenever you want, baby," He said jokingly, grinning down at you. Holy shit, he had really nice teeth.
You barely had time to process his words before his lips were on yours, leading the kiss this time. His hand cradled the side of your face, thumb stroking your still flushed cheeks delicately as his other arm wrapped around your waist. You placed your hands on his shoulders, squeezing the muscle under your palms and pulling him closer to you. Namjoon guided you onto his lap, holding you closer him. God- he was warm and strong and so, so soft.
His hands stayed in their polite place at your waist, kneading into the flesh of your sides with a purpose. Namjoon was a good kisser- an easy balance of dominant and soft. He knew where to push and pull, reading your body like it was second nature to him. First kisses could be awkward, but this one was perfect.
His tongue licked a tentative swipe along the edges of your mouth and you reached up to sink your hands in his hair, pushing his head to the side slightly as you parted your lips and allowed him to deepen the kiss. His tongue was soft against yours and he tasted like smoke and something sweet, your favorite strain of weed invading your senses.
"We should do this more often- maybe not the tutoring thing, but this- the kissing thing," He said, parting from you for a moment.
You nodded eagerly, pulling him back towards you, "Yeah, definitely- the kissing thing. Maybe if I give you enough time to stare at me outside of class, you'll do better too. I really can't date anyone below a 3.5 GPA you know."
"Okay, calm down," He pouted, narrowing his eyebrows at you, "I have a 3.8."
"I have a 3.84," You bragged, "Don't worry, I'll tutor you."
He stifled a laugh and began kissing you again. You smiled and reminded yourself to thank Kim Seokjin for asking you to make a house call.
(A/N: giiirrrl what the hell? I don't have a 3.84 in my program...maybe I should've gone into a creative writing grad program instead....LMAO)
#bts fic#namjoon x oc#namjoon fic#namjoon fluff#bts stoner#bts stoner fic#bts one shot#namjoon one shot#namjoon x you#kim namjoon fanfiction#namjoon x reader#namjoon imagine#namjoon!classmate AU#Namjoon!grad student AU#bts!au#BTS!classmate AU
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Theory into Practice
⌠Pairing: Yoonji x reader x Jungkook
⌠Genre: fluff, smut, pwp (with some plot), teeny bit of angst, f2l, college au (technically more so grad school au)
⌠Count: 10.2K
⌠Warnings: 18+, drug use (pot), mentions of alcohol use, threesome, dom!Yoonji, dom!reader, sub!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, teasing, dirty talk, one thigh smack, thigh riding, fingering, hair pulling, breast play, oral (f & m receiving), face sitting, unprotected (pls stay safe), aftercare
⌠Summary: A normal night in with Yoonji leads to some interesting revelations with her and surprisingly, Jungkook.
⌠a/n: lmao itâs been a while. Hope you enjoy the Yoonji thirst, my girl doesnât have enough fics out there. Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~
âââ
âWho of our friends do you think is the subbiest?â
You blink. Itâs really a testament to how much you and Yoonji have smoked tonight that your immediate reaction isnât to splutter at her question. Instead, you just blink slowly, the question slowly making its way through your synapses before you can articulate a response. You take another hit, using it to buy yourself a little more time. Holding the joint back out to her, you let the smoke slowly seep from your lips.Â
âWho says Iâve thought about it?âÂ
You know exactly who you want to be subbiest. But youâre not going to reveal that. Maybe not yet. You might be high, but you still have enough of your wits to keep from spilling things you want to keep hidden. Youâve had good practice at that, smoking often with her and never divulging your crush, even when the topic of partners has come up. Which does come up fairly often as you both attempt to navigate dating while in grad school.
Thereâs a snort from the other end of the couch and Yoonjiâs head lulls against the back of it so she can fix you with hazy, unimpressed eyes, though thereâs a smirk just barely tugging at her lips. âI didnât. But weâre talking about it now.â
Pursing your lips, you think of how to respond. In truth, youâve thought about it a little, but not particularly in relation to your whole group of friends. Maybe just a person or two who you were particularly interested in that are in said friend group. Most notably, the women sitting on the other end of the couch from you currently.Â
Yoonji laughs, foot kicking out to nudge you, and you grin at the flood of happiness that always accompanies hearing her laugh. âDamn, itâs not that deep. Why are you thinking so hard?â
Catching her foot, you dig your thumb into the sole of her foot, causing you both to dissolve into giggles. âWe have a lot of friends,â you shoot back. An excuse and you both know it.Â
You and Yoonji have been friends for too long for you to really be able to avoid answering a direct query. Itâs only been luck that has kept your crush hidden from her. Youâve been friends since you met in 2nd year of undergrad, paired randomly as roommates and then continuing to remain roommates until even now when you live off campus in an apartment together. And many of your friends have come together and you both now share a common friend group.
Once Yoonji wrestles her foot free of your tickling grasp, she shifts in her seat, face far more serious than the topic at hand should really call for. âFine, fine. Iâll accept your excuse,â she gives you a look thatâs hard to interpret, though you mostly just donât want to think too hard about the calculating look sheâs giving you. It leaves you feeling exposed, like she can read your thoughts and knows all of your deepest secrets. Which is partially true, you and Yoonji share everything, save your feelings for her. âWhich way do you think Jimin goes?â
Sheâs really going to make you do this? Well, you might as well give some actual thought to this. âWith his praise kink? Definitely more sub leaning?â
Yoonji raises an eyebrow. âLeaning?â
âWell yeah. Heâs definitely a switch. Youâve seen how he is when heâs focused. But he also likes helping others. Plus,â you pause, mostly just to be dramatic as you smirk knowingly, Yoonji leaning closer as she waits for what youâre going to say next, âSiyeon said heâs as good a dom as he is a sub.â
Scoffing, Yoonji reaches over to give you a little shove. âThatâs cheating!â
You giggle, catching her hand before she pushes again. âItâs not!â
âIt is! Thatâs insider information! This is supposed to be our opinion.â
Waving her off, you settle back onto the couch. âI gave my opinion. I wouldâve had that before Siyeon told me. All she did was confirm.â You pause thoughtfully for a moment. You donât want this to be all you, so you pose the next friend to her instead. âWhat about Seokjin?â
Yoonji drums her fingers on her bare thigh and you have to fight the urge to get lost in staring at the vast expanse of smooth, exposed skin sheâs subjecting you to tonight while youâre impaired like this. You want to know if theyâre as soft as they look. You know her hands arenât, not anymore since she started learning guitar, fingerâs growing rough and calloused. The first time she had held your hand after had startled you, now you love feeling the slight roughness brush against your skin. Dragging your gaze from her fingers to her face, you watch as she starts to speak, trying to remain focused on her words and not the way her pretty pink lips form them.Â
âAs much as Iâd love to say sub because he would be just absolutely gorgeous all tied up and begging. I think heâs a bit more dom-ish.â
Mulling it over for a moment, you nod. He likes caring for all your friends, you can certainly see that transferring over into the bedroom. You add, âYeah⊠But like, a soft one, ya know? Heâd be so gentle and caring about it. I bet his aftercare game is amazing.â
Shifting, Yoonji stretches her legs out and echoes your thoughts. âDefinitely. Youâve seen the way he cares for all of us, but definitely the younger guys. Heâd be so amazing at that. What about Taehyung?â
âHm, a dom. Maybe a little less gentle than Seokjin, but still a soft-ish dom. Namjoon?â
âDom leaning switch. Sometimes he just really needs to get out of his head and let go of control. Hoseok?â
âStraight up switch. I think he probably doms more often but heâs all too happy to go with whatever his partner is in the mood for. Jungkook?â
Yoonjiâs face lights up. âOh,â she coos. âThe sweetest sub ever.â
You stare at the way her eyes seem to glaze over with her words and something like jealousy swirls with heat in your belly. You canât tell if the spike of jealousy is about the way she sighed her answer so sweetly, like sheâs thought a lot about this. Or if itâs because you have the same thoughts and some part of you feels possessive over Jungkook. âWhyâs that?â
She shoots you a coy smile that leaves you feeling slightly uneasy. âHeâs just such a sweet boy and always so eager to please.â
You canât deny that youâve also thought that, dreamed that were true. Youâve heard rumors of how Jungkook is in bed. Domineering, cocky, rough. But it doesnât stop you from imagining him beneath you, whimpering and begging. Yoonji nudges you and you blink at her, realizing that you mustâve zoned out for a moment. She purses her lips, barely hiding her knowing smile.Â
âOne more,â she declares.Â
Frowning, you think through your shared friends, but canât imagine who she might be referring to. âWho?â
Her answering smirk has your heart stuttering in your chest, equal parts dreading whatâs about to come out of her mouth and anticipating. âMe.â
You swallow. Sheâs really going to make you answer that to her face? While youâre both high? You chew your lip, looking her over slowly. You know exactly how she leans, the benefit and downside to living together for so long. The words stick in your throat though, not quite able to bring yourself to voice your knowledge. To give yourself away like that, to show just how much youâve paid attention. Yoonji says nothing though, looking at you expectantly as she waits for your answer.Â
Taking a deep breath, you rationalize that this is just a game. Youâre just giving opinions. It doesnât have to be incriminating to anything deeper. You just wonât give reasons, just an answer which way she leans. âDom.â
She grins, looking pleased with your answer. âYou too.â
âWhat?â you blink at her, confused by what she means.Â
âI think youâre a dom too.â
Your breath catches. You hadnât thought about the fact that if you knew her preferences then she likely knew yours well. Youâve both talked about your sex lives with each other, but youâve never delved deeply into what happens when youâre in your room with others. Staring at each other, your mind races. How much has she heard? How much does she truly know? Her gaze drops to your lips for a moment.
But before the conversation can go any further, thereâs a knock at the door. The tension that built between the two of you suddenly breaks as Yoonji crows happily, jumping from her seat to go retrieve the food youâd ordered. Burying your face in your hands, you take a few deep breaths, trying to get your thoughts under control. You really canât be sitting here, high and horny and thinking about Yoonji and Jungkook. Especially not while one of those people is sitting here with you.
By the time sheâs back with food, youâve got your tangled thoughts mostly controlled and the previous conversation isnât brought up again. Yoonji complains about something Namjoon did while they were studying earlier in the day and then youâre both complaining about school and theses and classes and thoughts on doms and subs is forgotten about entirely. And youâre all too happy to just forget it happened at all.Â
At least for the most part. You canât help it if in the late hours of night, when exhaustion reigns and sleep eludes you, if you let your thoughts slip to less pure things as you hand slips into your panties. If when youâre alone, you think of you and Yoonji knelt over Jungkook as his big, shiny eyes shine brighter with overwhelmed tears and begs his noonas to let him cum. You donât let it leave those times though, left in the dark and forgotten in the daylight hours. You ignore the thoughts when you go to lunch with Jungkook, have dinner with all your friends, go grocery shopping with Yoonji, let yourself act as if that conversation never happened.
You assume Yoonji has forgotten it too. Or at least chosen to leave that conversation with that night.Â
Until you come home from buying snacks one night for the weekly smoking session to find Jungkook there too. Which in and of itself isnât too strange. While you and Yoonji are the primary partakers of this night, all of your friends rotate in and out when the mood strikes. Most of the others usually go out drinking. Or study. And everyone rotates between the three activities with whatever strikes their mood (or is required by their grades).Â
But Jungkook had said earlier in the day that he was going out with Tae and Jimin. Heâs not even dressed for it, like he was just stopping by for a moment and then going to meet up with the others. Instead dressed comfortably in loose gray sweats and a matching sweatshirt, his blond hair still slightly damp from a shower under the hood he still has pulled up.Â
You give him a smile as you set the snacks on the coffee table and move to sit on the couch. âI thought you were going out to drink?â
Jungkook shuffles from foot to foot nervously, glancing from you to Yoonji, whoâs sat on the other side of the couch. âI uh⊠changed my mind?â
You frown, unsure of his odd behavior. Heâs acting as if heâs never been to your apartment before, despite the fact that besides the two of you, heâs here the most. But Yoonji simply beckons him to sit, which he does so after a moment of hesitation, nervously tugging his hood off his head. Once he sits, you expect Yoonji to pull out a blunt and get the night started, but the silence stretches and she makes no moves to do so. You reach out to nudge her, head tilted questioningly.Â
She gives you a quick glance before looking at Jungkook. âI have a proposition. For you both.â Brows furrowing, youâre about to question her when she continues. âYour noonas have a little theory theyâd like to test.â
Your heart stops. Thereâs only one possible thing she could be talking about that would involve both a proposition and a theory that you both had. Is she just planning to ask him? But that wouldnât involve a propositionâŠ
Oh.Â
Sheâs planning to ask him to let you both dom him. Stomach knotting uncomfortably, you worry that this could ruin the friendship the three of you share. That it could ruin the entire friendship dynamic of the whole group. You could lose a roommate, friends. But even with the bad scenarios running through your mind, you canât deny the bolt of heat that sears straight to your core at even the barest hint of possibility of getting the pretty boy before you underneath you instead.Â
Jungkook swallows, gaze darting from Yoonji to you and back. You wonder what Yoonji said to him to get him to come tonight. âWhat⊠Whatâs the theory?â
She gives a soft smile, but there's a predatory edge to it. Youâve seen it on her when youâve gone to bars and clubs, wielded against unsuspecting people that she wants to spend the night with. Youâve seen the effects of that look on people and Jungkook is no different, already looking like heâs hooked on her every word, even if thereâs still a touch of nerves in the tense line of his shoulders. She gestures for Jungkook to move from the chair to sit between you both on the couch. He hesitates before shuffling the short distance to sit where directed. You canât help but note that heâs good at following instructions. It makes something hot twist in your belly.Â
Yoonji shifts, kneeling on the cushion so she can press closer to Jungkook, close enough to whisper in his ear, though her tone is loud enough for you to hear too. âYour noonas have a theory that you are just the sweetest little sub ever.â
Jungkook tenses up at the words, and though itâs hard to tell if itâs from discomfort or just shock at Yoonjiâs bold statement, you slide closer to be a reassuring hand to counterpoint Yoonjiâs boldness. Â
âIf anything makes you uncomfortable, Jungkook, just tell us. We donât want to cause you any discomfort, okay?â you murmur soothingly, hand rubbing gentle circles on his back. Yoonji peaks around to give you a grateful smile, although youâre unsure if itâs because you are joining her in her proposition or if itâs because you know enough to ensure that Jungkookâs comfort is the most important thing here.
Thinking for a moment, Jungkook gives a small nod and Yoonji takes that as her sign to continue. âWould you let your noonas find out if theyâre right?â
âB-both of you?â he swallows, gaze darting between the two of you.
Leaning closer, you let your lips brush his ear, relishing the shiver you feel run through him. âYour noonas have seen the way you look at them when we dance together on nights out.âÂ
He stiffens beneath you and you pull back just enough to see the flush starting to color his cheeks. In truth, you know heâs not the only one that does. Jimin and Taehyung fairly regularly comment on how you both steal the show. And you and Yoonji arenât blind, you know the way you both captivate an audience when youâre together, dressed up and putting on a show just for the thrill. But youâve definitely caught Jungkook staring the most. Eyes hooded and lips parted like you and Yoonji are there solely for his entertainment. The way youâve seen him have to restrain himself from approaching the both of you. Itâs even more thrilling than the eyes of strangers on you.Â
Yoonji coos. âDo you like watching your noonas together, baby?â
She doesnât allow him a chance to answer though because as soon as the question has been asked, sheâs nudging him back so heâs more reclined, leaving the two of you staring at each other over his chest. A moment passes, where you just stare at each other, as Jungkook looks between you both.Â
Thereâs a wry twist to her lips and then sheâs reaching out to pull you in for a kiss. The sudden press of her soft lips to yours has your brain short circuiting. All thought and reason leaving you, focus narrowed entirely down to the pressure of her mouth on yours. She tastes like strawberry and the sudden, lightest brush of her tongue across your lip has your brain kick starting again just as she starts to pull away. That simply wonât do. Hand tangling in her hair, you keep her close, keep the kiss going as you deepen it and you relish the slick slide of her tongue against yours.
Youâve imagined kissing her so much, but itâs nothing compared to reality. Yoonji is demanding, just as demanding as you are, and there are moments where the kiss turns a little rougher as one of you tries for the upper hand. Itâs addicting, the feel of her, the rush, that you get lost in the kiss. So much so, that you entirely forget about Jungkook beneath you until he lets out a soft whimper. Pulling away from Yoonji, you both glance down at him and you nearly coo at the sight. He looks much like he does on nights that youâve caught him watching you dance. But up close like this, you can see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the way his tongue darts out occasionally to lick at his pink, bitten lips, how blown his eyes are already and he hasnât even been touched yet.Â
Disentangling yourself from Yoonji, you run an affectionate hand through Jungkookâs hair. âDo you want this, baby?â When he starts to nod again, you tighten your hand in his hair, halting his movement. âWe need your words, Jungkook.â
His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He clears his throat, eyes darting down in embarrassment before trying again. âYes, noona. Want this⊠Want you bothâŠâ
Pleased, you let your hand drift down, cupping his cheek and thumbing gently along his cheekbone. âYeah? Have you thought about this a lot? Have you thought about your noonas often?â
Swallowing, his gaze darts between the two of you nervously. And oh, you had just been teasing. But the nervous flit of his gaze, the way he wonât focus on either of you for longer than a moment. He has thought about the two of you. You wonder what heâs thought about, for how long. Has he touched himself while thinking about one of you? Both of you? Yoonji seems to pick up on the implication of his nonanswer too, because her lips are curling into a teasing smirk.
âHave you, baby? What a naughty boy. Thinking about your noonas like that.â Jungkook squirms, mouth open like heâs about to protest the statement, but Yoonji continues speaking. âNoona has too. Thought about how pretty youâd look and how good youâd be.â
Jungkook falters, blinking big eyes up at Yoonji with wonder. Like he never imagined that either of you would think of him the way he thinks of you. A breath shudders out of him as his eyes squeeze closed. You make the decision to move this from the couch if youâre going to go through with it.
Shifting, you push yourself to your feet, glancing at Yoonji to see that she follows your actions with a questioning furrow to her brows. Jungkook blinks his eyes open at the movement, blinking up at you both. You hold your hand out and after a moment, he takes it. Pulling him to his feet, Yoonji grabs his other hand and takes charge in leading Jungkook down the hall to her bedroom.Â
The air in Yoonjiâs room feels thick with heat. She flips a light on, letting soft, purple light fill the room and leaving it cast in subdued shades. You both release Jungkookâs hands, moving in near perfect synchronicity despite the fact that youâve never done this before. Thereâs something unspoken that moves you both together. Standing side by side, you both face Jungkook, gazes slowly trailing over the younger man. He shuffles on his feet under the scrutiny, hands clasping in front of him like heâs a child about to be scolded.Â
Yoonjiâs head tilts, finger coming up to tap her chin in thought. âSomething seems wrong here, doesnât it?â
Humming, you nod in agreeance. âYes, yes it does. Jungkook,â the boy starts at the call of his name, head jerking up to stare at you, like a deer caught in the headlights.Â
Yoonji snaps her fingers. âYouâre right. Jungkook, baby, strip for your noonas.â
âN-now?â His fingers twitch where theyâre clasped before him.Â
Itâs cute how shy he has become. Youâve seen him shamelessly strip his shirt off at parties to do body shots, confidently pick up women at bars, boldly barge into rooms and capture everyoneâs attention. Youâve only seen him this shy once, and that was when you all had first met him, before he had come out of his shell and grown close to you all.Â
When he makes no move to start undressing, you speak up. âJungkook,â you wait until heâs looking at you. âDo you know the stoplight system?â He thinks for a moment before nodding, face clouded with confusion. âColor?â
Gaze darting from you to Yoonji and back again, his tongue peaks for a moment. âGreen.â
Yoonji grins proudly at the answer. âAw, are you just shy then, baby? Nervous about being naked in front of your noonas for the first time?â
Ducking his head, Jungkook gives you both a quick nod that you just want to coo over, however inappropriate that reaction may be right now be damned. Instead, you shoot for comforting. âHow about we start slow then? Just your shirt. You can do that, canât you, baby? Weâve seen you shirtless plenty of times before.â
Jungkook fidgets for another moment before his fingers grip the edge of his baggy sweater. Eyes squeezing shut, thereâs only only a second more of hesitation before the sweater is being pulled up and off. He clings to it, the fabric hanging in his hands in front of his chest, but doing very little to hide anything. He peaks an eye open and sees the way Yoonji quirks an eyebrow at him and the sweater drops from his hands to the floor.Â
Youâve seen Jungkook shirtless plenty of times. Your entire friend group has. There was a period of a few months back towards the beginning of your friendship after he had gotten comfortable with you all that you wouldâve sworn that he was allergic to shirts with how often you saw him shirtless. You know how toned he is, have been subjected to his ridiculous workouts on occasion, how diligently he works out simply for the fun of it. Muscles that shift under golden skin that youâve seen at parties and on beach trips, that youâve allowed yourself to glance out, appreciate and take in, but never to stare for too long and get caught.Â
Now though, you drink your fill of the sight before you. Jungkook is tall, and when heâs shirtless he exudes a cockiness born from the hungry looks of others; his posture always making him seem taller, take up more space. But now, now his shoulders are hunched, like heâs trying to make himself smaller, seem less big even though his muscles make that nearly impossible.Â
He glances up at you both through the curtain of blonde bangs and you can see the way the flush from his cheeks starts to spread down his neck and chest. It makes you itch to mark the pretty skin up, stake a claim on the sweet, shy boy before you.Â
Thereâs a pleased hum from beside you. âSuch a good boy, Jungkookie. Youâre so good for your noonas, arenât you?â
He nods quickly, eyes positively shining at the praise. Well, you both certainly pegged that one right. Oh, now thereâs an idea. That might have to wait though. You donât want to completely overwhelm him right at the start.Â
âNow the pants, baby,â you grin, watching the way he swallows at the command.
Hands trembling slightly as he reaches for the waistband of his sweats, his nerves seem to grow now that heâs about to be fully exposed before you both. He takes a deep breath and then shoves his sweats and underwear down his legs. Your breath catches in your throat and you know Yoonji must be having a similar reaction given the sharp inhale you hear from her.Â
Jungkook is absolutely stunning naked. Youâve known that his thighs were thick and just as toned as the rest of him, catching glimpses of the thick, corded muscles whenever he ditched sweats and his baggier clothing for jeans that looked like theyâd been painted onto him. His hands immediately come together again in an attempt to cover his cock, already hard and leaking. But his hands do little to cover his long, thick cock, but itâs endearingly adorable that he tries.Â
âSo pretty,â you murmur, eyes tracing over every inch of skin. You donât know what you want to do first to him, so many ideas flash through your mind as you stare at him. Â
âSo good, too. Can you lay down on the bed for us now, baby?â
Shyness seemingly forgotten for a moment, Jungkook nearly launches himself onto the bed, landing with a little bounce before heâs shuffling around so heâs stretched out in the middle of Yoonjiâs bed. His eagerness is a good sign, showing that even if heâs nervous, that he very much wants to be here. The dark bedspread makes his skin seem to glow more and he looks absolutely gorgeous spread out for you.Â
Yoonji moves closer to the bed and you move to follow suit and stand beside her at the foot, both of you just taking a moment to look at Jungkook. His cock twitches where it rests against his belly and heat pools in your belly at the knowledge that itâs yours to touch. At least for tonight.Â
She turns to you then, hands landing on your hips to pull you closer. Chewing her lip for a moment, thereâs an emotion that briefly flits across her face but before you can pin down what exactly it is sheâs leaning in to press her lips to yours once again. Not letting yourself dwell on her expression, at least not now when thereâs a very eager boy spread out for you both and Yoonjiâs tongue slipping into your mouth. You can overthink later. Right now, you should just let yourself fall into the feel of her.
Her fingers dig into your hips and you let her get away with it only because you take the opportunity to slip your hands beneath her shirt, gripping her waist just as tightly for a moment before youâre tugging her shirt up and off. Kiss momentarily broken, you take the brief pause to look her over. Her bra is black and lacy, pushing her breasts up in a way that makes you want to get your mouth on them . You also know for a fact that itâs her âgetting laidâ bra. Meaning she must have been pretty confident that the two of you would agree to this. Youâre a little mad that she didnât give you any sort of heads up to let you wear something better than just a comfy, colorful bra you use for daily wear. At least itâs cute.Â
Leaning in, you nip harshly at her bottom lip in retaliation and you know by her giggle that she knows exactly what it was for. What a cruel tease, youâre definitely going to get her back in the future. You donât know how just yet, but you will. You sooth the bite with your tongue, but you donât get a chance for another proper kiss because Yoonji takes the opportunity to tug your shirt off as well. She pulls away after dropping your shirt to the floor, hungrily eyeing you up as her tongue wets her lips. You feel a heady rush at being able to pull such a look from the typically collected Yoonji.Â
A moan pulls your attention back to the bed, where Jungkook has taken it upon himself to start lazily stroking himself, muscles shifting as his hips flex up into his grip. Exchanging glances, you and Yoonji quickly rid yourselves of your bottoms before climbing onto the bed on either side of Jungkook. This behavior simply wonât do.Â
Sitting on your knees beside his thigh, you're quick to let your hand smack against the skin there. The sound echoes in the quiet room and Jungkook jerks, though you donât know if itâs more from the sudden sound or the heat that blooms across his thigh even if the smack you gave him was fairly mild in terms of punishment. But it has the desired effect, his hand halting on his cock, though he doesnât remove his hand from himself. His expression morphs into a mix of betrayal and confusion.
âOh, sweet boy,â Yoonji coos, hand wrapping around his wrist. âHave you ever done this before?â
Swallowing, he looks nervous again, gaze darting around the room, but never landing on either of you before he minutely shakes his head. Yoonji gently pulls his hand from his cock, letting it slap wetly against his belly.Â
âAw, you poor thing. Have you always had to be the one in charge, huh? Do those girls see your big, pretty muscles and tattoos and just assume that youâre going to be domineering too? No oneâs ever taken care of you like you deserve?â Yoonji murmurs, eyes burning as she speaks.Â
Jungkookâs breath hitches as he blinks up at Yoonji. He shakes his head slightly and you can see how deeply he wants this. Wants to try, to let go and have someone else take control for once. Letting your fingers trail up his thigh, you trace a single fingertip up his cock with a featherlight touch, drawing a delightful gasp from him. Heâs so sensitive to touch, itâs going to make this so much more fun.Â
âLesson number one, baby. No touching without permission. That includes your pretty little cock. Bad boys get punished.â
âAnd punishment can get much worse than a little slap on the thigh, sweetheart.â
His eyes widen. âI-Iâm sorry! I d-didnât know!â
Shushing him, you rub soothingly at the red mark you left on his thigh. Itâs light and fairly small, a testament to how tame the smack was, but it makes you want to leave more, make them darker. Marks that remain for days, that remind Jungkook of your hands on him. âItâs okay, baby. Youâre still learning. You wonât be punished.â You smirk teasingly. âThis time at least.â
Licking his lips, he looks between you both. You can tell heâs thinking about something, but you canât tell if the thought of punishment might actually be enticing to him or if heâs trying to figure out the rules without being told. Always the overachiever.Â
Yoonji releases his hand, letting it fall to rest against the bed once more. âWeïżœïżœll go easy on you, baby, donât worry. Youâll be a good boy for us, wonât you?â Jungkook nods quickly, hands clenching at the bedspread. âWhat do you want, baby?â
âWantâŠâ he licks his lips, seems to think slowly over his wants in this moment. âWanna see you kiss again.â
You giggle. âAw, sweet thing,â you glance over at Yoonji, âdoesnât even want a kiss for himself.â
Yoonji tsks, wide grin matching yours. âSomeone must really enjoy watching.â
Planting a hand high on Jungkookâs thigh, Yoonji mirrors your actions as you both lean closer to meet over Jungkook once more. This kiss is slow, you take your time and enjoy the feel of her soft mouth against yours. You could easily get lost in the kiss again, it would be so easy. Jungkookâs thigh twitches beneath your hand and you give him a small squeeze, acknowledge that you havenât forgotten about him and it draws a soft moan from him.Â
The sound seems to spark something in Yoonji, as she surges closer, deepening the kiss. Her free hand comes up to rest on the side of your neck, thumb brushing along your jaw. Not wanting to be outdone, you reach out and let your fingers trace her collarbone before following her sternum down until you can palm at one of her covered breasts. That draws a soft gasp from her that you greedily swallow down.Â
Her hand tightens on your neck, pulling like itâs possible to pull you closer and her other hand abandons Jungkookâs thigh to grope at your breast. You both get greedy for the feel of each other. Your hand quickly leaves Jungkookâs thigh as well, slipping behind Yoonji to undo her bra. It falls slack on her shoulders, hindered from coming off by her hands on you. Bumping her hands off for a moment, you tug the offending article free from her and toss it off the bed. Yoonji wastes no time in getting her hands back on you once youâve removed the bra and youâre now free to palm her tits in your hands.Â
Jungkook whimpers below you both, his hand bumps your thigh before itâs being jerked away. âN-noonaâŠâ
Parting with a gasp, you both look down at Jungkook, his hands fisted at his sides, knuckles nearly white. Your hands fall from each other as you give the prone man your attention. Youâre impressed with his restraint, you hadnât expected him to be so well behaved the very first time. But thatâs actually pretty typical of Jungkook, excelling at anything he tries.Â
His pupils are blown with lust and he swallows his nerves as he speaks. âC-can⊠Can I touch too?â
âYou wanna touch your noonas while they kiss, baby?â Yoonji asks. He nods, eyes wide and Yoonjiâs answering smirk is bordering on mean. âWhy?â
âW-what?â
âWhy do you want to touch your noonas while they kiss, baby? I thought you just wanted us to kiss and touch each other?â
He looks to you, seemingly lost by the question. But you simply raise an eyebrow and wait for an answer. He squirms a little, cock twitching. âUm⊠I⊠IâŠâ
âHave you thought about touching us before?â you murmur, reaching out to cup Yoonjiâs breast, thumbing at the nipple and drawing a sigh from her. âHave you thought about noonaâs pretty tits and how theyâd feel in your hands?â
Whining, Jungkook nods his assent eagerly, eyes fixed firmly on where your hand plays with Yoonji. Yoonji presses a quick kiss to your lips, casting a teasing look to Jungkook before sheâs reaching up to unclasp your bra and tug it off of you to toss it behind her. Yoonji raises herself up onto her knees, pulling you with, and she leans you both together until your breasts press together. Theyâre just as soft against you as they were in your hands. If you werenât focused on teasing Jungkook, youâd pin her down and get your mouth on them.
She glances to the side to look at Jungkook. âHow do you wanna touch, baby?â
His eyes drag down your bodies slowly, gaze darting so quickly like thereâs so much he wants to touch and he doesnât know where to even begin. âNoonaâŠâ he whines.Â
You chuckle. âAw, baby. Do you need your noonas to help you?â
âPlease.â
âPut your hands on our hips.â
Heâs eager and quick to comply, hands coming up to rest hot and heavy against the curve of your hip. His fingers flex against you, like he wants to move his hand to touch more but they remain in place. Yoonji leans in to kiss you again and you think you could kiss her forever. After a moment, you break the kiss, trailing your lips along her jaw and down her neck. Laving your tongue over her pulse point, you relish the shiver that runs through her. Youâre overcome with the urge to mark her and so you let your teeth sink into her skin before soothing it with your tongue and sucking kisses. Yoonji groans in the back of her throat and you move down her neck to suck another dark mark and draw more noises from her.Â
You know logically that sheâs been as affected by all this as you, but hearing the proof is intoxicating. It goes straight to your pussy and the longer you go on, the more you feel drip from you to soak your panties.
âWhat do you want next, baby?â Yoonji pants, hand reaching to cover the hand on your hip. His gaze drops to where your breasts are pressed together, but he doesnât say anything. âDo you wanna touch noonasâ tits? Greedy boy,â she chuckles breathlessly, ending in a gasp when you nip at her collarbone.Â
His hands twitch against you like he is fighting the urge to just do what he wants, to do what heâs always done with women. But he remains diligent and keeps his hands where he was told too. Pressing one last kiss to Yoonjiâs neck, you pull away, staring at the darkening marks while a possessive heat curls in your belly. You shift then, nudging Jungkookâs thighs slightly apart and then youâre throwing a leg over to straddle his thigh, dropping down to press your clothed pussy against the corded muscle. The damp material drags deliciously against your pussy and any other time, you would ride his thigh until he was begging you to touch him or let him touch.
Gasping, Jungkookâs hand tightens enough to bruise and you grin down at him. âCan you feel how wet noona is for you, baby?â
He nods a little dazedly, looking down where youâre pressed against his thigh like he canât believe what heâs feeling or seeing. Giving a little grind, you feel a rush of desire run through you at the breath that rushes from Jungkookâs lips.Â
âBaby,â you purr, âdidnât you want to touch noonaâs tits?â
âPleaseâŠâ
âGo ahead, baby.â
His hand quickly abandons your hip once heâs given permission; big, warm palm cupping one of your breasts like itâs the most precious thing heâs ever touched. You have to fight down the urge to giggle at the unexpected tenderness. Yoonji moves beside you, straddling Jungkookâs other thigh and she takes the opportunity to move Jungkookâs other hand for him, placing it over one of her breasts.Â
Gaze darting from one hand to the other, his hands remain frozen for a long moment before heâs tentatively squeezing. Then he quickly grows more confident, seemingly more familiar with at least this part as his fingers tease at your nipple. Leaning slightly to the side, you press a kiss to Yoonjiâs shoulder until you have her attention and then youâre pressing your lips to hers once more. Letting your hand slip into her hair, you tilt her head, deepening the kiss. Her hand lands on your waist, fingers tracing a burning path down until they can grope at your ass.Â
Your hips jerk, clit dragging across Jungkookâs thigh and a moment later, you feel his muscles shift as he flexes. Breaking the kiss with a gasp, you glance down at him with a smirk. Jungkook looks perfectly debauched beneath you both. The flush dusting his cheeks stretches down his chest, his bright eyes burn with want as his hands work on both you and Yoonji. His cock rests heavy against his belly, tip dark with neglect, but he seems wholly oblivious to it even as your attention zeroes in on it.
âWhat a good boy youâre being. Giving noona something to grind against?â
His dick twitches at that and you let a finger brush gently down the length. A loud gasp leaves his lips, hips straining upward but he canât get very far with the combined weight of you and Yoonji pinning his legs down. You give a deliberate grind down, Jungkookâs eyes quickly zeroing in on where your clothed pussy meets his bare thigh. Hands falling still on your breast, he licks his lips before his hand is slowly sliding down to timidly tug at the waistband of your panties.
âCan⊠Can these come off?â
Yoonji hums. âWanna see noonaâs bare pussy, baby?â
Nodding quickly, he looks up at you both with wide eyes. âYes, please. Wanna see.â
The hand on your ass slides around to rest just on the waistband of your panties. âYou wanna see just how wet our pretty baby boy has made us?â
Breath shuddering, he nods again, eyes trained on Yoonjiâs hand as it finally slips into your panties. You groan as her fingers slip between your folds, fingertips teasing across your clit before dipping lower to gather your wetness. Before she can do much more than leave a few teasing touches, sheâs pulling her hand from your panties and holding her hand up for you all to see. Jungkookâs gaze bores into the glistening digits, licking his lips slowly.Â
âOpen,â she commands and his mouth falls obediently open, hope shining in his eyes when her fingers inch closer to his lips. âDo you want to taste noona?â
âYes,â he breaths out, tongue extending like itâll get Yoonjiâs fingers to his mouth faster.Â
She stops just before she reaches his tongue and when he strains closer in an attempt to touch, she pulls her fingers away, keeping them teasingly just out of his reach. âAnswer noonaâs question first, baby. Good boyâs always answer when asked a question. And you wouldnât want to be bad, now would you?â
Blonde hair flies as he quickly shakes his head no. âNo! Iâm good! I promise! Please, I wanna taste noona!â
Yoonjiâs smile softens. âWhat a good boy.âÂ
With that, her fingers press against his tongue. Moaning, Jungkookâs lips close around the digits as he sucks enthusiastically. You wonder if heâs as enthusiastic when heâs eating someone out and your pussy clenches at the thought. A few moments later, she pulls her fingers free and Jungkookâs lips purse in a pout, drawing a laugh from both of you. You shift, finally tugging your panties down to discard over the edge of the bed. Jungkookâs eyes are drawn back to your pussy, now bared for him to see.Â
His hand twitches where it rests against your hip, but it doesnât move and thereâs a rush of heat that accompanies the fact that heâs doing so well already. Turning to Yoonji, you begin to tug at her panties, earning a laugh from her as she moves to help you get them off of her.Â
As much as you want to take in Jungkookâs reaction to you both being naked before him, you canât stop the greedy part of you that reaches out to slip your hand between her legs to touch. A soft sigh leaves her lips and you canât help but lean in to smother the sound with a kiss. Your fingers find her just as wet as you are yourself and you relish in the moment to tease your fingers along her pussy.Â
Whining, Jungkook squirms beneath you both, thigh inadvertently bumping your hand harder against Yoonji and further smearing her wetness across your palm. You pull your hand away and Jungkook follows the movement with laser focus.Â
âWant to taste your other noona, baby?â you tease.Â
âYes, please,â he murmurs.
Biting your lip on a smile, you move your hand slowly closer to his open mouth, watching the way his eyes light up with excitement. But before you reach his lips, you stop, drawing a pretty pout from the boy. Then you wink and you quickly bring your fingers to your own mouth instead. Twin gasps greet the action as you slip two fingers into your mouth and moan at the taste of Yoonji on your tongue. Your eyes slip closed as you suck your fingers clean and when you pull your fingers free and glance down to Jungkook, youâre met with a look that is equal parts jealous and hungry.Â
Hand dropping to the bed beside him, his eyes widen as you lean over him. âStill want a taste, baby?â
His gaze darts to your lips as he nods. You seal your mouth over his, taking advantage of the surprised part to his lips to slip your tongue in. He whimpers, hands coming up to rest on your hips as he chases the taste of Yoonji on your lips.Â
Kissing Jungkook is nothing like kissing Yoonji. Heâs like putty beneath you, following your lead where Yoonji fought you for control, kept you on your toes. Not necessarily aggressive, but Yoonji kisses you with a consuming hunger, burning you from the inside out. Jungkook is like a breath of fresh air, heâs soft and needy, making these quiet little huffs with each brush of your tongue. You wonder if he realizes that heâs moved his hands, that heâs touching you when heâs not supposed to be, but you decide to let it slide just this once. Youâre much more interested in drawing out more of those sweet, little sounds from him. Â
A moment later though, his hands are being pulled away and Yoonji is tutting him as she leans against you to pin his hands to the bed. âNaughty boy, what did we say about touching?â
With a whine, he pulls away from your mouth. ââM sorry... â
You snicker. âIs noona so good at kissing that you forgot the rules, sweet thing?â
Jungkook lets out a low whine again. âNoona.â
Yoonji shifts against you, hands adjusting her grip on Jungkookâs wrists and youâre momentarily distracted by the press of her breasts against your back. Pressing again, she forces you to drop fully against Jungkook as she hooks her chin over your shoulder.Â
âIâll just have to hold you while noona kisses you, hm?â
He squirms beneath you and you see him strain feebly against Yoonjiâs hands. You all know that he could easily break her hold; that the strain he shows is feigned and exaggerated. But his acquiescence to her grip, to you both taking control, is the most telling thing to his desires. He wants this, just as much as you both. Even if heâs new and inexperienced in this aspect, he wants.Â
His lips part with small huffs and you canât help yourself when you dip back down to kiss him. He squirms again before melting entirely into the kiss, letting Yoonji hold him still while you lick into his mouth. A heady rush fills you at his pliancy, you always imagined him submitting, but it was nothing like this. Jungkook behaves like heâs been subbing for you both for ages, like he knows the routine, that the momentary lapses in following the rules is nothing more than being a little bratty to provoke a reaction.Â
The kiss stretches, you donât know for how long, getting lost in the feeling of Jungkook beneath you and the softness of Yoonjiâs breasts pressing into your back. Jungkookâs hips twitch, his cock brushing wetly against your side and you finally decide to have some mercy on him. Lifting slightly, Yoonji gets the hint and sits up fully, allowing you to do the same. You smile at the way Jungkook is laid out, eyes lidded, lips kiss swollen and flush sitting high on his cheeks. He looks fucked out already and barely anything has happened yet.Â
Taking Yoonjiâs hand in yours, you lift it to your lips to press a soft kiss to the palm. âI think itâs time to reward our baby, hm? Heâs been so good for his first time.â
Her fingers brush your cheek as she smiles. âHe does.â She turns her attention back to Jungkook. âHow do you want your noonas, baby?â
Swallowing, his gaze flicks back and forth between the two of you. He takes a long time to answer, seemingly nervous. âI⊠I donât know⊠Iâm s-sorryâŠâ
âAw sweetheart, thereâs no need to be sorry. Youâre just overwhelmed, huh?â He nods, lips pursed in a pout, and you continue. âDo you want your noonas to pick something for your reward for you?â
âYes, please⊠Thereâs too many things⊠I canât pickâŠâ
You pat his side affectionately. âItâs okay, baby. Noonas will take good care of you.â
His eyes shine at your praise as he nods eagerly. You and Yoonji exchange looks and seem to be thinking the same thing as you move off Jungkookâs thigh to move further up the bed and Yoonji shifts to fully straddle his hips.Â
Yoonji grins as she sees the way Jungkook follows your movement. âEver had someone sit on your face, baby?â
Eyes widening, his gaze darts to Yoonji before turning back to you and you raise an eyebrow when he doesnât answer. âN-noâŠâ
âPinch my thigh if you need to stop for any reason, okay, baby?â You wait for him to murmur a quiet âokayâ before moving to throw your leg over his head.
You feel his breath hot against your wet folds and when you glance up at Yoonji, you see her focus is trained where you sit just above Jungkookâs mouth. With a lick of your lips, you lower yourself until your pussy presses to Jungkookâs mouth, which instantly falls open, tongue darting out to lap at your slit. Groaning, you grind against his tongue, giving yourself a few seconds to enjoy the pleasure sizzling in your belly.Â
Then youâre reaching up for Yoonji, grabbing her hips to tug her until sheâs hovering over Jungkookâs cock. One hand slides from her hips and you let your fingers trace lightly along her slit, knuckles brushing his cock as you do.Â
You hold Yoonjiâs gaze as you begin speaking, fingers dipping between her folds to tease at her clit. âGotta get noona ready for you, baby. Get her nice and stretched for your big, pretty cock.âÂ
Jungkook whines against you and Yoonji lets out a low moan as you slip a finger into her. Yoonji is warm and wet and tight around your finger and your breath stutters as she clenches around the digit. Letting your finger curl, you rub against her walls, searching for that spongy bundle of nerves.Â
It takes a few seconds, your attention being pulled by Jungkookâs tongue as he enthusiastically eats you out. But you find it quick enough, signaled by the sharp gasp that leaves her lips when you finally brush against it. Grinning victoriously, you tease at the bundle until her thighs begin to quiver, pleased to have wrung such a reaction from her.
Her hand darts out suddenly, gripping your wrist tightly. Her gaze is dark when it meets yours and she arches an eyebrow at you. âI think youâre enjoying yourself more than getting me ready for our baby,â she teases.
Your body heats. Sheâs not wrong, you maybe did forget what you were doing a little bit. Grinning, you slide your finger out until just the tip remains before thrusting back in with two. âGuilty.â
She opens her mouth to speak again but you let your thumb brush her clit and it effectively silences her retort. She glares for only a moment before letting her head fall back with a groan and letting herself enjoy the slow pumps of your fingers.Â
Slipping a third finger in, Yoonjiâs hips start to move, little grinds that push your hand against Jungkookâs cock. You lift your hips slightly, giving Jungkook a moment to breath.Â
âAre you ready for noona to ride you, baby?â you ask as you pull your fingers from Yoonji.Â
All you get in response is a whimper as you grasp his cock with your wet fingers, other hand settling on Yoonjiâs hip and you guide him to her entrance. You give her hip a squeeze and she lets herself drop, pulling your hand away so her hips can settle flush to his. You can feel Jungkookâs breath panting hot against your pussy, his hands squeezing tightly at the sheets.
âHow does noonaâs pussy feel, baby?â you murmur. He whines and you give his nipple a pinch, making his hips jerk. âWhen noona asks a question, she expects an answer.â
ââM sorry⊠Noona feels goodâŠâ
You let your free hand settle on Yoonjiâs other hip. âHowâs he feel?â
âFuck⊠so good. Heâs such a good boy.âÂ
Jungkookâs hands suddenly wrap around your thighs. You jerk in surprise, ready to reprimand him, but before you can say anything, heâs pulling you back down onto his mouth. Yoonji laughs breathlessly, hands coming to rest on his belly as she starts to lift her hips.Â
âHowâs his mouth?â
Giving her a groan in response, you grind against his tongue, toes curling as his fingers tighten against your thighs. Both of you fall quiet, save for pants and moans, letting yourselves be consumed with chasing your own pleasure for a moment. Heat simmers in your belly, building with each swipe of Jungkookâs tongue and teasing suck to your clit. Jungkookâs efforts combined with the view of Yoonji riding his cock has your orgasm building until one harsh suck pushes you over the edge.Â
Head falling back, you moan as your orgasm spreads through your veins, igniting like fire and leaving you shuddering as Jungkook seems to get even more enthusiastic below you. You vaguely hear Yoonji swear under her breath, but you donât have it in you to look at her as Jungkook draws your orgasm out.Â
Finally you lift your hips, overstimulation beginning to creep in, and you and Jungkook pant together as your high slowly ebbs away and you come back to yourself. Blinking your eyes open, you see Yoonjiâs have slipped closed as she moves and you find your gaze glued to the way her tits bounce with each movement.Â
Seeing an opportunity, you reach forward, letting your fingers find her clit and her eyes shoot open with a gasp at your touch. You grin, shifting so youâre knelt beside the pair. âBaby,â you coo, âlook how pretty noona looks sitting on your dick.â
It takes him a moment, but Jungkookâs head lifts and your pussy clenches at the sheen of your slick covering the lower half of his face. His lips are parted as he makes sweet, little noises, soft moans and whines, and his hazy eyes trail over you both like he doesnât truly know where to look. You swirl your fingers, drawing a wheezed gasp from Jungkook and you canât help the teasing grin that forms.Â
âAw, baby. Did noona tighten up? Is she close? Are you gonna be good and let her cum on your cock?â
Jungkookâs nodding before you even finish speaking, hips twitching in small little thrusts and you pick up the pace on her clit. Leaning forward, you take one of her nipples in your mouth, teeth teasing the bud before you sooth it with your tongue.
âFuck⊠gonna-â She cuts off, moving faster until her hips slam down as she starts to cum.Â
You keep your fingers going, gradually slowing down as her orgasm shudders through her. Jungkook whines and squirms beneath her, but remains more still that others would. She tugs your hand away finally as she continues to shiver with aftershocks. You bring your fingers to your mouth with a teasing glance and lick them clean as she watches through hooded eyes.Â
Jungkook whimpers, drawing both of attention to him and Yoonji lifts herself off his cock, drawing an even louder whine from him.Â
You pat his side soothingly. âDonât worry, baby. Weâre gonna take care of you. Want your noonaâs mouth?â
He blinks wet eyes at you both, cock twitching where it lays against his belly and Yoonji laughs. âI think thatâs a yes.â
She takes him in her hand and his hips strain up into her grip. Heâs so desperate already and you have barely even teased him or drawn this out. Heâs definitely going to be fun in the future. Leaning down, you let your tongue swirl around the tip, licking up the taste of Yoonji and Jungkook together. They taste wonderfully divine. His hips strain upwards again and you and Yoonji each use a hand to hold his hips down as you continue your slow, teasing licks. Once youâve licked all traces of Yoonji from him, you take him into your mouth, humming in content at the way he stretches your lips.
ââM g-gonna⊠please⊠please can I?â
âAw, youâre asking permission? Youâre such a good boy. Of course you can cum, baby. Youâve been so good to your noonas.â
It takes only a couple bobs of your head for his back to bow as the first spurt of salty fluid hits your tongue. He cries out, body strung tight as he cums down your throat. You let your tongue rub at his frenulum as you and Yoonji work to draw out his orgasm as long as possible. When he begins to tremble and whimper, you finally pull away, licking your lips clean as you do.Â
Jungkookâs eyes are shut tight, shuddering through the last aftershocks and he looks beautifully debauched. Glancing at Yoonji, you see the same fond look on her face that you know to be on yours. Leaning down, you pepper a few kisses to his lips and cheeks before stretching out beside him and cuddling up to his side.Â
âYou did such a good job, baby. You were so good for us,â you murmur, letting your hand rub his belly.Â
Yoonji mirrors you and after a moment, halts your rubbing by interlacing your fingers with her. The look on her face is hard to read, but she gives you a reassuring squeeze.Â
âThe best baby,â she agrees, turning to Jungkook and giving him a kiss on the cheek.Â
Jungkook gets a goofy grin, seeming to melt between the both of you at the praise. At the rate heâs going, he might have a bigger praise kink than Jimin. You all fall silent, breath evening out and simply enjoy the afterglow. You assume Jungkook at the very least has fallen asleep as your mind begins to swirl with the implications of what just happened.Â
Leave it to your overthinking to ruin a nice postcoital cuddle. But you canât help but wonder where this leaves the three of you. Was this just a one time thing? Does it mean anything deeper? You want so badly for it to mean more, but you also know that getting your hopes up leads to more hurt in the end.Â
Jungkook surprises you by breaking the silence, voice rough like heâs fighting sleep. âWhat does this mean?âÂ
He sounds so small when he says it, it makes your heart ache a little. Youâre not sure how to answer him though, because you also donât really know what this means. You know what it means for you, but you canât speak for Yoonji, or even Jungkook.Â
Yoonji pushes up onto her elbow so she can look at you both and you see that same fond look in her eyes again. It makes something warm and content twist in your belly. âI thought I had made my intentions clear, but I guess not. I like you.â Before the hurt you feel can stretch too far, she looks at you. âBoth of you. I had intended to get that done first tonight. But, uh, well things got a little carried away.â
Jungkook snorts. âOnly a little?â
She pulls her hand from yours, giving him a quick pinch. âHey! Donât go getting mouthy now.â
Grinning in response, he wraps his arms around you both, tugging you somehow closer. âI like you both too⊠I have for a really long timeâŠâ he pauses, seeming to think for a moment before continuing. âAnd I really liked tonight⊠What we did⊠Iâd like to explore more of thatâŠâ
They both look at you and you canât help the giddy grin that spreads across your face. You push yourself up just enough to lean across to give Yoonji a kiss and then turn to give Jungkook one too. âOf course I like you both. God, who couldnât? You both are so wonderful.â
Jungkook giggles happily and then in the blink, heâs managed to get you and Yoonji pushed together as he hovers over you both. He gives you each a kiss to the forehead. âSo does this mean youâll be my girlfriends?â Laughing, you give him a nod and he glows with happiness. âI have the prettiest girlfriends.â
You and Yoonji both reach up, each cupping one of his cheeks. Warm floods you, feeling happy and content with them both.Â
âAnd we have the prettiest boyfriend.â
#bangtanarmynet#kwritersworldnet#ksmutclub#yoonji x reader#yoonji smut#yoonji fic#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook fic#bts smut
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the wedding date | morgan rielly
a/n: well first things first, iâm gonna give a shoutout to myself, because i started this fucking thing back in august and itâs finally completed (thatâs right, it took me 7 months to write just under 5k, shhh, it finally came together).Â
anyway, since i started this back in august, you can tell iâve had this idea for a while. itâs morphed and changed a bit but the basic premise has stayed the same- you go home with morgan for a wedding and everyone thinks that youâre the girl heâs been dating for the last few years- so i hope you all enjoy! (also iâm sorry i suck at titles but like iâm not)
a special shoutout to these lovely people who have listened to me whine about this at any point over the last SEVEN MONTHS and some fellow mo lovers because youâre all amazing and i love you, @denis-scorianov, @brockadoodles, @danglesnipecelly, @laurenairay, @hockeyboysiguess
-----
When Morgan approaches you, with what youâll later learn is only his first attempt to ask you something, you donât even give him the chance, really. âHey, what are you doing this summer?â
âNot you.â You quip back, grinning cheekily, ignoring the barks of laughter from Matthews and Marner beside him.
âHaha.â Morgan deadpans, but itâs busy that night at the bar, Saturday night after a Leafs win, and youâve really got to get back to work now that youâve finished serving them, so youâre already walking away from him.
The second time it happens is a Friday night, a few weeks later, when youâre out with some friends for the first time all semester. Itâs late enough that youâre feeling just on the right side of tipsy, youâre drunk enough that you know youâre going to go home with the guy you shouldnât, and youâre okay with both of those things.Â
At least, tonight you are. Tomorrow morning will be a different story.
And then, Morgan stops you at the bar. âHey.â
âHey!â You grin back...and then it slowly fades as he just hems and haws. âWhatâs up?â
âI-â He blows out a frustrated groan.
Your eyebrows raise. Youâve known Morgan for years now, since his first season with Leafs had been right about when you started working at the bar for some extra cash after realizing just how expensive school was getting and grad school would be beyond that. Youâre not sure youâve ever seen him at such a loss for words. âAlright, well if you canât think of it now, get back to me later, okay?â
âWait-â He says, so you give him a minute or two, but thereâs still nothing.
âOk, I love you, but this is my one night out before my dissertation is due later this spring.â You tell him, reaching out for a hug. âYou have my number and you know where to find me.â
âOk.â Morgan smiles a little. âHave fun tonight.â And then you slink away from him, back in the direction of your friends, ready to let loose one last time before the craziness sets in.
The night that Morgan finally gets his question out is a quiet one in the middle of the week. He settles himself into the corner, doing his best to be discrete with a hat covering his face. By the time you and your coworker get everyone settled with drinks and you make your way over to him, heâs caught the attention of one older man, who immediately walks back to his girlfriend when you arrive at Morganâs section of the bar.
âWell finally.â Heâs free of all teammates, a rarity but not unheard of, especially this late in the season. âWhatâs a guy gotta do to get some service around here?â
âOh sorry!â You tease. âDid I interrupt something here? Did you want me to call that guy back up so you guys could finish up?â
He flattens you with a look. âDonât you dare.â
You giggle, leaning down against the bar in front of him. You know how much he loves the Toronto fanbase, but as playoffs approach, the fans are becoming more vocal and more forward with their thoughts. âYou want another drink?â
He looks down at his glass, contemplates for a minute, and then nods, so you return quickly with a new beer for him and then smile as you watch him take a large gulp of it. âSo whatâs new?â
âEhh loaded question.â He says cryptically. You give him a look. âBut hey, youâre here on a Wednesday! You done with your...dissertation?â He trails off hesitantly, smiling at himself when you nod.
âYup. I should know next week if Iâm all clear.â
âAnd then?â He prompts.
âAnd then you can call me doctor, asshole.â You tease.
âI mean, Dr. Asshole isnât what I would have gone with as my first choice, but if thatâs what you wantâŠâ
âMorgan!â You laugh, ducking your head at the lame joke.
Heâs grinning when you meet his eyes again, pleased as always that he could make someone laugh. âBut seriously, thatâs awesome! Iâm excited for you.â
âThanks.â You grin.
âWhatâs your next step then?â
âUmm I get to start researching infectious diseases for money.â You tell him excitedly, since youâd accepted a job with the University of Torontoâs medical research facilities. âBut it doesnât start until August.â
Youâd expected Morgan to tease you about your excitement of infectious disease-something he and his teammates (among many other people you know) have done multiple times before-but instead, he perks up and says, âSo youâd be free, on say, the weekend of July 8th?â
âWhy?â You ask suspiciously. Experience has told you not to immediately say yes to this.
Morgan sighs. âLook. I need a date for a wedding back home that weekend.â
âAnd Iâm the best you could come up with?â
âBest?â Morgan repeats. âYou are funny, youâre pretty, youâre a doctor, all of which, frankly, puts you well out my league.â
âYouâre not wrong.â You agree cheerfully, which puts the smile back on Morganâs face, as youâd hoped. âBut that doesnât explain why youâd need a date to this wedding.â
The smile fades quickly and you wince. âI was supposed to go with Laura.â
You frown. âWhat happened to Laura?â Last youâd heard, the two of them were solid. Really solid. Headed for a wedding themselves, solid.
âShe wasnât who I thought she was.â He says flatly.
You wince. âIâm sorry, Mo.â
He shrugs. âItâs over and done with now.â You send him a reassuring smile. âSo will you come?â
Well, thereâs really no way you can say no now and not feel like an asshole. âSure.â
The grin returns to his face. âKnew youâd come through for me.â
-----
Morgan rolls up to the airport in Vancouver to pick you up in a very fancy looking Jeep, a far cry from the sporty Porsche he drives in Toronto, and you call him out on it immediately. âI see how it is. You go home and youâre a fancy country boy, not a fancy city boy?â
He laughs. âFuck off.â
âGladly.â You tell him, grinning teasingly. âDrop me off at departures, will ya?â
His tone immediately turns serious. âThank you. Seriously. Thanks for coming.â
Your smile remains on your face, still beaming over at him. âIt was nothing, Mo.â It wasnât, really, and you both know it. Youâd quit your bar job a couple weeks early because of this, but you were happy to do this for him. Heâd been down about Laura, down about being bounced from the playoffs again. This spring had been rough on him and you were more than happy to do your part to cheer up one of your closest friends.
Morgan hmms, in a way like heâs pretending to be casual about it, but he changes the subject as he switches lanes to pull onto the highway.
-----
Morgan has a whole itinerary for the next few days, prior to the wedding, but promises heâll take you around to some of his favorite spots before you leave late next week. A quiet night tonight, dinner with his parents and brother tomorrow, and then the wedding stuff began the following day.
Much like his fancy Jeep, his fancy house in Vancouver is also nothing like the condo he owns in Toronto. You wouldnât go so far as to say that his condo is...edgy, but itâs pretty modern? The house here in Vancouver is larger, sure, but reminds you a lot of the house you grew up in...or well, a larger and fancier version of it.
âGonna give me a tour?â You turn to Morgan, whoâs standing next to you almost awkwardly, as you look up at the beautiful house in front of you. Your bags are still in his hands, and you nudge his arm playfully, reaching for one, but he wonât let you grab it, smiling back at you as he starts to lead you in.
The inside is just as nice, and even though itâs clear that his mom and interior decorator have done a lot of work on it, thereâs still a lot of Mo touches too. Each one makes you smile, the ones he points out in his tour and the ones that he doesnât, until he finally leads you upstairs, dropping your things in one of the spare rooms. âDid I-â
âIf the next words out of your mouth are say thank you, Iâm walking out of this house.â You warn him.
â-ask what you want to do for dinner tonight?â Morgan finishes lamely and you laugh.
âThat sushi place you always hype up?â
Morgan smiles. âAnything you want.â He says, and then, instead of the thank you that you know he wants to say, he pulls you in for a hug and squeezes tightly, before letting go. âChange and weâll go?â
âShower, change, and weâll go.â You correct, dying to get the feel of airplane off you. â45 minutes.â
Morgan looks at you knowingly. âSure, uh huh.â He says, nodding like he knows itâll be much closer to an hour, an hour and fifteen, and you laugh, shoving at his shoulder before he makes you want to stretch it out to an hour and a half on purpose.
-----
Morganâs parents might be the nicest people in the world, but theyâre also a little...odd? Like, youâre not trying to be mean, because just like Morgan, they truly are the absolute sweetest, but, like, they just keep smiling at you with this knowing smile, like they know something that you donât and itâs just...weird.
But they welcome you with open arms, when the two of you show up to dinner on your second night in town, hugging you just as tightly as they hug their own son, maybe even tighter than they hug the son who still lives in the same province as them.Â
âWeâre so excited to finally meet you!â Morganâs mom gushes, once you get settled in their kitchen with a glass of wine, which at least explains the weirdness a little. â
âYou guys too.â You admit. Youâve heard so much about them, his parents and brother, over the years of friendship with Morgan; itâs nice to finally put faces to names, to stories. âThanks for having me tonight.â Next to you, Morgan nudges you, a grin on his face. You can practically hear him. Stop saying thank you, like youâve been saying to him for the past day.Â
âOh stop!â She says, practically in time with his nudge. âMorgan tells us youâre a doctor now!â Itâs said with pride, like you may as well be one of her own children whoâs done something great.
âYeah!â You smile, swirling the wine around a little, and then, because you donât want there to be any confusion. âNot that kind of doctor; you should still call 911 if something happens.â
His dad laughs and his mom beams. âWhat kind of doctor then?â His dad asks, and you spend a while talking with his parents about epidemiology and your dissertation- his mom, it turns out, works in a similar field, and it isnât long before the two of you are rolling your eyes about some research that just came out.
âWhat?â You ask Morgan, laughing, when your conversation breaks out, and she has to go check on dinner, at his dadâs request, before he burns it all entirely.
âI just forgot how excited you get about infectious diseases.â
âCanât believe youâve been out here this whole time knowing that your mom and I both exist and havenât introduced us.â You announce. âThe rudeness, the hearsay.â
âI donât think thatâs how that wordâs used.â Morgan cackles.
âOh, sorry, are you a doctor?â
âThat doesnât have anything to do with knowing how that word is used!â He protests, laughing.
You ignore him. âIf you even think of keeping her from me when they come to TorontoâŠâ
He wraps his arm around your shoulders and squeezes. âWouldnât dream of it.â
-----
âAre you ready yet?â Morgan calls, and you take one last look in the mirror on the wall, smoothing the pleats in your dress. âWeâre going to be late!â
âBut itâs gonna be worth it!â You sing-song as you descend the stairs to meet him in the living room.
âIs it ev-â He cuts off abruptly, eyes wide and swallowing visibly as he cuts off. âWow, okay then.â
âWorth it.â You wink at him, brushing past him to grab your purse.Â
Morganâs laughing as he picks up his keys, this soft and gentle thing that you canât help but smile at. âYeah, I shouldâve known it would be.â
âYouâll know better for tomorrow!â You tease, and breeze past him to get in the car.
The ride to his cousinâs rehearsal dinner isnât far, spent mostly laughing as you keep switching the station from anything Morgan changes it back to. By the time you arrive at the restaurant, youâre both giggling as you enter, flagged down almost immediately by Morganâs mom.
âLook at you two!â She gushes.
âMom.â Morgan says dryly. âCome on.â
She smiles at him indulgently. âMake sure you say hi to your cousin.âÂ
âYeah, of course.â Morgan nods, grabbing your hand to pull you away. âJust after we hit the bar.â He mutters and you giggle.
His cousin, the bride, and her husband-to-be seem to have the same idea, and itâs just as youâre turning away, wine glasses in hand, that you nearly run into them.
âOh!â Ashley beams excitedly, once Morgan introduces you. âHi!â
âCongratulations!â You return the excitement. Sheâs so bubbly and bright; itâs easy to do, even though you donât know her. âYou guys look so great tonight; youâre going blow us all away tomorrow.â
âSheâs going to blow me away tomorrow.â Dylan jokes, but you can tell by the twinkle in his eye that heâs entirely serious.
âOh stop.â Ashley knocks his arm. âAnd you too,â She gestures at you. âYou look amazing! Howâd you do your hair like that?â
âThis?â She nods and you walk her through it quickly; itâs a look thatâs so much more simple than it looks and sheâs gasping by the time youâre done.Â
âOk, mhmm.â She nods. âIâm getting your number from Morgan later so you can go over that with me again because Iâm definitely going to forget.â
Morgan flicks a piece of your hair. âItâs a hairstyle, what could you possibly forget?â
You and Ashley exchange a look. âI got you.â You reassure her as you both laugh at him.
âMen, honestly.â She shakes her head, as Morgan and Dylan protest, but then before you and Ashley can talk any more, she and Dylan are being called away, and thereâs promises for you all to catch up tomorrow at the wedding.
âYou canât have her phone number unless you promise not to talk about me.â Morgan says.
âFat chance.â You tell him. âBut nice try.â
From there, you start making your way back to his parents, stopping off to chat quickly with relatives he recognizes (and once, ducking purposefully into a small crowd to avoid an aunt he doesnât want to see). You feel like it shouldnât be surprising how nice his family is, given how genuine Morgan is, but each person you meet welcomes you so warmly, with kind words and open arms.Â
âYou must talk about me a lot.â You tease, as you two start making your way to your table.
Morgan shrugs. âMore than Iâd realized apparently.â You cackle and he laughs; itâs familiar and easy, but then youâre easily distracted by the appetizers coming to the table and fighting Morgan for extra of your favorites-also familiar and easy.
-----
Itâs another morning of Morgan waiting impatiently for you, being rewarded with his gaping jaw dropped, and teasing him the entire ride to the wedding, before he easily gets his revenge when you tear up at the ceremony.
âYou donât even know these people!â He nudges you forward toward his cousin in the reception line right after the ceremony. âAnd youâre going to cry like that?â
âIt was a beautiful ceremony!â You defend. Youâd been right yesterday; Ashley had easily blown everyone away from the moment sheâd entered the room. Their vows were incredible; you didnât understand how anyone wasnât crying.
Morgan snickers, nudging you forward again. âGod, what do you do at weddings you actually know the people at?â He pauses as you both step closer another, like the idea has just come to him. âOh man, what are going to do at your own wedding?â
âBawl my eyes out, obviously.â You say dryly. âTell my future husband to bring tissues.â You move up, next in line for Ashley and Dylan. âYou clearly didnât get the message.â
âWhatâd you do?â Ashley pokes him; you guess whoever was in front of you was a guest she didnât know all that well because theyâve moved along pretty quickly.
âMe? Iâd never.â Morgan says innocently, ducking down to kiss her cheek.
âIâm just giving him a hard time.â You agree and she grins, shocking you when she pulls you in for a hug.Â
âHe probably deserves it.â She says cheerfully.
âWow, I see family loyalty goes a long way here, huh.â Morgan deadpans.
Ashley gives him a look. âNot for much longer, I guess, though?â She nudges him.
âOh I see how it is, youâve been married for all of five minutes and suddenly Dylanâs family is better than ours?â Morgan teases.
Ashley blinks. âThat is...not how I meant that at all.â She says, but before she can say anything else to you, the couple behind the two of you starts sighing impatiently, and you all realize how long youâve been talking for. You quickly congratulate her and then move along to Dylan as well, before stepping out of line and moving towards the reception area.
The bridal party was quick to get the reception started after the ceremony, so when you and Morgan make your way over, thereâs already a decent sized group chatting and drinking. You both grab drinks from the bar and make your way to a group of his cousins, chatting for a while and laughing along as theyâre sure to include you in all of their jokes.
When it comes time to start making your way to your table for dinner, you excuse yourself to the bathroom quickly, running into Morganâs grandmother when youâre there, who had the same idea as you it seems.
She lights up when she sees you fixing your hair in the mirror, stepping up to wash her hands. âIt looks great.â She assures you and you smile, thanking her. âAre you having a good time?â
You nod, following her out so the two of you can make your way back to the reception. âSuch a good time! Everyoneâs been amazing and Ashley and Dylan are beautiful; itâs been a great weekend!â
âItâll be great to be all be here again,â Morganâs grandmother smiles at you and you return it politely. âNext summer.â She adds, like an afterthought, and you shrug. Sheâd know better than you what the upcoming engagements look like. You can barely remember the names of the people youâre seated with tonight.
âIf Morgan brings me back then.â You throw her a finger gun and she laughs-loudly.
âOh, youâre a trip!â She nudges you gently, laughing. âSuch a doll. Letâs get another glass of wine together before we go back, shall we?â
âI will never say no to that.â Youâre pretty sure you still have a couple minutes to spare before you need to sit down.Â
His grandmother links arms with you. âMy kinda gal.â She beams and her smile is contagious, just like Morganâs is when heâs really happy, so itâs not hard to grin along with her as she tugs you along for another glass of rosĂ©.
-----
The eveningâs winding down- the wedding long over and the after party beginning to do so as well. Almost all of the older relatives have made their way home or to their hotel rooms but thereâs a few sloppy cousins and friends still going hard (youâve got some serious concerns how the one groomsman is even going to make it upstairs). Ashley and Dylan keep stealing glances at each other, like theyâre wondering if itâs late enough for them to sneak away yet, but each time they look like theyâre going to, someone calls for another toast.
Morgan nudges you. âHey.â He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a couple cigars. âOutside with me?â
You think about it for a second. Usually, you love a good cigar-and youâre sure that Morganâs managed to acquire a good one- but tonight? âNot really in the mood, but Iâll come out.â
He grins, a little crooked, and offers his hand to help you up from the couch the two of you have been sitting on. Outside, the weather is beautiful, one of those crystal clear nights with a light breeze where you feel like you could be outside for hours. He lights the cigar while you continue to sip at your wine, the two of you standing in comfortable silence, until the door opens again.
âCigars without me?â His brother grumbles. âI see how it is now.â
âYup, just left you behind on purpose.â Morgan says shamelessly, but heâs already pulling the spare out of his pocket and handing it over.
âUnsurprising.â
âYeah?â Morgan asks, amusedly. âWhyâs that?âÂ
His brother gives him a look, and then, when Morgan doesnât react, looks over at you, but you just shrug. âJust promise you wonât forget about me once you pop the question.â
You choke on your drink; Morgan looks just as shocked, the cigar halfway to his mouth. âWhat?â He says finally.
For the first time, his brother looks unsure. âI think...we all just thought...once you brought her home, that was the only thing holding you back?â
âOh my god.â Morgan says breathlessly.
âIâm not-â You add helplessly. âWeâre not-â
âOh.â His brother winces. âWait, so youâre notâŠâ He trails off and the silence between the three of you becomes so thick itâs almost palpable. You donât know what to do, what to say. What he even means. âYouâre not together?â He says finally, sounding like heâd rather be anywhere else, doing anything else.
You can relate. You shake your head slowly, notice Morganâs doing the same out of the corner of your eye.
âUm.â His brother continues. âAnd-and you havenât been-together?â Another head shake. âWow. A lot of people are going to be very disappointed.â
âA lot of people?â Morgan repeats. âWho...who all thinks this?â But you donât need an answer to know and apparently, he doesnât either. The silence thickens somehow; you didnât think it was possible.Â
âUm.â His brotherâs already backing away, even as he speaks. âIâm gonna go now. Before I say anything else to make this worse.â
Heâs gone before you can tell him youâre not sure thatâs possible, leaving you and Morgan in the loudest silence youâve ever experienced.Â
Itâs abundantly clear Morgan feels it too, from the way he wonât even meet your eyes, will barely even look at you, actually. And thereâs so much to say here, but well, âYou never brought Laura to meet your family? Never let them meet her at home?â Apparently, they really werenât as serious as youâd thought.
Morgan laughs hollowly, finally meeting your eyes. âThat probably should have been a clue, huh?â
âA little bit of a red flag.â You agree. Itâd been how many years? Morganâs tight with his family, that much you knew before youâd come out here and only became clearer as you met them. âWhy...why didnât you ever introduce them?â
Morgan sighs. âI think-I always knew something wasnât right. And I just didnât want to admit it?â He sighs again. âI shouldnât have brought you into this.â
âYou didnât know.â You tell him gently. âAnd I wanted to come.â You remind him. âI was happy to!â You pause for a second. âI was happy to come across the country to a wedding with you and your family with barely a second thought. So maybe we both need to re-examine what happened here this weekend.â
âMaybe we donât.â Morgan says simply.
âWhat?â You frown, confused.
âYou were happy to fly across the country for a wedding with me and my family.â Morgan repeats, with a small smile on his face. âAnd then you come here and meet my entire family, and they think Iâm ready to propose to you, because you're the girl they hear me talk about all the time.â Your jaw drops-is he saying...what you think heâs saying-and his smile grows into a grin. âI think this thing between us has been more than either of us have been able to admit because weâve had other things going on- school or hockey or-â
âOther girlfriends?â You supply teasingly, when he trails off, like heâs afraid to mention her name.
He nods. âThereâve been other boyfriends, too.â He nudges you, just as teasing.
âThere have.â You admit, because itâs not a lie, but none of them have ever worked out, for a variety of reasons, but you canât help but think, that now that heâs mentioning it, Morgan might have been a part of those other reasons.
Heâs back to smiling again when he continues, leaning against you slightly. âI think we owe it to ourselves to see what we could be.â
You lean back against him. âYou do, do you?â
âI do.â He nods.
âLittle early for that, donât you think?â It takes a second for your joke to land, but once it does, he cracks up and it brings a smile to your face.Â
âWe are at a wedding.â He grins, nudging you playfully. âWho knows, maybe someday itâll be ours?â
-----
a bit in the future
Itâs one of those beautiful sunny days where the sun is shining with a light breeze where you feel like you could be outside for hours.Â
Unfortunately, youâve got a huge project due at the end of the week, so while Morganâs been enjoying the lake all day, youâve been sitting at a table on the dock, staring at your laptop, tapping away at your keyboard, and ignoring his increasingly annoying calls for attention.
Itâs harder to ignore when he comes up next to you, wrapping his wet arms around your shoulders. âMorgan.â You try to shake him off. âCome on, gimme like ten minutes and then Iâll come in.â
âPromise?â He asks.
âYes.â You say because if you can get this one last thing done youâll be ahead of your goal for the day.
It works; Morgan sits down next to you quietly, scrolling through his phone for a bit, and then, jumps up and runs inside the cabin, and you jump on the opportunity of quiet to get ahead even further, losing yourself in your next bit of project.
âHey,â Morgan says casually, and it scares you a bit, his return far quieter than heâs been all day. âWhat are you doing the weekend of July 8th?â
âI donât know, thatâs like a year away!.â You snap, turning to tell him to stop annoying you, only for your jaw to drop when you see him down on one knee.
âWant to get married then?â He says, a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his face, like heâs been waiting for this reaction, like it was everything and more.
âOh my god! Are you serious?â He slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a ring; you gasp. âMorgan!â
âWill you marry me?â
âYes, oh my god, yes!â Your computer long forgotten in the face of an engagement ring, you throw yourself at Morgan, who catches you easily, like he was prepared for this. He probably was. He knows you better than anyone; heâs your best friend and so much more. He barely manages to slip the ring on your finger before youâre kissing him. âI love you!â
âI love you, too.â He grins. âAre you sure youâre ready to take this jump with me?â
âOf course!â You beam, but it hits you just a minute too late. Heâs already jumping in the water. âYouâre the worst.â You sputter out at him, purposefully spitting lake water at his face.Â
He doesnât even look like he minds. âFor better or worse.â He grins.
âThatâs not what thatâs referring to!â You splash him and he splashes back but before it can devolve into a full on splash attack, heâs pulling you into his arms.
âI mean it though.â He says, kissing you again. âAnd Iâll tell you again, next summer, at our wedding.â
Our wedding. The words sound almost unreal, too good to be true. âIâll be the one in white.â You promise. âOr, well, maybe ivory.â You say and itâs hard to kiss Morgan then when heâs laughing so hard.
#morgan rielly#morgan rielly fanfic#morgan rielly imagine#hockey fanfic#hockey fanfiction#hockey imagines#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagines#my hockey fics
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