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madelynraemunson · 1 year ago

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CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ plz

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

Chapter 002: Wing Man

You start your first night of work. Eddie requests a private show. But not for him; for his friend — a rich and lonely bachelor who can’t seem to get over his ex.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020

word count: 7.2k words

NSFW — lap dance, steve creaming his pants, abusive relationships, talks of trauma, steve and reader trauma dumping lol

pairing: lonely bachelor!steve x fem!exoticdancer!hargrove! reader (and lowkey eddie)

author’s note: yes we get with steve before we get with eddie, but we will get there okay??? 🫣🫣🫦 also don’t tell me you guys wouldn’t homie hop in hawkins because these men are SO FINE

tags: @changemunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n

“Let me see you dance I love to watch you dance. Take you down another level, and get you dancing with the Devil” -Wicked Games by The Weeknd

♡

A sultry black set.

A hot pink set with bows. Caribbean blue. Army green for the military men. Some cuffs. Personal wet wipes. Sanitizer. And lastly, a stethoscope to play the part.

“I can’t believe you accepted a caregiving job,” Max scoffs as you both make your way out of Scrubs 4 Less. “Do you even have healthcare experience?”

Your stepsister loved to mask her prying with carefully crafted screening questions. Even if they sounded pessimistic.

“Sure I do,” you shrug. “Remember that summer I cared for Great-Aunt Dotty when she had Parkinson’s? Figured maybe it’d be similar.”

“I guess.”

You take it upon yourself to remind Max that you are certified in CPR. And with that cert, you saved numerous people from drowning as a lifeguard. Of course that was for one year during high school, but it was experience nonetheless.

"Well, what about the heavy lifting?"

"Easy. All in the legs." you pat your thighs. Despite being calm on the outside, you are getting nervous now. About everything.

"Takes a lot of core strength too. And upper body."

It's like she knows what you actually will be going to be doing. However, there are parallels between both professions, and you made sure you made a choice like that so you wouldn't have to lie as much about the physicality of things.

"You seemed to have gotten the job pretty fast,” Max notes.

"Nursing homes are really short staffed. Especially with the pandemic and everyone leaving from all the burnout, they’ll take anybody who qualifies."

"Did they even determine if you do?"

"Are you questioning my ability to take care of people?”

You know you’re being manipulative. You can spot a manipulator from a mile away. But this little white lie is for you and Max’s own good. Even if it means selling her a fake story. Even if it means lying. Living a double life.

“An abusive home life and all-timers isn’t comparable.”

“Have you considered that some people with Alzheimer’s are combative as well?”

“And you had to accept the graveyard shift?” she pries further, ignoring all your valid points.

“It pays more,” you answer sharply, readily. “Two dollar shift differential.”

“Oh my god, we’re practically millionaires.”

The sudden change in Max's behavior is really catching you off guard. She was optimistic on her birthday. A little withdrawn when the weekend was approaching. Now the pain is evident it is almost unbearable. Sure, Billy isn't a problem anymore, but with all of his chaos, Max has found solace in using her hobbies as coping mechanisms. Her body needs that adrenaline, and now you have cut off access to all of it.

Max can't go surf. She can't run around freely just yet because she doesn't know good routes and trails. She doesn't have friends in the area besides you, Robin, and Vicky. She misses Donovan.

Max is hurt. You know she is, but you don't blame her. Still, you’ve had it.

“Hey.” you snap.

Max halts. She knows she went too far.

“I know it's sucky... the situation we're in right now," you sigh. "But I'm doing this for us, remember? It’s temporary. We just need a soft place to land, and this is paving the way towards that.”

At least that’s something you didn’t have to lie about: It’s a sacrifice you were making for her.

———————𓆩♡𓆪—————-

Orientation day comes in a blink of an eye.

Eddie is giving you a tour of Hellfire while discussing how his particular ‘system’ works. You’ve got to give him credit. His system makes sense.

“I don’t ask my girls to pay to dance here,” he explains. “I just think that’s bogus. Also, it’s Hawkins. Not that many competitors, so if I let you dance here, you’re automatically staff.”

You two walk down the hall. Eddie shows you where you would clock in and out, promising you your punch-in code by the end of the week. You learn that everyone gets paid out every Friday, because in Eddie’s words, “fuck that biweekly shit”. Tips go home with you every night, but you are expected to help tip out staff members patrons don’t really see or interact with. Therefore: Jonathan’s girlfriend Nancy whose House Mom, Henry, and Argyle. The boys make their money from bussing and serving. Jonathan earns tips from POTIONS.

“I figured as much.”

You graze your hand along the kukris on the wall as Eddie talks. He stops to take note of it and gives you a boastful smile.

“You like ‘em?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”

“That’s the perk of owning your own business,” Eddie says exuding a lazy stretch to graze the kukris himself. “You choose where the money goes, when it goes, how it goes.”

He ponders for a while longer.

“Most of the time at least.”

Clearly a majority of the money also went to the chicken wings.

Eddie leads you to back of the house where he then proudly showcases his wing menu to you. There’s the Hawkins Hot Chick for Nashville inspired hot chicken. Chicken Strippers for the picky eaters. And the ‘Hot As Cluck’ buffalo wings with spice scales named after Metallica songs: Fuel (mild), Fight Fire with Fire (medium), Creeping Death (hot), and The Unforgiven (Extremely hot). All are served with one’s choice of carrots and celery or crinkle cut fries on the side.

“Crinkle cut fries are the best kind of fries,” Eddie states. “Ain’t that right, chef?”

“Ay ay!”

One chef. For the entire back of the house. Though that seems like the textbook definition of a staff shortage, the friendly Latino man with long, black hair that he concealed with a hairnet and baseball cap most likely had it covered. He flashes you a kind grin with kind, hooded eyes to match, quite possibly revealing to you that he’s likely stoned out of his mind. But if it helps him through the shift…

“Argyle’s the man,” Eddie explains. “Pitched the chicken wing idea to me when we were both blasted.”

Suspicions confirmed.

“Is it just Argyle?” you inquire waving hello to him.

“Sometimes Eds helps out back here too,” Argyle answers for him. “Like when we’re really fucking shlammed, he’ll come back here and help cook.”

Argyle turns to you. You smile at him.

“But most of the time I got it,” he says. “That man’s got enough on his plate.”

“Yeah, Argyle’s a beast,” Eddie confirms. “Don’t know what I’d do without him.”

While Eddie tidies up back of the house, you and Argyle converse with one another. He’s 28, produces music on the side, and learned how to cook from his mom at the age of three. California native as well. By observing the mini station he has set up, you notice that Argyle keeps a stash of Yerba Mate with him at all times, and some bud in his mini gym bag. You also learn that he and Eddie often take breaks together, hot boxing one another’s vans as if it were some sort of competition. But, as Argyle had mentioned, with how much Eddie currently has on his plate, those joint breaks (no pun intended) have been pushed to the backburner.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Hargrove,” Argyle concludes. “Excited to have you on our team.”

“Likewise!” you shake his hand with a smile. “Looking forward to bugging you for chicken wings.”

“You bug me all you want, mamas,” he insists. “I’ll make you allll the chicken wings in the world.”

“You a flats girl or a drumstick girl?” Eddie questions.

“Flats,” you respond instantly.

You receive a distraught gasp from the cook while Eddie cackles.

“Atta girl,” Eddie smirks patting your back. “I knew I liked you.”

“BLAS.PHE.MY!” Argyle screams. “Drumsticks are where it’s at bro.”

The three of you argue back and forth about chicken for the next couple of minutes, Eddie sticking beside you through and through. Though play-fighting with your new coworkers seems meniscal in the grand scheme of things, you reveled in it. It’s the first time in a while you felt a sense of community outside your sister. You wanted to savor it, especially since you know that this is temporary.

“You’re a red flag, Hargrove,” Argyle jokes, clutching his chest. “You were perfect in my eyes until you said you were a flats girl.”

“Well it’s a good thing she’s mine and not yours,” Eddie jeers.

Your heart flutters. Eddie and chicken wings. You’ve GOT to be in heaven.

“Alright, word,” Argyle calls after Eddie as he pulls you away from the kitchen. “Word. I’m still gonna spoil her with food like she’s mine though.”

“He’s such a flirt,” Eddie says to you once you’re both out of earshot. “Endearing and endangering at the same time.”

“All in good nature right?”

“‘Course!” he exclaims. “We’re all about respecting women at Hellfire. Everything’s lighthearted banter.”

And you’ll revel in that too. Especially since ‘respect’ and ‘lighthearted banter’ weren’t things you were able to experience at home.

“Also!” Eddie adds. “Respectfully… Wear something simple but classy on Friday.”

“Ooh,” you chime. “Simple and classy?”

“Yeah, I’m talking neutral tones. Red lipstick also preferred but you can do whatever you want. I’ve got something I need you to do for me on your very first day.”

I’ll do anything for you, Eddie. Your intrusive thoughts are starting to take over.

———————𓆩♡𓆪—————-

It’s Friday night now and everyone is in their respective stations preparing for the rush. Argyle is prepping the fryer while Chrissy flirts with him for nachos. She waves at you with her fingers and gestures that you can have some too. You smile and mouth a, “thank you” to her.

You really like Chrissy. Of all the dancers you’ve seen so far, she is the most memorable. She is charming and sweet, soft but firm with her boundaries. She has regulars lining up for her daily, all with different types of quirks and interests. But Chrissy somehow fits all of their molds, just by how fast she can switch from doe to siren depending on her audience. You want to be just like her.

You and Eddie stop by the kitchen before heading off to finish orientation. There are chicken wings — flats only, of course — on the line waiting for you with a note scribbled on the back of an old ticket order.

“Shy Girl<3”

“Eat up, mamas,” Argyle encourages you. “Gonna need the energy for tonight.”

“Yeah!” Chrissy cheers. “It’s Fridaaay!”

You thank them before heading out with Eddie once again. Eddie steals a flat from you and flashes a thumbs up to the cook before you two leave.

“Mm,” he approves. “Fight Fire with Fire Buffalo.”

You are just about done with wrapping up orientation training and ready to start the first night on your own. That is until Mike Wheeler, Nancy’s younger brother and bus boy, comes along and interrupts Eddie’s train of thought. You walk with Eddie in silence, munching on your food while Mike relentlessly hounds him about bringing his girlfriend into the club. She is 18 but Eddie is refusing.

“But but-” Mike stammers. “The club is already eighteen plu-”

“But nothing,” Eddie interrupts. “This is Hellfire Club. Not babysitting club.”

“Well I’m 19 and you let me work here. Why does it matter if she’s 18?”

“Because you’re a dude, Wheeler,” Eddie hisses in return. “It’s different for the ladies.”

Not willing to risk any liabilities, he leaves Mike with just that. You follow Eddie, fiddling nervously with your hands as you watch him tsk and shake his head in disapproval.

“I can’t have teenage girls in here,” Eddie mutters. “That’s just blatantly obvious right? Or have I lost it?”

“No, right. Totally!” you agree.

Eddie has another rule. No strippers under the age of 20. Anyone under, including ages of 18 and 19 are children to him. He admits that he gets squeamish when guys bring their younger looking girlfriends into the club. You assume it pertained to his colleague’s girlfriends too.

You walk past the bar with Eddie, waving hi to Jonathan as you did so. Dustin is at the bar as well but is too busy to say hello. You manage to glance over and watch him fix his hair, trying to look his absolute best while FaceTiming his Mormon e-girl from Utah, Suzie. After eavesdropping for the past couple of days, you pick up that she insists on video chatting with Dustin every time he is at Hellfire to ensure his fidelity. Suzie wanted to be his “only wifey” to which ‘Dusty Bun’ assures her that she is.

“Uh oh,” comes a voice ever so soft it sounds eerie when it echoes through the club. “Someone’s in a bad mood today.”

Slithering into your periphery is the same tall, lean guy that you ran into earlier last week. Today he's sporting a white tank top that revealed a couple small tattoos scattered around his body, black pants that were tight enough to be yours, a loose wallet chain belt, and chunky work docs. His gorgeous blonde hair looks attainably messy by what you suspect is mousse. He smells of beer and cigarettes tonight, his tired eyes a precursor to his lust-filled gaze. A poster boy for all the men you wouldn’t want to bring home to your parents is none other than,

“Henry Creel,” Eddie says. “Mike’s just picking a bone with me. Have you met Hargrove? She’s our newest dancer.”

It’s seemingly Henry’s first day back. From the first day of orientation to now, you’ve only had run-ins with Jim, the older gentleman who is also a bouncer. Jim spent years with the Hawkins PD, but after a scandal that only Eddie and his peers seem to know about, Jim found a home protecting young women at the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club. The only place that gave him a chance.

You like Jim. You like everyone here. You are also ecstatic to see Henry again, this time as a dancer. You can see the excitement blooming in his eyes, with a steady increase in his pupil size by the second.

“Well, well,” Henry smirks. “Look who decided to join us.”

You two shake hands again.

“Henry’s my other bouncer,” Eddie explains, but you already knew that. “He’s my right hand man. He’s tiny but mighty. Could snap bones in an instant.”

You peer over at Henry with shocked eyes, to which Henry acknowledges with a dramatic bow.

“You’ll see it,” Eddie hovers a hand over your back. “I sure hope not anytime soon, but there’s always that one douchebag.”

“And they always underestimate me too,” Henry says. “I get a nice kick out of it. It’s a win-win.”

Henry is certainly not beefy, but judging by his muscle tone and sharp upright demeanor, he can put up a fight. Dude seems like he does a lot of the dirty work for Eddie. He can get away with it too.

After bidding ‘see you later’ to Henry, you continue walking with Eddie.

“So,” he starts. “Did you put together a cute simple outfit for tonight?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Good,” Eddie says. “I can tell it’s gonna look amazing. I dig the red lipstick and the choker.”

Eddie wanted classy so you gave him classy. Underneath the cloak, you are sporting a lacy black set with a matching black choker and classic red lipstick. Your hair is straightened tonight since beach waves are your signature.

“You want a sneak peak?” you smirk.

Eddie quirks up. “Oh man, do I? Let me at it.”

You take off your cloak to reveal what you have underneath.

Eddie stops in his tracks, taking in the sight in front of him. His gaze is both soft, yet lout. Delicate in the brows, yet carnivorous in the eyes. Slowly, his jaw lowers, uttering a silent gasp as he fully processes the sight of the vixen — you — in front of him.

“Jeez…” he strains. “You look…”

You blush. Electricity whirls through you as Eddie continues to relish in your beauty.

“Showstopping,” Eddie finishes.

He reaches his arms out and you take them, letting yourself fall into his chest as he pulls you to him. During the embrace, he sets his lips beside your cheek, brushing against them delicately as he gives you a verbal kiss.

“Mwah!” he exclaims, leaving you longing for a stronger peck. You feel like you’re on a cloud when he spins you to get a full 360 of your look. “I was expecting like a light color, or pastel…but black — black is your color.”

“Yeah?” you reply. “It’s not too edgy? Choker and all?”

“A lil rough around the edges won’t hurt,” the club owner approves. “He’s gonna love it.”

You follow closely behind. “He?”

Your first client. You had a feeling that’s what Eddie had planned for you today, but reality didn’t sit in until right now.

"Ever given a lap dance before?" Eddie inquires.

"Yeah, but not in this setting."

He seems amused with your answer. Eddie smirks as he gives you a nudge. "Perfect."

You two are walking down the corridor now, down to an isolated room at the end masked by a beaded curtain. You’re unsure if the goosebumps that form on your skin is because of the slight chilliness of the club or because you were walking into a seductive hideout with the boss you had the hots for.

You two stop just a yard short of the curtain. Eddie turns to face you.

"I've got a buddy named Steve. Not short for anything, his parents just... loved the 80s." he chuckles. “You’re giving him a private show tonight. One hour.”

Eddie’s buddy. The pressure is on. The name rings a bell, you believe Dustin was talking about him the first day you set foot in Hellfire.

“Oh,” you say. “I think I heard your friend Dustin talking about him last week.”

As if it were some inside joke, Eddie sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie mutters. “Don’t even get me started on those two.”

Eddie motions you forward, extending his arm to signal an “after you” gesture as you proceed into the private show room. The beads of the curtain carelessly clash into one another as Eddie saunters in.

"Anyway, Steve has been going through it lately. His lady left him for another dude, he lost his job because the city wanted another basic coffee shop instead of a place to rent cheesy B movies…and the last time he worked in the food industry he had to wear a sailor’s uniform, so he’s since opted out.”

You wander around what was going to be your office for the next hour as Eddie aimlessly takes his own path and furthers his lay-down.

“His folks want nothing to do with him because he doesn't wanna be nepotized by them. When he’s not working, he’s babysitting — you guessed it — Dustin and the rest of the boys when they’re not here or playing D&D with me. Oh yeah, and on the topic of girlfriend, he hasn't gotten laid in a fat minute.”

Eddie pauses.

"It's kinda depressing,” he says. “Now that I say it all out loud.”

He makes a sharp turn and walks toward the boombox he kept in the corner of the room.

"That is depressing," you mumble nonchalantly, as if you yourself had not been laid in a fat minute… contrary to your obnoxious brother’s popular belief.

“How do you sleep at night knowing you’re a fucking slut?” Billy’s voice haunts you.

You’ve only had one real boyfriend and Billy knew that. And that boyfriend, shortly after he left you for the girl he told you not to worry about, admitted that you were simply a placeholder for him. They’re happily married now and it tortures you knowing that being the first choice was never in the cards. Billy knew that too and used that backstory to fuel your insecurities. Billy knew you hated feeling used, yet brought it up every chance he got. Making his victims feel small, that was the source of his power. You shudder it off.

You watch as Eddie plays around with the boombox, ensuring that the aux chord was working along with all its other components.

"Tell you what," Eddie begins to barter. "You give him a good show, you can keep a hundred percent of your tips tonight. Consider it a sign on bonus."

“Wow, Eddie really?” you exclaim. “That…helps me out a lot. Thanks so much.

“Of course, doll,” Eddie grins. “Happy to help.”

Eddie finishes up tidying the room before walking back over to you.

“I can’t get over how amazing you look,” he adds one last time. “You’re gonna knock his socks off.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” you thank him one last time.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

He lingers for a while longer before going outside to look for Steve. Meanwhile, heart’s-a-fluttering you try to acquaint yourself with the place, choosing a seductive song of your liking before getting prepped.

Wicked Games by The Weeknd.

More ruckus sounds from outside of the show room. You assume your client has arrived.

“That’s the boy,” Eddie confirms. “BRB-right back.”

You excuse your boss as he makes his way over to his friend. While you wait, your mind begins to race. Does your outfit look okay? Does your breath smell? Do you smell? Despite all the wardrobe and wellness checks you’ve done, your mind is insistent that something else was off. To calm your nerves, you decide to take a quick gulp of Bombay Sapphire, a gin Eddie had provided for the room, before Steve walks in.

Liquid courage. May help with the performance too.

“There he is,” Eddie cheers as the two men greet each other outside. “What took you so long?”

“There was uh, traffic,” a softer voice responds.

“I call bull.”

The two talk a bit more, voices too quiet for you to make out what they’re saying. That, or the sound of your heart pounding against your chest drowned out their conversation. Steve sounds friendly. Timid, but friendly nonetheless.

You listen in on Eddie’s spiel about you. He called you stunning, explained that you just moved from California, and that you are exactly Steve’s type. Whatever that could possibly mean. You then hear Eddie go over the rules. No touching you without consent. No verbal or physical harassment. No sexual intercourse. And to tip generously.

“She sounds lovely. Thanks for the run down, Eds.”

“‘Course. She’s all yours, Big Boy.”

The beaded curtains clash once more.

In walks a man around Eddie’s age, late 20s, early 30s with sleek mahogany hair and slight puffy eyes. He’s sporting a gray North Face sleeveless jacket with a plain black shirt underneath and denim blue Levi’s. He’s a lot more preppy than you thought he would be. Steve’s reaction to you was similar to that of Eddie, despite how different they seem from each other.

“Hi,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you smile. “You’re Steve?”

He nods shyly. “You’re who they call Shy Girl?”

“That’s meee.”

It doesn’t take a body language analyst to see that Steve is guarded. It takes another fragile, sullen demeanor to know one.

“Are you one of Eddie’s shy friends?”

The comment earns a laugh from Steve. “You think I’m shy?”

“Just a little.”

He attempts to mask a gulp. “I’ve just never gotten a lap dance before.”

“You think I’m supposed to believe that?”

You stalk towards him and rest a hand on his chest when proximity and Steve himself grants you permission. You sink your palm in deeper when you pick up he’s receptive to it.

Oh yeah, that’s all gin.

“With your handsome self?”

Steve’s blushing now. “Yeah…strip clubs are kinda not my thing. They’re starting to be though, cuz I always come and support Eddie.”

“What a nice boyfriend,” you joke.

“Eddie and I do have a budding bromance,” he admits with a laugh.

“Boy I’d love to be in the middle of that,” you tease him honestly.

Steve is left stunned and speechless while you grab his hand and lead him to the futon in the middle of the room. He attempts to relax, exhaling the tension out of his shoulders and manspreading as he watches you encompass him. You walked in a slow circle around Steve as the music starts and he peers up at you with curious eyes. Alas, you stop in front of him, cupping his face softly in your hands and synchronizing your hip movements to the rhythm of the song.

Relate to your customers. Talk to them. Build a connection with them, you think to yourself.

“So how’s your day been?”

Steve cracks a faint smile. "Good, how's yours?"

"Good," you chime as you slowly lower yourself onto his lap.

Steve sharply inhales, sucking the tension he had just released right back into his body. You shake your head in disapproval and stroke his face calmly.

“No, no,” you coo. “Just sit back, relax. You’re safe with me.”

“I’m safe with you, huh?” he responds in an is-that-so kind of fashion. “You seem like pure danger to me.”

“Oh, please,” you snarkily disregard his comment. “I’m an angel.”

“In a place called Hellfire?” he challenges you. “I find that hard to believe.”

Steve wants to touch you. So bad. But he refrains. You feel it in his levitating palms, resting just inches away from the small of your back. You start to lightly ride his thigh, hoping to catch his palm in passing as you move your hips about. Instead you’re met with something hard at the base of his pants, an outline and protrusion that wasn’t there before.

Steve looks down and acknowledges it with a shrug.

"Sorry," he chuckles. "It has a mind of its own."

You laugh faintly in return. "It's okay. I'd say it's responding appropriately."

"Yeah?"

"Given the circumstances," you say as you grind slower, deeper. "Yeah."

"Well, that's a relief."

Steve is cute. And a polite man who values your consent was sure to receive it. You two lock gazes before one of you dared to speak again. It all feels like a blind date, and you’re two giddy young adults.

"You..." you start. “You can touch me if you’d like.”

"Really?" Steve asks. "Usually dancers don't let you do that."

"It depends who you ask," you smile. "Consent is subjective...and you have mine. C'mon."

He obliges and starts to graze your ass softly with his hands. You run his hands through his hair, then along his neck without lifting them. A muffled moan is slowly released from his mouth.

"Shit," he sputters. "Feels really good."

He tosses his head back.

"You make me feel so good."

"Aww," you grin. "Me?"

"Yeah you," his voice is deeper now. Huskier. "All because of you."

His hand moves upwards towards your bra and he begins to fiddle with the straps, and then the clasps. You continue your steady grinding, rolling your hips to the beat of the music, tossing your head back for the full effect while Steve holds back the urge to cup your perfect breasts in his kneady hands.

A whimper escapes Steve’s mouth when you find the sweet place to roll, resting a palm over his abdomen for leverage.

“Needy, are we?” you tease him. “Needy for me, Stevie?”

“So fucking needy,” he breathes, a nervous gulp swallowing another sneaky groan. “You’re gonna be the death of me, woman.”

I’ve got my heart right here, I’ve got my scars right here.

Suddenly, you cease the grinding, going from cowgirl to reverse. Grabbing a hold of both his knees with the back of both your hands, you sink down to the floor, knees bent, slightly out turned. Your hands move from his knees to encompass his elbows, accommodating the playful headlock he abruptly decided to have you in, watching you squat down beneath him.

“Mmm,” he hums. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby.”

His arms creep from the sides of your face to the front of your face. You crane your head upwards, peering up at him and refrain from shivering when he brings an arm across your neck. His other hand rests on your face, stroking it tenderly.

“Get up here and, ride my thighs again, please.” he pleads. “It was feeling so good.”

“Okay,” you oblige before standing back up.

“Before you do though, let me get a good look at your ass.”

You stand there for him, bending down ever so slightly so he could run his hands across your back. He grabs a fist full of your hair gently with one hand and strokes your ass cheek with the other.

"Wow," Steve hums as he runs his fingers along the birth mark on your lower back. "I like this birthmark."

"Yeah?" you say. "Some people have said it looks like a tramp stamp."

"It's cute," Steve insists, pulling you onto his lap. “It kinda looks like a bat."

He points to where the wings would be and the fangs and you laugh. No one's admired your tramp stamp-esque birthmark the way Steve did.

"Thanks," you reply. "My brother has a matching one."

You pause.

"Sorry, that didn't sound all that sexy."

Steve tosses his head back and chuckles, hand resting firmly on your ass again. "You look sexy talking regardless, so I don’t mind.”

The chemistry between you and Steve feels so natural. You know if your nurturing heart felt like this with all clients you would be in big trouble. This profession isn’t for everyone and you realize that. But you decide to realize everything else later. Meanwhile, your focus right now is pleasing Steve.

You resume the thigh riding per his request, and chase your own subtle high as you did so. Steve whimpers and whines, seeming to long for you even more with every stroke of his hair, every brush against his cheek, every steady and calculated grind against his—

"Woah, are you okay?"

Suddenly you’re cut off by Steve abruptly pushing you off his lap. When you peer over at him, his face has gone completely red.

Did you do something wrong? Did you violate a boundary? Millions of thoughts race through your head. You can’t get fired on the first day of your new job…

"Y-yeah, I'm fine, I just..." Steve stammers, flushing a deeper red hue with every word. “I... uh, kinda came in my pants."

"Oh..." you begin.

"I am so sorry," Steve sighs. "Embarrassed is an understatement. I’m such a loser.”

You two start frantically talking over each other, one extremely apologetic, another sympathetic to the concerns. Again, it’s like you two are clumsy young adults on a blind date set up by your bold friends.

"It's been a while... so..." Steve stammers.

"Steve," you stop him.

"And..." he cuts out.

"It's okay," you reassure him. “It’s okay, Steve. If you need a break, we can stop.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees with a resigned sigh, the red colored flush migrating to his ears. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You go to put your cloak back on again and strut towards the gin. Perhaps offering the man a drink would help loosen up his nerves.

"What should we do with the allotted time left?" Steve wonders eyes following you. He’s rubbing his knees anxiously with his palms. “Eddie has this room booked for an hour. He needs to think you're doing splits on my dick or something or else he won't be satisfied."

Laughter erupts from the deepest parts of your belly at Steve's comment. Steve can't help but laugh as well.

"Hm, we can wait a bit and I can give you another lap dance?” you suggest. “Or a strip tease?"

You weren't used to those words coming out of your mouth, so you attempted to make it sound as normal as possible. Wow, you really just gave a lap dance. And someone came from it.

"Do you think..." Steve inquires. "That we can just... talk?"

----

So you and Steve do exactly that. You talk about your families, and your aspirations, your deepest fears, and your core values. Steve Harrington isn’t the loser he thinks he is. He’s a really cool guy. But deeply misunderstood.

“So you and your brother have similar birthmarks?” Steve questions.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Except his is on his belly. We literally took the term identical twins to a whole new level.”

He laughs.

“Your brother sounds cool.”

“He was.”

Steve gasps in astonishment.

“Oh, my god. I’m sorry. Is he…”

“He’s not dead. Just an asshole.”

The color returns to his face. He exhales steadily and shakes his head. You find his reaction funny, despite how twisted that made you sound.

“Dead to you though?”

“Pretty much,” you giggle. “Dead to me.”

You two do a cheers to that with your alcohol-filled glasses and take another painful sip. It burns.

“Tell me about yourself now,” you prompt him.

There’s a dramatic pause.

“Well,” Steve begins. “I’m an only child. So eyes have been on me for as long as I can remember. What’s Stevie up to? This is what we expect of him and this is what happens if he’s not what we make him out to be. It didn’t take til young adulthood to realize that I have been living in my parents’ shadow. I don’t even know what I like.”

Steve spurs on about how he has struggled with his identity, going back and forth between if what he was pursuing was a desire of his or his parents’.

“And for a while I thought I knew who Steve was. Until I lost myself again in a girl named Nancy.”

“Aw,” you pout.

“A girl,” Steve pauses waiting for you to catch on. “Named Nancy.”

Your eyes widen. “House Mom Nancy?!”

Steve nods as you slowly piece things together.

“So Jonathan’s girlfriend is your…”

“Ex girlfriend,” Steve confirms. “Small world, huh?”

You suppose it wasn’t good that Hawkins is so small. You’d hate for someone to recognize you when you’re taking a casual stroll outside.

Nonetheless, you push that concern to the side and continue your conversation with Steve.

“What happened?”

“Some petty high school shit,” he explains. “But it’s always been her. She made me a better me. The closest to Steve that I’ve ever felt.”

“Wow,” you say. “So you saw a future with her?”

“Marriage, kids, everything,” Steve confirms. “Then she decided I wasn’t what — who — she wanted.”

It’s silent for a while. Steve shakes his head bitterly and downs the rest of his drink. You slosh yours around waiting for him to speak again. Besides, if you did, you’d end up ugly crying about your ex. And no one wants their stripper trauma dumping on them when they’re supposed to be performing.

Thankfully, Steve is the first to speak again.

“Yeah, Nance. She looks… she looks happy,” he turns to you with dismal eyes. “I don’t ever wanna get in the way of that.”

“Do you ever see her here?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, she’s in the back being House Mom, making sure all the girls are taken care of and all that. And I’m sure she doesn’t come up front because she knows Eddie has been trying to play wingman.”

You chuckle. “With a stripper?”

“With anyone,” Steve chuckles. “God that sounds awful. I sound like a loser.”

“Would you stop saying that?” you snap. “You are not a loser, Steve.”

“I know I’m not a loser. Just feel like it sometimes. Especially when it dawns on you that you’ve been living life for other people.”

“I kinda know how you feel.”

You two lock eyes again. Steve rests a hand on top of yours, intertwining your fingers briefly before he begins playing with each of your fingers one by one.

"I guess…going back to the previous topic…” he proceeds. “If I could change anything about myself, I would've done more of what Steve wants to do. Not what Todd and Marsha want Steve to do. Or what Tommy H. and Carol want Steve to do. Because maybe then Nancy and I would’ve been endgame. Or maybe Allison. Possibly Tammy? Who knows? See? Everyone’s world but Steve’s.”

"Steve," you start. "I hope you realize that I have no idea who any of these people are. It’s kinda hard to keep up.”

"And that is such a relief to hear that," he sighs again, this time in exasperation. "I just feel so free talking about them to someone who doesn't know who they are. Hawkins is small, you know. And it’s good that the only bias you can form is in my favor since you only know of me."

You offer him a consoling pat atop the hand, to which he responds by leaning his head on your shoulder. With how tender everything has been with Steve, there’s a temptation to plant a delicate kiss on his forehead. But you stop yourself.

"I'd like to know you, know you, though,” you find yourself saying.

He gazes up at you. You two smile at each other.

“I’d like to know you more too, Shy Girl,” he answers. “If you’d let me.”

“Duh, it’s what I just said.”

He chuckles. “You’re not saying that for the tips?”

“No. Just human to human.”

You stroke his cheek longingly, running your hand along his stubble.

"It's also been a while since I've gotten laid too," you admit. "And I've got a lot of pent up stress I need to release. You seem like a trustworthy person to do that with.”

The energy changes. Steve’s grip on your hand tightens.

"Oh yeah?" He rubs your thumb with his and soon you find yourselves holding hands.

"Yeah.”

“Sounds like we have a deal then, Shy Girl.”

Before Steve gets any ideas, you interrupt him.

“I don't wanna have sex at work," you admit. "Especially not on the clock."

"Oh, yeah I didn’t think it’d be now. Some people do find that hot though.”

"It's my first day. I can’t disappoint Eddie this early in the game.”

"You're kidding."

You shake your head.

"Wow, I would've thought you've been doing this a while."

You blush. "Thank you. But nope, you’re my Guinea pig.”

Steve continues to gawk in amazement. Then he reaches for his wallet, grabbing a huge wad of Benjamin Franklins and handing it to you.

"Tell you what," Steve bargains. "You buy yourself something nice, get your bills paid, and come through in a couple days. The roomie won't be home so we'll have the place to ourselves. We can get takeout or something too. Whatever makes you comfortable, of course.”

You bite your lip. "I'd like that."

“Good. I’d like that too.”

———-

"So, how was it?" you hear Eddie ask Steve.

"Dude...I just about creamed my pants," he says as you hold back laughter. "You got yourself a good one."

"Nothing's ever too TMI for you, Harrington," Eddie says. "But thanks for the imagery."

"Yeah. I gotta get going now. I got laundry to put away at home. It's been piling so much I think it's going to tip over."

“Roger,” Eddie says before bidding him goodbye. “Oh, speaking of which, did you tip her good?”

“You bet I did. Woman like her needs to be spoiled rotten.”

————

You make your way back to the dressing room after saying bye to Steve and finishing the flats Argyle had specially made for you. At your locker, you subtly attempt to count the hundreds Steve gave you for his lap dance and talk session. The man left you 10 of them. A whole band.

You were stunned. What did King Steve do for a living anyways? It didn’t matter to you. You had enough for groceries, gas, and a portion of your rent, all earned in an hour’s work, and all yours to keep as Eddie insisted.

The realization makes your heart skip a beat. You and your sister were good for the next few weeks.

Knock, knock.

“Don’t freak out ladies, it’s just me!” Eddie shouts from the other side of the door. “Put your cloaks on I’m coming in!”

You watch as the girls scurry to get their covers back on. The amount of respect Eddie has for his dancers is insane. Perhaps it’s common decency but it was such a striking difference than what you were used to. It warmed your heart in a way, but also made you sad. You deserved this respect all your life.

When Eddie finds you, he starts towards you, a look of approval spread wide across his face. As deeply as you wanted it to be because he found you attractive, you infer that it’s because you’re bringing in good business — and that you’re good, given a small amount of experience with the pole.

You two are face to face now. Eddie speaks up first.

“Steve, uh,” he says. “Steve really likes you.”

“Oh really?” you smile. “I’m glad.”

“You’re just a natural, Shy Girl,” he compliments you. “Everyone’s just raving about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Based on what I’ve seen so far and what Stevie told me, yeah,” he confirms. “But I guess it’s no surprise. Shy girls are almost always the freakiest, huh?”

You try not to laugh while you’re witnessing the imagination of your boss running in the complete opposite direction of what really happened between you and Steve. Nevertheless, you let him. You didn’t mind taking up space in your dashing boss’s mind.

“You should come to work a little early next time you’re on,” Eddie says. “I’d like to take you to lunch.”

Heat spreads across your cheeks. “Really?”

“‘Course! I do it with all my dancers as a welcome thing. I’d like to know more about you. You’re more than just a pretty face and someone who simply works for me.”

‘I do it with all my dancers.’

Your heart sinks. Back to square one.

Eddie clears his throat.

“Anyway,” he says. “I’m gonna head out now. Gonna go see the lady friend. I’ve got Johnny boy, Argyle, and Henry holding down the fort.”

The tinge in your heart intensifies.

“Oh, sounds fun!”

“Yeah, I rarely see her cuz she bartends. Even though we work similar hours we work opposite days. But she got first cut tonight so I’m heading over.”

“Have fun, Eddie.”

“I sure will,” Eddie says. “Goodnight, Shy Girl.”

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

Eddie soon disappears out of sight and now your shift seems ten times longer. Regardless, you stuff your tips into your tote bag and prepare to meander around the club, enticing other bachelors for a dance.

Without Eddie around, it seems less exciting.

“Doing it for Max,” you remind yourself while fixing your hair in the mirror in front of you.

You reach for your phone to see the amount of time that has transpired since the private show with Steve. But the clock wasn’t your concern when your Home Screen lights up.

Your heart nearly sinks to the floor.

Billy Hargrove

1 Missed Call

Billy Hargrove

iMessage: 1 message

You open it.

What the actual fuck.

#the babyboyification of steve harrington #daddy eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson smut #Steve #steve harrington #Steve harrington smut #Steve and reader #Eddie and trader

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assortedseaglass · 2 years ago

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Come Back To Me - Chapter Two

Billy Washington x OFC

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Trigger Point (TV) Spoilers, Language

18+. This series will eventually contain depictions of racism, violence and terrorism; it will be in line with that which occurs in the series, so those who have seen it will know what to expect. This series will also contain smut.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the positive love on the first chapter. I haven’t shared writing like this for a long time and was nervous to do so. You made a gal smile 😊 This chapter ends with a major spoiler for the TV series! After this, we will be much more focused on the events of the show, and Billy and Ida’s relationship.

The senses of summer filled The Swan when Ida arrived. The sweet sent of alcohol, the heady mix of tobacco and perfume that Ida found so intoxicating, the murmur of the summer-drunk public. Occasionally, a can popped open crisply, a group of men would guffaw, and clusters of women in bright summer dresses wobbled past to the toilets.

Inside the pub was mostly older clientele, likely keeping out of the sun, and Ida had a task of making her way to the bar around the bellies of the middle-aged men nursing their pints. “Glass of house white and a lager shandy please!” she said brightly to the barman, wiping sweat from her forehead and looking around. Billy was likely sat in the bountiful beer garden outside.

She had brought him here during her first year of university. Many of the older academics liked to sit in the beer garden and discuss the curriculum. Desperate to fit in, Ida had come along and brought Billy for back up. The academics didn’t know what to make of these two wild things, especially Billy when he said he hadn’t read a book since he left school. Ida didn’t go back to one of those academic meetings, but she and Billy spent every other evening that summer in the beer garden, forming their own world in post-school life.

Watching the drinks so as not to spill them, Ida made her way outside, hips swaying this way and that to avoid bumping into anything. She was right; almost everyone else was packed into the garden outside. Fairy lights were strung from the trees and people were crammed onto wooden tables. A cloud of smoke hung above them all, and their happy chatter rose into the afternoon air. Still, she couldn’t see Billy. She scanned the crowd. There were students, a few sunburnt tourists, a group of young mums, even a local rugby team downing some post-match pints. There! Sat on a table beneath a particularly low hanging and leafy branch was Billy, grinning and chatting happily to…Becky? Simultaneously, Ida’s heart dropped and began thundering in her ears.

“Ida!” Billy called out when he saw her. “It’s almost 4!”

“Sorry, lecture overran. Hi Becky,” Ida placed hers and Billy’s drinks on the table. “I would’ve got you something if I’d known you were coming.”

“That’s alright, Ida.” Becky said. Ida hated that Becky always made a point of saying her name. “Billy said he was coming out to meet you, so I thought I’d join.” She smiled sweetly at Ida, then at Billy. Ida didn’t know what to say. Neither, apparently, did Billy. He simply stared back at Becky, a glazed look on his face.

“Christ,” Ida muttered. Becky didn’t hear but Billy did. His eyes shot to her face. Ida stared him down. Good, let him see that I’m angry. Her phoned vibrated. As if some wave in the psychic sisterhood had been disturbed, Ida looked down to see a text from Sofia.

How’s it going? He dumped her? x

She’s HERE

What!!!?

She’s fucking here. It’s so awkward…

We’re on our way! xxxxx

She smiled at Sofia’s speedy response and put her phone away. When she looked up, Becky and Billy were absorbed only in each other. As much as she hated being the gooseberry of the group, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. It was like watching some bizarre social experiment.

Becky was murmuring to Billy in a babyish voice, and Ida couldn’t quite make out the words, only that Billy was enjoying it. As Becky brushed some hair out of his face, he leant in to kiss her. Becky turned so he caught her cheek instead and Ida looked away. She caught sight of a man eyeing Becky with a mixture of awe and confusion. She knew what he was thinking. Why is she with him? Becky was beautiful, blonde and sexy. She naturally drew the attention of everyone around her. She was book smart and popular. Billy was rough around the edges. Wayward and unkempt.

The man’s lips curled into a sneer as he continued to watch Becky and Billy. He snorted a laugh and turned, catching Ida’s eye as he did so. She glared at him, daring him to laugh once more. He turned away. What he didn’t know was that Billy was the gentlest person Ida knew. The boyish whimsy that Becky found so childish, Ida adored. He wanted to please and make people happy. Children loved him and he makes friends easily. If you needed something, he would be there in a flash. Billy Washington was kind, soft, wild and high-hearted. Becky, on the other hand, was a bitch.

Two pints were slammed onto the table.

“Alright!?” It was Faisal, beaming down at Ida as if to say We’ve got you. Sofia stood behind him and Ida laughed in relief. Actually laughed.

“Hey!” Billy stood to hug Faisal and kissed Sofia’s cheek.

Becky stayed in her seat, looking at them with barely disguised annoyance. “Ida didn’t say you were coming?”

“Didn’t she?” Sofia lightly slapped Ida’s arm and winked. “How very rude of her!”

Faisal, taking a more subtle approach than Sofia, held out his hand to shake Becky’s “Faisal. We met briefly at Ida’s birthday?”

“I remember. You spilt red wine on the carpet.”

“When you said it was awkward, I didn’t realise it was gonna be this bad,” Sofia whispered in Ida’s ear.

In mere minutes, the drinks were finished and an icy silence had descended on the table. Were it not for the sweat trickling down her back and the sunburn forming on her arms, Ida would have said it was winter. Faisal stood abruptly.

“This round’s on me. Give us a hand with the drinks, Bill?” The two men left for the bar inside.

“Billy? Make sure the lime soda has soda in it this time. Not lemonade.” Becky called after them before turning to the Ida and Sofia. “He never listens.”

“Men, hey?” Sofia replied. Ida knew her friend well enough to see that she was being sarcastic, but Becky hadn’t noticed. As Sofia engaged Becky in conversation, Ida’s eyes wandered to Faisal and Billy. She could see them through the window, speaking quickly to each other. Faisal grabbed three of the drinks and left the bar. Billy stayed, staring off into space.

“Excuse me,” Ida said to Sofia, and hurried inside. Billy was watching the barman pour two pints, his eyes slightly out of focus. “You ok?” she asked him.

Billy looked at her from under his lashes. “Just got a bollocking from Faisal.”

“Oh right?”

“About the fact I didn’t tell you Becky was gonna be here.”

“S’ok,” Ida said. It very much wasn’t. The barman passed them the pints, which they cheersed and sipped before Ida spoke again. “Billy. Don’t be angry, but I don’t know what you see in her.”

“She’s fit.”

“She treats you like shit on her shoe,”

“Ida-“

“And she hates me as well.”

“No she doesn’t.”

Ida put her pint down and looked at him. “Don’t be naive. The only reason she came is because she heard you were meeting up with me. She’s always been weird around me, like she thinks I’m going to steal you from her or something.”

Billy laughed awkwardly, and Ida broke a little at the sound. Did he really find the possibility so ridiculous? She took another sip before continuing.

“Yesterday you were whinging about how they treat you, today she’s got you back on the leash.”

“Ida.” That was a warning. Occasionally, Ida was reminded that Billy could get angry too. She wasn’t the only one with a temper and quietly simmering rage. He was human, after all. Billy’s eyes flashed angrily, but that was a red rag to a bull. Ida wanted him to open his eyes.

“And why is she with you?” She regretted it immediately. The heat held in Billy’s eyes vanished, replaced with obvious hurt. She huffed at herself. “I just mean, she’s always annoyed at you. Telling you off, treating you like a child-”

“Stop.” Billy cut her off this time. He sounded weary. “Please. First Becky and Faisal, now you. Can’t you all just leave me be?” Billy picked up his pint and went back to the garden. Sensing it was time to drop the subject, Ida followed.

Ida sat next to Billy when they returned to the table. Partly as a way to apologise and be close to him, mainly as a way to avoid looking at Becky. The next hour passed in relative peace. The five of them weaving in and out of conversation, chatting to their table mates or enjoying amicable, if slightly awkward, bouts of silence. Faisal and Billy were chatting, their heated exchange forgotten, and Sofia was looking lovingly at her friends. Ida was tempted to take a picture of them, and a few moments later, she wished she had.

A news alert sounded on Faisal’s phone. As he got it out to read, the atmosphere in the beer garden noticeably shifted. Within the pub, Ida could see silent faces turned to the telly above the bar.

“What’s happened?”

“Bomb Attack on London Estate.” Faisal read the headline. “Multiple people injured and many feared dead after van explodes at a London estate. Police were called to investigate a potential bomb factory on the premises. Explosives Officers from London Metropolitan Police-“

“Fuck,” Billy whispered, running his hands through his hair. “Oh my God. Lana!” He stood up and began to pace. People watched him with maudlin curiosity, and one woman even reached out a hand to rub his back. He pushed her away. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,”

“Faisal,” Ida whispered. “Does it give any more detail?”

He scrolled down the article. “Only that two bombs were diffused before a third was detonated."

Billy was shaking now, stood frozen to the spot. What if Lana had been caught in the blast? Didn’t Faisal say that Explosives Officers were on the scene? Surely, she would have been right by the bomb when it detonated. That was her job, after all. Grisly images of his sister flashed in his mind. He looked to Becky, but she was staring at him like he was a wild animal, too scared to touch him. Sofia appeared next to him with a glass of water, Faisal at her side.

“Ida,” he said weakly. “Ida!” Becky snapped back to reality as Billy called for his friend. She spun around to glare at her, but Ida saw nothing. Her phone was already raised to her ear, one hand held on Billy’s chest.

“Val? It’s Ida. Hi, yeah, we’ve heard the news. I’m with Billy-“ She smiled softly at Billy and took his hand in hers, listening to the woman on the other end of the line. “Oh, thank Christ.” Billy collapsed onto the ground. Ida lowered herself to sit with him, tenderly kissing his knuckles. She looked at him. “Lana’s fine, Billy. She’s fine. Here.” She handed her phone over to Billy.

“Mum?” He sounded like a child. Faisal pulled Ida off the ground, and she went to sit with Sofia and Becky, still frozen in her seat. Ida rested a hand on Becky’s shoulder, and all three of the women watched Billy on the phone. He hung up a moment later and rejoined them. Slumping into the seat, he ruffled his hair before looking directly at Ida with teary eyes. His lower lip trembled.

“Nut’s dead.”

Notes: Wrote this while ill so forgive any mistakes. Next chapter we’ll be spending most of our time with Billy!

Tags: @anditsmywholeheart @jessssica1234

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #billy washington #aemond x reader #trigger point series #ewan nation

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milkloafy · 9 months ago

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— masterlist !

❀༉ — ALHAITHAM

we fight and make up (sfw, fluff) — you and alhaitham get into a heated argument and give each other the cold shoulder. at night, you sleep on the couch and alhaitham comes out to find you.

playing favorites (sfw, fluff) — alhaitham is a strict landlord. he hates when people leave the front door unlocked, he hates when people forget to put their dishes away. but most of all, he hates when people do not use coasters!

tales of teyvat (sfw, fluff, series)

❀༉ — AYATO

tales of teyvat (sfw, fluff, series)

❀༉ — BLADE

stuck with you (sfw, fluff) — in which you get sick and blade is wondering how the hell he got stuck having to take care of you.

❀༉ — DAN HENG

rest and respite (sfw, fluff) — dan heng finds himself growing fond of your outgoing and talkative nature. one day, when you’ve holed yourself in your room, he can’t help but worry about you.

the way to the heart (sfw, fluff) — after saving penacony, you want to take a break and sit out of the next mission. you decide you should send dan heng off with a little homemade lunch before his travels.

of shoulders and snoozes (sfw, fluff) — after a long day of exploring the luofu, you doze off on the starskiff ride and fall asleep on caelus’ shoulder. when you wake up, you find yourself lying on dan heng’s shoulder instead…

the astral express’ laundry fairy (16+, fluff) — you hate doing your laundry and dan heng needs to use the dryer. one day, he folds your clothes for you and places your skimpiest pair of underwear on top for everyone to see.

your dear friend, dan heng (sfw, fluff) — friends don’t buy each other matching necklaces, right? especially not ones with blatantly romantic undertones…

hey, beautiful stranger (sfw, fluff) — in which you are trying to enjoy the wardance on the luofu, the ipc guards ruin everything, and a beautiful stranger comes to help you.

❀༉ — DILUC

tales of teyvat (sfw, fluff, series)

❀༉ — JIYAN

the general gets hurt (16+, fluff) — in which jiyan overexerts himself in battle and you come rushing to the borderlands to make sure he’s okay.

the duties of a bodyguard (17+, modern au) — jiyan never does an assignment half-assed. accepting a job as your bodyguard means being there to protect you at all times.

❀༉ — MEGUMI

too late to be your first love, but i’ll always be your favorite (sfw, fluff) — megumi has known you since childhood as his sister’s annoying friend. now, years later, he sees you at a nice restaurant and wonders why you’re all alone.

❀༉ — NEUVILLETTE

the iudex cannot forget (implied smut, bittersweet fluff) — “don't ask me to forget last night. in my heart laid a map of your body”

tales of teyvat (sfw, fluff, series)

❀༉ — TODOROKI SHOUTO

silent but reckless (sfw, fluff) — in which pro hero!shouto saves you from getting run over by a car and finds himself immediately enraptured by you.

❀༉ — WRIOTHESLEY

a smooth criminal (sfw, fluff) — you play a harmless prank on your close friend, neuvillette, and he decides to retaliate by sending you to the fortress of meropide for your so-called “crimes”

this beautiful melody (16+, fluff) — you notice a beautiful ship and are excited to see what human you can lure out. surprisingly for you, it’s not an entranced sailor, but rather a man who jumped off the ship to chastise you.

your saving grace (16+, fluff) — in which you run into some trouble and wriothesley saves you, getting himself hurt in the process.

i could be your crush (sfw, fluff) — you gush about your crush to neuvillette over some tea, and your crush unexpectedly joins the tea party and overhears you talking about him.

twisted tea party (sfw, fluff) — in which you get drunk during a tea party with neuvillette and wriothesley comes to pick you up.

hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don’t cry (sfw, fluff) — in which wriothesley finally asks you out on a first date and neuvillette ruins it by crying over his pet goldfish.

tales of teyvat (sfw, fluff, series)

❀༉ — ZHONGLI

tales of teyvat (sfw, fluff, series)

❀༉ — HEADCANONS

[x] summer time with aventurine, dan heng, and jing yuan

#[🍃] — masterlist #as it grows i’ll prob separate the fandoms but for now have this mess!! 🤧

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sillyrabbit81 · 3 years ago

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And So Much More...

Summary: After a disappointing date, your best friend's older brother picks you up to take you home.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 11.2k

Warnings: Smut, oral sex (m receiving), vaginal fingering, angst and some fluff.

Authors Note: As always I need to thank my amazing mates and readers @amberangel112 (also a brilliant title fairy) and @henryobsessed . You two always give me the confidence to keep going. Also special mention to @nashibirne , your thoughtful and honest comments really made me think, thank you so much. And finally to @radiantheartbeat for encouraging me to write this.

I used three prompts for inspiration for this story. Thank you for sending them in and I hope you enjoy what I came up with.

Prompt 1, Prompt 2, Prompt 3

Divider made by me.

Masterlist

As if on autopilot, you take a couple of quarters out of your purse and drop them into the slot. You press the numbers with the same level of thought and dial home. It takes a moment to connect and you sniff a little, clear your throat and pray that your best friend and roommate is home. The sound of your coins dropping into the payphone signals a successful connection, followed swiftly by the robotic series of notes that imitate the sound of an old telephone ringing.

You sigh, and fidget, dancing from foot to foot, pulling at your low cut, black satin top and drawing your faux fur lined coat closed.

“Shit,” you utter under your breath. Caroline must have gone out. You’re about to hang up when you hear the click and thunk of the line successfully connecting.

Music and voices burst from the receiver and you jerk your head away from the speaker.

“Hello,” you say cautiously, worried you may have dialled the wrong number in your numb stupor. “Caroline?”

“Hello?” says the voice. You exhale a held breath with relief as you recognise Caroline's voice. At least you had called the right number. “Hello, I can barely hear you.”

Even though it’s uncomfortable, you press the speaker to your ear and cup the receiver around your hand and speak loudly, looking around cautiously at the other people using the bank of telephones.

“Caroline. It’s me!” you say loudly, just shy of shouting.

“Hang on, I’ll grab the other line in my bedroom.”

It takes Caroline a few moments and you dig into your purse, pulling out another quarter and dropping it into the slot. You hear her pick up the other line and she shouts something out and the call becomes blessedly quiet.

“Hey,” she says a little breathlessly, “you there? What happened to your date?”

“I ended it early. It sucked Caroline,” you sigh, “Do you think you could come and pick me up. I stupidly agreed to let him drive me.”

“Ah, shit I can’t,” she says, “My brother and some of his friends came over and, well, we’ve all been drinkin’.”

It wasn’t unusual for her to have people over on the weekends, she was a bit of a party animal. In a way you were a perfect pair, you tempered her most crazy instincts and she brought you out of your shell. But right now, going home to her brother Sy and all his meathead friends was not what you had in mind. Especially not Sy.

“Fuck,” you mutter, “Sy’s there?”

“Yeah,” she says, “hang on, he drove here. He hasn’t drunk much I don’t think. Maybe he can pick you up. Let me ask him.”

“No, no, no,” you say quickly, “I’ll call a cab.”

But it’s too late, you can hear Caroline shouting for him and after an extended pause you can hear her relaying your request.

“Hey, Sugar,” Sy’s rich drawl echoes down the line and you bite your lip.

“Hey, Sy,” you say shyly.

God, you hate that you aren’t completely over the crush you had on him in high school. You’re mostly over it; you don’t obsess over him like you did as a teen, but sometimes those old feelings rear their head again at the most inconvenient times.

“Need a rescue, huh?” he teases.

You smile, he likes to rag on you sometimes and you give it back, usually. You aren’t in the mood to reciprocate, but you appreciate his efforts. You almost tell him no, that you’ll just catch a cab despite the expense, you don’t want to put him out. But you also know Sy, if he didn’t want to help you, he wouldn’t have offered.

“Please?” you ask.

“Anytime, Sugar,” he says, warmly, “Now, where are ya?”

You see Sy’s blue truck about twenty minutes later. He pulls up in front of you, rolls the window down and grins.

“Hey, baby. How much?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you obscenely.

You shake your head and suppress a smile. Less than a second in his presence and he makes you want to laugh. Why can’t any of the guys you date make you feel like he does?

“You can’t afford me,” you scoff.

He chuckles as he leans across the passenger seat and opens the door for you. You climb in, the truck is so high you have to stand on the side step then bend at the waist so you don't hit your head. Your top is so low, you are worried about flashing your tits at Sy with your body at this angle. You quickly glance at him and he’s already turning his head away. Feeling a little embarrassed, a ripple of heat works its way down your spine and you tug at the edge of your top to keep it from revealing too much.

Sy taps the wheel in time to the barely audible rock playing through the stereo and waits until you’re settled before driving away from the curb.

“Thanks for picking me up, Sy,” you say.

“Like I said, anytime.” He glances at you and you smile back, but he narrows his eyes. “You ok?”

You shrug. “I guess.”

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks in that soft tone he has when he’s serious.

You sigh. You consider laying it all out for him, telling him about how frustrated you are. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve unloaded your problems on him. But these problems were different, they were… a little too personal.

“I’m ok,” you lie.

Sy grunts. He knows you well enough to see that you’re not telling him the truth, but he accepts that you don’t want to talk.

You travel for a few minutes in silence and your date replays over in your mind. There was nothing wrong with it really. It had been a good evening, he had been nice, funny, and he was attractive. But when he kissed you during the movie, you had felt nothing. Not a tingle. Not a skipped heart beat. Not a single butterfly. You knew then and there, the relationship was going to go nowhere.

You had tried to be with guys you didn’t feel a spark with before, thinking that over time things would get better, but it never did. As soon as the movie was finished and you made your way back to his car, you told him you weren’t interested. He took it well; he wasn’t a dick about it and still wanted to drive you home. You refused, telling him Caroline was on her way to come and get you.

Sy stops at a set of traffic lights and placing the calloused edge of his finger under your chin, he turns your face to his. You inhale sharply at the contact. It's not fair that one touch from Sy makes you feel more than any guy you have ever dated. His lips tighten into a tight line as he looks you over.

“He didn’t hurt ya did he?” he asks in a voice that's as sharp as a knife’s edge.

“No, Sy,” you reply, placing your hand on his wrist and pushing it aside gently.

“Something happened,” Sy persists, “you look like you’re about to cry.”

“It’s not about him,” you say softly.

Sy looks at you for a long time, his lower lip sucked into his mouth as he studied you. You make yourself meet his gaze so he knows you’re telling the truth. The lights change and he inhales deeply through his nose before he turns his attention back to the road.

When Sy pulls up at your place, you see the number of cars and realise Caroline had invited more than just a few of Sy’s friends over. Your house was pumping with music and there were cars everywhere.

“God damn it, Caroline,” you mutter.

Normally it wouldn’t bother you that there were people over, but tonight, you just couldn’t face it. Sy takes his seatbelt off and is about to open his door but you put your hand on his arm to stop him.

“Sy, can we… Can we just sit here a moment? I don’t want to go in yet.”

“Okay,” he says slowly, leaning back into his seat. He looks down at his hands, notices something and rubs at the skin of his thumb.

You close your eyes and lean against the headrest. Your mind is buzzing with thoughts, but they seem to fly through your head so quickly you can’t pin them down. Well except for one.

You’re going to end up alone.

“Fuck,” you mumble as you angrily wipe at a tear that runs down your cheek.

“That’s it! You tell me what that mother fucker did to you and…”

“He didn’t do anything, Sy,” you say tersely. “I ended it, he was good about it… I just…” your chin trembles and you look away as more tears spill from your eyes.

“Oh hell,” Sy mumbles and he unfastens your belt and wraps his arms around you.

You cry harder as he presses you to his chest. You can’t stop. Each sob rips through you; your throat aches, your chest feels like it's going to burst through your ribs while your shoulders and stomach cramp awfully.

Sy lays the palm of his hand flat on your back and rubs big circles over you while he gently rocks you. No wonder you always had a crush on him; no man has ever made you feel as safe as Sy does. He drops his head low so his voice rumbles in your ear, “You’re good, baby, I’ve got you.”

You don’t know how long you cried for. By the time you stop crying, you feel a little silly, like you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. So this guy isn’t the one, what's the big deal really? There’s plenty of others out there. It's not like he dumped you, it was your decision after all.

Sy doesn’t stop holding you even when you start to sniffle and your eyes run dry. You lift your head from Sy’s shoulder and although he relaxes his embrace, he doesn’t let you go.

“I’m sorry, Sy.”

“Don’t be,” he reassures you, “Sometimes we’ve just gotta let it all out.”

“Can’t imagine you ever having a cry like that.”

“No, but you should see me trying to murder the punching bag during PT,” he grins.

You don’t think he means to put the thought of him shirtless, dripping with sweat, lip curled in anger and grunting as he takes his frustrations out on the leather bag, but it doesn’t stop the vivid image from being thrust into the forefront of your mind.

“Do you want to go inside yet?” Sy asks softly, “We don’t have to, we could go get a bite to eat if you need more time. I’ll give Carol a call when we get there and tell her to kick everyone out if ya want?”

“No, I don't want to ruin everyone’s good time because I had a shitty night.”

“Just wanna ruin mine, huh?”

“Sy…” you half whine and half laugh.

“How about we go eat then come back?” he suggests.

“I think I should just go to sleep. I’ll feel better in the morning. Just give me another minute.”

Sy is quiet for a moment then says, “I’ll take ya to my place. You ain’t gonna be able to sleep with all that going on. You can stay the night.”

“Sy thats sweet of you, but I don’t want to sleep in these clothes and your friends are all inside and—”

“My friend,” he says firmly, giving you a squeeze, “is right here. And you can borrow some of my clothes.” He finally lets you go and says, “C’mon, put your belt on. I ain’t takin’ no for an answer.”

It feels a little strange being in Sy’s apartment. It had been a while since you had been to his place. Years in fact. He’d been gone for so long, first to boot camp and other training, then later officer training and finally Special Forces selection and several deployments.

He was always in and out of your life and in a way you were glad. Because he wasn’t around to moon over all the time, it had made moving on from your silly crush easier. Plus, being reacquainted with him over the last few years had let your friendship develop beyond him being just your best friend's older brother and a guy to lust over. You got to know him, the real him and you valued his friendship.

Still, there were boundaries despite how close you two had become and being alone with him in his home wasn’t one you had crossed yet.

After placing your bag on a rack by the door, you take your heels off while Sy disappears into what you assume is his bedroom. He comes back a few moments later with an AC/DC t-shirt and some sweatpants.

“Do you wanna take a shower or anything?” he asks as he hands you his clothes.

You consider it for a minute, but decide you can wait until the morning. “No, I'll just wash my make-up off.” Sy nods and leads you to the bathroom and gives you a towel to dry your face with.

After you wash you assess the damage the crying had done. Your mascara and eyeliner are waterproof, so they’re mostly in place, but your eyes are puffy and lined with red. You know it's only going to be worse tomorrow, but there really isn’t anything you can do about it now. You dress in Sy’s clothes, and you pull the drawstring of the sweats tight so they don’t fall as you walk and you roll the bottoms up too so you don't trip.

You take one last look in the mirror and sigh. You feel a little pathetic. You should have just gone home. Now you’re stuck at Sy’s place wearing his freaking clothes for God’s sake. You almost laugh at the irony of it all; a few years ago you would probably have killed to be in this position and now that you had gotten over your crush (mostly), here you are. You’re older now, realistic, you know nothing is ever going to happen between you and Sy. If it was, it would have already happened.

You wipe under your eyes again and you recognise that you're stalling. You can’t put it off any longer, so, taking a final deep breath, you go back to Sy.

When you come out, you ask him for something to put your clothes in. He goes to his kitchen and returns carrying a small plastic bag. He holds it open for you while you carefully place your jeans and top inside.

“I called Caroline and let her know you’re stayin’ here so she won’t worry,” Sy says, hanging your clothes on the rack next to your bag.

“Thanks,” you say. “Is she ok with me staying here?”

“She’s a little worried about what happened to you, so expect an interrogation in the mornin’,” he says, rolling his eyes.

You half smile. That's not quite what you were asking but you decide not to question his response. “Of course.”

“Are you ready for bed?” he asks. “You can have my bed, I’ll take the couch. Okay?”

You nod, you know you should argue with him, insist on taking the couch, but you know Sy, he won’t change his mind. “Thanks, Sy.”

He dips his head, acknowledging your thanks then just keeps looking at you with a small smile on his face. You return his smile weakly, then turn towards his room.

“Come ‘ere,” he says with a soft growl, and he grabs at your t-shirt, drawing you into his arms.

You can’t say how many times Sy’s hugged you like this, too many times. And like all the other times you're overwhelmed by him, by his size, his warmth, his strength, his scent and you melt into his embrace. He cups the back of your head, tilting it until you’re looking down and kisses you on the crown.

“Baby?” he murmurs into your ear.

“Yeah?” God, your voice is so hoarse you barely recognise it.

You hear him take a breath like he’s about to speak but then he exhales and swallows before speaking.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks in that low soothing tone he’s used all night. You nod and he lets you go. “You need anythin’, I’ll be here. Gonna stay up and watch some TV for a bit.”

You nod again and go to bed.

Sleep is elusive; you toss and turn. Sy’s bed is comfortable, and you’re mentally exhausted, but you just can’t relax. Not only are you caught up in replaying the disappointing kiss in the movie theatre, you can’t stop thinking about Sy. Surrounded by his covers, engulfed in his scent, you can’t help but remember the warmth of his body and the pleasant weight of his arms as he holds you.

It annoys you, frustrates you, and makes your heart ache. You remind yourself that you’re escaping into old fantasies, equating the feelings of your unrequited crush to your current sense of loneliness. You know you’re only thinking about Sy like this because of what happened on your date. Your romantic feelings toward Sy aren’t real, they aren’t based in anything tangible and are not reciprocated. You're his little sister’s best friend, of course he’d be nice to you tonight like he always was. It didn’t mean anything.

Eventually you get up. You’re just going to get a drink of water before trying to go to sleep again. You won’t disturb Sy, you’ll just quietly go through the family room to the kitchen and you’ll have your drink before going back to bed. That's it.

The TV is on with the volume turned down low. Sy is shirtless on the couch, he’s too big for it and his feet hang over the armrest, barely covered by the blanket he has over his legs. He has one arm raised and bent behind his head and the other is below the cover. Your eyes widen and heat floods your cheeks as you think of what else is under there.

Shit.

You turn back to Sy’s room; it’s fine, you don't really need a drink. But before you can take a step, you hear his voice, “Sugar?”

Shit.

You turn back and see moving into a seated position, pulling the blankets up with him.

“Can't sleep?” he asks. You shake your head. He gives you a sympathetic smile, “Me neither.”

You nod and look around the room, trying not to stare too long at Sy’s chest. He’s always had an amazing body, and he isn’t shy about it, frequently spending summer barbecues shirtless. But it’s different being alone in his apartment when he’s half naked and feels a little inappropriate.

You peer back at him and he’s just staring at you, like he’s waiting for you to say something. You point to the TV.

“What are you watching?”

“Armageddon. Have you seen it?”

“Yeah. Once at the movies when it came out. It wasn’t bad.”

“Wanna watch it with me?” Sy asks.

Shit.

“Sure,” you say hesitantly. Your mouth is suddenly a little dry. Maybe you should get that drink first.

Sy swings his legs off the couch and pats the cushion next to him with a small jerk of his head.

You swallow hard as you sit on the opposite end of the couch, curling your legs up under you and leaning your head on the armrest. He rearranges the blanket so you both have some and settles into his corner, putting his arm on the back of the couch.

For a while you watch the movie in silence, sometimes one or both of you chuckle at a joke, but mostly you are quiet. The movie is supposed to just be a popcorn flick, it's not supposed to be that deep, nevertheless, you find yourself invested in the love story. And while it's cringe inducing, the scene with Ben Affleck’s character playing with the animal crackers on Liv Tyler's belly hits you hard. You’ve never experienced that kind of intimacy with a guy and you’re starting to think you never will.

“Sy?”

He hums.

“Do you ever…” you pause and shake your head, “Nevermind.”

“No, go on, Sugar.” Sy mutes the tv and turns his body to face you.

You look down at the blanket and play with the edge. “Do you ever worry you'll be alone forever?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Askin’ the big questions tonight I see.”

You shrug. “I just… sometimes I think I'm never gonna find someone. I’m never gonna fall in love.”

His brows draw together, “You’ve never been in love?”

“That stuff you hear about in movies and books, the sparks, the skipped heartbeats, the butterflies, the constant yearning, the need to be with them all the time. I've never felt that really.”

“Never?”

“Other than silly teenage crushes,” you bite your lip, you shouldn’t have mentioned that. You quickly deflect. “You have, haven't you? With Anna?”

“Yeah,“ he says with a half smile, “Yeah I loved her.”

“Do you miss her?”

Sy inhales deeply and studies his hands a moment, taking your question seriously. He looks at you before he speaks. “It’s complicated. I miss the feelings, I miss knowin’ I had someone, someone to be with, but I dont miss her.”

“You miss being in a relationship?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “and the sex, I miss the sex.”

You giggle and look away. “I’m sure you have no problem getting sex, Sy.”

He smirks and shrugs, conceding your point. “Yeah, I could get sex, but… It’s different when you’re in love. Feels different. I miss that sex.”

“At least you’ve had it once. I never have.”

“Wait, you’ve never had sex?”

“I’ve had sex, just not that amazing, loving, the world disappears and its just the two of you, sex. It’s never been good,” you pause and look at Sy and you before you can stop yourself you add, “I’ve never even had an orgasm.”

“What? Ever?”

“I have… alone…” you squirm a little in the seat, berating yourself for even bringing it up.

“Assholes,” Sy says.

“It's not really their fault,” you explain and Sy raises his eyebrows, “I mean they tried, it's just that I can’t seem to… get over the line.”

“You mean you get in your head? You overthink it?”

“Maybe,” you say, “I start wondering if I’m too loud. Am I taking too long? If I taste—” you stop talking, suddenly realising what you’re saying and who you’re saying it to. Your eyes meet Sy’s and you can’t breathe; he's looking at you in a way you’ve never seen him look at you before. He’s biting his lip, his eyes are dark and hooded. You turn away. “Nevermind.”

Sy clears his throat and an awkward silence descends between you as you both stare at the television.

“So, that crush you had,” Sy glances at you, “Anyone I know?”

“It was in high school, Sy. And I’m over it.” Completely over it.

“I ain’t over my high school crush,” he says with a smirk.

“What? Really?” you ask surprised. “You… you dated all the time, and all the popular girls… Why didn’t you ask her out?”

“It was complicated,” he says, “she was sorta off limits.”

“Who was she?”

“She was a sophomore when I was a senior.”

“Wait. She was in my year?” you ask, surprised again by Sy’s admission. “Was she one of Caroline’s friends? Was that why she was off limits?”

He nods. “She never actually said I couldn’t date any of her friends, but… Anyway, I never said anything.”

You nibble on your lip, thinking back to who it could have been. “Was it Leanne Newman?”

Sy scrunches his face up, “No.” You open your mouth to guess again but Sy cuts you off. “I ain’t playing a guessin’ game with you.”

“You can’t tell me you had a crush on one of our friends and not tell me who it is.”

“Sure you wanna know?” Sy asks, his face is impassive and you’re unable to get a read on him.

“Well yeah, what does it matter now?” you grin and say teasingly, “Are you worried I’ll tell her? You getting shy on me, Syverson?”

He doesn’t smile back or take the bait. Instead he stares at you while he pulls his lower lip into his mouth. Then he shakes his head. “Now's not the time.” He puts his arm around your shoulders and tries to get you to lay your head on his chest. “Ask me another time.”

You push away from him and sit up, “Why are you being all weird about this? You were the one who brought it up.”

His jaw clenches. “Well who was yours?” he asks, his annoyance plain by his curt tone.

You shift uncomfortably. “It’s not important,” you throw the blankets back and stand, “I think I’ll be able to sleep now.”

That’s a lie, but this conversation is heading in a strange direction and you’ve had enough for one night.

Sy stands too, the covers falling from his legs and you realise all he has on are a pair of boxer briefs. Your face heats, mortified that you had sat there all that time and all he had been wearing was underwear.

“So you’re not going to tell me?” Sy says, completely unperturbed by the fact he was nearly naked.

“You’re not going to tell me yours,” you fold your arms across your chest and try to focus on his face. He looks away as he runs his tongue over his teeth and you recognise it as a sign of frustration. You throw your hands up in the air, completely exasperated, “This is ridiculous, Sy. I can’t believe we’re arguing about this.”

“It’s you,” he says.

“Me?” you say, your voice rising, becoming shrill, “I’m not doing anything!”

“No, Sugar,” he says softly, meeting your eyes, “The sophomore. It was you.”

You take a step back and stiffen. You feel an icy chill weave its way up your spine.

“That’s not funny, Sy,” you say, your voice quivering in disbelief.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” he says soberly as he takes a step closer to you.

You have to admit, he does look serious. You shake your head as you drop your gaze to the floor, unable to look at him. You can’t believe him, no way; he’s never even hinted his interest in you.

“Sugar,” he says gruffly, “I told you mine, are you gonna tell me yours?”

His hand cups your cheek and the contact makes your skin tingle all over as if you can feel his touch everywhere. You gasp as he runs his thumb over your cheek, then over your lips and jaw before tracing your throat to the hollow at the base of your neck.

“Or am I gonna have to guess?” he asks, with a cocky smirk.

“How do you know?” you ask, your voice weak with breathlessness, “How do you know it was you?”

“I had a hunch.” His pink tongue slips quickly between his lips, making his lips shine with the reflection of the tv screen. “A hope that maybe you feel the same way I do. I wasn’t sure.”

“But I’m over you,” you say more to yourself than to him.

“That's a damn shame,” Sy says in a tone so low you barely make out the words, “Cause I ain’t ever gonna get over you.”

He licks his lips again and his eyes trace the path of his thumb as he caresses your jaw. Then he meets your eyes and he takes a half step closer, your bodies almost touching. His lips part, his head dips and his eyelids start to close.

Oh God. He’s going to kiss you.

This can’t be real, there is no way after all this time that tonight he’s going to confess that he’s had feelings for you. Since high school no less.

Why now?

What changed?

You gasp and firmly hold his shoulders, stopping his advance. You know why he’s saying it and it makes your stomach clench.

“You’re just saying this because of what I said,” you accuse and Sy’s eyes fly open and his head snaps to attention. “You feel sorry for me don’t you?”

“Feel sorry for you?”

Frustrated you push away from him, tears threatening again as you head to his kitchen. You thought Sy was better than this, a man that would never use your feelings against you like this. Did he really think you’d fall for it?

“I don’t need a pity fuck, Sy.”

“A pity fuck?” Sy says, incredulously as he follows you.

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”

You lift the receiver on his wall mounted phone and start dialling.

“Sugar, what are you doin’?” Sy asks, sounding confused. “Who you callin’?”

“A cab,” you say roughly, “I’m leaving.”

“You’re leaving?” he says, sounding offended.

“Stop repeating everything I say!”

“Sugar, I just laid my heart out and you…”

Your head jerks up and you see bewilderment in his pinched brow. He keeps advancing on you, hesitantly, as if at any moment he expected you to tell him to stop. And you want to. You open your mouth to tell him so, but the look in his eyes gives you pause.

He leans into you, trapping your body against the counter. His hands cover your cheeks. “Baby, I mean it, I ain’t lyin’ to you. I feel somethin’ every time I touch ya. Every time you smile at me I feel like I’m about to break out in a sweat. When you cry it makes my chest ache and I...” His arm coils around your back and he rests his weight against you, “If you don’t want me, fine, okay; I’ll let ya go and you can call your cab. But I don’t want you to leave thinkin’ I lied to you.”

“Why haven't you told me this before?”

“Baby, I wanted to. So many times,” he chuckles bitterly and lowers his head. “I thought I was over you, we were kids, and I was gone then you were gone. But every time I came back and saw you,” his voice lowers to nearly a whisper, “I knew I was never gonna stop wantin’ to be with you.”

God, this is too much. This is crazy, just crazy. And you just can’t deal with it.

“I want to go home, Sy,” you manage to rasp as tears well in your eyes again.

Sy doesn’t move for a moment, and you think maybe he won’t let you leave. Then he sniffs and takes a step back, without looking at you. “Okay,” he says, “Yeah, okay.”

A piercing pain strikes your chest at the dejected sound of his voice. “I’m sorry, Sy. I…”

He holds a hand out to you, gesturing you to stop. “It’s ok, you don’t gotta explain,” He rubs his hand over his head and down his face, “I’m uh… I’ll let ya make your call,” he says as he turns away and leaves the kitchen.

You call the cab company with shaking fingers. You think you’re going to have to call out to Sy to get his address, but you discover a few bills stuck to his fridge. After you hang up, you find some tissues, bundle them up and stick them in the pocket of your pants, certain you’re going to need them for the ride home.

Shit.

You are wearing Sy’s clothes. You go to the rack by the door and grab your bag, intending to change before you leave.

“You don’t have to change,” Sy says, from behind you. You turn to him and notice that he’s put on a t-shirt, sweats and some shoes. “Keep ‘em. Or give ‘em back another time.”

God, he sounds so broken, so hurt, and awfully resigned.

“Sy, I…” you start to cry again; you can’t stop the tears.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sy draws you into his arms, “Easy now, it’s ok.”

You shake your head into his chest. It's not okay. It won't ever be okay between you again. You know that. You know your relationship has changed forever. You feel like shit. Here you are rejecting him, telling him you’re not interested and he’s the one holding you while you cry. No matter how good it feels to be in his embrace, you can’t take comfort from him anymore. It's not fair to him.

Taking a deep breath to compose yourself, you slide out of Sy’s arms. You slip your shoes on, feeling utterly ridiculous in your heels and put your coat on. Sy reaches for his coat too and when you’re ready to leave, he opens the door for you and walks you out.

When he opens his building's front door, the icy chill of the night air slices through Sy’s t-shirt and your thin coat, taking your breath away. You start to shiver immediately.

“Sy, it’s freezing. You don’t have to wait with me.”

He just shakes his head and walks you to the street. “How long did they say they’d be?”

“Ten minutes,” you tell him.

He nods and sticks his hands in his pockets and you put yours under your arms, stepping from foot to foot trying to keep warm.

“Think it’ll rain later?” Sy asks looking up at the cloudy night sky.

“Sy, you don’t have to do this,” you say, “you don’t have to pretend that everythings okay.”

“I’m just talkin’. Ain’t we able to talk now that I’ve made a complete fool of myself?” he grins, making light of the situation.

“You didn’t…” Sy glances at you out of the corner of his eyes, and you shake your head. “Not a complete fool.”

“Just a li’l bit then,” he surmises.

You shrug. He really hadn’t misinterpreted anything. You look down at your feet, curling your toes in your heels, trying to keep them warm. You don’t want to think about it, you don’t want to think about him, you just want to go home, have a cry in your bed and try to sort out your mixed up feelings.

“Cab’s here,” he says.

You look up and see that he’s right. The driver pulls up, winds his window down and says your name, confirming the car is for you. You nod and for a moment you’re stuck, unable to move.

Sy places a gentle hand on your lower back and you can feel his warm breath as he kisses your temple.

“Go on, Sugar,” he murmurs.

You close your eyes. Your chest tightens, and a lump forms in your throat. You reach a hand out to him but he’s already moved away, walking back to his apartment. You feel sick, you can’t work out what’s wrong with you. Why does it feel like your heart is breaking?

“Miss?” the cab driver calls to you, “You coming?”

You’re trembling and not just from the cold. You take a step back from the cab and shake your head.

“I made a mistake,” you tell the driver. He looks at you with raised eyebrows but you don't have time to explain.

Pivoting, you run back towards the building. Sy has already gone back inside and you see him at the stairs. You knock frantically on the door, he stiffens and turns around, his eyes widening momentarily in surprise. He comes back down the stairs in a little jog, and opens the door with furrowed brows.

“Did you forget somethin’?” Sy asks.

You shake your head, unable to get the words out.

Sy looks over your head, “Hey, your cabs leaving, what—”

Standing on your toes you put your arms around his neck and pull his mouth down to yours.

Sparks. Skipped heart beats. Butterflies. Yearning. Need.

You feel it all as Sy groans and wraps his arms around you. His lips are as soft rose petals as they move over yours, stroking lightly at first before building pressure. You feel something hard against your back and you barely register that he's brought you inside and pinned you against the wall.

“Sy,” you whisper, drawing away to take a ragged breath.

“Baby,” Sy says, his hands moving over your body as if confirming that you’re really there, “you came back.” He states the obvious and if you weren't closing in on the edge of a pure mental meltdown yourself, you would have laughed.

His lips are on yours again, his beard feels so soft as his whiskers slide over your lips. He lifts your shirt, his hands are cool and your skin feels like it's burning as they brush your trembling belly. He grasps your waist, his fingers dig into your flesh as his kiss becomes firmer.

“Want this… Want you… So long… Always…” He murmurs between kisses.

His lips move down your neck, his kiss is rough, wet and scorching. His hands move higher, squeezing at your ribs as if he wants to crush you. You close your eyes, your body arching, your hips slotting against his and you moan.

His thumbs caress the curve of your bare breasts beneath his shirt. Your hands seem to move by their own volition as they glide down his neck and under his jacket. You slide it off his shoulders feeling the tension held in the bulging mass of muscles beneath his shirt.

His hands leave your body while he throws his coat off like it's on fire and he drops it uncaringly to the floor. Then he leans hard into you, hips circling you and you can feel him, growing hard, so fucking hard, against your belly. His hands move under your shirt again, but he withdraws them quickly.

“Upstairs,” he breathes and he bends down to grab his coat.

Wordlessly, he takes your hand and walks you towards the stairs. You get the feeling if you weren’t trotting after him, he’d drag you anyway.

He turns to look at you as you reach the first landing, his eyes are blue fire as he bites his lip. You don’t know what he sees when he looks at you, but you know you must be reflecting the same vehement expression. Now that you’ve kissed, there’s no way to hide your feelings. He takes the stairs blind, like he’s bewitched by your face and won’t even look where he’s going. You aren’t much better, seemingly trapped by the same force that keeps his eyes on you.

As he opens the door to his apartment, his heavy silence and heady gaze finally gets the better of you. Closing your eyes, you turn away from him slowly, taking your bags off and placing them by the door.

Sy hums as he moves behind helping you take your coat off. You step out of your heels, using the movements to put some distance between the two of you.

“I think we need to talk about this before it goes any further, Sy,” you say looking at his cream coloured carpet.

His feet enter your field of vision and he lifts your chin.

“Shoot,” he says in his deep gravelly voice.

You swallow hard. God, he radiates sexual energy, raw, primal, and seductive. You haven’t felt that from him before, never to this extent at least. His hand moves down your throat and slides to the side of your neck. Your body hums, vibrating from somewhere deep inside.

“I’m listening,” he prompts.

He seems so composed now, so in control, earlier he had been as wild as you. Now you feel like you’re about to spontaneously combust and he’s as cool as ice.

“I uh… What are we going to do?” you ask flustered and uncomposed, your eyes sliding shut as he tugs gently on your ear with his thumb and forefinger.

“Now or tomorrow?” His breath is hot on your neck as he dips his head and nuzzles into you. His beard pleasantly brushes over your skin and you feel it in your spine as you shiver with pleasure.

“Now? Both?” His silky lips skim over you, the potent cocktail of sensations is doing you in and you can’t think. “Sy stop, please.”

Leaving you with one last kiss he breathes in deeply before taking a step back. He crosses his arms over his chest and your eyes slide over his body, lingering on the bulge between his legs. You drag your focus to his face and you see that you were wrong, he’s not composed, he’s as aroused as you are.

“Oh fuck it,” you say, and grab his shirt in your fists.

A fleeting look of shock crosses Sy’s features before his blue eyes flash with lust and he grins like a cat who got the cream. He captures your face in his hands and meets your lips with his.

His hands roam everywhere, kneading at your hips, your breasts, and your ass. You can’t keep your hands off him either, running up his thickly muscled arms, to his neck and down his strong back. Your fingers dive into the scruff of his beard finding it surprisingly soft and your nails scratch gently at his cheeks and jaw.

“Couch or bed?” he growls with a raised eyebrow. You know what he's asking, he wants to know how far you want to take this.

“Bed,” you say determinedly. You want it, you want him, why are you questioning it?

“Oh fuck yeah.”

Without letting you out of his arms he walks you to his bed, awkwardly trying to toe off his shoes as he keeps trying to kiss you.

“You can let me go, Sy,” you tease as he grunts and he finally kicks his shoes away.

“Can’t do that, baby,” he says with a smirk, “I ain’t ever lettin’ you go.” He grabs your ass and lifts you onto his hips and you yelp. “I’m gonna bundle you up and take you with me everywhere. Might get some side eye at work, but it’ll be worth it.”

“You’re so cheesy, Sy,” you giggle, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you laugh, Sugar,” he says without the slightest hint of amusement and your laughter dies.

An intensity settles between you as Sy takes the last few steps into his bedroom. He leaves the light off and turns on a small lamp that bathes the room in a soft warm glow. Then he lowers you to your feet.

You turn to look at the bed, the covers are still pulled back as you left it when you got up to get a drink. Sy walks around the other side and climbs in and you slip between the covers and meet him in the middle of the bed. There is a weighty anticipation and part of you wonders if you’re moving too fast. Maybe you should have picked the couch.

If you’re honest with yourself, your trepidation comes from more than that. Now that the moment has arrived, now that you’re in bed with the man you have wanted to be with for as long as you can remember, you fear disappointment.

You know you shouldn’t get caught up in your head. Kissing Sy was already a better experience than you’ve ever had with any man before. But somehow that makes the ball of anxiety in your gut grow even heavier and more onerous.

And worse than all of that is the question: what if you had it wrong all the time? What if you’re the one who is a disappointment? What if sex was always bad for you because you aren’t any good at it?

“You okay?” Sy asks as he strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers.

You shrug. He rubs his thumb between your pinched brows as if to soothe away your worries. He looks away for a moment and stares off into the distance, then he brings his eyes back to you.

“Are you thinkin’ ‘bout some of the things you told me about earlier?”

You drop your head and quietly curse.

“Don’t think about that, baby. Just feel me,” he says.

“I can’t help it,” you whisper.

“Let me help you then,” Sy says with a grin and throws back the covers.

“Sy…” you whimper softly.

“Hush,” he says, brushing mouth against yours.

His velvety soft tongue flicks teasingly at your lips before his hands travel down your sides. He lifts your shirt, and moves down your body until he is kissing your belly.

“Jane’s Addiction,” Sy murmurs as he nuzzles into your tummy.

“What?” you ask, completely thrown by his out of left field comment.

“Jane’s Addiction was playin’ on the radio the first time I met you.”

“You remember the first time you met me?”

He nods solemnly, “Few days into senior year. It was rainin’ and Carol begged me to drive her and her new friend home.”

“Oh I remember that!” you say. You laugh and run your hand over his buzz cut, “Your hair was so long and curly.”

“Yeah, it was,” he breathes and you gasp as his hands reach your breasts.

You bite your lip as he lifts your shirt higher and his eyes grow wide as your breasts are revealed. He keeps raising the hem and you lift your arms. With a quick tug you’re topless and before you even have a chance to feel self conscious, he rises to his knees, reaches behind his head and he is swiftly shirtless too.

He lays over you, his weight is heavy but welcomed and warm. His lips are at your neck, his hand cupping your breast, caressing, rubbing, squeezing.

“You sat in the backseat, and I kept looking in the rear view mirror at you. I couldn’t stop.”

His kiss moves to your nipple, his tongue slips between his teeth, circling before drawing you into his mouth. The gentle suckle makes you moan and you ache for more as the throbbing between your legs borders on unbearable. His azure gaze is intense and hungry as he lifts his head.

“You wore a green strapless dress to my 21st birthday and kept stealin’ my tequila shots,” he continues, “You wore a pink cardigan with cherries on it when you came to my homecoming after my first deployment,” his voice gets low as he adds, “You kissed me that night, just my cheek, but I’ll never forget it, or that your hair smelled like strawberries.”

“Sy…”

He rises to his knees again, licking his lips and tucking the bottom one into his mouth. His broad chest is puffing hard as he looks at you and hooked his fingers into the waistband of your borrowed sweats.

“You cut your hair to look like some actress when you came to visit me with Carol after I made it through selection,” he glances away long enough to untie the draw string.

You cover your face in your hands, reliving the painful six months it took for the cut to grow out. “Oh God, that haircut was awful.”

“It was,” Sy chuckles, then he’s quiet as you feel the sweats slide down your thighs. You peek through your fingers. “But you were still so fucking beautiful,” he says and his body covers yours. He removes your hands from your face and cradles your head in his hand, “You are beautiful.”

You shake your head, but you smile, warming with his compliments. “You remember all of that?”

“That and so much more,” he says as he dips his head and kisses you.

You kiss him back with a slightly parted mouth and you slip your tongue past his lips. He groans wrapping an arm around your waist while yours encircle his neck. He breathes hard into your mouth as he kisses you, and you have no doubt you’re breathing just as hard.

“Gonna go slow, okay?” Sy murmurs. His eyes sweep down over your nearly naked form and he chuckles, “Gonna try anyway.”

“You don’t have to,” you say.

“I want to,” he insists, “I wanna take care of you, make it good for you.”

He kisses you as he places his hand on the inside of your thigh and exertes slight pressure. You let yourself open for him, so eager for his touch you can’t stop trembling. His kiss grows deeper, harder as his fingertips dance up your thigh.

His hand cups your clothed centre and he groans as you gasp and instinctively close your legs. He holds your thigh and guides it open again with a gentle yet firm touch. The heel of his palm presses against your clit and your body surges, heat radiating as he moves in tight circles.

Your heart starts to pound, your breath shudders and your thighs won’t stop shaking. You recognise the feeling and it's good, better than good; every stroke of his hand, every brush of his lips and flick of his tongue at your mouth takes you higher until your entire body throbs.

Sy lifts his head, his mouth hovers just above yours. He stares into your eyes while his fingers delicately trace the edge of your underwear.

“Gonna take ‘em off,” he says, pausing until you nod, lifting your hips and he drags your panties down your thighs.

With a gentle nudge he guides your thighs open again and his hand strokes your body, from your hip to your breasts, he leaves a trail of goosebumps on your skin. He bites his lip as he looks at you then he lowers his head until it rests next to yours on the pillow.

“I wanna make you cum,” he says as he caresses your shoulder then traces an invisible line down your arm.

He laces his fingers between yours and brings your joined hands to your core. Your hips roll, spine arches as he dips your fingers into your slick and sticky wetness.

“Fuck,” Sy groans and presses his forehead into yours, “Show me what you like, show me what feels good.”

You shake your head, “I don’t think…”

“There ya go thinkin’ when ya should be feelin’,” Sy says, his voice a little teasing.

Guiding your joined hands he slides your fingers over your folds and spreads your wetness all over you.

“Close your eyes for me,” he murmurs, “Just feel what I do, listen to what I say. Can you do that for me, baby?”

You don’t respond, you can’t, so you close your eyes and try to focus on his touch.

“Put my hand where you want it,” he urges hoarsely.

You nod and take hold of his wrist and using your other hand you cover his. You guide him over your slit letting his whole hand glide over you, the friction of his skin against your folds makes you moan.

“Your pussy feels so good, baby,” he breathes into your ear, “love how soft ya are… delicate…”

You whimper as your nails dig into his wrist and your body heaves. A warm rush floods your core, you’ve never been so aroused by a man in your life. “Oh God, Sy.”

“So wet and puffy and warm, bet ya taste real good too.”

Molten hot liquid seems to flow through your veins and heat blooms deep within your gut. You raise his fingers to your clit, placing them right where you need them and you guide his movements for a few seconds. His hand moves passively over you until he seems to catch your rhythm and you feel the moment he takes over. You let him go and try to keep breathing as torrid jolts of intense pleasure wreak havoc on your nerves.

“I wanted this for a long time. Wanted you here, in my bed, wanted to touch you like this,” he says as his beard grazes the side of your neck and his lips capture your earlobe. “And that you wanted it too, that you wanted to be here, with me.”

His confession makes you open your eyes and turn your head towards him. He’s looking down at his hand between your legs, his brows are low and his eyes are narrow. He bites his lip and you watch stunned as his teeth drag over his soft flesh.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath, so softly that if you hadn’t seen his mouth moving you don’t think you would have been able to make out what he said.

His eyes sweep up your body and he catches you looking at him. Through your moans, you smile shyly at him and he makes a low growling noise in his throat.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he rumbles, and he leans over you.

Your lips meet in a sordid clash, it's wet, sloppy and uncontrolled. You grab at his arm clawing and clutching, your legs won’t stop shaking, and you can’t stop your moans turning into cries.

You squeeze your eyes shut and fall back into the pillow, concentrating on the tightness between your legs. Your whole body feels taut, pulled tight like an elastic, ready to snap at any moment. This is where it stops for you, where you get caught, where you take too long, where he gets bored, where he…

“Sy, I don’t think I can, I…” you say, turning him, panting and exhausted.

Sy takes your hand and holds it against his sweats. You feel him underneath, hard as steel, pulsing, and thick.

“Oh shit,” you cry.

“Feel that, baby?” Sy groans, “That's what touchin’ you does to me. If ya want me to stop, I will, but don’t ask me to stop cause you think I don’t wanna do this. ‘Cause you’d be dead wrong.”

You gasp and whine, mewling as you melt into his gaze. An animal hunger and primal need is naked in his stare, but so was his enjoyment. There is a subtle curve to his lips as he starts to rut against your hand and you can have no doubt of his desire.

“Don’t stop,” you say.

Sy voice reverberates in his chest as he rests his forehead against yourrs forehead, his eyes holding yours as with a gaze that would be predatory if he wasn’t simultaneously panting as if he’s trapped too.

The tension within you builds again, faster now and it takes you no time to flirt with the edge of release. Your body becomes unhinged; clenching, desperate, writhing. You cry out as you fly apart and for a moment you hang there, floating in bliss as your body undulates, riding out each scorching wave of euphoric pleasure.

When you come back down and can start to think coherently you feel Sy’s nose rubbing gently against yours. His hand is flat covering your core, slowly dragging up and down over you, as if he really is touching you for his own enjoyment. His mouth drifts lazily over yours, kissing your top then bottom lip.

Your hand is still against his cock, your fingers caging him as your palm presses flat. You move your hand, and you feel the rush of air from his lungs against your lips in a ragged exhale. You do it again and his hips jerk.

“Baby…” he drawls.

You roll onto your side so you're facing him, and rest your free hand against the centre of his chest, your fingers sinking into his coarse hair.

“Sy…” you hum back as you slide your hand down his torso until your fingers find another patch of hair and your fingertips dip teasingly into his waistband.

“Wanna touch me, huh?” he asks in a low, gravelly tone.

“Yes,” you say.

“Fuck, that word has never sounded so good,” Sy grins.

You giggle softly then bite your lip, you probably shouldn’t laugh at a time like this.

Sy caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers, “I love it when you smile, Sugar.”

Your lips stretch wide, you can’t help it. Sy hums, still grinning and leans in to kiss you. You move your hand lower into his pants and finding the elastic of his boxer briefs, you slip your fingers beneath those too. Your heart pounds and your fingers tremble as you feel the tight soft skin of his cock. With the softest touch you can manage, you wrap your hand around him.

Sy sucks in a breath with a hiss, “Gonna take my pants off.” You nod and relax your hand, but he puts a hand on your wrist. “Don’t let go.”

You suppress another giggle as Sy awkwardly lowers his pants around where you’re joined. But he moves fast and quickly he settles onto his back and draws you close under his arm.

Looking down, your eyes widen as you take in the sight of him. Your body warms again as you watch your hand move slowly over him. You feel Sy’s body twitch, moving slightly as you work him with a slow easy rhythm.

Then as if he couldn’t hold it in any longer he lets out a low groan and his whole body heaves. His arm tightens around you and he lifts your chin before covering your mouth with his. His tongue sweeps over yours as he kisses you firmly, ferociously, demandingly. Then he falls back again, his head dropping into the pillow.

You kiss his shoulder, his muscles pulling taut below his skin as he tightens his arm around you. Encouraged, you move your mouth along his collarbone to the base of his neck. You want to kiss him there but you’re too far away, so you move onto your belly, almost climbing over his huge form until you’re half on him, half on the mattress. Without stopping the motion of your hand, you nuzzle into his neck. His skin is so hot beneath your lips, humid as he breaks out into a sweat.

“Fuck,” he groans, and he holds the back of your head to him as his body rolls under you. Despite how small his size makes you feel physically, the way he moves, the noises that he makes, and the way he touches you, makes you feel powerful. You love knowing you’re making him feel good and you want to give him more.

You move down his body slowly, leaving a trail of kisses as you go. When you reach his hip, you look up at him and his eyes are already on you.

“Baby?” he asks.

You look at him in your hand briefly then look back at Sy and lick your lips.

“Wanna put me in your mouth, huh?” he whispers, his chest is pumping hard, his cock is pulsing and becoming unbelievably thick in your hand. He reaches down and rubs his thumb over your mouth. “Pretty li’l lips.”

“Yes.” You part your lips and without breaking the rhythmic motions of your hand you take him in your mouth.

“God damn…” He cradles your head in his warm hands, fingers caressing your neck and throat, tracing the curve of your jaw.

“Look so good, baby… feel so good…”

He groans and his hips move in a slow, gentle rocking motion, his body arching as he moves within your mouth. His tenderness is not what you’re used to; he essentially fucking your mouth, yet you feel as though he’s completely surrendered to the moment and to you.

Sy isn’t quiet, and you quickly discover what he likes by watching and listening. You find a nice rhythm, sucking and massaging with your tongue while he pumps into your mouth. He’s careful not to go too deep at first, but soon you see his starts to become erratic, tensing his thighs hard and he seems to grow harder in your hand. You take over, moving over him steadily increasing his pace.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” he grunts out his warning, “Oh fuck! Gonna fuckin’ cum in your mouth.”

His eyes close tight, his head rolls back and his whole body seems to elongate. His groans turn into growls before he roars your name and begins to fill your mouth with long, thick, and warm jets.

“Fuck, fuck,” he mumbles as you slow down your movements, gently licking within your mouth until he shivers with a hum and pulls his hips away.

You sit on your knees, unsure of what to do. Now that it is over and both your passions are sated, you wonder what is going to happen. You have fleeting images of awkward interactions, perhaps never talking about this night again.

You place your hand on his still trembling thigh. You like the feeling of his sparsely haired skin under your palm, and you try to commit this moment to memory, in case it never happens again. He’s so attractive; his shoulders, arms and forehead are covered in a light sheen, his mouth is curved into a soft smile and he has a hand on his chest as he breathes heavily and steadily while he comes down from his high.

“Whatcha doin’ all the way over there?” Sy asks as he lifts the hand off his chest and beckons you to him.

Hesitantly you lay next to him, positioning yourself into the crook of his arm with your head on his shoulder. He lifts your chin and kisses your mouth with a tender stroke of lips and tongue.

Sy pulls away humming and asks, “You need anythin’? A drink or somethin’?”

You shake your head, “No. Thank you though.”

Sy chuckles a little and kisses you on the top of your head. “Want to sleep?” He asks, his beard tickles your forehead as he adds, “With me?”

“Yeah, I do,” you say softly.

He leans down to bring the covers up over both of you. He hums again. He sounds content and happy, and starts to stroke your arms with his fingers.

You start to think that maybe… maybe this thing with you and Sy isn't just a one off.

When you wake in the morning, you find yourself alone in bed.

Your heart sinks into your gut and your throat seems to want to close up. You quickly take hold of yourself rationalising that you’re in his bed, surely he couldn’t be so desperate to avoid you that he would leave his own house and make you find your own way home.

As you raise your head to sit up, you notice a piece of paper on Sy’s pillow. Nervously, you reach for it and see that it’s a quickly scrawled note.

Gone for a run.

You looked so pretty sleeping, I didn’t wanna wake you.

I put the coffee on. Make yourself a cup if you want.

The mild panic you felt begins to wane as you read over his note again. He hasn’t just left you, he’s coming back and he still thinks you’re pretty. Smiling stupidly, you flop back onto the bed and give a little squeal into the pillows.

Before Sy returns, you get dressed in your clothes from last night. The top you wore felt scandalously low in the light of the early morning, but your coat would cover most of it. You wash your face and rub some toothpaste onto your teeth and rinse. You think about looking for a brush, but you don’t want to go searching through Sy’s bathroom cabinet.

Just as you’re finishing pouring yourself a coffee, Sy returns. He hasn’t noticed you yet, so biting your lip you take the time to really look at him as he toes off his sneakers. Sy is spectacularly attractive wearing an army PT t-shirt, a pair of running shorts, iPod earbuds in his ears, dripping with sweat and humming. He seems to ooze a raw, primal, brutal sexuality in his walk as he heads your way.

When he finally notices you, he grins and pulls the earbuds out and lays his iPod on the kitchen bench. He comes close but keeps some distance between you as he lays a hand on your hip before leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“Mornin’, Sugar,” he says. He takes a step back as you reach for him and you feel disappointed. It must have shown on your face because he quickly continues, “I’m all sweaty. Gonna take a shower, okay?”

You smile and nod, “Okay.”

He returns your smile and takes half a step to move away, before changing his mind and turning back to you.

“I liked comin’ home to you,” he says. His eyes wander over your clothes, and he runs a finger down your exposed chest. “You look good.”

Feeling a little timid by his suggestive touch, you look to the ground and make a joke. “You like my walk of shame outfit?”

“I ain’t ashamed, baby,” he says, sweaty or not, he takes you in his arms, “you ain’t got nothin’ to be ashamed of neither. I don’t regret what happened last night. Not one bit.”

You meet his eyes and see how open his stare is and you believe him. You see the unasked question as he peers at you. “I don’t either, Sy.”

“Good,” Sy grins, “‘Cause I wanna do it again.” You laugh a little and look away and Sy chuckles too. “No, I mean… Well yeah, that. But I wanna take ya out. On a date.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Sy says firmly. Then his eyes light up. “Wait here okay? Wanna show ya somethin’.”

He doesn’t wait for your reply and leaves the kitchen coming back moments later with an envelope and hands it to you.

“Last night, you asked why I hadn’t said anythin’ about how I felt,” he waits for you to nod before he continues, “Well, I was planning on askin’ you to come with me. Ask you out, I mean.”

Turning the envelope over, you lift the flap and pull out two concert tickets to Jane’s Addiction.

“Sy, I…” you look at him feeling overwhelmed, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll go with me.”

“Of course I will,” you say.

Sy draws you into his arms, kisses you and doesn’t let go.

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bangtansmauyeondan · 2 years ago

Text

THIRTY-FIVE | S02 E05 - It Wasn’t Me (Drabble between images)

Pairing: In-Studio Director!Jungkook x Stage Director!Fem Reader

Genre: rivals au, social media au, frenemies to lovers, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, crack.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: explicit language, mentions of abandonment, alcohol consumption, harmless scheming, dare, bet, smut

Summary: It has always been the battle of the best between you and your college rival, Jungkook. What happens when years later, you cross paths again working for the same network broadcasting company, and the competitive flame is rekindled? Well, a whole new drunken bet that determines your futures wasn’t in your line of vision but here you are… and you have until 35.

SERIES TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @babyboo22 @dionysusenthusiast @luaspersona @timelessruins @royallyjjk @sandraviolante-blog @quarter-life-crisis2 @jub-jub @pb-n-juju @jeonxgoogiee @sugaluvmyg @lookformyvoice @fairy-jaykay

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @jinsquishes @persphonesorchid @thatbangtanjagiya @taestefully-in-luv @btsstan12 @bts-reveries @blog-name-idk @madbutgloriouspond @pamzn @wrmnssoul @ygbubs @halesandy @jayhope88 @bnagtanx1306 @pinkseokchim @busanbby-jjk @babycandy111

•••

—

Yoongi stopped in his tracks when he saw you sitting at your desk as he stepped out of his office. It’s Saturday afternoon and you really did not have to be at work, especially since your only show on that day was Wake Up, World.

“What are you doing here, everyone’s already left,” he called out.

“Wrong,” you smirked at him. “You’re still here. There are still people in the building, and some shows are still being taped in the studios.”

“You know that’s not what I mean, smartypants,” he approached your desk and peeked at your computer. “What’s that?”

“Proposal for the next musical. Namjoon wanted to do Les Miz,” you heaved a heavy sigh of frustration as you scrolled through pages on your monitor. “I’m torn between hiring an older actor to actually play the protagonist, or if I’m gonna let the makeup team do their thing.”

“Well, I’m gonna leave you to it. You know how useless I am in this sort of stuff,” Yoongi scratched the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed. “I’ll get going, yeah?”

You gave up scrolling and decided to call it a day too. “You know what, I’m gonna go home too. Maybe I just need to sleep on it, clear my head or something.” You fished out your phone from your back pocket. “I’m gonna book a ride.”

“Where’s your car?”

“Getting serviced. Needed the oil changed and stuff.” You continued chatting about random stuff during your elevator ride, he even mentioned how Wake Up, World’s rating had gone up especially after that Christmas Tree lighting at dawn ceremony that the Mayor has asked for.

“Okay, well, then I’m off to the Parking Lot.” Yoongi stated before turning the opposite way from you, to the back of the building. “I’ll see you on Monday, Yn.”

“See ya, Yoongs!”

—

You opted to wait for your taxi in front of the building, because you wanted to admire the scenery around you. There are Christmas lights everywhere– strung between the buildings, decorating the shops from across the street, twinkling in the lampposts, and you just can’t help but feel delighted by the sight.

“Hi, is this the Rkive 360 building?” A random girl suddenly asked you. You’ve already seen her looking up at the building in your peripheral view when you stepped out. “Sorry, I couldn’t see the logo from here because of the freezing fog.”

“Oh yeah, it is,” you replied. “That’s okay, the logo is more visible from across the street anyway,” you smiled at her kindly.

The girl ignored you and frantically started typing on her phone. Just then, two other other girls came up accompanied by a tall lanky man holding what seemed to be a camcorder. One of the two new girls hopped over to stand on your other side a little too enthusiastically, “You’re the director, right? I saw you this morning at the performance.”

Before you can even answer her, the other new girl piped up, “Can you tell us your name?”

“What? Why? Is this for a– wait, I don’t understand…” your palms started to get all clammy. Who are these people? Are you gonna get robbed?

“Ma’am, I’m from K! Entertainment, and I need you to confirm your relationship with Kim Taehyung,” tall lanky man asked before pointing his camcorder at your face.

“Excuse me?” You were taken aback by his straightforward approach. “Could you please get the camera away from me?”

First girl stepped closer, sneakily recording the conversation, “I run the KTH Daily blog and I want to clear up some things… Are you dating Kim Taehyung? How long have you been together?”

You stepped back instinctively. “I don’t have to answer your questions.”

“So does that mean it’s true? Were you out golfing with him the other day?”

“Is your name YN YLN?”

“Do you guys live together?”

“When will you publicly announce your relationship?”

So many questions were thrown at you all at the same time, you can no longer distinguish which is coming from whose mouth.

“HEY! Get the hell out of here!” Yoongi’s car came to an abrupt stop in front of you, with his window down. He put his hazard lights on and stepped off the car, storming off to the small group that’s hounding you. “Who the fuck are you? Get out of here before I call the cops!” He threatened the group, stepping in front of you. Lanky man sneered and cursed under his breath before stepping away. The three girls looked at each other before stepping back, but not without one of them rolling her eyes at you. “Are you okay?” Yoongi turned to you, concern lacing his features. “Did they hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine,” you gathered yourself and exhaled in relief. “Thanks.”

“Who are those people?”

“Tabloids, I think?” You glanced down at your phone and groaned rather loudly after discovering that the taxi you booked had already left you a bad no-show review. You probably didn’t notice it pulling up and the driver calling you because of all the distractions around you. “Great, now I have–”

“Get in the car, Yn,” Yoongi has already opened the door to the passenger’s side urging you to come in. “I’ll drive you home.”

“Yoongs… do you think you can drop me off at DK’s instead?”

—

•••

A/N — That group chat with their college friends was a last minute decision! More Seventeen members cameo!

#bangtansmauyeondan #35!jungkook #35!jk #thirty five au #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff

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lunarliza · 5 years ago

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Dirty Little Secret | Chapter 4: Ferry Tickets

fuckbuddy!JJ x kook!reader

series masterlist | prev. chapter | chapter one

You and JJ are fuck buddies- strictly physical. But what happens when you find yourself falling more and more for everyone’s favorite golden boy even though all he can see you as is a spoiled rich girl?

note: smut ... like right under here

“Fuuuck me,” you whimpered, face pressed down to your floral pillowcase.

“You like that don’t you?” JJ’s hand twisted your hair as the other smacked the side of your ass while he slid himself in and out of you from behind.

Ted and your mom went into the city for a few days while Macy was off at her tennis lesson which left you with an big empty house for the morning. You had contemplated doing a sunrise yoga on the beach or riding your bike along the pier, but a surprise text from JJ had you cancelling all your self-care plans.

Which is how you ended up in your current position- under him, back arched, and feeling his thick cock stretch you out.

“Mm,” you whined, lifting your eyes to his hungry ones as you watched him take you. You felt the cold metal from his rings cling onto your sweaty skin when his hands moved to grip both sides of your hips.

“Mm, play with me.”

JJ’s hands snaked around to your wet clit where he gently rubbed you back and forth. It sent you over the edge as you moaned louder into the pillow you were clenching.

He came into the condom and pulled out of you, collapsing onto your side in a fit of pants. His gold locks were disheveled on his face as his broad chest heaved up and down. You laid in your current position for a few moments, collecting yourself, before springing to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

You expected him to be gone once you got out, but, much to your surprise, JJ was still submerged in your fluffy white comforter, underwear on, scrolling through his phone. Slightly taken aback, you flopped down next to him.

You and JJ had this unspoken no cuddling or pillow talk rule, but you decided that, after three months of fooling around, you could at least engage in small talk.

“Why’d you call me up so early?” you asked, hugging your knees.

“I was at the store and saw your parents getting gas to leave town. Didn’t see you in the car so I thought you’d be home alone,” he smirked, still glued to his phone, “and I was right.”

JJ paid a lot of attention to little things- more so than you thought. Here and there he’d bring up a small fact he remembered about you like how you’d braid your hair before swimming or how he saw you talking to someone he thought you didn’t like. It was odd, but you pushed it aside.

Another thing that always fazed you about him was why he was so open to sleeping with you. You assumed it was him getting off on the satisfaction of fucking a Kook, but the hateful remarks he made the other day on the boat with Rafe confused you.

“Since when did you start hanging out with Topper and Rafe?” he asked, tossing his phone to the side.

You didn’t expect that question from him. “I don’t. Jade just dragged me with her because she’s trying to get with Rafe.”

JJ snorted. “Oh Jade... she has a nice rack. And she can do way better than him, he looks like a celery.”

You giggled at his uncanny comparison. “Hey JJ.”

He lifted his eyebrows, leaning over on his side. “It was you that day wasn’t it? The day you caught me smoking, you’re the one who fucked up Topper’s bike.”

You had always wondered what on earth JJ was running from the day you two met. You almost forgot about it until Topper brought up his messed up bike on the boat. You remembered hearing him whine about it months ago during class, the Monday after, and mentally put the pieces together.

“What’s it to ya?” JJ responded, growing peeved.

You shrugged. “Just wondering. I just don’t get this war between you guys. It’s honestly ridiculous, like what good is throwing shit at each other or punching each other gonna do?”

The light-haired boy groaned and sat up in annoyance. “Of course you wouldn’t get it. You’re a fucking Kook. You can do whatever the hell you want- buy whatever you want, hurt whoever you want- and get away with it. Nothing ever affects you because at the end of the day, you just come straight home to your gated neighborhood with not a spec on your back. You’ll never know what it’s like to not have everything you want!”

You scoffed and crossed your arms, standing from the bed to get away from him. “Well guess what, prick? I actually do know what it’s like. I didn’t always have this stupid life!”

You ran your hands through your hair and avoided his gaze. That was probably the first time you confessed that out loud to someone since you moved. You heard JJ shift a little on your bed as pure silence soon enveloped you both.

Since he was already there, why not just let the entire cat out the bag?

“I use to live in a small town outside of Charlotte. My parents didn’t have a lot but they tried to give me and my sister everything they could. My dad would come home late sometimes- there were days when we wouldn’t even see him. My mom sold clothes, shoes, hats, anything she could make at home so we could eat.” You turned to face him. “And as much as it fucking sucked, I liked it better that way than now.”

“So what happened?” JJ peered up at you with sheer orbs and, for a moment, you forgot about his tactless, cold-blooded self.

You sighed and pursed your lips. “My parents divorced because my dad kept having to leave and I moved homes for a few years. Then my mom met Ted and I was, unwillingly, initiated to this Kook life.”

JJ lifted his eyebrows in shock. “You know most people see that as a like a Cinderella story.”

“Well I see it like hell.”

He let out a soft chuckle.

“I know I should be more grateful of everything, but it’s just hard. And weird.” You’re back sitting beside him on the bed at this point. “Like, I’m just not use to this. I’ve never had a phone with internet until now and my mom keeps wanting me to pretend I’m some preppy fairy. And the kids here all suck. They have no personality other than their clothes and cars, and they don’t like me cause I don’t give a shit about that stuff. I really do hate it here. And I miss my dad. I haven’t seen him in years.”

You plopped your head on the pillow and stared at your ceiling. It was nice to get all that off your chest, especially to JJ who’s been shoving his preconceived notions down your throat.

“Well I almost feel sorry for you,” JJ said jokingly as you playfully shoved him.

“But I get it, kinda. I don’t know. My mom passed away, so it’s just me and my dad. He’s,” he paused for a moment, “he has his quirks, you can say. We don’t get along too well, and he’s too busy working to really give me any real attention. It sucks.”

“I’m sorry,” you comforted as he maneuvered so he was laying down next to you. You both rested side by side, fixated on your plain white ceiling. It was nice to finally talk to JJ without making a snide comment every two seconds.

“Do you think it’ll get any better?” you asked, out of the blue.

“You wanna know the truth?” You turned to your side, tucking your arm under your head, ready for his spiel.

“I think we’re where we are for a reason. Do I wanna get the fuck outta here sometimes? Yeah. But I just know I’m meant to have this life and there’s not much I can do to get out. Just gotta take it day by day.”

“C’mon, you never dreamed of going anywhere else in the world? Traveling?” you raised, a bit more enthusiastic than you intended to let on.

JJ exhaled. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

The two of you laid in a comfortable silence for a while longer. There was, finally, an air of understanding between you.

“Why don’t you come to our side then?” JJ asked after a few minutes. “If you hate it here in Kookville so much, why don’t you try the other end for a change?”

“I don’t know. My stepdad thinks The Cut is literally a death wish. He wouldn’t even let my mom go grocery shopping near there. It’s honestly kinda weird to me why he hates it so much.”

“And he never told you why?”

You shook your head and JJ retreated in thought. “I think he’s hiding something. Probably has a mistress over there to be honest.”

You laughed and hit his stomach. “No! Him and my mom are literally attached by the hip! I don’t know... One day Macy went over to see a friend she met and he just flipped. Went over, took her away and everything. Maybe he’s just classist. I mean, he’s old money so I wouldn’t be surprised. But if he is then he wouldn’t have married my mom.”

“Maybe...” JJ muttered. “I still think he’s hiding something. Could be drugs. You know I see Kook guys come over for coke sometimes. Then, on their lunch breaks, their dads come for the same thing. Father and son bonding if you ask me.”

“Well, whatever it is, we can add this case to our mystery book,” you laughed. A real, heartfelt laugh.

You and JJ spent the remainder of the morning talking about your lives, learning how wrong you each were about the other. He told you about the Pogues and how his friend Kiara, who you recognized from school, hangs out with them despite being wealthy herself. On the other hand, you continued to complain to him about all the stuck up nonsense your mother would make you do- to which he actively listened and pitched in his own amusing opinions.

“What do you need etiquette lessons for? How hard is it to stick your pinky out when you drink?”

The topic then switched to Topper and his crew. You settled on calling them the Veggie Tales which made you both erupt in laughter. “What was your first time like?” you asked bluntly.

He threw you an odd look, but continued. “Tourist at a party. I was 15 and I think she was 17? I dunno, but she sure showed me the ropes that night.” He beamed up at the ceiling, thinking back to the time.

“Aren’t all first times supposed to be really awkward and bad?”

“Maybe. I don’t really remember it. Just her. She was fine as hell,” he had on his dreamy eyes. “What was your’s like?”

You let out a sharp breath. You’d never told anyone about it until now. “Before I left the city I was dating this guy for a little while. He came from farmers, so we did it in his uncles barn.”

“Aw, how romantic,” JJ commented before you smacked him with a decorative pillow.

“Ow! What? I thought every girl’s dream was to do it with the chickens watching.”

Your face knotted. “It was horses. And I still have nightmares to this day about the hay sticking at my ass.”

The boy next to you snickered and went on to tease you about your story, cracking all the farm jokes his little blonde head could come up with.

“I should get going soon,” JJ informed when you both settled down, “Thursdays I meet Kie at The Wreck to help out.”

Your eyes jolted. “Thursday?!”

You soared up from your bed and checked the time on your phone. “Fuck fuck fuck!” Your hands tangled up in your hair in stress. “My debutante lessons!”

“What the fuck is that?”

“I have to go to Chapel Hill, my ferry leaves in 20 minutes,” you explained while hastily shoving heels into your canvas bag. Then it occurred to you that your parents took your car because theirs was in the shop.

“Fuck! JJ did you drive here?”

“Yeah, I parked my friend’s van by the gate,” he answered, still confused at the gibberish you spoke moments ago.

“JJ I need you to take me to the dock right now! Please! I can’t miss this ferry.”

“Alright, alright, hurry up then woman! The van only goes up to 110 on a good day.” JJ struggled to get his clothes back on and didn’t even notice his t-shirt on backwards.

You both sprinted out your house and to the front of the neighborhood, past the gate, and towards a clunky old Volkswagen that was parked on the side of the road. You hurried in as JJ fumbled with the keys before thrusting it in the ignition and speeding off towards the dock.

“Fuck we’re not gonna make it!” you stressed, balling your sweaty palms, as your legs bounced on the torn up seat.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry! She’s old but just give her a minute,” JJ assured before he revved the engine and flew down the street. You were concerned at how he expertly steered the old clunker at 105 miles per hour but were too anxious about missing your trip to bring it up.

He finally pulled up to the side of the dock. You sighed in relief, seeing people still boarding.

“Aaand here we are! With 3 minutes to spare,” JJ announced, flipping his blonde locks, proud of his Speed Racer work.

“Thank you for the ride JJ,” you said as you exited the van, “and the heart attack.”

“Hey, you got here in once peace didn’t you? So I don’t wanna hear it!”

You giggled and shut the door, heading towards the herd of people while you dug in your bag for your ferry ticket.

“Have fun at your degenerate lessons!” JJ called out the window at you before speeding away.

You shook your head with a goofy grin before getting on.

-----------------------------

chapter five

tags: @starkeybaby @obxlife @everydayimfangirling @iamaunicorn4704 @tangledinsparkles @poguesrforlife @thx-quxxn @obxmxybxnk @rororo06 @poguesforlife @ilymarkchan @outrbanks @hazelgirl355 @hsunflower @cinnamon-roll-seth @alotbnouf @tembo-ndoto

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cheershalo · 4 years ago

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By request, here are some of my favorite angsty fics in order longest to shortest. Some of these are angstier than others but I wanted to give a good range!

*note: make sure to read the tags because some of these deal with heavier topics! take care of yourself!

*also: most of these are b!L because that’s what i like to read! smut or no-smut is marked as well as the basic tags!

Remember to leave kudos and comment on all these lovely fics if you decide to read!!

💔 pray for some sweet simplicity by @eeveelou | E | 237k | abo | b!L - (motorcycles, racer louis, journalist harry, slow burn, a classic)

An AU where motorcycle racing is the biggest sport in a heavily divided world, Louis is trying to take control of his own destiny, and Harry is in for more than he bargained for.

💔 Collision by @tequiladimples | E | 225k | b!L - (mythology/fantasy, fairy louis, dark harry, enemies to lovers, slow burn, love love love)

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

💔 And I Wait for Paradise by You_Just_Mightx3 | NR | 209k | abo | b!L - (addiction, ptsd, pining, best friends to lovers, eventual mpreg, so heartbreaking and heart-wrenchingly beautiful)

The one where it’s not the Harry who touched Louis’ heart that comes home, but an addict thought to be hopeless. A paradise above addiction when Louis wins so does Harry.

💔 Don’t Let It (Me) Break by @falsegoodnight | E | 169k | b!L - (exes to lovers, slow burn, grief, panic attacks, healing/therapy, sad louis, def read tags, a fav of all time)

The one where Harry is oblivious, Louis is broken, Zayn and Liam are in love, Gemma and Lottie are lovely, and Niall is just waiting for everyone to get their shit together.

Oh, and it's all Malcolm's fault.

💔 Saving Symphony Hall by @helloamhere | E | 125k | abo | b!L - (touch depri, businessman louis, hurt/comfort, a fav)

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

💔 The Dead of July by whimsicule | M | 117k | b!L - (avengers au, captain america harry, louis as bucky, ptsd, so fucking good)

Harry is Captain America, and Louis’ been dead for 70 years.

💔 Untangle Me by suicxne | E | 103k | np smut - (canon compliant, friends to lovers, first kiss, cute <3)

The one where Harry and Louis finally get it right.

💔 nothing worsens, nothing grows by @soldouthaz | E | 103k | b!L - (roadtrip au, college au, enemies to lovers, friends with benefits, ot5, a fav of all time)

Another roadtrip AU featuring Harry as the misunderstood hipster, Louis as the bitter psych major, Liam as the one with the secret boyfriend, and Niall as the one who just wants everyone to be happy.

💔 Here in the Afterglow by @harrybridgers | NR | 89k | b!L - (high school au, historical, 70s au, small town, slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers, soft soft soft)

1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

💔 And down the long and silent street by whimsicule | M | 86k | b!L - (historical au, regency au, poverty, wealth difference, hurt/comfort, a masterpiece <3)

Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

💔 Consequences by @allwaswell16 | E | 79k | b!L - (amnesia au, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, secrets, amazing amazing)

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

💔 We’ll Cast Some Light (You’ll Be Alright) by @harrybridgers | NR | 74k | b!L - (enemies to lovers, sort of exes to lovers, demons, demon hunters, INCREDIBLE)

There’s a standard procedure for this. Scan, track, kill. But with a solar eclipse and a Greater Demon with unfinished business looming, the path to keeping England safe from harm becomes complicated and shadowed by mystery and secrets. For Harry and his team, times have never been harder, especially when a few old friends turned foes show up. Harry is left with just over forty days to overcome the hurdle of tension between them and reconcile their past, and figure out just what Louis is hiding from him before it’s too late.

💔 Latibule by @quelquesetoiles | E | 54k | b!L - (spirited away au - ish, mythology, fantasy, god harry, human louis, sad louis, jealousy, amazing)

A Spirited Away AU of sorts where Louis just wants to heal and be left alone, only for all his plans to be destroyed by the hands of an infuriating British God.

💔 7 Up by @cherrystreet | E | 52k | b!L - (friends to lovers, growing up together, will make you cry like a baby, a classic)

Very loosely based on the British TV show "The Up Series" and somewhat inspired by the song “Something I Need” by Onerepublic, we follow the lives of Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson in an interview setting every seven years. They fall apart and come together, their lives and emotions recorded. Harry calls it a time capsule. Louis calls it a pain in the arse.

💔 Strangers in Love by @darlou | E | 42k | b!L - (amnesia au, car accidents, light d/s, growing up together, enemies to lovers, a fav)

Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.

💔 Ever Fixed by @eeveelou | E | 42k | b!L - (strangers to lovers, divorce, depression, child death, the plot twist GOT ME SO GOOD - i read this yesterday with ris and h o l y s h i t)

Three years ago, Harry was happily married, successfully heading the largest technology company in the world, and raising his young daughter. After he loses nearly everything in the aftermath of his daughter’s lost battle with a rare brain tumor, it may take three strange and yet very familiar visitors – and a man from the therapy group Harry keeps refusing to go to – to get him back on track.

💔 before we knew by @falsegoodnight | E | 40k | b!L - (soulmate au, lawyer harry, editor louis, stubborn harry, pining louis, literally one of the best fics ever written)

Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed into his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

💔 where the lights are beautiful by twoshipsdrifting | M | 31k | abo | b!L - (THE accidental bonding fic, mentions of mpreg, have reread many times and it still hurts so good)

Harry wasn’t wrong about that, not in a general sense. Lots of omegas did seek out rich alphas and betas, hoping or planning to go into heat at the right time. Plenty of omegas saw this as their duty, especially if their families weren’t well off. Worse, Louis couldn’t honestly say he’d never thought about it.

If that had been his life, his goal, Louis would feel pretty good about himself now.

As it is…Louis feels like shit.

💔 autumn leaves by @suspendrs | NR | 28k | b!L - (war au, soldier harry, waiter louis, french louis, friends to lovers, so so good)

Harry is an American soldier in France during World War II, and Louis is a French waiter that doesn't mean to fall in love with him.

💔 Cherry by littlebluetui | M | 25k | b!L - (exes to lovers, famous harry, non-famous louis, comfort sex, light d/s, really good & really underrated!)

Harry and Louis were soulmates, no one doubted that.

Sometimes one soulmates leaves the other to go on a world tour though.

Sometimes not having them at all is better than only a little.

💔 like a bastard on the burning sea by vashtaneradas | NR | 22k | implied b!L - (cheating/infidelity - i don’t read cheating fics as a principle but this one just... hurts so good, haven’t reread and i don’t think i ever will but i think about it often)

Harry breaks Louis, Louis breaks everything.

💔 all this delusion in our heads by buttfucklarry | E | 15k | b!L - (exes to lovers, sad louis, sad harry, mentions of mpreg, another underrated beaut <3)

After Harry and Louis break up, they cope with it in very different ways. What will happen when Harry keeps calling his ex over when things go wrong in his life, but Louis just can't take it anymore?

💔 a grocery list pinned in blue by dangerbears | NR | 20k | b!L - (exes to lovers, divorce, a masterpiece truly)

After eight years, Louis finally has everything he's wanted. Except for Harry.

💔 Cupid’s Chokehold by bluelemur | E | 35k | b!L - (soulmate au, cupid louis, human harry, virgin louis, feel good but also a bit angsty)

Louis is a Cupid who tries to match up Niall and Harry. It doesn't work out as planned.

💔 Love is like this; not a heartbeat, but a moan by @loveletterharry | E | 13k | abo | b!L - (enemies to lovers, ex-childhood best friends, pining harry, beach house, lovely)

In which Harry loves Louis, but Louis has been cold to him ever since he presented as an omega at age fifteen.

Eight years later, Louis approaches Harry with a request, and who is Harry to deny him?

Remember again to leave kudos and comment on all these lovely masterpieces! And feel free to let me know if I made any errors!

Request another category here.

#my fic rec lists #angst recs #categories #jem's favs

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putflowersinmyhair-callmepretty · 4 years ago

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The fate of a nun (Finan x OFC); part 7

GENERAL A/N: Hi there! This story is my first attempt to write a fanfiction. English is not my first language, so feel free to let me know how to improve my writing/language skills 😊 I will try and post a chapter per week, let’s see how it goes! The story takes place in season 3 and you will notice that I have used some of the sequences and dialogues from the tv series, changing them to include my OC. I did try not to be too colloquial and informal with my writing -giving the time of the story- but I preferred to make it more enjoyable and “readable” than realistic, same goes for Finan’s accent. I’m nervous and excited to share my work, hope you enjoy! Bacini, Cate.

A/N: Hiiiii! Sorry for the long break, I’ve been veeeery busy with uni :( Happy New Year and I hope you like this chapter, cause I love it!

Summary: The life of the young novice Aoife completely changes when the Lady of Mercia arrives to the Abbey of Wincelcumb. Oaths, battles and love will turn her in a warrior.

General warnings: Violence, Blood, Strong Language, Smut, Fluff, Graphic description of violence

Chapter’s warning: Blood and little of Finan in this chapter.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven: Cenric

Abbey of Wincelcumb, Mercia, five years before. The harebells brushed against Aoife’s ankles, leaving an itchy kiss on her soft skin, and she laughed lightly. She had few memories of her mother, but every time the breeze moved her hair, it felt just like her touch. “Quick, quick, child!” Sister Aeskel mumbled patting her back lightly “Always so distracted! God really takes special care of you, I’m surprised you haven’t fallen into a ravine yet.” she growled in her thick Northumbrian accent, but she was trying to suppress a smile. “But you wouldn’t let me die, would you, Sister?” “ Course not! I wouldn’t waste precious help!” Aoife’s cackle was covered by a drumming of hooves, so close that the ground under her naked feet trembled. A beautiful black horse was galloping up the hill, right towards them. “I looked, and behold, a black horse; and he who sat on it had a pair of scales in his hand.” Sister Aeskel cried terrified, but Aoife was not scared, nor believed that the horse was an omen of the apocalypse. As a punch on her stomach, a memory came: a young Aoife was running her small hands on the smooth coat of a horse and her mother was begging her to be careful, a worried look on her ripe, sweet face. “Aoife!” the Sister screamed, pulling her aside just moments before the horse trampled the ground she was standing. It did not stop, running straight towards the Abbey. On its back, a body lay pathetically, like one of those rag dolls sprawled in the corner of her room. “Sister, ‘twas a person!” “I know child, I’m old not blind! Come, quick! Try not to harm yourself until we’re at the Abbey!” There was a library in the nunnery, a square room with the four walls covered with books from floor to ceiling. When she was six, the Abbess forced her to read each of those books. “Books clear your path to Heaven. A full mind is a full soul” she used to say, and at the time Aoife was too scare to disobey; little by little, she started enjoying reading, which pleased the Abbess greatly, and many months before her fourteenth birth she had already read every book in the room. She especially liked the pictures, she would run the tips of her fingers on the lines, her touch light as a feather, careful not to ruin the thin parchment. There was one particular image that intrigued her: a deposition of Christ, his body covered by a thin cloth. The man, lying on the infirmary bed, reminded her of that image. He was sleeping, his breath shallow and heavy. A sheet covered his waist, and a wide and deep wound run down his chest. When Aoife and Sister Aeskel reached the Abbey, the horse was neighing loudly and banging his hooves on the ground. The man had fallen down its back and was now laying on the stairs, a puddle of blood widening under him. Four sisters had hurried him in the nunnery, where Aoife, frozen in horror, had watched Sister Aeskel trying to save his life. “He will live, Aoife.” Sister Aeskel approached her with a motherly smile “Can you please wash him?” She still had his blood under her nails, pressing uncomfortably again her skin and she tried to brush it away on her smock. No matter how hard she tried, she could not take her eyes off the man. He had red hair, messily falling to his broad shoulder, harsh skin burnt by the sun and strong features, with a wide jaw and high cheekbones; she had met men before, bishops, priests and farmers from the village, but no one as handsome as him that even now, passed out and covered in sweat, resembled an angel. She dropped on the chair next to his bed and without thinking about it, took his hand in hers. She knew then that he would be her despair. “Are the ropes tight, Aoife?” She felt weak and feverish, her fingers trembling on the knots. “Aoife!” Sister Aeskel insisted “I need your head to be clear for once.” “They’re tight, Sister.” The nun nodded, gripping nervously the iron poker and pulling it out from the fire. Its red, angry spike made Aoife’s stomach turn. The man’s wound had infected and poking it with burning iron was the only remedy Aeskel knew. “Keep his head still, Aoife.” she ordered. They had moved him on a wooden table, and he was lying unconscious, ankles and wrists tightened with thick ropes. Aoife stuck between his teeth a thick piece of leather, then, with a hand on his cheek and one on his forehead, she kept him down against the wood. “Pray for him, child” Sister Aeskel whispered and pushed the spike in the open wound. There was a moment of celestial peace, then the man squirmed in pain, an animalistic scream exploded from his throat and Aoife was crying, shouting her apologise over his shrieks and she had to push him down with the entire weigh of her body, Aeskel prayers a distant noise in her ears. It lasted not more than a minute, but at the end Aoife was exhausted. Her limbs were shaking violently but she forced herself to pat a fresh cloth on his face, cleaning the sweat and tears from his eyes and skin. His eyelids quivered under her touch and his breath was short but deep, and she smiled gratefully, thanking God for the miracle. And then, she met the palest eyes she had ever seen. The man was awake, for the first time in days, and a weak smile cracked his harsh features. “Are you an angel?” he whispered and passed out again. She entered slowly, careful not to drop the tray with ale and food, while keeping the door open with her hip. “Sir?” she called “I bring food.” He was sitting with his back against the wall, legs stretched and a book on his thighs. He has been awake for a couple of days now, healing faster that she would have expected. Aoife had brought him food since the day he had woken up and he still hadn’t addressed her, and each time she grew more annoyed with the ungrateful man and his surly attitude. He shot her the usual glance, followed by a nod and she stepped closer, putting the tray on the table. She smoothed the creases of her skirt and stood, right in front of him, with her arm crossed. She could not stand ungrateful people, even less being ignored. She felt like she deserved a word of thanks, or at least some kind of acknowledgment. And her sisters too. “Why are you here?” He looked up, an amazed grin on his thin lips “You should change your tone, nun.” She gestured her unveiled head “Clearly, I’m not a nun.” “Why are you living here, then?” “I do not own you an explanation.” “Neither do I.” “I saved your life!” He chuckled coldly “You did not. I clearly remember your pretty face right in front of my eyes, you could not be the one pushing the iron against my flesh, lady.” “But I was the one who took care of you afterwards.” “You expect me to thank you?” Aoife raised her arms exasperated and, with a last venomous look, she left the room. “I apologize, lady.” Aoife did not look up from the herbs she was grinding. She was being difficult, of course, the man’s attitude was annoying, but he had not offended her seriously, not enough to deserve her silence. But, in that world that had stripped her of most of her freedom, her voice was the only power she still owned, and she was allowed to decide who deserved her time. He had not offended her seriously, but he had still been disrespectful and she would not waste another moment being kind to him. “Lay down, lord.” she instructed, and still pushed him down before her words could reach his ears, just because she felt the urge to treat him like a child. God would forgive her, he would even laugh, she was sure of it. Despite her prideful thoughts, she could not help but admire his pale bare torso, the soft blonde hair covering his chest and the bright red line of the healed wound. He had a mark on the base of his neck and the desire to press her lips on that area shook her to her core. “Yeah, just skip this part of the story, would you?” Finan mumbled, eyes fixed on the dancing flames. Aoife blushed, both for the cold breeze and the embarrassment of her words, and nodded quickly. Somewhere, deep in her soul, she acknowledged his jealousy and the small, sinful fairy in her, who enjoyed Finan’s attention more that her Christian education would allow her to, smirked viciously. At some point while she was talking, his hand had dropped in her lap and she had held it since and with every stroke of his rough thumb on the back of her hand, she felt her heart rate speed up. “Of course, yes. Where was I?” She spread the poultice all over his irritated skin, careful not to hurt him. “It shall fasten the healing.” she explained coldly, all her attention fixed on what she was doing. Still, she could not help but look up when his hand closed around hers. The man was already watching her, with a tentative smile, and when he noticed her attention, he retracted his hand quickly and she found herself missing the warmth of his touch on her skin. “Lady, I must apologise for my previous words. I did not intended to offend you.” She scoffed, getting back up and stepping away “You did offended me, lord. You can or cannot tell me who you are, it is not in my powers nor my intentions to force you to tell us what you might desire to keep a secret. And I apologise for demanding it.” She was rushing her words, afraid that if she would stop, she would not find the courage to keep going “However, you own words of thanks and an explanation to my Sisters that had sheltered and took care of you, only with kindness, but you’ve been patronizing us and treating the people that are healing and feeding you with arrogance.” she collected her mortar and pestle “You could be the king of Northumbria, for all I know, but this is the house of God and before him we’re all the same.” she smiled coldly and with a little bow, she walked to the door. “I am no king, lady.” he raised his voice to hopefully stopping her from leaving. She turned around slightly, watching him with her eyebrows raised. “I am no king, lady. I’m just a man and you can call me Cenric. If you’ll allow me, I will tell you my story.” Under his hesitant gaze, she smiled tenderly “Thank you, Cenric. I’d be honoured.” It was a cloudy, calm spring day, but the summer was coming, she could smell it in the breeze. The lord was walking slowly, carefully leaning on a wooden stick she had grossly carved during the night. Sister Aeskel had asked Aoife to take him for a walk and she had more than gladly obey, she was craving any piece of information over the man. He was breathing heavily and Aoife asked him many times if he wanted to rest somewhere for a while, but he was as stubborn as a bull and every time she pointed out his fatigue, he sped up his pace, so she stopped asking, humouring him to prevent his wound to open again. They walked for a while in silence, and she patiently let him enjoy the clear air and peace; wherever he came from, she was sure there was no place as restful as the gardens of the Abbey. Somehow, they ended up in the stables. Cenric’s majestic black horse was the only one in the stalls and was chewing hay slowly. “Poor thing” Aoife said lowly “It must miss running.” She could feel his gaze on her skin “She sure does, she’s always being restless.” he stepped closer and the horse pushed her face against the palm of her owner. Cenric caressed her with long, slow strokes and gestured Aoife to approach them. “Put your hand under her nose, let her smell you.” The horse sniffed her deeply, tickling Aoife’s wrist with her warm breath. She couldn’t help but laugh lightly and the sound amazed the animal that shot her a wary look and then pushed her long face against the girl’s shoulder. The strong, affectionate touch took Aoife by surprise and she stepped back, losing her balance. She felt Cenric’s strong touch against the small of her back, sending shivers down her spine. Aoife held her breath, careful not to break the perfection of that experience. No man had ever touched her before, not even a brush of fingers, and the pressure of Cenric’s hand on her was secure and strong and made her head spin. It was just a moment, though, then he drifted away to run his fingers through the mare’s coat; she mimicked him and it felt like the most precious velvet under her fingertips. “What’s her name?” she asked then timidly, she hoped he would not notice the shortness of her breath and the blush on her full cheeks. She could hear him smile through his words “Godiva.” “Godiva!” Finan turned around shooting a knowing smile to the black mare that was grazing grass a few steps further. “Ye’.” Aoife smiled fondly at the creature “A valuable gift.” “He must have loved you dearly.” Finan noticed, watching her through his thick eyelashes. Aoife could not meet his eyes, fearing that she would break in tears in front of that stupid fire “Shush, let me talk.” “She must have cost a fortune.” “She was gifted to me.” Cenric answered and his amused smirked appeared under Godiva’s neck “You’re a curious little thing, aren’t you?” She smiled brightly “You promised me you would tell me your story.” He chuckled, watching her intensely “Indeed I promised. What do you want to know, lady? You can ask me freely.” “I have to ask?” He raised his eyebrows, a blank expression on his face, and with an exasperated groan she pointed at his chest “Who hurt you? And how? And why?” “So many questions…” “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” He rolled his eyes “I will, you eager woman, but I’m tired and sore. I say we rest for a while.” The sun had begun peeping out from the clouds and its warm kiss tinted Aoife’s face of a dark pink; she took of her shoes and settled her long skirt to cover her naked feet while she sat on the soft grass. She had dragged out from the stables two hay bales, for him to sit on, and was now waiting patiently for him to answer her questions. Knowing exactly, and enjoying greatly, the effect his secrecy had on her, he took his time to get comfortable and enjoy the warm sun, a rarity in his lands. When he reopened his eyes and they got used to the light, he found her already staring at him, with her pretty, fresh face on her bent knees that she was hugging tightly. He smiled again, impressed to still be able to do it; he had tortured her enough and, as hard as it was for him to open up, she had treated him much better that he deserved and, for reason he could only associate with the attractiveness of that young peculiar woman, he was eager to guide her through the lighter path of his dark past. “There’s not much to tell, lady.” “It won’t take long, then.” He was playing with the wood stick and Aoife waited patiently while he collected his thoughts. “My father gave me Godiva.” he finally said, eyes fixed on the grass. “I was seventeen at the time, ready to leave for my first battle against the Danes. He gifted me his best horse because he was certain I would die in that battle and he wanted my last friend to be that majestic horse. I would never forget the surprise on his face when I returned home, alive on Godiva’s back. I left for battle many times after that and I returned each time. I’ve been a warrior for the past seven years and I am certain I’ll be a swordman for the rest of my life.” he patted his chest lightly “And this wound is nothing more than a misunderstanding between swordmen in the ale house down in the village. Warriors are proud people, especially when ale is involved.” he raised his eyes to look at Aoife “I’m sorry if you were expecting a compelling story, lady. My life is not worthy of songs.” She knew he was lying, or at least he was not telling the entire truth, no one would be that much secretive about such normal life. Also, she was just a nun, but she knew that no tenants could afford a horse like that, and she was quite offended he would think she was fool enough to believe his simplistic explanation. Yet, she accepted what he was giving her, hoping that time would also heal his wary soul. “Thank you for talking to me.” He looked up to her, astonished “You’re a peculiar creature, lady.”

“Aoife.” “Pardon?” She shrugged timidly “You keep calling me lady, but I am not. Just call me Aoife.” He tilted his head, in a caricature of a bow “Well then, Aoife. It was a pleasure to walk with you.” “I do not trust him, Sister.” The Abbess was standing at the window of her room, watching, if not spying, young Aoife and that ungodly man. Even from distance, she could see that their hands were brushing against each other. Months had passed since his wound had completely healed, but he had asked permission to extend his stay. “I need God’s forgiveness, Mother” he had said, and the Abbess was in no position to refuse, but she knew, without the slightest doubt, that his soul’s redemption was not the reason of his stay. “I’m not blind, Aeskel, nor a fool. They think they’re outwitting us with their sneaking around during the night, but I’ve seen them.” She turned around, and looked Sister Aeskel with her sternest glance, the other nun nodded cautiously. “We’ve always known we couldn’t force her into becoming a nun; it is not the path God had planned for her.” she reached her Abbess and they watched in silence the shy lovers laugh under the sun of the hottest summer Mercia had experience in a long time. “I’m aware of that, Sister.” the Abbess then broke the silence “But she’s our responsibility and she won’t leave this Abbey with less than the most respectful and god fearing man she deserves.” Aeskel sighed sadly “I do not trust him, Mother.” she admitted “There is something under his perfect appearance that does not convince me.” “You’re freezing, my love.” Cenric’s hands run up and down Aoife’s arms, trying to warm her up; with the sweetest smile, she held his hand, stopping his frantic movement. “It is weird, isn’t it? How hot the days and cold the nights are here.” “You balance it, though.” He trapped a strand of her hair with his long fingers “Cold during the day, the warmest during the night.” In the holy house of God, their love was blossoming like the most beautiful, strongest rose in England; every step was new for Aoife and she had blindly entrusted her soul and heart to his experienced hands. She knew he had known other women, in deeper ways that she had allowed him to know her, but she preferred not to wandered too much around those thoughts, knowing way too well that she could not compare to the beauty and wit of women outside that Church. “You’re insulting yourself, Aoife.” Finan interrupted her again sternly, squeezing her hand “I’ve known my fair number of women…” “Not interested to know those stories…” “Let me finish” he scowled her and she silenced, and his harsh features softened in the tiniest smile “I’ve known my fair number of women and your beauty exceeds every man’s desire.” he tapped her temple with two fingers “And your more brilliant than any man, king, priest or warrior, I’ve ever met.” he patted her blushing cheek sweetly “There’s still work to do on your innocence, though. But we’ll get there.” he smirked smugly “Go on with your story.” “You know why I am distant in front of the nuns, Cenric. If the Abbess find out what is going on between us, she will separate us forever.” she caressed his cheek, and his stubble tickled the palm of her hand “She has the power to do so.” “Then come with me!” he exclaimed fiercely, gripping her hair tightly “We shall escape this miserable place and ride back to Wessex, where we could get married.” he embraced her hips, pulling her body against his “And birth children.” “This miserable place is my house.” she protested lightly, yet she could not hide how torn she was. “Do you love me, Aoife?” he whispered on her lips. She did, how can she not love the man, who held her with passion and promised her the freedom and family she had ever longed? And yet again, how could love be such a selfish feeling, was she in love with him or was she tricking herself into believing she did, only because he was the key to the life she had always aspired? Her response to his offer would change forever her path, and she should have reflected more than she actually did. But she was young and hastier that she would have like to admit. So she kissed him, with such force to make him stumble backwards, and whispered “I will come with you.”

“I’m in love, Sister.” Aeskel looked up from the herbarium “Are you now?” “I am.” “You’re just a child, dear.” “Girls younger than me have already birthed children!” The nun stopped what she was doing and sat on a chair “Come, child.” she patted her knees and Aoife chuckled lightly but followed her silent order and sat on them, careful not to hurt the nun. Years had passed since the last time she had been in that position, yet wrapping her arms around the nun’s shoulders felt natural and familiar. Time was leaving its mark on her face, but, behind the deep wrinkles and the patches on her skin, she still was a beautiful woman, with big doe eyes and a pretty nose. “Listen to me, baby.” the woman said, caressing Aoife’s back and hair “Cenric is a good person, but you’ve known him for less than a butterfly’s life.” Aoife’s looked up to heaven, trying not to cry. She knew she was stubborn, and it was too late for the Sister to try and change her mind, she was to leave with Cenric. And yet, her heart was breaking in a million pieces, because escaping that place also meant leaving behind the only family she had ever had. “I cannot explain my heart, Sister. I wish I knew the words to describe such a deep feeling.” She kissed the nun on her forehead “But I leave this place with a burden on my soul.” Aeskel stiffened “Are you to leave?” The girl smiled and stood up “I will forever cherish our time together, Sister.” and left. She had packed her bags too soon. Cenric had instructed her to meet him at the stables, when the moon was at its highest spot in the sky. At dinner, she had excused herself early, as the emotions swirling in her stomach would not let her eat, and at the last lights of sunset she had already packed her few belongings. Surrounded by the silence of the dark, she had watched her feet scrape the wooden floor and waited, long enough for fear to overcome excitement. Luckily, when she was about to reconsider her choice, the moon touched the top of the dome of the sky, and she left, with her light sack and heavy heart. When she reached the stables, the cold had already pierced through her mantle and into her bones and she gladly welcome the warm of the horse’ breath. “Hello my love.” she greeted Godiva, patting her on the neck, “Are you eager to leave?” The horse neighed and pushed against her hand; Aoife grew fonder of Godiva every day and the animal too seemed to prefer her attention to those of everyone else. And so she waited her lover, patting his horse and listening to her heartbeats and the noises of the animals in the night. At some point, she slipped down to the floor and, when the first lights of the day brighten the stables, she was still laying there. No sign of Cenric. “That’s it? He was just gone?” Aoife smiled sorely “Just like fog. Nobody saw him leave or had the guts to tell me that he did, but he was gone.” she chuckled bitterly “The coward took his time to go to my room and leave his weapons as a gift. How generous of him, right?” “I really don’t know how I should answer to that, Aoife.” “You shall not.” she brought her hands to the fire, grazing the flames with the tips of her fingers. “Did you love him, Aoife?” Finan asked, before realizing that he didn’t want to know the answer and the more she thought about it, the more he wanted to pretend like he had not asked anything. She noticed his discomfort and put a hand on his face; her skin was hot and welcoming, and he relaxed under her touch. “Don’t take my silence as uncertainty, Finan. It’s hard for me to interpret my feelings at times, but I’m sure about this. He was handsome and I desired him, but I know now that love is something deeper, it is longing a body as much as a soul and a heart and a mind. I craved his body and the freedom he promised me, but when I closed my eyes and pictured a family and a happy life, he wasn’t part of it.” she shrugged, unsure “Sometimes I wonder where I would be now if he hadn’t left.” “Well, we’ll never know. And I’m glad about that.” Finan smirked smugly, then the sound of footsteps made him turn around. Two companions were approaching to replace them on guard duty. Finan patted Aoife on her back “Come on. Time to sleep.” “Thank God, I’m freezing.” she stretched her limbs and got closer to her friend, to enjoy the warmth of his body until they reached the tents. She hit his hip with hers “Thank you for listening.” He wrapped her shoulders with his strong arm “I have to say, I preferred you when you were quiet, you blabber wee thing.”

“Oy!”

#finan #fanfiction #finan the agile #fanfic #fanfictions #tlk #tlk finan #The Last Kingdom #the last kingdom finan #the last kingdom fic #finan x oc #finan x reader

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out-of-jams · 5 years ago

Text

Gossip Girl

↠ Gossip Girl ↞ Part of my Bangtan Netflix series!

Every year, you and your seven childhood friends spend the holiday weekend together at Jin’s resort in the Alps. It’s always a good time: drinking, the occasional recreational drug, and the divulging of secrets. It’d been another routine, fun weekend with your friends.

Until one of you leaked everyone’s secrets to the city’s biggest gossip site. Should be easy to find out which one of you did it, right? Who was responsible for dragging everyone’s reputation into the dirt? Too bad no one could remember what had happened that weekend. Or so you all say.

Which one of eight, pretty little socialites spilled their ugly truths? Why, that’s a secret I’ll never tell.

xoxo

Gossip Girl

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Warnings/Genre: Mature themes. Socialite!au. Gossip Girl!au. Explicit language. Fluff. Angst. Backstabbing. Mystery. Drug use. Alcohol use. Light violence. Allusion to criminal activity. Friends to lovers.

Word Count: 18.5k

A/N: Whew! This was a beast for me to write let me tell ya! But it's also my first one shot of this size and caliber. Well, and my first time writing smut too (cringe). Hopefully it turned out well.

All of my works are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission.

| | Masterlist | |

Hey Upper-Eastsiders, Gossip Girl here: your one and only source into the scandalous lives of Manhattan’s elite. And do I have the biggest news ever. One of my many sources sent me something that I think you’d all like to see.

Not even the gentle hum of the elevator could drown out the sound of your rapidly beating heart. While you watched the golden lit numbers above the steel doors count up as you ascended, you couldn’t help the shaking of your hands. You had maybe fifteen more seconds to pull yourself together.

Your mascara coated eyelashes tickled your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut. One, two, three. That was all you gave yourself before you opened your eyes and stood up straight. The silk yellow ribbon tied around your neck threatened to strangle you to death, but you ignored it in favor of the elevator doors opening.

Cigar smoke. That was the first scent to assault your nose.

Fuck.

Jin only smoked cigars when he was overly stressed and on the precipice of a meltdown. He always complained that they damaged his beauty. Like the tobacco would somehow come to life and mar his face. He always was overdramatic.

Now, however, you were almost tempted to steal one for yourself.

The deep vocal fry of Hoseok’s voice met your ears as you stepped out of the steel box. Heels clacking against the glossy wood finish of the penthouse of Jin’s hotel, you rounded the corner of the foyer. The fancy, grey bricked finish of the walls were normally familiar-- comforting. But now it chilled your veins with ice.

Standing at the bar in the living room, Namjoon was pouring himself a generous serving of scotch. His silver colored hair was glossy under the overhead lights. He must have just recently bleached it since it’d been honey blond just a day ago. Namjoon’s back was to you, but at your entrance he turned with a glass of liquor in hand.

Jin paused from where he was pacing a hole into the expensive persian rug he’d purchased last summer abroad. The pink jacket of his suit was discarded on top of the pool table and the long sleeves of his white button-up were rolled to his elbows. A fat, half-smoked cigar dangled from one of his slender hands, the other moving to push his dark hair away from his forehead. Jin’s normally grinning plump lips were pursed in irritation, nostrils flared.

From his seat on the long, orange colored couch, Hoseok halted his movements, his fingers halfway to his lips with an unlit joint. Most of the buttons on his light blue shirt were undone and the muscles of his pectorals were peaked through. And his own blazer was flung over the arm of the couch without care.

“Was it you?”

You didn’t even get to take another step before Jin was all over you. He never yelled at you, at least not in the way that he was now. And you couldn’t help your eyebrows from shooting up into your hairline in disbelief.

“Me? Seriously?” An unamused huff left your lips. “Why the hell would I expose myself?”

“She’s got a point.” Hoseok mumbled around the joint pressed between his heart-shaped lips. His eyes were downcast as he flicked open his 18 carat gold Dupont lighter and held it up to the end. The scent of marijuana mixed with cigar smoke with thick tension.

“So it wasn’t any of us.” Namjoon spoke up, knocking back an unhealthy amount of scotch.

“Who was it then?” Jin turned to Namjoon with fire blazing in his eyes. The ash from his cigar threatened to sprinkle onto the rug, but he didn’t notice. Or care.

“How the hell would I know?”

“Where’s everyone else?” You cut in before the frown lines in Namjoon’s forehead could deepen. WIth a click of your heels, you dropped your birkin purse onto the glass coffee table and sat down next to Hoseok, who offered you the joint and a sad, tiny smile. He should have expected for you to decline. You rarely partook.

The heat of secondhand smoke filled your lungs as Hoseok exhaled and your eyes searched over the stressed men in the room. Jin finally made his way back to the pool table and leaned against it with his forefinger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Not here yet.”

Footsteps sounded from around the corner on the opposite side of the penthouse entrance. Through the smoky haze filling the room you could just make out the figure of a man that you would recognize almost anywhere.

With long, curly black hair and broad shoulders covered by a black cashmere shirt, Jungkook sauntered into the room with his customary swagger. Three silver hoops dangled from each ear and the heels of his designer black boots knocked against the floor as he approached. His doe-like eyes met yours and he faltered in his stride, golden ringed hand pushing his hair from his eyes.

Jungkook’s mouth parted like he had something to say, but stopped himself and settled for just giving you a silent head nod of greeting instead. You simply shot him a quick, closed mouth smile and grabbed the dangling joint from Hoseok’s hand. You didn’t usually participate. Didn’t normally take what Hoseok had to offer. But damn did you need it. Especially with what was to come.

The sound of the elevator dinging was a grateful distraction from the way Jungkook’s thighs strained against the fabric of his black slacks when he took a seat on the other couch. Everyone in the room looked up at the two men who rounded the corner. One short and the other taller: Jimin and Taehyung. Also known as the Dynamic Duo.

Taehyung had always been someone of ethereal beauty. With his blond hair and perfectly sculpted face, he’d graced more covers of magazines than you owned. His tall, slender figure was covered head-to-toe in nothing but Gucci as he crossed the room. The man’s normally bubbly, cute boxy smile was gone and replaced by a serious look that you’d never seen from him in all your years of friendship.

And at his side, Jimin possessed a beauty that rivaled your own. While Taehyung was handsome, Jimin was pretty. His light pink colored hair complimented his dainty features and made him look like a fairy with plush, kissable lips and tan skin. Even though he was the shortest of the men in your group, Jimin made up for it with his ability to catch and bag any woman he wanted. Or man. Whichever he was in the mood for.

“Well?” Taehyung’s deep baritone voice spoke up before anyone else could. His steps halted once he made it to the center of the room, though Jimin headed straight to the bar. “Who’s going to take responsibility for this? Which one of you did it?”

You’d never seen Taehyung so angry. Not even when Jungkook shaved half his head and eyebrows as a prank in middle school. But now, Taehyung was burning with heat, the steam from his anger mixing with the smoke intermingling in the air.

“Calm down.” Jin huffed. His dark eyes burned with authority while he puffed on his cigar, his teeth holding it in place like some kind of socialite mobster.

Though, you supposed, he kind of was in a way. Whether the people in the room agreed or not, Jin was the unspoken leader of Bangtan. Which, coincidentally, was the most powerful group of socialites in the city. Everyone turned to your group when they wanted juicy gossip, or for the next big fashion trend, or for a leg up the ladder of the elite. All eight of your families ran a different part of New York City, and since you were the next heirs, it fell to you to follow in your parent’s footsteps.

“Calm down?” Taehyung clenched his jaw in anger. “How the hell am I supposed to calm down when the whole fucking city knows that I--”

“Look, let’s just wait for everyone to get here before we start in on each other. Cool?” Namjoon, ever the peacemaker, spoke as he poured both himself and Jimin another full glass of scotch.

Namjoon wasn’t the biggest heavyweight when it came to alcohol, so you were a little concerned for his sobriety.

“Speaking of,” Hoseok leaned back against the couch and stretched his arms along the back. The warmth of his skin brushed against the back of your neck and you met his eyes as he turned to you. “Where’s Yoongi?”

All attention was on you, but all you could do was shrug. “No idea. He left early this morning and didn’t tell anyone where he was going.”

Hoseok’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Looked like you weren’t the only one wondering what the hell your brother was up to.

“Did anyone try calling him?” Jimin plopped down next to you on the couch so hard that it sent you bouncing into Hoseok’s side.

The pink haired man ignored your annoyed glare in favor of topping off his glass and setting the bottle of liquor on the coffee table. Jimin’s sweet scented cologne mixed with the aroma of marijiauna in a dangerous cocktail of temptation.

“He said he’d be here.” Jin spared a glance down at the Rolex fixed to his wrist. “Though it better be soon.”

“In a hurry? You have other secrets you need to go sell?” Taehyung buried his hands deep inside the pockets of his Gucci slacks.

He’d yet to take a seat and continued to stand in the middle of the room like the center of attention he loved to be. His blond hair hung across his brow as he sent Jin a dangerous glare.

“Watch it.” With a growl, Jin pushed off the pool table and stalked closer to the blond.

“Why? You gonna send me away too?”

Your fingers found your temples in frustration. Fights would break out occasionally between the eight of you. It was normal. Expected, even. Given how long you’d known each other, the hard-headed determination that you all possessed sometimes got in the way of one another. Backstabbing would happen from time-to-time, sometimes purposeful and others not, but at the end of the day you’d always be there for one another. But selling each other out?

It was a whole different ball game now.

A sigh left your lips as you drowned out the bickering going on back and forth between Taehyung and Jin. Even though the older man liked to play at being a no-nonsense businessman, he was one of the most immature out of all of you.

Looking up from the rug underneath your heels, you just so happened to meet Jungkook’s stare. His lips were pressed together and his doe eyes shone with an emotion you couldn’t discern as he refused to break his gaze. Jungkook’s brows pushed together in an attempt to wordlessly communicate something with you. What that was exactly, you had no idea.

Your eyes dropped back down to the rug with pursed lips and the side of your body that still pressed against Hoseok’s simmered with heat. How did you get yourself into this situation?

Well.

Two Hours Ago

“Time to wake up, Miss Min.”

The sound of metal rings being dragged across a curtain rod wretched you out of peaceful slumber. With your mind hovering halfway between the land of dreams and that of the living, you subconsciously turned away from the sunlight that suddenly beamed across your closed eyelids.

“Not now, Yoomin.” You words were slurred into the cool silk of your pillow. Snaking a hand out of the comforter wrapped around you like a burrito, your fingers searched your forehead blindly. Sometime throughout the night your sleeping mask had gotten pushed up and away from your eyes. “I was having the most wonderful dream. Now let me get back to it.”

Yoomin tutted her tongue somewhere behind you, not that you’d bother to look anyway. The older woman should have been used to your morning routine by now. She’d been working for your family ever since you were a baby and if you were being honest, she’d raised you more than your own mother.

“If you don’t get up now, Miss Min, you won’t get to your first day of the semester on time.” Yoomin scolded softly, voice lilting with her hard Korean accent.

“Five more minutes.”

Instead of granting your wish, Yoomin’s feet padded across the shag carpet in your bedroom and ripped the covers from your body. She ignored your grumbled moans of protest and tossed them somewhere you couldn’t easily reach.

“Breakfast is ready for you downstairs, Miss Min.” Even with the sleep mask covering your eyes, you could picture the woman’s stance: hands on hips and lips pursed. “Get ready and come down.”

“Ugh.” Once again, Yoomin paid no mind to your wordless plea and left the room, closing the door behind her. With a sigh, you tore your mask off and threw it somewhere on the other side of your king size bed.

The royal blue walls of your bedroom greeted you as you squinted against the sunlight. And silk sheets caressed your bare legs while you slowly sat up, fingers running through your tangled hair. The clock on your bedside table read that it was only 9 am and you took a moment to mourn the loss of sleep.

You’d gotten back home sometime late last night/early in the morning. The flight that you’d taken back from the Alps had been delayed due to severe weather conditions. Or whatever. Therefore, you’d only been able to squeeze in a few hours of sleep.

“I really should have taken Jin’s offer and used his private jet.” Your mumbles met no one’s ears but your own as you pulled back the door of your closet. Though, you supposed, it was your fault for wanting to take the latest possible flight back to New York.

Fingers pressing a button on the small remote in your hand blindly, you tilted your head to the side as the designer clothes hung up inside your walk-in closet rotated. Pops of color came and faded out of view while you debated what to wear for the day. Just because you were tired didn’t mean that you had to look it.

Well that, and you would be dragged to hell and back on Gossip Girl, the city’s biggest gossip site, if someone caught you looking less than your best.

Which would happen over your dead, decrypt body.

With a hum, you plucked a black and yellow versace dress from the rack, and grabbed a solid dark green overcoat and matching mustard yellow scarf and birkin bag. You only debated for a moment before grabbing a pair of fishnet tights and wandered into the ensuite bathroom.

The heated tiles were warm and welcoming against your bare feet. And as you showered, you couldn’t help but mentally go through your calendar for the day. It was Monday, which meant that you had a full day of classes and then afterwards you’d stop by Jin’s.

He was the oldest of your group, having four years on you and five on the youngest--Jungkook--so he’d already graduated college. Not that he really needed to, since Jin had been set to take over his father’s five star hotel chain since he was in his final year of high school. He had an older brother, Seokjoong, but he was so wrapped up in the party lifestyle that he’d disappeared into Europe ages ago. It was rumored that he’d cleaned out his bank account and changed his name right before going M.I.A.. No one had heard from him since.

And so, Jin was appointed the next heir of Kim Industries.

Lips pursed in a pout, you swiped on a final layer of lip gloss and fluffed your hair. Your reflection stared back at you in the floor length mirror as you gave yourself one last look over. With skin perfect and makeup flawless, you gave a one shouldered shrug of approval.

The stiletto heels of your mustard colored pumps clacked against the twisting marble steps of your high rise penthouse as you descended. It was quiet. Which wasn’t anything out of the ordinary in the Min household. So your arrival on the first floor went unnoticed by anyone but yourself.

Right at the bottom of the steps, across the row of red marble pillars, was your favorite sitting room. A healthy selection of fruits were spread across the knee-high table in the center of the room. But you ignored it in favor of the steaming china cup filled with coffee. The hot liquid hit the back of your throat as you plopped down onto one of the four plush couches.

Reaching across the table, you grabbed the newest Vogue magazine and flipped through it. “Yoomin!”

Your shout didn’t go unanswered for more than a few ticks of silence.

“Yes, Miss Min?” The older woman appeared from somewhere else in the apartment, most likely the kitchen. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a low sitting french bun. A lacy black and white maid’s headband sat atop her hair that matched with the rest of her outfit. You weren’t really a huge fan of the whole ‘suppressed woman’ look, but Yoomin liked it for some odd reason.

With your lips pressed carefully to the porcelain cup in order to preserve your lipgloss, you eyed the woman over the rim. “Where’s my brother? Isn’t he usually forced out of his hidey-hole he calls a bed by now? Or is he still cooped up in the batcave?”

“Ah,” Yoomin folded her hands daintily in front of herself. “Mr. Min left earlier this morning. A few hours ago to be precise.”

Now that had your eyebrows shooting so far up into your hairline that you were surprised they didn’t take flight. Your brother wasn’t known for mornings. Or waking up any earlier than 2pm. He usually had to be forced out of bed if anyone needed him before that, which was a job that nobody wanted. While your brother was quite the softy deep down beneath his cold exterior, he wouldn’t hesitate to tear anyone apart who dared to rouse him from his precious slumber.

You lowered your teacup to your lap, the contents already drained. “Yoongi, up early? Being productive? Sounds suspicious. Did he leave to go back to Korea already and not tell me?”

“No, Mr. Min is still in the city. As for where he went, he didn’t say.” Yoomin wet her lips almost nervously and you narrowed your eyes at the action.

“Really, now?” The cup met the surface of the table. “He left and didn’t say a word? Just waltzed right out the door? Very unlike him.”

While Yoongi wasn’t very warm and receptive towards strangers, your brother had a soft spot for Yoomin. Her family had worked for yours for generations. In fact, she’d left everything behind in South Korea to join your family and immigrate to America. That’d all been years ago, before you were born.

Yoongi was three years older than you, so he’d been around one-years-old when your mother packed up and moved her fashion company from Seoul to Manhattan. Your father moved to Italy right after their divorce, and while you only got to see him during certain holidays and summer vacations, you were a daddy’s girl through and through.

Yoomin paused for a millisecond before responding. “Yes, Miss Min.”

“Ah!” You pointed an accusatory finger at the woman. “You hesitated! What do you know?”

“Nothing, Miss Min.” Yoomin bowed her head before glancing over her shoulder. “If you’ll please excuse me, your mother asked me to drop a few things off at her office.”

The woman disappeared before you could respond, the heels of her mary jane’s clacking against the floor. The ding of the elevator richoched, steel doors closing and leaving you alone in a place that held too much silence.

You’d barely had any time to ponder on the woman’s strange actions when the chirp of a text message rang from the pocket of your purse. Absentmindedly popping a grape into your mouth, you slid the device out and glanced at the text on the screen.

E-girl blast #830: This just in: looks like if you take the Bang out of Bangtan, you get a very bad girl. Rumor has it that our High Rise Princess isn’t as innocent as she portrays herself to be. Someone should really change her name to High Rise Porn Star.

The blood in your veins froze, lungs stopped inhaling breath, stomach dropped down to the floor. With your mouth hanging open and eyes wide in complete and utter humiliation, the color drained from your face. Because there plastered for the whole world to see on Gossip GIrl’s website was a photograph of yourself. But not just any photo, no.

It was of you, lying beneath the silver silk sheets of a bed. Your hair was flowing free across the pillow, side profile exposed. And you were obviously naked, only the important bits covered by the sheet. Eyes closed in sleep, you were completely oblivious to the person responsible for the photograph.

The room was familiar. You would have recognized where the photo was taken even if it wasn’t. It was in one of the various guest suites at Jin’s lodge in the Alps. Where you’d been less than twenty-four hours ago. Where that exact picture was taken.

But that wasn’t what caused panic to well in your throat.

But who is the one responsible for the deflowering of our pretty little princess? Take a closer look and you tell me.

Right below that was another photograph. A cropped version of the first that showed an arm poking out from underneath the covers. It was zoomed in just enough to be able to make out the lump of another body in bed with you. Luckily, the identity of the man couldn’t be seen as he’d burried himself under the sheets like a gopher.

“Fuck.”

But if you think that’s bad, wait until you hear the rest of what I have to say. Looks like Bangtan aren’t as bulletproof as they want you to think. Let’s move on to our Golden Boy, shall we?

The message continued on, but with the way your vision clouded with panic, you wouldn’t have been able to read it even if you tried. Who the hell sent in that photo to Gossip Girl? And how did they even get the picture in the first place?

Hands shaking, you almost didn’t look when another text message pinged on your phone. But thankfully, it wasn’t from Gossip Girl. With a shaky exhale, you read over the text.

“It wasn’t me, I swear. You know I would never do that to you.”

Your thumbs hovered over the touchscreen keyboard, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you debated messaging back.

“Please believe me.”

The chance to respond disappeared as the phone in your manicured hands rang. You hesitated, not wanting to answer, but knowing you couldn’t ignore it either. Not if you didn’t want him to show up on your doorstep fuming. You blew air out of your mouth nervously and swiped accept.

“He--”

“Family meeting. Ditch your classes and get here now.”

Present Time

“What’s with all the screaming?”

The voice drew you from your thoughts and all sound in the room cut off as heads snapped up in unison.

In the wide entrance of the living room dressed like he was fresh off the runway was your brother. Your heart stopped in your chest and you silently prayed for a bolt of lightning to strike you down. Yoongi was what you would call an overprotective older brother. He’d always held you up on some sort of pedestal with high expectations that you tried so hard to meet. And you really, really didn’t want to see how he would look at you from your new place on the ground.

Yoongi’s cat-like eyes surveyed the room almost lazily, like he couldn’t be bothered to be there. Whether or not he was affected by the leak as much as everyone else was impossible to tell. Or it would have been if you hadn’t been so close.

The story that the aggressively bitten nails on his fingers told of his anxiety at the circumstances. His messily styled hair spoke of how he’d threaded his hands through the strands over and over again in an attempt to gather his bearings. And the rhythmic way he clenched his jaw let you know that he was trying to hold himself together.

You hadn’t seen Yoongi like that in a long time. Not since he broke the news to your mother that he had no desire to take over the company. That she should give it to you, the one who actually wanted it, so he could pursue his dream of becoming a music producer instead. Suffice to say, she hadn’t taken it well.

“Finally!” Jimin raised his glass in an alcoholic salute. The scotch splashed dangerously around the rim and you side-eyed the man. Hopefully he wasn’t already drunk off his ass. “Welcome to the party.”

“All sunshine and rainbows here.” Hoseok leaned over to dig around in the breast pocket of his blazer draped across the couch and pulled out another joint. He waved it towards your brother with a smile that lacked its usual warmth. “You’re gonna need this.”

Your eyes dropped to the coffee table when Yoongi’s stare flickered over to you ever so briefly. A coward you definitely were. If you couldn’t even look your brother in the eyes, how in the hell were you supposed to face the rest of the world?

“Alright, listen up.” Jin, finally free of his finished cigar, captured everyone’s attention like the charismatic man he was. His dark gaze met each and every eye in the room before he stuffed a hand in the pocket of his slacks and continued. “One of us here is a dirty, backstabbing scumbag--”

“How are we even sure it was one of us?” Jungkook’s voice finally filled the room, dark brows scrunched once again. With a flash of pink he wet his lips and he glanced around at everyone present.

“The secrets that were leaked to Gossip Girl,” Namjoon leaned against the back of one of the couches, scotch glass filled once again. At the rate he was drinking, he’d be passed out face down in less than an hour. “Were only told to the people in this room. Well...”

Namjoon paused and his eyes found yours. “All but one, at least. But that’s not important.”

Your cheeks heated under the heavy weight of your childhood friend’s stares.

“Or were you too high off your ass to realize?” Taehyung addressed Jungkook, thankfully tearing the attention from you. He crossed his legs from his new spot leaning against the wall separating the living room from the kitchen. With his head tilted to the side, he analyzed the youngest with a look that threatened retribution. “Maybe it was you.”

“Why would I expose myself?” The tip of Jungkook’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek roughly. “Or any one of you? It was probably you.”

“Me?” A sharp, humourless laugh bubbled past the blond man’s lips. “I could lose my job for this shit. How stupid do you think I am?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow at Taehyung condescendingly.

“Arguing isn’t going to solve anything.” Hoseok’s vocal fry spoke over the impending argument before it could start. His eyes were bloodshot and it made you wonder just how high he was. You couldn’t blame him. Not with what he was probably re-living due to the recent exposure.

“Oh really?” Taehyung turned his anger towards the man sitting at your side, lips pressed into a thin line. “This is all your fucking fault. You’re the one who thought it’d be a good idea to drug us.”

Hoseok flinched so hard that you were surprised no one else could feel it. He didn’t respond, instead choosing to cast his eyes down at the persian rug under his feet. The brunette hair that shifted across his forehead did little to hide his crumpled, guilted expression.

“Fuck off, Taehyung.” Junkook’s nostrils flared as he leaned forward in his seat, elbows braced against his knees like he had to physically hold himself back.

“I mean, Tae kind of has a point, as shitty as it is.” From your left came Jimin’s adolescent-esque deep voice. The pink haired man’s stare was captivated by the way the amber liquid in his glass swirled with a flick of his wrist.

“Pointing fingers right now isn’t going to solve anything.” Jin pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“What do you suggest then, your royal highness?” No one commented on the sarcasm dripping from Taehyung’s tongue.

Instead, Jin stood tall and surveyed the room once again. “We’re going to sit here and go back over every single last detail of what occurred this past weekend. No one’s leaving until we figure out which one of us is the snake.”

He paused, face dark. “And you better pray to God that it isn’t you.”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from glancing at the man sitting near you. His own met yours and reflected the same fear that mixed a dangerous cocktail in the pit of your stomach.

“How will going over details help?” The question came from your brother. He’d been so quiet that you’d momentarily forgotten he was there.

He took a few steps further into the room, shedding his jacket along the way. Yoongi sat down in the empty seat next to Jungkook, who didn’t spare him a second glance.

“We weren’t all together the whole time.” Namjoon half-slurred. The scotch was heavy on his tongue, but you couldn’t really blame him either. “People who went off on their own have the highest probability of being the rat.”

“Okay then, let’s just go through everyone’s texts and emails. See who sent it in to Gossip Girl.” Jungkook leaned back into the couch with a shrug of nonchalance.

“Do you know how easy it is to delete a text or an email?” With a snort, Taehyung spoke slowly, like Jungkook was an invalid.

The youngest clenched his jaw in irritation. “Then we’ll just contact Gossip Girl and ask her.”

“You know she doesn’t reveal her sources.” Jimin murmured into his glass.

“I still don’t see how any of this will help.” Yoongi’s raised eyebrow disappeared underneath his blond bangs. The marijuana smoke from his exhale punctuated his words. “But whatever. The sooner we get this done the sooner I can leave.”

“Somewhere more important to be?” Taehyung crossed his arms across his chest.

Your brother looked unamused. “Unlike you, some of us actually work hard for a living.”

You could see the moment the anger behind Taehyung’s eyes burned deeper with rage. “Modeling is--”

“For fucks sake, shut up! You think you’re the only one with things to do?” Jin rolled his eyes and stepped between the two. Yoongi always knew which buttons to push to send someone right over the edge of self control. The eldest’s withering stare shifted over to a wavering Namjoon. “And stop drinking. You’ll be useless if you’re face down in a toilet.”

Jin’s sharp tone called everyone’s attention yet again as the elevator door dinged. From around the corner emerged one of the hotel’s many staff members. The suit wearing man pushed a large rolling whiteboard into the living room, the type that you usually only saw in crime television shows. The wheels squeaked lightly across the wood floor.

“There is fine.” Jin nodded at the staff member who disappeared with a bow of his head.

The eldest strode up to the board where it was situated in front of the room and picked up a black erase marker. He turned to the group as he uncapped it. “Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?”

Forty Hours Ago

“It’s cold.”

Turning to peer over your shoulder, you sent your brother a yeah, duh look. “We’re in the mountains in mid-December. What did you expect?”

From the roof of the resort, Yoongi stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to the private helicopter pad that Jin had installed years ago for easy travel. His icy blond hair was pushed back from his pale forehead with a black headband and his mouth was pursed in a cute pout. Though he’d deny its existence if you pointed it out.

The daegu accent that he’d picked up from his past two years living in South Korea stretched out his words into one long drag. “I hate the cold.”

It seemed that not even the thick Givenchy coat drowning his smaller frame could keep him warm. And the fuzzy earmuffs nestled in your hair couldn’t protect your ears from his complaints.

“The sooner we get inside, the sooner we can get warm.” Your own gloved fingers wrapped around the padded material on his upper arm. Yoongi followed after you without resistance, though the pout failed to fall from his face.

Behind the two of you, a handful of staff members descended the helicopter pad’s steps with you and your brother’s suitcases in hand. Luckily it wasn’t snowing, but the wind from on top of the resort was harsh and sharp. It turned your nose into a runny, red mess within minutes. Which was why you couldn’t disappear behind the metal roof door soon enough.

A sigh of relief left your lips at the feeling of heated air hitting your chilled skin. Yoongi’s own grunt sounded from behind you while your fingers hurried to unbutton your thermal coat. The heels of your boots clacked against the hotel’s floor as the two of you strut down the hallway.

The resort was completely empty, as it always was that time of the year. Not because there was a lack of patrons, but because Jin would block out the weekend so your group could reunite before tackling the New Year. At the end of the hall, your fingers pressed the button to call the elevator. Yoongi, red cheeked and sniffling, leaned against the wall beside the closed steel doors and sighed.

“Something wrong?” Your voice was quiet in the empty hall. It’d been a long time since you’d seen him. And while you still managed to call each other at least once a week, it felt like there was some sort of rift between you. An invisible wall that you weren’t sure how to breach.

“No.” Yoongi’s cat-like eyes squeezed shut around a yawn. “Just tired.”

The dark bags under his eyes were prominent. He’d taken a flight from Korea all the way to New York, just so he could join you on another flight and helicopter ride to the resort. Two years ago Yoongi had moved out of the country to pursue his dream of becoming a music producer. And he liked to hide his failures from you as much as he could, but the dejected way he’d sounded on the phone the past few months told you everything he couldn’t.

He was struggling to make a name for himself outside of your mother’s. Yoongi was crazy talented, but he’d chosen to forgo the connections and opportunities that your family name could bring him to start from the bottom. He wanted to build himself from the ground up to prove to himself that he could do it. That he didn’t need your mother to succeed.

Though you supposed that you couldn’t blame just him for the feeling of separation between the two of you. The secret that you withheld from him threatened to drown you with guilt.

The elevator ride was quick and silent. Yoongi leaned against the corner of the steel box with his head flopped back against the wall. You stood at the opposite end, the handles of your purse dangling lazily. The air was tense, yet barren.

With a ding, the doors slid open and the marble flooring of the obnoxiously large and flashy lobby greeted you.

Past the rose gold pillars and other elevators was a classy seating area. Leather couches formed around a roaring, lit fireplace. And behind that were floor to ceiling glass windows that overlooked the snow-capped mountains. Standing in front of the fireplace and roasting himself like a marshmallow was a familiar head of pink hair.

Jimin turned at the sound of your footsteps, bare collar bones poking out from the top of his unzippered ski-coat. His hair was dripping with melted snow and the usual golden hue of his skin was heated with pink. Jimin’s plump lips pulled back into a grin, flashing you his crooked front tooth.

“Hey! Look who finally decided to arrive!”

Hoseok’s brown hair poked out from underneath the thick wool blanket thrown over his head from his seat on one of the couches. You could tell that someone had managed to get the scaredy cat out onto the ski slopes by the pale complection of his skin. His snow boots were scattered on the floor around the couch haphazardly while his fluffy-socked feet were tucked underneath his thighs.

“Sorry we’re late.” Yoongi spoke from behind you, though his tone didn’t sound very apologetic.

“You missed the whole first day!” Jimin complained as he approached with his arms outstretched. He enveloped you into his hold first, his damp hair brushing the top of your head and his warm breath ghosting your ear. “It’s been a while, Princess. Glad to see you.”

“You too, Jiminie.”

Your own arms wrapped around the man’s slim shoulders and his sweet smelling cologne cocooned your nose with a scent you could only call Jimin. He gave your waist one last squeeze before parting from you and moving over to your brother. Yoongi wrinkled his nose in disgust, but didn’t move away when Jimin crushed him in a hug of his own.

Jimin hadn’t been lying. It really had been a while since you’d last seen each other. Even though you were the same age, you went to university at Columbia in the city and Jimin spent his days performing on Broadway. You’d only get to see each other when he had a gap between shows, or during the holidays when everyone had breaks in their schedules.

“You look miserable.” You smirked down at Hoseok as you stood in front of him. The older man looked like a pathetic, soggy burrito wrapped in the blanket like that. He pouted up at you with his heart-shaped lips and dimples and warm brown eyes.

“You have no idea.” Hoseok replied with a sniffle of his red-tipped nose. His socked feet hit the floor as he stood, towering over you. “But it’s nice to see you.”

If you had to rate your friends based on hugs, Hoseok would be the winner without a doubt. Despite his cold fingers, the rest of him was warm, familiar, comforting. Not counting your brother (though you weren’t so sure nowadays), Hoseok was the one you were closest to. His bright personality and welcoming persona drew you to him like the ray of sunshine he was nicknamed after.

“I just saw you two days ago, Hobi.” Your humor filled words were muffled into his shoulder.

His shrug pulled you closer. “Two days too long, Princess.”

With a snort and a roll of your eyes, you pushed him away playfully. “You’re lame.”

Hoseok stumbled back into the couch dramatically with a hand pressed against his chest. He shot you a fake wounded look. “Lame? Me? Ouch.”

“You’re both lame.” Jimin butt into the conversation, slithering his way between the two of you to stand back in front of the fireplace. Ignoring the pink haired man, Hoseok darted over to your brother with a squee! His socks skid across the floor as he lifted the blond in the air with a tight hug of greeting.

Yoongi made a noise of annoyance, though the gummy smile that overtook his face told a different story. Hoseok was one of the only people who were capable of bringing out Yoongi’s playful side. While the two of them had their reunion, you busied yourself with plopping down on Hoseok’s abandoned couch.

“Where’s everyone else?” You asked Jimin. The heat of the fireplace brushed the thick padding of your coat and threatened to make you break out into a sweat. With a few practiced movements, you managed to shed your plaid printed coat and scarf, leaving you in a knee-length green sweater dress and black leggings.

“I--”

Like magic, the front doors of the lobby swung open, bringing with it a gust of cold bitter air and the trademarked ha-ha-ha! of Namjoon’s loud laughter. In stumbled the rest of the group: Jin, Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jungkook.

“Is it lunchtime yet?” The question came from Jungkook as he shook out the snow from his hair. A pair of ski-goggles were perched on top of his head, but he ignored it in favor of stripping his hands of gloves. The bottom of his boots tracked in snow like it was his job, but it wasn’t like he noticed.

“We just ate two hours ago!” Jin scolded the younger without heat. His honey colored skin was splotched with shades of red from the cold air. Though somehow it only seemed to accentuate his handsome, angelic features.

“Yeah, but I’m starving.”

“Still a pig, I see.” The group stopped in their tracks at the sound of Yoongi’s voice echoing in the lobby.

With a big, boxy grin, Taehyung yelled in excitement and sprinted across the floor of the lobby, his own blond hair dripping wet. “Yoongi!”

“You’re tracking snow everywhere!” Jin’s shout carried well beyond the lobby.

Present Time

“That was way before we even played that stupid drinking game.” Taehyung grumbled in annoyance. His eyes were glued to the whiteboard as Jin neatly wrote out the list of events. He was having each and every person go over what had happened from their own point of view. “So why do we have to go over all the boring shit?”

Jin turned to glare at the blond over his shoulder. “Because what I said goes.”

Taehyung simply raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Well no one cares about this. Let’s just cut to the interesting bits.”

Before Jin could rip Taehyung to shreds with his heated scowl, Namjoon spoke around the rim of his glass of water. “I hate to agree, but I do.”

“Third.” Jungkook raised his hand in the air like a child in a school classroom.

“Fourth.” You finally spoke up, fingers toying with the cap of your bottle of San Pellegrino.

“Fifth.” Surprisingly, Jimin’s voice came out clear and uninfluenced by half the bottle of liquor he’d downed.

Yoongi just grunted his own agreement, eyes lidded with what looked to be exhaustion, but what you could tell was anxiety.

“Seriously?” Jin waved the marker in his hand around wildly. His eyes landed on Hoseok who just shrugged silently. He hadn’t spoken ever since Taehyung made that comment to him almost an hour ago. “Whatever. Fine. We’ll move on.”

The eldest took a swig out of his glass of scotch and turned back to the board. “We’ll start with the night of the game, then.”

Thirty-Two Hours Ago

“Okay, rules of the game.”

Namjoon stood in the center of the seating area with a shot glass full of tequila raised high above his head to gather attention. The eight of you were scattered around in a circle on the various couches and chaise lounge chairs in the sitting area of Jin’s room. It was long after the group of you hit the mountains for some intense snow tubing. And after you’d all headed back to your rooms to shower and get ready for dinner served by some michelin star chef that Jin staffed.

Now, with bellies full and body’s warm, you all sat around in your most comfortable clothes. Multiple bottles of alcohol were lined up on the bar in Jin’s room, but a handle of tequila was currently serving as centerpiece on the coffee table.

From your spot in the middle of the comfy couch, squished between Taehyung and Jimin, you had your own shot glass in hand. It’d recently been refilled, since the group took one together to start off the night. With fire seeping through your veins, you paid special attention to the words coming from Namjoon’s lips, even though you knew the rules of the game by heart. The crackle of the lit fireplace behind the other couch threatened to drown out his deep, raspy voice.

“The name of the game is Sip, Snitch, Spill, or otherwise known as Triple S. Starting from oldest to youngest,” Namjoon gestured to Jin with his shot glass, ignoring the tequila that spilled onto his fingers. He then turned in a slow circle clockwise. Everyone was sitting in age order.

Namjoon pointed at the empty beer bottle on the table. “The one who’s turn it is has to spin the bottle and whoever it lands on gets to choose the dare that the person who’s turn it is has to complete. If they opt out of completing the dare, then they have to spill a secret that no one here knows. But it can’t be something stupid that no one cares about; only top secret shit here. Each person only gets three seconds to decide which option to take.

“After that, everyone in the room gets the opportunity to snitch. If someone knows a secret about you that no one else does, they can snitch to the group and skip their turn. If you fail to take the dare, you have to take a shot. If someone snitches on you, then you have to take two shots.”

Everyone glanced at each other with mistrustful, playful eyes. While the game was fun, it was costly as well. Because in the world of the elite, nothing was more valuable than a secret.

“Do all here agree to the rules?” Namjoon raised a brow.

“Here, here!” The shouts of seven people filled the room and overpowered the music flowing from the surround sound speakers.

“Then let’s get messy.” A smirk lifted at the corner of Namjoon’s mouth as he finally took his seat on the other side of Hoseok.

“That sounds dirty. Let’s not.” Jin wrinkled his nose with a huff of amusement.

“What I think you meant to say was,” the comment came from Jimin as he unnecessarily knocked back a shot. “‘That sounds dirty. Let’s.’”

“Anyway.” Yoongi rolled his eyes and elbowed Jin in the ribs from his spot next to him on the love seat. “Start.”

The eldest hummed and rubbed at his chin dramatically as he eyed the empty beer bottle. Like he’d actually have a choice on who it landed on. Jin took his time leaning forward and grabbed the body of the bottle with three fingers, ignoring the groans of impatience coming from the circle. Finally, with a flick of his wrist, he spun it.

Around and around it went, the green of the glass glinting under the overhead lights. Everyone was at the edge of their seats, minds calculating what dare they’d make the elder do, as they waited for it to stop.

“Hah!” Hoseok cheered, doing a stupidly cute dance in his seat at the chances of being the first to give a dare. The leather chaise lounge he sat on made a sound of protest at his rapid movements. But he ignored it in favor of pointing a finger at Jin with a flourish. “I dare you to give Yoongi a lap dance!”

Ooooh!’s erupted from around the circle as each and every person screamed in excitement. Jin’s mouth dropped open in disbelief and he gaped at Hoseok with a look that said dude, seriously?

“Woo!” Jimin’s contagious giggle left his lips, eyes squeezed shut in amusement. “What a way to start.”

“I’m not drunk enough for that.” Jin knocked his shot back and grimaced at the taste. “I slept with my personal assistant last month. Then I fired her.”

“Wait, so if you were drunk enough then you’d do it?” Hoseok’s comment was rudely ignored by Jin.

“Linda?” Jungkook gaped at the older man from his place on the other lounge chair across from Hoseok. “Isn’t she in her late fifties?”

With a shrug of indifference, Jin poured himself another shot. “And?”

“Wow.” Taehyung tutted around the laughter that bubbled up his throat. “Did you really have to fire her though? That’s harsh.”

“She started to get feelings for me.” Jin shrugged yet again. “After I specifically told her not to.”

“Poor Linda.” With a shake of your head, you crossed one leg over the other. You could remember briefly meeting the woman once. She’d been kind yet carried a no-nonsense air about her, which made you wonder just how Jin had managed to bed her. Though you supposed he had his ways. He always did.

“Sometimes it’s hard to be this handsome.” The eldest’s unabashed response had everyone cringing as he broke out into his trademark windshield wiper laugh.

“Moving on.” Yoongi reached forward to spin the bottle without waiting for anyone’s attention. Everyone’s eyes were once again glued on the glass as it spun.

“Huh.” Namjoon hummed from his seat on the leather recliner next to Hoseok. The honey haired man steepled his fingers in front of his chin in thought.

“Why did it have to land on him?” Taehyung pouted. “He takes forever to decide.”

“I do not!” Though the seconds that ticked by into minutes told a different story.

It was clear the moment an invisible lightbulb went off over his head. The dimpled man jumped up from his chair and cleared the room to disappear around the corner into the kitchen. Before anyone could question what the hell he was doing, Namjoon reappeared back into the room with a gallon of skim milk and set it on the table in front of Yoongi.

“I dare you to chase every shot you take with a shot of milk.”

“Ew, what?” You stuck your tongue out in absolute disgust. Though it could barely be heard over the fake retching noises coming from the rest of the boys.

“What’s wrong with milk?” Jungkook asked innocently, causing everyone to shoot him a look.

Yoongi just stared at the gallon of milk thoughtfully before shrugging and knocking back his shot of tequila. The room watched on in shock as he then poured milk into the glass and swallowed that as well.

“Yoongi!” Jin pressed himself into the arm of the couch in an attempt to get as far away from your brother as possible. His handsome features were scrunched up in revolution. “You know you didn’t need to do that, right? Since you took the dare?”

With his gaze focused on refilling his shot glass with tequila, Yoongi’s face remained blank. “I’m not a bitch.”

“O-kay.” Hoseok dragged out the word with a grimace and slid forward on his chair to take his turn. “Let’s all just pretend we never saw that. Anyway.”

The game continued with Hoseok and Namjoon both taking dares. Hoseok had to strip down to his underwear and stand outside on the balcony for five whole minutes. He’d returned inside a shivering, pale mess. Jungkook had taken a ridiculous amount of pictures of him literally crying from the cold to hold over his head as blackmail at some later point in time.

Namjoon had been dared by Jin to order a bunch of lingerie to be delivered to his ex-girlfriend. That one had everyone begging him not to do it. Because unfortunately the last girl Namjoon had dated turned out to be a complete psychopath who stalked him for months on end after he dumped her. But the man just shrugged and stated, “I like them crazy.”

When it was Jimin’s turn, the pink haired man licked his lips in anticipation and spun the bottle. It didn’t turn very fast, just barely cleared two loops around the group before it pointed straight at you.

Jimin turned to you with a smile on his pretty lips. “Give me your best shot, Princess.”

Your own eyes narrowed at the challenge in his and you pursed your lips in thought. No way would you let him get off easily, especially not with the way he was looking at you. So with a smirk quirking your mouth, you spoke, “I dare you to call up your job right now and tell them you quit.”

Another round ooh!’s came from the group at your words and Jimin gaped at you in open mouthed disbelief. “Seriously?”

You gave Jimin a saccharine smile. Normally, you wouldn’t be so vindictive against him, but you were never one to turn down a challenge.

He knocked back his shot and slammed the glass down on the table with a glare directed at you. With a smack of his lips, Jimin begrudgingly addressed the group. “You know how I was able to join my broadway show after open auditions closed last year?”

Jimin’s eyes were glued to the table as everyone murmured their agreement. He was the only one out of your group who didn’t come from a successful family. Instead, he’d had to build both himself and his reputation from the ground up. It’d been hard on him, had taken a lot from him. But now, he starred in one of the most successful, famous broadway shows.

The silver rings on Jimin’s hand caught the light as he thumbed his plump bottom lip. His words came out hesitant, confession caught in his throat. “Yeah, well, I only got the spot because I slept with the director.”

“But you’re so talented!” Now you were the one staring in open mouthed shock. Never would you have expected that to come out of his mouth.

Jimin brushed off your comment and filled his shot glass once again. His words were murmured into the table. “They didn’t think so.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone took time to absorb the information. You weren’t kidding when you’d said that he was talented. You’d never seen someone who could dance as gracefully as he could or who could sing with the soft, unique voice that only Jimin possessed.

“Anyway,” he elbowed you gently and nodded at the bottle. “Your turn.”

The glass was cool under your fingers. You watched intently as around and around and around it went. There weren’t a lot of secrets that you had to hide from your group of friends. Usually, you were pretty transparent. Not only that, but you were the only one in Bangtan made a conscious effort to stay out of drama or scandals. Hence the nickname: High Rise Princess.

“Oh, no.” You groaned, throwing your head back against the couch. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that you had the worst luck ever. God, you hated that game.

“Well, well, well. How the turn tables.” Jimin threw an arm around your neck teasingly and pulled you into his side. His fingers rubbed at his chin menacingly as he stared at you out of the corner of his eye. The man didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “Let’s see.”

“This’ll be good.” Taehyung relaxed back against the arm of the couch with a smirk of his own.

The second you saw Jimin’s eyes flicker to the blond and the cheshire-cat-esque smile on his face widen, you knew you were in trouble. He gave your shoulder a squeeze before letting go and pushing you over to Taehyung. “Okay, Princess. For your dare, you have to make out with Taehyung for a minimum of thirty seconds.”

The room exploded and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You were known for being “pure” or whatever bull they labeled you as and the fact that you’d never dated any of them, it was kind of a big deal.

“Jimin, what the fuck?” All attention went to Yoongi, who was staring Jimin down with a harsh scowl. He really was overprotective of you when it came to pretty much anything. And that included any and all men.

Jimin just shrugged, but didn’t appear very apologetic. “Sorry, man. But she doesn’t have to do it.”

“I’m not a bitch.” You echoed your brother’s words from earlier before turning to Taehyung. His eyebrows were raised into his hairline and his mouth was agape, but the look in his eyes shone with sudden interest. So you couldn’t help tilting your head to the side and challenging, “unless you are.”

Hoseok’s loud screech and Jin’s obnoxious windshield wiper laugh overpowered everyone else’s exclaims of surprised disbelief. The fact that you weren’t even drunk meant that you couldn’t blame your actions on the alcohol. If you were being honest, you were just tired of everyone looking at you as some kind of sexual pariah. Like you were incapable of being intimate with another person. Maybe it was because you’d all grown up together that they saw you that way, you weren’t sure. But you hated it.

It was suffocating to have to force yourself to be someone that you weren’t.

Plus, it didn’t hurt that Taehyung was one of the most beautiful men that you’d ever laid your eyes on.

“I don’t want to see this. I’m going to the bathroom” Your brother rose from his seat with one last glare shot at both Jimin and Taehyung. “Don’t make me kick your ass.”

The atmosphere after Yoongi disappeared was the kind of tension that you only felt when watching a car crash. Like you just couldn’t look away. Hoseok was on the edge of his seat with his jaw hanging open, Jimin was frozen in a state of excited incredulity, across from you Jin covered his eyes with his hands while he continued to laugh, and Namjoon--

“Come here, Princess.” Taehyung scooted closer to you on the couch and gently placed his hands on either of your cheeks.

His warmth seeped into you from his palms and the husky scent of his Dior cologne washed over you. Taehyung was a touchy person by nature, so it wasn’t like he hadn’t cuddled up to you on multiple occasions. But this time was different. Be it from the way his eyes were half-lidded with an emotion you’d never seen him direct at you, or for the way his voice dipped a few octaves deeper from his usual baritone.

“You can still back out.” The words were spoken softly, only for your ears. But his eyes flickered down to your lips when you murmured,

“Why? You scared?”

Without acknowledging Hoseok’s squawk, Taehyung huffed. He didn’t even give you a moment to prepare yourself before he closed the distance and his mouth was on yours.

His lips were both warm and soft. And despite the firm way his hands held you in place, Taehyung’s kiss was gentle. Just the right amount of pressure that bordered on tender and not enough. So when you pressed your lips harder to his to deepen the kiss, you felt the smirk that twitched at the corner of his mouth as he obliged.

The heat of a stare burned into the side of your face, but you brushed it off in favor of parting your mouth at Taehyung’s questioning lick to your bottom lip. His tongue met yours in a dance and you could taste the remnants of tequila on his breath as his fingers tangled in your hair. Your own hands remained still in your lap, but you couldn’t help but press closer at his urging.

“And that’s time!” Jimin’s voice sounded from somewhere behind you. “Thirty seconds are up!”

Whether he didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him, Taehyung crushed his lips harder to yours in a breath stealing kiss.

“Or not.”

With one last lingering press of his mouth, Taehyung caught your bottom lip and dragged it slowly between his teeth as he pulled away. His fingers left your hair and he sent you a flirtatious wink before casually leaning back to his side of the couch, taking his warmth with him. All while dragging his tongue across his kiss bruised lips.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t at least a little bit turned on. It was no wonder he had both men and women falling at his feet left and right.

“That was hot, not gonna lie.” Hoseok whistled, falling back against his chair. “But weird at the same time.”

“Agreed.” Nodded Namjoon slowly. The expression on his face was a mixed bag, stuck somewhere between horror and something else.

“It was okay.” You shrugged nonchalantly, facing back towards the coffee table once more. Out of the corner of your eye Taehyung snapped his head towards you so fast that you were briefly concerned for the muscles in his neck.

“Oka-”

“It’s your turn.” The cheeky smile you sent Taehyung’s way coaxed a hard laugh out of Jimin.

The petite man threw an arm over your shoulders once more and pulled you into his side. Though with the way he could barely hold himself up with his body shaking laughter, it was more like he was leaning on you than the other way around. “A few months apart and it’s like you’re a whole new person. Who are you, Princess?”

The game continued once your brother returned from the bathroom. He’d entered the room and eyed Taehyung with a look that would have any lesser man trembling in his seat. But Taehyung had just given him his cute, boxy smile and took his spin.

Around and around the bottle spun as everyone took their turn. But it was only a matter of time before Jin finally snapped.

“Alright, this is boring! Everyone’s just picking dare and I want some juicy gossip.” His head fell back against the couch with a dramatic sigh. And he took a moment to bask in the attention of everyone in the room before he turned his head, rosy cheek pressed against the couch to address Hoseok. “Go make us some stronger drinks or something. I’m barely buzzed.”

Hoseok simply raised an eyebrow, arm still extended to take his turn.

“Yeah, Hoseokie.” Jungkook mocked in a high pitched voice, lips pursed in a dramatic air kiss. “Go make us drinks.”

“Yah, brat!” Said man kicked a foot half heartedly at Jungkook, not that it would have dealt any damage anyway seeing how far apart they were sitting. “Maybe if you ask nicely I will.”

“Nevermind.” With a shrug, Jungkook leaned back in his seat, “I don’t want it that badly.”

“Please, Hobi. I’ll take literally anything other than tequila.” Namjoon sent his full shot glass a dirty look. He always had preferred dark liquor.

“Well since one of you knows how to use their manners.” That was it took to have Hoseok hopping out of his chair and sauntering around the corner to the kitchen with a shout over his shoulder. “No one play without me!”

“Make something strong!” Jin called after him, standing up himself. Brushing off everyone’s eyes on him, he straightened his shirt and stepped away from the couch. “Bathroom. Be right back.”

And then he made himself scarce as well.

“Well since everyone’s taking a break.” Jimin was staring down at the screen of his phone. You could just barely see a name flash across the screen as it vibrated in his hand. Standing, he gestured blindly to the front door. “I gotta take this.”

“Which booty call is it?” Namjoon wiggled his eyebrows at the petite man suggestively right before he exited the room. “Not that it’ll do any good out here. Unless they can teleport.”

“That would be a cool superpower.” The comment came from Jungkook, who was busying himself by playing some game on his phone. No one paid attention to the sound of the front door closing.

“Right?”

“You guys are lame.” Yoongi absentmindedly toyed with the milk jug on the floor with his foot, his attention taken up by whatever was on his phone.

He either felt your stare or you were just that predictable, because Yoongi looked up to scrutinize you. His eyes narrowed and flashed over to Taehyung and back to you with an eyebrow raised. A silent, questioning what’s was that?

You only shook your head with a roll of your eyes and the protective anger simmering behind your brother’s eyes dimmed at your wordless, nothing, relax. It was a little relieving that even with the distance between the both of you, the ability to read each other’s mind was still there. And must have felt similar if the small smile at the corner of his mouth was any indication.

“Alright!” Hoseok’s loud voice filtered into the room as he rounded the corner with a tray held between both hands. Eight glasses filled with a yellow, bubbling liquid were balanced on top and you took a moment to silently pray for luck.There was a reason why Hoseok was always chosen to make drinks. And you wouldn’t make it out alive if you didn’t pace yourself.

“Wow, perfect timing.” From around the corner leading to the hallway emerged Jin. He eyed the suspicious looking drinks as he reclaimed his seat. “What’s in it?”

With a noise to seal everyone’s fate, the tray was placed on the table. Both Yoongi and Jungkook looked up from their phones and Namjoon paused to eye the glasses. Hoseok just shrugged. “No idea. There’s like--”

He halted his words and you could literally see the way mentally made calculations in his head. “Like five different types of alcohol in those? I think.”

“Better than tequila at least.” Namjoon shrugged and grabbed a glass for himself. He hesitated for a moment to sniff at the contents, like that would somehow help him discern what it was he was about to drink. And finally, he shrugged and took a tiny sip.

Everyone’s attention was on him as he tongued his lips and hummed. “Not bad. Kinda sweet actually.”

Namjoon’s conscensious was apparently all anyone else needed because you all reached forward to grab your own. But you couldn’t help but suspiciously eye the liquid in your cup first.

“Where’s Jimin?” Jin asked around a big swallow and an obnoxious smack of his lips.

“Taking a phone call.” Taehyung walked around Hoseok, who was still standing in front of the table, and reached for a dangerous cocktail. “He’ll probably be a while.”

“Should we wait then?” You asked.

“It wouldn’t be as fun without him.” Hoseok winked down at you. “Who knows what other secrets he has.”

“Messy.” Shaking his head, Jin snorted into his glass.

“Like you’re one to talk.” Jungkook stated nonchalantely, though the shit eating smirk on his lips told another story.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

You tuned out the bickering between the eldest and the youngest, especially when Taehyung joined in. Somehow they always managed to bring out the immature side of Jin, not that the mature side of the man appeared that often either. The alcohol was sweet, yet tangy on your tongue with an addictive aftertaste that chased away the bitter remnants of tequila. It was easy to drink more than intended with how difficult it was to percieve the alcohol content.

“Hey, Hoseok.” Namjoon’s raspy voice was almost drowned out by the yelling between the others. Both Hoseok and yourself looked over to the dimpled man, only to see him completely enraptured by the glass in his hands. Namjoon’s voice came out unsure, confused. “What did you put in this?”

“What?” Perplexed, Hoseok tilted his head. “I told you, like five--”

Namjoon cut him off with a small shake of his own head. “No. What did you put in this?”

“I don’t--”

“Did you drop acid in these?” Namjoon’s question caught the curiosity of the others in the room. Even Yoongi looked up from whatever he was reading on his phone.

Hoseok sent his drink a puzzled look. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” Mouth agape, you stared up at the man with a look of disbelief. “How do you not know?”

By the wide-eyed look he shot your way, you could already garner a guess. And apparently so could everyone else.

“Have you been tripping this whole time?” Taehyung collapsed back onto his end of the couch laughing so hard that you were a little concerned for the liquid splashing at the rim of his cup.

“Uh.” How you all missed his dialated pupils were was incredible. Hoseok paused for a moment before whirling around to face Namjoon. “Wait, how would you even be feeling it this quick if I had? It’s been like ten minutes, it shouldn’t have hit if I did.”

“Yeah?” Namjoon was still staring incredulously at the almost empty glass clutched in his hand. “Then why is my cup looking at me right now?”

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit is right!” The sudden panic that welled up in your chest surged to your throat as you waved your almost empty cup at Hoseok. “I just drank like all of this! What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Never in your life had you ever taken fucking acid. Maybe some marijuana here or there, but that was about the extent of your recreational drug experience. God, what the hell had you gotten yourself into?

“Not freak out, that’s for sure.” Taehyung wet his lips and raised his glass to you in a salute before knocking it back. His adam’s apple bobbed as he chugged the whole glass of alcohol in one go.

“Maybe you should go lay down.” From across the room your brother gave you a concerned once over. He was extremely calm given the circumstances. Then again he used to hang out with Hoseok the most so he’d probably actually partaken before. “Try and sleep it off before it hits.”

Slowly, you nodded in agreement, already rising from the couch. You were pretty positive that you were the only person in the room who hadn’t taken the drug. And the thought of experiencing LSD was enough to tighten your chest with panic. Maybe it would be best if you tried to sleep before it properly hit your system.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“Wait.” Hoseok stumbled over to you and grabbed at your arm. Before you could process what was happening, he slipped a pen out of the pocket of his pants and glanced over at the clock hanging on the wall. The scratching of the pen against your skin caught your attention as Hoseok wrote out the time from ten minutes ago.

“What’s this for?”

“That’s the time you drank it. It’ll be important later just in case you don’t know when or where you are.” Ignoring your I’m sorry, what?, Hoseok looked up at you from underneath his lashes. “Since this is your first time, I need you to pay strict attention to what I’m about to say, Princess. Got it?”

All you could do was nod your head, mind too overrun by alarm. Hoseok paused for a moment to convey the importance of what he was about to say next.

“Three rules for being on acid. One, and this doesn’t really apply to this situation, but it’s important: cars are real, okay? Two: anything you want to try, do it from the ground first. And three: don’t trust everything you see.”

“Very imformative.” Came Namjoon’s sarcastic reply. “Would have been helpful ten minutes ago.”

Hoseok paid no heed to the comment, too busy looking you over with concern. “Do you want me to walk you to your room?”

How he was completely functional was mind-blowing to you. But then again, with the amount of pressure his parents put on him to take over a company that he didn’t want, you weren’t surprised by the frequency of how much he tried to make himself forget.

“I think I’ll be okay.” You reassured both Hoseok and the rest of the room with a small smile. Gratefully, no one commented on how forced it was.

The only thing you wanted to do was collapse in bed before it was too late. Besides, it wasn’t like you weren’t tired anyway. It’d been a long day.

“If you’re sure.” Hoseok flashed his dimples and the rest of the room bid you goodnight as you slipped from the room.

Present Time

“Why are you all staring at me?” You asked incredulously.

“Because you left early.” The capped end of the marker tapped against Jin’s cheek from where he stood in front of the almost filled whiteboard.

“And?”

“And.” Jin stared at you over the rim of his glass of scotch. “That makes you a suspect.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Gaping, you surveyed the rest of the room to find them all looking at you with various degrees of doubt.

From your side piped up Hoseok for the first time in hours and the hoarsness of his voice showed it. “Wait, wait, wait. She wasn’t the only one who left. Besides, wouldn’t that not make her a suspect since she wasn’t even there when we all told each other our secrets?”

His statement gave Jin pause.

Yoongi scrunched his eyebrows together in bewilderment at the statement. “Who else left?”

A moment of silence.

A quick intake of breath.

Hoseok turning to stare at you with wide eyes that knew too much. And it seemed like he wasn’t the only quick witted one in the room because Namjoon’s jaw dropped open in shock.

“I’m confused.” Jin pursed his lips in annoyance at the scene. “Explain.”

Hoseok just shook his head, scandalized. And upon seeing how Hoseok failed to explain, Namjoon took it upon himself to do the honors, ignoring your pleading eyes with an apologetic expression. The fucking traitor.

He cleared his throat, “One person left the room after her. Remember?”

Said person froze, eyes wide and breath stalling in his throat as all attention switched to him.

“Oh yeah.” Nodding, Jin turned his analysing gaze to the person in question. “Where did you go?”

You could literally see the moment that the cogs in your brother’s brain halted and the split second the realization slowly dawned on his face. The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension as your brother stood from the couch with absolute rage clouding his face. Fists clenched at his sides like he had to physically stop himself from exploding, Yoongi’s words were bitten out between his teeth.

“You fucked my sister?”

“I-” Jungkook sprang up from the couch, hands raised in surrender and doe eyes blown wide. The rest of the room was too busy staring on in shock (Taehyung), or in messy interest (Jimin), or open mouthed surprise (Jin) to step inbetween Jungkook and your brother. “It’s not what you think.”

Yoongi was seething, tonguing his cheek in a way that warned how close he was to snapping. “Not what I think.”

Jungkook nodded his head vigorously, shooting you a look begging for an assist. But you didn’t know what to say to stop it. And upon noticing your hesistation, Jungkook turned back to your brother and uttered a sentence that sealed his fate in the worst way possible.

“We’re not even dating!”

While Jungkook had enough muscle and strength to disuede a majority of people from trying to pick a fight with him, Yoongi was small and lithe, but strong in a way that most people wouldn’t expect. Your brother had been in many fights throughout the years; he used to hang around the wrong crowd growing up. He was rarely angry, his patience was almost never ending. But if you managed to push him over that line, well, everyone knew not to get on Yoongi’s bad side.

His face clouded, feet carrying him into Jungkook’s personal space. Yoongi’s voice was dangerous and words slow. “So you’re just using my sister for sex?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened even further with panic, but he didn’t step down, didn’t move out of your brother’s range. “That’s not--that’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah? Then what did you mean?” Even you could tell that the question was rhetorical.

The tenstion of an impending fight finally spurred you to stand up and stumble a few steps closer to the pair, voice pleading. “Yoongi.”

He turned to glance at you from over his shoulder with furious cat-like eyes and hackles bristled. His stare froze you in your tracks, but you continued on regardless. “It’s fine.”

“Fine.” Yoongi’s tone was blank before he rounded on you. “How long?”

There was nothing that would ever make you feel as small as the way he was looking at you right then. Like he didn’t know who you were, like he was staring into the face of a stranger. Your voice was tiny. “A few months.”

Your brother nodded his head, lips tight. “So you’ve been going behind my back, lying to me, for months?”

He rounded back on Jungkook. “You’ve been fucking my sister for months?”

Again, the question was rhetorical, but apparently Jungkook missed the way you quickly shook your head at him to keep his mouth shut. “I--yes?”

You knew it was coming and yet you we still taken by surprise.

A crack rang heavy in the air as Yoongi’s fist impacted Jungkook’s face. He stumbled back with a hand flying to grasp at the pain you knew was radiating through his jaw. But Jungkook didn’t hit back, didn’t give your brother the fight that he was looking for. He just stood there, palm pressed to his face and eyes rooted to the floor. You couldn’t make out his expression by the way his long hair fell in front of his face like a curtain.

Yoongi, however, looked far from satisfied.

By the was his back tensed, you knew that he was going to go for seconds, and probably thirds, maybe even fourths. Until he felt like Jungkook had paid enough retribution for him to stop. And that, it seemed, was where Jin drew the line.

“Yoongi.” Jin’s voice was almost hesitant. Even the elder man knew that your brother was on a very short fuse and didn’t want to be on the recieving end of the backlash.

Yoongi’s attention flickered over to Jin for a split second and that was all it took for the elder man to step forward. “Kick his ass later, I don’t care. But now isn’t the time; we have bigger fish to fry.”

There was a long, tense filled silence where no one dared to move. Jin just stood his ground, gaze holding your brother’s and refusing to back down. And whether or not that's what broke the fight apart, you weren’t sure. But with one last hostile glare at Jungkook, Yoongi turned on his heel and brushed past you without a second glance.

“Do what the fuck you want.”

The balcony door slammed shut so hard you flinched.

“That was..,” Taehyung let out a low whistle, shaking his head at Jungkook first and then you. With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he smirked. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Princess. Congrats on finally losing your innocence.”

You weren’t one to pick a fight with anybody, didn’t like confrontation. But all of the stress made you snap. “Shut your fucking mouth, Taehyung.”

From the corner of your eye, Jimin sipped at his scotch with eyes flitting back and forth between you and the blond to watch the drama unfold. There was a pause in the air before Namjoon filled it. “Let’s just finish what we came here to do.”

His words went in one ear and out the other, your attention focused more on the figure of your brother slumped over the balcony railing. Your feet carried you across the room before you could second guess yourself. The handle of the sliding door was cold against your palm as you slid it open. And the sudden breeze that hit your face was biting.

Cigarette smoke.

Yoongi hadn’t smoked cigarettes since he was in highschool. You didn’t even know where he got one. Guilt sank heavily in your stomach at being the catalyst to the habit he’d spent so long trying to kick.

Not even the noise of city life could cover the sound of your heart beating a tattoo into your rib cage. Yoongi didn’t move, didn’t even turn to look at you when you stood next to him. He just continued to stare down at the people below who covered the streets like ants. A lit cigarette dangled in his hand over the railing, white smoke disappearing into the sky. You let the quiet stretch for a few moments longer in order to gauge his anger. And when he failed to acknowledge your presense, you spoke.

“I wanted to tell you.” The words that left your lips were carried by the wind, but you knew he heard them anyway by the way his jaw clenched in your periphrial. A deep breath, and then, “But I was afraid.”

Whatever he thought you were going to say must not have been that because he angled his head to look at you. But you kept your vision trained on the cars passing far below. The silence he responded with urged you to continue.

“I didn’t want you to look at me the way you are now.”

Yoongi rubbed the end of his cigarette against the railing to extinguish it. And finally, his deep voice broke the bubble that encased the two of you. “You thought I’d be disappointed.”

Leave it to him to be able to dig right to the root of your problems with barely any information. He was called a genuis for a reason, you supposed.

A huff of dry laughter passed your lips. “Which you are.”

“Only because you hid it from me.”

His response had you turning to look over at him. Yoongi was staring at a spot on the building across from you without seeing it, jaw sharp and cheeks already turning red in the winter air. It was a testiment to his anger that he was even enduring it in the first place.

“You really think I’d be disappointed in you for being an adult? You must not know me as well as I thought then.”

He turned, brown eyes meeting your own like a mirror. People always used to say that the two of you looked alike, could pass as twins even. “I don’t want to hear the details of your...business, but I thought you’d at least trust me enough to confide in me that you’re in love with him.”

Yoongi’s words took you aback and you gaped at him in shock. “How did you know?”

He simply raised an eyebrow with a silent really? “It’s pretty obvious.”

“Seriously?” You spluttered, spit catching in your throat. Had you really been that obvious? Talk about embarassing.

He sighed. “I think the only person who hasn’t realized is him.”

Groaning, you buried your face in your hands. “Do you think anyone would notice if I just jumped over the railing right now?”

Yoongi hummed, not even trying to hide his amusement. “I don’t think Jin would want to have to fill out that kind of paperwork.”

“He’ll live. Might even thank me for the free publicity.”

A snort left your brother before he sobered and leaned his elbows on the railing. A comforting pause and then, “I got signed to a record label.”

“What?” You twisted to the side to stare him down as he nervously ran a hand through his blond hair. “As a producer?”

Yoongi’s eyes met your again, most likely trying to gauge your reaction to what he was going to say next. Whatever he found must have satisfied him. “As an artist.”

“Yoongi.”

He broke eye contact to once again stare down at the tiny dots below. “That’s where I was this morning. I was signing my contract.”

Your hands came up to grasp onto the arm closest to you and you squeezed to gain his attention. “That’s so great, Yoongi! I know you used to rap back in the day, but I didn’t know you still did. I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be so amazing!”

A gummy smile finally found its way onto his face as he looked at you with masked excitement. “Yeah?”

“Seriously, Yoongs.” You nodded your head with rapid quickness, a grin revealing your teeth. “I want the first copy of your album. And it better be signed too.”

Yoongi hissed through his teeth. “You’ll have to pay a premium for that, sorry.”

Your hand slapped the covered meat of his arm and your laughter that intermingled with his broke through the invisible wall between you. “Aish. Cheapskate.”

His lips parted, most likely to shoot off a sarcastic response, but the sliding of the balcony door interrupted. Both of you turned to look over at Namjoon standing in the entryway. His face was taut with an emotion you couldn’t discern, but with the way raised voices spilled from the open door answered your unasked question. You exchanged glances with Yoongi before trailing after him as he brushed past Namjoon.

Everyone was standing now, attention trained on the way Taehyung once again stood in the center of the room. He glanced up from the phone in his hand at the entrance of you and Yoongi, his other stuffed deep in the pocket of his slacks. The air he carried was haughty, knowing. And he greeted you with a raise of his brows.

“Well, now that we’re all present, let’s get this out of the way, shall we?”

“What’s going on?” Your feet came to a halt as you slid in to stand next to Hoseok and your brother. The former gave you a tiny smile at seeing the tenstion between you and Yoongi gone.

“What’s going on,” Taehyung waved his phone in the air like a token. “Is that while you two were off settling your differences, I got a text.”

“Congratulations.” Yoongi deadpanned, but the model ignored him in favor of continuing.

“I think you’ll be interested in what I have to say.” Taehyung shrugged and barreled on without waiting for a response. “Because you see, while you all were too busy playing Clue, I got into contact with my cousin earlier this morning. You know, the one who works for my mother’s magazine company?

“Anyway, as you all probably aren’t aware of, my cousin used to do some side work with the government in cybersecurity. And wouldn’t you know, Gossip Girl isn’t as untouchable as she thinks.”

“Oh, shit.” Namjoon’s eyes widened as he came to the same conclusion that was slowly starting to dawn on everyone else.

“Oh shit is right.” Taehyung nodded. “My cousin found a backdoor past her firewall and straight into the heart of her most coveted possession.”

The man paused, like a movie villian right before a grand reveal. “Her sources.”

“And?” Jin tossed the dry eraser he still held in his hand onto the coffee table imaptiently.

“And wouldn’t you know,” once again, Taehyung waved his phone back and forth in the air like the cat that caught the canary. “At exactly 3:32 this morning, she got an email from a recipient by the name of...”

“I swear to god, stop playing games Taehyung.” Yoongi huffed out in annoyance at the dramatics the other man was playing at.

“So impatient.” Taehyung tutted, arrogant stare meeting everyone else’s before he finally opened his mouth and dropped the bombshell.

“Park Jimin.”

Said man stared open mouthed at the man in shock, unable to formulate a proper response over all the shouts of anger. Jimin threw his hands up in surrender and backed up until his calves hit the side of the couch. “What? No--I--it wasn’t me, I swear!”

“Yeah?” Taehyung stepped into his personal space and shoved his phone under his nose. “Then explain the evidence.”

“I--”

“You were the only one who wasn’t drugged that night.” The blond continued, bulldozing over Jimin’s high-pitched voice. “You were the only one sober who was present when the rest of us confided our private affairs. And--”

His finger jab into the smaller man’s chest. “You’re the only one who had something to gain from ratting us out.”

“Gain what, exactly?” Jin’s voice was steel, broad shoulders straightened with a quiet rage that honestly scared you.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Taehyung glanced at Jin from over his shoulder before digging his finger into Jimin’s chest harder. “He was offered a large sum of money to take us all down.”

“By who?” This time the question came from Namjoon, who’s expression was clouded over with a mix of betrayal and the want for retribution. He had the most to lose out of all of you from the leak afterall.

“That’s a good question.” The model rounded back on a wide-eyed Jimin. “Who indeed.”

“Look,” Jimin liked his lips anxiously under the weight of everyone’s simmering fury. “They offered, but I refused--”

“Who?” Jin stalked over to the petite man, the air around him dangerous.

“I-I don’t know.” Jimin stammered. “They were anonymous. But I swear I didn’t--”

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before Jin fisted the front of his shirt and shook him hard. You could hear his teeth rattle from feet away. “You little fucking rat.

“I want you to listen, and listen very carefully.” The elder man’s voice was sharp, syllables carefully annunciated. And with a flex of the muscles in his bicep he threw Jimin from his grip so hard that the smaller man stumbled to the floor. “You have twenty-four hours to get the fuck out of my city before I do something that I’ll regret.”

From his place sprawled out on the floor, Jimin’s pleas to be heard went ignored.

“And if I ever catch wind of you stepping even a toe over the state line, it’s over for you.” Everyone in the room knew that Jin’s threat wasn’t to be taken lightly; he’d follow through on his word. “Now get the fuck out of my hotel and pray that I never see your face again.”

Jimin’s eyes quickly flitting back and forth between the seven of you as if trying to find someone to take up for him, to plead his case. And when his gaze met yours, you broke eye contact, choosing to stare at the rug under your feet instead. The feeling that churned your gut was heavy as your heart slowly hardened towards a man who you couldn’t even look at anymore. Who you were once able to call a best friend.

The heels of Jimin’s shoes scuffed the floor as he slowly stood, lips parting to give one final parting blow. “You really shouldn’t trust everything you hear.”

And then he was gone.

Betrayal tested bitter on your tongue.

Six Hours Later

The sound of the elevator door opening halted you in your tracks with one foot on the staircase leading up. Out from within the confines of the steel box stepped a familiar head of dark hair and your heart stopped in your chest before picking up speed.

“What are you doing here?” Your lips parted at the object held tight in one of his hands, the pop of color catching your eye. “And with those.”

“I--” Jungkook licked his lips and threaded his free hand through his locks. The nervous look on his face was something you hadn’t seen aimed at you before and it caused a feeling you didn’t want to acknowledge to well up in your chest.

He stepped further into your apartment, his all black outfit standing out against the bright interior. You hadn’t seen him since everyone left Jin’s earlier. He’d departed so fast that you hadn’t been able to apologize for the way Yoongi punched him. And now there he was, fidgeting in the middle of your foyer.

“I wanted to talk.” Jungkook’s voice caressed your ears.

“Okay.” You nodded slowly, stepping down from the stairs and gesturing to the sitting room across from you. He trailed behind as you entered and sat down on one of the couches. But instead of sitting somewhere else, he plopped down right next to you. The paper in his ringed hand crinkled around the two dozen roses it contained.

Jungkook hesitated for a moment before shyly extending the bouquet out for you to take. Your fingers brused against his as you slowly accepted them from his grasp. “I got these for you.”

You completely and utterly failed at hiding your smile and chose to bury your nose into the soft petals to distract yourself from the anxious way he played with his hands. Sweet, they smelled sweet. “What’s the occasion?”

Never had he ever done something like that before. Jungkook and romance wasn’t something that went together in your expierience. And there it was again, that feeling that you chose not to name.

“Y/N.”

The seriousness in his voice had your head jerking upwards. He was staring down, fiddling with one of the rings on his fingers. “I think we should stop.”

Your stomach dropped to the floor and your mouth went numb around the response you forced yourself to give. “Stop?”

Jungkook’s gaze lifted to meet your blank stare and he nodded slowly. “Stop hooking up.”

You were thankful that he didn’t comment on how small your voice sounded. “Why?”

“Because,” his fingers grabbed at yours gently and you couldn’t help but drop your eyes to the way he intertwined them. “I don’t want to hook up with you anymore.”

His grip on you tightened when you tried to pull away, his other hand lifting your chin until you looked at him again. Jungkook’s lips were parted, two prominent front teeth displayed. “I want to date you.”

A pause.

A sharp intake of breath and the tightening of fingers. “I’m sorry, what?”

Now he definitely looked nervous. Jungkook’s words came out quickly, like he was afraid you’d stop him before he could get them all out. “I’ve been in love with you for years, Y/N. And I thought that maybe if you hooked up with me, you’d fall for me too. But I...I don’t want to lose you because I took too long.”

All you could do was stare open-mouthed and bug eyed. And the longer you took, the more Jungkook started to fidget. “Look, please just say something.”

“You’re an idiot.” He flinched at the deadpan tone in your voice. “I’ve been in love with you for the longest time.”

“Really?” Hope filled his voice and he leaned closer, both hands capturing yours. “Seriously?”

Giddy, you grinned so hard your cheeks hurt under the strain. “Yes, really.”

“Can I--can I kiss you?” With a shy nod, you let Jungkook’s hands come up to gently cradle your cheeks.

It was different, the way his mouth captured yours. Instead of the fierce desire he usually kissed you with, this time it was slow, gentle. And god his lips were soft and your heart rate skyrocketed at the love that showed through the way he pressed against you.

“Don’t make me kick your ass.”

The deep voice of your brother had you and Jungkook pushing away from each other like teenagers caught by their parents. And both of your necks snapped over to see Yoongi walking past the entryway to the sitting room. A teasing smirk was aimed your way as he continued on his path to the elevator.

“Mind your business!” Your shout was met with Yoongi’s high-pitched giggle.

Eighteen Hours Later

Well, UpperEast Siders, did you enjoy the story? Because I sure did. Oh, and what’s this? Looks like not even a dark scandal can force Bangtan out of the light.

Laughter rang loud through the busy resturant and all eyes turned at the sound. But the seven of you paid no mind to the stares.

“A toast.” Jin stood in the middle of the half circle you all formed around the bar, a glass of bubbly champagne raised high. “To lifelong friendship.”

Spotted: Manhattan’s King. But can he really be crowned royalty when his throne was built on the steps of family betrayal? I’d say just ask his brother, but, well, be careful or you might just disappear too.

“And,” Namjoon raised his own glass into the air, golden liquid catching the light. “To trust.”

Oh, and what’s this? I wonder, how will our lovely God of Destruction talk his way out of jail time? Tell me, do they teach you how to get away with embezzlement in law school?

Hoseok’s dimples came out to play around his own bright smile. “Don’t forget loyalty.”

It’s a surprise that Manhattan’s Sunshine is even able to stand underneath the weight of a dead body. And if the allegations are true? Well, stay away from drugs, kids.

“And love.” The addition came shyly from your lips as you gazed warmly up at the man to your side. Jungkook’s lips pressed fondly to your forehead.

If anyone needs help passing their SAT’s, make sure to hit up our Golden Boy. Surely he’ll get you a passing grade if the price is high enough.

“To success.” Yoongi smiled and raised his glass in a salute, skin glowing.

Can a Genius really be a genius if he has to buy his way to a degree? Someone’s money should have gone towards a tutor instead.

The sound of seven glasses clinking together overpowered the other voices in the room. “Here, here!”

Everything appears to have gone back to normal ever since our resident Pretty Boy was outed as a little tattletale.

It was raining.

Water pelted the top of his umbrella, the soft plop-plop-plop blending into the noise of city life. People bustled around him, but he didn’t pay it any mind. No, instead his focus was rooted to one spot, one person who he could see through the glass windows of the resturant. One person who’s profile he would recognize anywhere.

He watched, silent, as the man threw his head back in laughter that ghosted his ears. And either he felt the stare burning into the side of his face, or he was expecting him to be there. Because with a turn of the neck, brown eyes met brown. And the tension was palpable on his tongue even through the walls that separated them.

Out with the old and in with the new, that’s what I always say. Oh, and one last thing:

A haughty smirk turned up the corners of Taehyung’s lips and Jimin watched with narrowed eyes as the blond man raised his glass of champagne in a silent salute.

You really shouldn’t trust everything you hear.

xoxo,

Gossip Girl

#bangtanarmynet #bts #bts fic #bts fanfic #yoongi

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