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duskamethyst · 4 years ago

Text

make it right.

a/n: i was on a writing high. i initially hated this so much but ended up with 12 pages long.

word count: 5.1k

genre: mature, smut, nsfw, angst to fluff

warnings: mentions of abortion, pregnancy

pairing: hawks x f!reader

𝅘𝅥𝅮 music rec: the reason by hoobastank 𝅘𝅥𝅮

summary: you told keigo that you’re carrying his child but he didn’t take it well. five years later he shows up in front of your door after being invited by his son and says he wants to fix everything.

you lean down towards the counter as you concentrate on creating pretty swirls of cream on the cake you baked with a piping bag. the dining table is full of food, a feast almost too huge for only two people, but you have a good excuse. it is a special day. your son’s fifth birthday to be exact.

kids these days can be ruthless and your son doesn’t get along very well with the other kids from his kindergarten. they like picking on others that seem too fragile, too quiet – criteria that fits him well and it doesn’t help with the fact that they know he’s growing up without a father. your child never opened up to you about the constant mocking he faced until one day you overheard him sobbing through his pillow in his own room. it was dark, though the door was still open by an inch to allow a small amount of light to penetrate into the room whenever he slept. he said he wanted to sleep earlier because he was tired but the muffling sounds he tried to conceal betrayed his efforts when you passed by later that night.

it made you angry and disappointed in yourself. you really tried your best to juggle between being a mom and a dad at the same time, keeping an eye on your child and working your ass off to make a living for the two of you. you’d always put up a tough front, never broke down in front of him when you were dead tired from being overworked and the thought of him trying to not make you worry, shattered your heart into pieces. you know that all he deserves is a good life and you constantly blame yourself for not being good enough, mostly angry at your past self for not even knowing how to make good decisions and think things through.

if only you could turn back time, you would tell yourself to never get involved with a pro hero – to never get involved with someone who feels so responsible for other strangers’ lives but not their own child’s.

were you being selfish? for not understanding that his work always comes first? he can’t possibly have a family when he has villains out there that need to be put in their right place for their crimes. were you expecting too much from him?

“can’t you… get rid of it?” he muttered. his cold words felt like a sharp blade that just stabbed you in the heart. never once you thought that he would say that. how easy was it for him to ask you to throw out another life like it meant nothing?

“keigo, you can’t be serious.” you shook your head, your legs were already wobbling and you felt sick to your stomach. this news should be happy for the both of you but unfortunately, you two weren’t on the same page.

was it your fault? keigo never spoke about having a child together but he always said he’d love to build a family with you someday – he loved you, he would always protect you and be there for you. sure, it was a slip up this time. you always made sure to take proper measures to avoid pregnancy from happening but you were also more than glad to bear this child and you were convinced that keigo would be happy about it as much as you were. he loved you so much, after all.

“i don’t think…” he stammered, trying to find the right words. “give me some time.”

your lips pursed into a thin line, hands clenching hard and knuckles turning white. think? the uncertainty in his voice was already giving you the obvious answer. he couldn’t even look you in the eyes. he never wanted this.

“save the trouble, keigo.” you spat. “how about i’ll just leave so you don’t even have to think at all?”

keigo finally lifted up his head to look at you with wavering eyes, but he still couldn’t find the words to say, to comfort you. “what are you saying?”

“i’m still going to have this child. even if it means i have to do it alone.” with a sharp breath, you turned around towards the door.

you heard a frustrating sigh coming from your back, “you know i can’t. you know damn well that i have my job as a hero and i can’t look after�� after a child!”

“but it’s your child keigo!” you turned around to scream and look at him again, tears already welling in your eyes, threatening to pour out.

“and what difference does that make?!” he yelled back. “in fact, that’s even worse!”

the room was quiet as the both of you just stood there. keigo slowly realizing what just came out of his mouth in the heat of the moment while you just stared at him in disbelief. both were standing stunned and speechless from what he clearly said. that was it, you thought.

“fuck you.” you cursed under your breath and immediately left his place, not even sparing a look back.

if he was sorry, he would chase after you. if he didn’t mean it, he would look everywhere for you.

but none of that happened.

you ended up going back to your hometown after that. it was shameful, to finally see your parents again but just to cry on their feet as soon as you saw their faces and telling them that you were carrying an illegitimate child. it was devastating for them initially but thankfully they easily accepted it, welcoming you to stay over at their place with open arms so they could help you throughout your pregnancy until the baby was born and grown. above all, you were still their daughter. living far away, your parents had never met keigo and they were shocked to know that you were having the no.2 pro hero’s baby but also disappointed at how he reacted when you told him the news.

however, what was done is done and you can only manage to move forward by raising the child with your utmost capability. you promised yourself that you’ll protect and raise this child with as much love and care a mother can offer. whatever it takes, even if you’ll have to do it by yourself.

you ended up living with your parents until your son turned four and decided to live independently, not wanting to burden them any longer. they didn’t want to let you go, the presence of the child brought so much joy in their daily lives. he was a bundle of sunshine and they loved him so much.

and kyō is just beautiful.

keigo’s genes manage to overpower your son compared to yours. fluffy but shorter blonde hair, dark and sharp on the inner corner of the eyes and not to forget the red wings on his back. it isn’t as big as keigo’s yet but it still stands out. although he takes on your personality more, every part of him reminds you of keigo and sometimes it feels like a jab to your chest. it hurts to be reminded of the man that hurt you and told you to get rid of the child you were bearing so ruthlessly.

throughout the years, you tried to make peace with the past. at first, it was hard to look at the news and see his face. he was almost everywhere, a lot of stores also sold his merchandise and his face even covered the magazines-- you realized you couldn’t escape him, your past. although he’s in the limelight, the media was still unaware about his private life and you were glad alas the similar features of kyō to the pro hero made some passersby and mothers at the park question you. fortunately, you already came up with a bullshit excuse like “he is such a big fan of hawks and he cosplays him every day… and oh, the wings are fake too.”

of course, strangers weren’t the only ones who inquired about it. even the little child himself could smartly notice his resemblance with the pro hero.

as soon as he first saw hawks on tv, he went on and on about how they looked so much alike. he was beyond fascinated, he could barely understand what the news was talking about at the time but being on the screen was more than enough to make him understand that hawks was an amazing guy. his eyes would twinkle in wonder when the news caught footage of him flying in the air with his red wings spreading graciously. if anything at all, kyō just couldn’t wait to flap his own smaller wings soon.

then one thing led to another. a question that any curious child would ask their parents about.

oftentimes kyō would ask you about his dad. why didn’t he have one like the other children he played with at the park and oftentimes you would try to avoid the topic and shrugged it off with a lame joke saying how you were also his dad and how you were powerful to have two bodies in one unlike other people.

he ended up growing tired of it one day, crying to you and asked if the reason why he didn’t have one was because he didn’t love him – something he heard one of the kids said. it broke you and you were lost for words. you called your parents for support and after much discussion, your mother thought he deserved to at least know the truth and you did just that.

luckily, he took it surprisingly well. even his little brain can comprehend the job of a top hero, he understood that it was a lot of work and keigo was often busy and far away. it was less to his liking when you made him promise you to not tell anyone about it and he should keep it as a secret because bad guys would chase after him if another single soul would know and his dad did it to protect him. it was a bad lie, but still, you had to do it.

later, kyō realized that his birthday was coming soon. he knew what he had always wanted. he didn’t know if he could have it but maybe… maybe if he tried and wished hard enough, it would come true.

he sneakily took your phone to look up “hawks'' on your phone, though at first he was only shown results and pictures of the literal bird before smartly adding “pro hero” at the back. with limited comprehension, he eventually managed to find the agency’s website before scrolling further to find the address to the agency and scribbled it down on a piece of paper.

“daddy?!” the bell has been ringing for a few times but you were too concentrated on decorating the birthday cake to even hear it but your son’s small wings flutter in excitement as he runs across the hallway to open the door.

your heart stops for a second. was that the reason why your son was pacing around the living room? you’re not expecting any guests for tonight’s dinner at all, especially the father of your child.

“hey! i got your letter!” the familiar excited tone of his voice bursts from the door as he speaks. he kneels down eye-level as his son and gives him a big hug. “happy birthday.”

“what letter?” you break into the conversation, arms folded in front of your chest as you lean against the wall with an unamused expression written across your face.

“i wrote daddy a letter!” your son says proudly, but you can already imagine the horrible squiggly lines on the handwritten letter.

“and you gave me a picture too. you look exactly like me, am so happy!” keigo chuckles, ruffling the hair of his boy, eliciting little giggles from the other. it’s a beautiful sight and it makes your heart ache a little at the image of what it could’ve been. if only he was fully ready to accept the fact that he was gonna bear a child. if only he knew how to balance between his career and personal life. you could’ve had the most beautiful family you’ve ever dreamed of.

“honey, can you go to your room for a bit? your daddy and i have to talk.” you say softly, hoping that he won’t take it any other way.

“am i.. in trouble?” kyō turns to you with a frown and puppy eyes – which he knows well that it would always work on you and it’s almost adorable how it’s exactly what keigo would do whenever he makes you annoyed with his antics. it’s just one of his ways to apologize to you.

you sigh and shake your head, “no. we’re gonna talk about…” you glance elsewhere as you think of an excuse. “your surprise present!”

“it’s not a surprise anymore if you say it like that, mommy!” the child laughs and scurries to his room as told and the both of you watch him with a smile tugged on your lips.

you turn back to keigo with a dour expression as soon as your son closes the door to his room, causing him to fidget a bit from his spot. he hasn’t seen it for years, after all. he’s about to pull you into a hug but instead, you quickly turn your heels around towards the kitchen.

“i still have things to do. either you help me with it or leave.”

he quickly takes off his shoes and follows you, taking in the view around the house before he enters the kitchen. the atmosphere is stuffy and tense while you sit on the stool to continue decorating the cake.

“you can help by setting up the plates. top cabinet.” you break the awkward silence and keigo obliges, he reaches the cabinet to take out the available plates and put them nicely around the table.

“you made it yourself?” he tries to make a conversation as he glances at you working on the cake.

“yeah.” you simply reply without taking your eyes off from your work.

“it’s nice. chocolate?”

“obviously.”

keigo sighs from the underwhelming response, “i know you don’t want me here but –”

“no shit.” you almost slam the table but quickly recompose yourself by taking a deep breath. for the sake of your son, you know you shouldn’t get into an argument right now, at least not today.

“look, i’ll leave as soon as this is over if that’s what you want.”

you glare at him, “it’s more than what i want right now,” then it’s your turn to sigh. “but i doubt that’s what kyō would want.”

keigo already knows his name from the letter but his lips etch into a warm smile at the sound of the name you’ve given to the-- his child and a small part of him wishes that he was there in the process of choosing a name for the boy together with you.

“okay, just for tonight. we’ll pretend like we’re a happy family.” you stand up from the stool after putting the last candle and set the cake in the middle of the table.

“...and what if we don’t have to?” he blurts out after a brief and quiet moment, immediately catching your attention. he notices the puzzled look on your face and continues, “what if we really start being a happy family from now and onwards?”

you blink once, twice. for a second, you feel a heavy pang in your chest as your brain processes the words that just came out from his mouth. it’s like déjà vu, only this time keigo has certainty in his voice.

the room falls dead silent again as you stare at each other. you’re finding words and about to open your mouth to say something but kyō suddenly interrupts from the corner of the kitchen and both of your attentions quickly turn to him.

“mommy..? i’m hungry.”

“oh, sweetheart. you’re just in time!” you walk up to kyō to carry him in your arms before bringing him to the dining table. his eyes sparkle at the variety of food spread across the table and his wings flutter in excitement.

“can you help light up the candles? the lighter is in the drawer.” you usher to keigo as you show your son his favorite food you made earlier while keigo quickly rummages through the drawer. he lights up each candle as you put down kyō on one of the chairs before he stands on his knees to reach close enough to blow the candles. the both of you excitedly sing happy birthday and clap your hands as he blows off the candles after a brief moment for a wish.

“what did you wish for?” keigo asks, affectionately patting kyō on the head.

“i wish to be a hero like daddy!” he exclaims, arms and wings spread in enthusiasm. a bittersweet feeling engulfs him-- a part of him is disappointed and ashamed of himself while another part of him is elated and relieved that he’s still looked up upon by his own child. in the corner of his heart, keigo thinks he doesn’t deserve it. kyō is a splitting image of himself (minus the color of his eyes that he takes after you) and it easily brings back visions of him from the past. he wanted to be a hero too, but his father wasn’t someone he could look up to. hence, making endeavor the only man he idolized.

he realizes he is lucky enough to be the person his son looks up to. he knows that this was what his own younger self would want. a father he can be proud of, a hero at that. keigo wants to make it right with whatever it’ll take.

the night proceeds smoothly, all three of you have fun together like any normal family would and bonding over lost times. keigo is thoughtful (though his choice seems a little bit conceited) enough to give kyō a present; an action figure of himself. unknowingly, the walls that you built around you by the time keigo arrived earlier slowly crumbles and you grow less wary around him as time ticks by. when it’s bedtime for the boy, keigo insists on putting him to bed so he can spend more time with him which you gladly consented to so you can also continue cleaning up the kitchen.

a set of footsteps coming down the stairs can be heard as you’re seated on one of the stools while sipping tea.

“want some tea?” you offer without turning around to look at the male.

“sure.” he says as he walks up to you.

you can feel his tall and lean build ghosting you from the back as you pour a cup for him but his hands suddenly reach your shoulders and give them light squeezes.

“what are you doing?” you ask quizzically, glancing at the hand on your shoulder.

“giving you a massage.” he smiles innocently as he continues pressing on the knot in your stiff shoulders, making you sigh in reflex.

“trying to get on my good side?” you say in a mocking tone.

“hmm, just showing my appreciation to you.” his hands move lower to your spine, your back arches a little as he presses down your aching muscles.

“you’re five years too late, keigo.” you sneer but welcome his service as you close your eyes and hum in content. it’s not that bad, you assure yourself in your head.

keigo diligently continues to massage your back as the kitchen now fills with your quiet sighs and whimpers whenever he rubs on the sore spot. without you realizing, he slyly pulls the collar of your baggy shirt down and plants soft kisses on your bare shoulder.

“k-keigo?” you immediately open your eyes and flinch at the sudden touch.

he remains quiet while his hands work up and down your arms gently and his lips move further up to your earlobe, sending tingling sensations down to your core and you can already feel your nipples harden underneath your shirt.

“relax.” his hot breath fans over your ear as he whispers. your cheeks are already burning red and you’re out of sarcastic remarks as you can only find yourself to indulge into his touches.

you gasp in surprise when keigo’s hands sneakily move under your shirt and quickly unsnaps your bra. he massages your breasts and kneads them gently before teasing your erect nipple between his fingers. your hands firmly clenches the edge of the island to hold yourself as he nips on the crook of your neck, just gently to carefully not leave a mark.

“you want more, babybird?” he coos as he realizes that your thighs are pressing against each other. as much as you hate to admit it, the nostalgic pet name tugs on your heartstrings and you find yourself melting after hearing it after years again.

feeling embarrassed, you quietly nod your head.

“i can’t hear you.” a teasing tone lingers in his voice. he knows what he’s doing and you hate him for it.

“more, keigo...” you whine. it sounds so innocent and adorable but it absolutely makes his cock twitch. noticing that you’ve been avoiding looking at him the whole time, he uses one of his hands to make you look at him and grins when he catches the red tint spread across your face before he presses his lips onto yours.

the traces of your ego make you hesitate at first but you’re quick to lose it as he deepens it, as if to send you a silent message of how much he misses you while his tongue intertwines with yours.

one of his hands remains to massage your mound while the other travels down south to easily part your legs and cups your heated sex. keigo rubs the clit against the fabric of your pants, eliciting breathy moans from your lips between kisses. you pull away and lean back to his body as he slides his hand under your pants, feeling the wet patch that is already staining your underwear.

“already wet from all of that?” he says playfully, taking out his hand to look at the damp juices as he rubs it between his fingers.

“says the man that was grinding his cock on my back.” you roll your eyes halfheartedly, missing the faint blush that becomes apparent on his cheeks.

keigo then reaches for the cups in front of you and pushes them aside before lifting you up on the kitchen island, making you turn towards him. he swiftly pulls down your pants along with your underwear, your cunt bare and glistening under the lights for him to see.

his golden irises lock with yours as he kicks the stool to the side and crouches down to spread your thighs apart. he starts to lap off your juices, tongue alternating between your throbbing clit and hole. your elbows help to prop you up as your head hangs back and your eyes close in pure bliss.

keigo smacks and clenches your thighs to draw your attention to him, “baby, look at me.”

you submissively lift your head to look at him, eyes locking with each other again as he watches you squirm on the tongue flicking your clit and eats you out like a starved man having his first meal after a long day.

you grab a lock of his blonde hair in one hand, pushing him closer as your legs tremble around his head, feeling the bubbling sensation of your orgasm building up.

“mmh – gonna cum!” you cry out in ecstasy, instantly forgetting the people next door and your son that’s sound asleep on the upper floor as you chase after your high.

keigo smoothly slides two fingers inside your pussy and your hips begin to grind desperately onto them. he knows you’re close when he feels the walls clenching around him and with another suck on the clit, he quickly gets to tip you over the edge.

“so good for me.” he coos as he pulls away, licking his fingers clean before carrying your panting body in his arms and walks over to sprawl your body on the couch. he hovers on top of you and kisses you again while his hands work on unzipping and taking off his lower garments to free his throbbing cock.

he smears the precum by pumping his cock as he watches you down, adoring the look of absolute bliss on your face and half lidded eyes that he longed for over the years.

“my songbird,” he purrs as he leans down to you and lines his cock with your wet cunt, “you’re so beautiful.”

if you’re already red, the endearing pet name makes you even redder. your gaze avoids his to hide your embarrassment but he only draws it back gently by your chin with his thumb and finger.

“don’t you miss me?” his brows furrowed as he searches your face. you can only stare back into his eyes – bright irises filled with nothing but genuine curiosity and desolation.

your lips pull into a thin line as you ponder for a moment, promptly unable to vocalize like earlier. it’s as if you let even one word escape your mouth, it would make you burst into tears instead. of course you missed him. your mind often wondered if he even thought of you at least once. even when you did make peace with the past, you still couldn’t bring yourself to be the one to make the first step. ego is an ugly thing and you were certain that keigo should be the one to look for you even if it was hard for him since you just disappeared out of his life.

noticing the reluctance to give him an answer, he shushes you. “it’s okay.” he kisses you sweetly on your nose. “but let me show how much i’ve missed you.”

he trails open mouthed kisses down your jaw, neck and collarbone as your hands run through his hair and down to his back. a soft whine manages to escape from your mouth when he nibbles on the soft flesh of your neck, instantly marking it red this time.

his mouth then latches onto your nipple through your shirt, making you squirm beneath him. your hands clenches to the fabric of his shirt when you feel his fingers teasingly dancing between your wet folds and his thumb ghosting over your clit.

keigo gives you a kiss on the lips again before pulling away, the cushion dips as he props himself on the knees, rubbing his hard cock against your wet slits and smearing it with your juices.

a low hiss slips from his lips as he slowly prods in the tip of his cock and your expression twists into discomfort as you feel him stretch you out more – a familiar mixture of pain and pleasure that you haven’t felt for a while.

keigo waits for you to adjust and as soon as you give him the greenlight, he continues to completely balls deep inside you.

“babybird, you feel so good.” he grunts as he bucks his hips and slowly starts to move.

you bite your lower lip hard, enough to draw blood as you try to stifle your moans. keigo leans down to kiss you while your arms find themselves wrapping around his neck. he thrusts harder and faster and your whimpers and whines finally find themselves shamelessly slipping past from your mouth.

“fucking– hah– perfect.” he pants as he pulls away to look at your flustered face, eyes half closed and mouth agape with pleasure.

you quickly bury your face on the crook of his neck and hold onto him tighter while your legs wrap securely around his waist. keigo moves his thumb on your clit, pressing down and rubbing circles all to entice nothing but tightening the coil down in your core more.

“keigo, keigo –” you cry as your nails dig the fabric on his back and your toes curl to the intense sensation.

“baby wants to cum?” he growls as he feels your walls clamping around his cock, making him buck his hips even wilder.

“yesyesyes – oh god, keigo!” your mind turns putty and unable to form any more coherent words, making only his name being the only thing you remember as your eyes close shut while you’re nearing your high.

“that’s it – baby. cum on my cock.” he encourages and you do just that. your pussy flutters as you finally reach your orgasm but his sporadic thrusts doesn’t stop until it starts to falter and his wings tremble.

“fuck. i’m gonna fill you up.” he grits through his teeth and his cock twitches before his wings spread wider as he releases his warm cum inside you.

the both of your bodies stay against each other, chests heaving for air before he briefly pulls out his cock and lays on top of your chest.

“yes.” your voice suddenly croaks, breaking the almost silent air in the room if not for the sound of yours and his breathing.

keigo lifts up his head to look at you confusingly before a lopsided smile curls on his lips when he hears you utter the next few words.

“yes. i missed you and i don’t want to pretend anymore.” you suddenly feel overwhelmed and tears start to well in your eyes. a flash of panic crosses his face and he pulls you closer into his embrace, hoping to calm you down as you sniffle on his chest.

“shh, baby. i’m sorry. i know it’s too late and i was so fucking stupid but i’ll – ”

“i want to live as a happy family with you, keigo.” you cut him off, sobbing through his shirt. he pulls away at once to look at you, unable to believe what he just heard through the choking sob but it still makes even him want to cry.

“babybird, i – ” he’s completely tongue-tied. at this point he can only manage to lean down to be close to you again. he peppers kisses all over your face, saying how thankful and happy he is.

“i love you, my little bird. i won’t fuck up this time, i promise.” he whispers, finally regaining his composure.

that night, keigo could barely sleep a wink. so many thoughts are running through his head. he glances at you sleeping peacefully next to him on the bed and he already pictures how it is to be waking up to see your face every morning. he also hopes that kyō doesn’t know how to fly yet so he could teach him how to use his wings. oh, he’ll also get to find an excuse to buy more buckets of chickens once you three will start living together.

he can already imagine how the headlines will be bombarded about him having a family and he sighs at the thought, but he hopes that his publicist is ready for a hell lot of work.

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amoristt · 3 years ago

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Just a Dare | Nathan Prescott x Reader

@trueloveknifefight asked, Also can I request Nathan asking you out?

here u are! i love writing convos w nathan UGH i adore his character.

as always, replies and reblogs are greatly appreciated1 i check all tags and comments <3

wanna support me for just $3? here's my ko-fi!

The lights were bright, vivid. Almost blinding. They dance LED accents into the reflection of your drink- a dull plastic cup filled to the brim with one part whiskey, zero parts mixer. The taste could bring a tear to your eye but you would be damned to water down such fine alcohol, provided by none other than Nathan Prescott himself.

Music reverberated along the pool rooms walls, laughter and hollers distantly rising with the tempos. Your foot absently tapped to the beat- you were never one for dancing. Never one for parties, either, actually, favoring drinking in the solitude of a small friend group.

If not for Nathan you wouldn't be here at all. Some would say it's a privilege to slip past those heavy doors, entering the dully lit world of the Vortex Club. You mostly just felt like it was all for show. Somehow securing a place among Nathan's friend group, and a good friend at that, it was almost duty to show up. He insisted on it.

So, here you were. Leaning against a wall in a suffocatingly warm, cramped pool room surrounded by a sea of faces you hardly recognized.

That was, until you saw Nathan's face peer through the small break in shifting bodies. You knew him all too well.

Strikingly handsome, equally strikingly pompous. Funny, crude, an absent minded party goer just as much as he was a fireball with racing, incoherent thoughts. A drinker, a druggie. Takes the edge off, he says, but you think he does it to take away his thoughts completely. You felt like his entire life was all edges, never sacred ground.

The poor bastard.

He lures your attention in as he saunters over with squared shoulders, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink when a random student cuts it a little too close. Normally Nathan would make a bigger deal, give him what for, but this time he just shoots the poor kid a menacing glare and grumbles, 'fucking watch it'. He's walking with purpose and intent, you can see it on his face. You must have a target on your forehead as he darts straight over.

When he comes to your side, his own alcohol dripping down the sides of his cup onto his wiry fingers, you raise a brow.

"Something wrong?" You ask, as he takes a spot leaning against the hard wall right next to you.

"Just wondering why you're being so fucking lame over here," He shouts over the music, taking a sip of his drink, grimacing at the taste. "We're all having a good time over at the lounge and you're over here acting like all the other wallflower nobodies."

You roll your eyes with upturning lips. "Maybe I like being a wallflower. I like people watching. I see things no one else does."

"Yeah, okay, fucking weirdo."

"I mean it," You push off the wall and grin. "Look-" You point to a student obviously wasted, drink held high over head while he lets the music take him away. "That guy is clearly trashed- he's having the time of his life. He's gotta be seeing double."

Nathan whistles at his state, taking in the guys goofy smile, half lidded eyes. "I'll bet it's the triplets. I could breathe on him too hard and he'd fall over."

"You should go try it." You tease. He shakes his head and takes another drink.

"Nah, he'll get it himself. Guarantee we'll be dragging him out by his feet by the end of the night." He shrugs. "Or, at least someone will. I sure as fuck ain't staying that long."

You snicker. "What, got a hot date?" Nathan glares at you. "Oh don't tell me," you cup your hands to whisper, a secretive gesture, "homework?"

"Fuck no," He scoffs, and you can just barely see that he's a little more than tipsy now. His pale cheeks dusted with red, the tip of his nose ruby under the harsh lighting. It's also then that you realize he's a little more tense than usual, even despite the drinking. He's standing straight upright, his right hand gripping his cup like a crutch and his left now shoved hastily into his pocket.

He hasn't looked at you dead in the eyes yet.

"So what is it then?" You ask curiously. He shrugs and stares into his cup. You frown. "Bro, are you like, good right now? Do you wanna leave?"

For the first time since he'd wandered over, Nathan looks up at you. His eyes are unreadable, but his composure seems stressed. He shrugs again. Before you can even open your mouth to ask him about his state, he sighs and downs an entire mouthful of burning whiskey. It makes you cringe just watching him.

"Fuck it," He huffs. "Look I got some stupid ass dare to come over here and put the moves on you, okay." He sounds almost annoyed, like it's a hassle for him, or maybe embarrassing. You cross your arms. "I was dared to come over here and try to get you like, to fucking, you know, leave with me, but now that I'm over here I'm starting to think maybe that was a dumbass idea."

"Leave with you?" You say incredulously, a brow already lifting. "You were dared to come over here and try to sleep with me? By our friends?"

"No, no, fuck," Nathan seems agitated now, rushing. "Like a date sorta bullshit. Ask you out." He manages to get it out in almost the worst delivery possible, meanwhile you're just trying to pick out who would put him up to this. Hayden? Victoria?

A laugh forces its way out of you. "Aren't we a little too old for that game?"

Nathan shrugs. "That's what I said but they insisted. Fucking babies. At least make the dare a little more fun than just asking some bitch out. That's like elementary level shit."

Your eyes widen, you scoff. "Excuse me?"

Nathan sputters. "You're not some bitch, I didn't mean to-... Fucks sake, I'm clearly a little drunk right now okay, if you could cut me some fucking slack that'd be awesome."

"Hey man I didn't ask to be a victim of bullying," You tease, and he can't help but laugh. You soften. "Never expected it from you, though of all people. As ironic as that sounds."

"I'm not even bullying you, come on. Don't be a bitch. I even admitted it and everything."

You grin. "Yeah. Gotta say though, I'm a little disappointed."

"Oh what, you wanted to see my moves?" Nathan hums. "You wanted some Prescott action?"

"Shut the hell up." You shove his shoulder, an action that would be a mistake to so many others, but for you, it was welcomed. "I'm disappointed that it was just a dare. I'd probably have said yes if it wasn't. But, oh well."

Nathan doesn't answer for a long moment. First, he stares into his drink, processing. Almost like he hadn't heard that right, or like you were messing with him. It's rare to see Nathan Prescott stunned into a momentary silence. He's thinking, wondering what he should say next. Suspicious that you're just playing with him, hopeful that maybe you aren't.

And, you hadn't been. Truth be told if given the chance you would allow him to take you out for the evening. Show you fancy things, try out something a little more intimate than just laughter and poking fun at classmates together. You enjoyed his presence, looked forward to it at times.

A small part of you had hoped that he felt the same, maybe. Somehow. While grateful that he respected you enough to cut the crap before it even began, you couldn't help but feel a little... Disheartened at the prank. You'd saved your pride by denying him beforehand, but, if it had been genuine...

"So if it wasn't a dare," He began, quietly, barely audible over the booming music overhead. Eyes barely visible in the sea of vibrant lights crashing like waves. "You'd have said yes."

You shrug, trying to play it casual to save your own feelings, just in case. "Probably. I mean, we're already friends. We have fun so it couldn't have been that bad." He nods along to almost every word.

"Well what if we did it anyways." He blurts.

"Did what?"

"Go out tonight. Like, you know ditch this lame ass party and have some real fun."

"You love this lame ass party, and plus," You shake your head in feigned annoyance. "I'm not sleeping with you, Nathan."

He glares at you. "Fucking duh. I'm just saying we can go and hang out somewhere else. This party happens all the fucking time so it's not like we're missing anything."

"But, wouldn't that make me the butt of our friends joke?"

He shrugs. "Fuck em. It was a dumb dare anyways."

"Now it seems like you're trying extra hard to convince me to say yes." You state, and he's frazzled, running lines through his brain to try and save the absolute failure of asking you out. You decide to spare him, take a little leap of faith for yourself. "But, alright. I'm in."

Nathan gapes at you. "You're in?"

"Yeah, why not. I'm not busy right now and if you're not either than," You smile. "Why not. You better wow me though, Prescott. I'm talking a night to remember. Fireworks, dinner by candle light, a serenade. The whole package."

Nathan's eyes light up, but he tries to hide it, rolls those beautiful blues. "Well considering I've had like no fucking time to prepare how about we instead go to the roof and chill out."

You toss the idea around in your head for show. You already knew the answer the moment he asked if you were being serious.

"I mean I guess that would work," You say. "I was looking for fireworks but I suppose that will suffice. Feel free to go tell our buddies their joke may have backfired on them."

Nathan shakes his head. "Nah, don't even bother. They're all drunk and probably don't even remember daring me in the first place."

"Alright then," You push yourself off the wall, feeling your cheeks warm. A flutter takes wing in the base of your chest, your heart picking up just a little faster. You can't stop the smile that graces you as you say, "Lead the way, Prescott."

Nathan does lead the way. He takes your hand into his own, your fingers tracing over his boney knuckles as he drags you through the sea of bodies, out to the school hall and up winding stairs.

You giggle like a child when he struggles to find the correct key on the janitors ring he'd snatched weeks ago just in case, tease him when he almost spills his drink all over himself. Nathan's hands are almost shaking, but you chalk it up to the alcohol. You chalk everything up to the alcohol- his trembling fingers, his red face, a shy, albeit goofy smile resting upon his lovely, angular face.

The night was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the smoldering heat of the Vortex Party.

He looks amazing out under the stars, and underneath the scope of the vast, black sky dotted with trillions of perfect, twinkling lights, you feel at peace.

Looking at him, you feel like this may be the start of something you'd denied yourself the chance of ever even imagining.

Out there, alone but together, hearing the echoes of music mixed with the livelihood of crickets in the darkness...

it truly was a night to remember.

-----------

Days later, you sit atop your desk, feet tapping rhythmically on your chair, typing away at your phone.

"Love the top," A familiar voice pipes, and you glace up to find Victoria standing before you, books pressed to her chest. She takes in your shirt, a nicely fitted long sleeve with a rather low cut v-neck. "Why haven't I see that one before?"

You shrug and set your phone down. "Never got around to wearing it I guess. Not a big fan of V-necks."

"It fits you," She sets her books down at the table beside you and brushes a hand through her hair, making sure every strand is in line. "I'll have to get one myself."

"You know what, you can have it after today," You say, and she perks up in disbelief. "As a thank you for what happened at the party."

That disbelief soon turned to confusion. "...Meaning?"

"Y'know, making Nathan ask me out. He made a whole huge deal about it- said you guys were drinking and playing Truth or Dare of all things. Gotta say, I was a little surprised."

Victoria's brows knit. "We hardly drank at that party, and I wouldn't be caught dead playing Truth or Dare. That game is for kids."

It almost knocks the wind out of you.

They hadn't even been playing in the first place.

As the teacher walks into the room, the first period bell blaring annoyingly over the speakers, you climb off your desk and prepare for the day, hardly able to contain yourself. It hadn't been a dare, after all.

And, you and Nathan's official second date was merely a day away.

#nathan prescott #life is strange #imagine #lis

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stutterfly · 4 years ago

Text

Love Bytes 09 | Trivia: 01001100 | KNJ (M)

Last time on Love Bytes 08: After a night that left your head spinning, your best friend confessed his feelings for you. Now that you’ve admitted the same, everything is different.... but is it?

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Word Count: 17K

Series: Love Bytes (9/9)

Genre: Friends to lovers, IDIOTS to LOVERS, fluff, humor, slow burn, friendship feels, angst, pining, sexual tension, SMUT, Bestfriends!au, CollegeProjessor!Namjoon, IT/Nerd!Reader

CW& Other Tags: corny humor, nipple play, an absurd amount of kissing, dirty talk, grinding, fingering, hair pulling, sexual instruction, let’s play just the tip, cunnilingus, blowjob, protected sex, sexual roleplay, unprotected sex, adoring boyfriendJoonie, suave Joonie, supportive friendships, love talk, dorks in love

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, brot7

Posted January 2021 by stutterfly & cross-posted to ao3. Do not repost.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You’ve crossed the line you’ve been so afraid of only to discover there really isn’t anything to fear at all. Namjoon has already made you a totally non-burnt breakfast and told you about the success of his student following the release of the poetry program. When he brings up the poem he wrote as an example, you beg him to read it for you.

He apologizes again for that day when you clicked on the document containing the draft, with dozens and dozens of half-thoughts and scribbled words placed within. He wasn't ready to show you then. He settles on the couch and opens his laptop. You look over his shoulder as he clicks a vaguely familiar document labeled: Trivia_L_Final. Unable to sate your curiosity, your eyes scan through the first few lines but he quickly flips the screen down.

“Patience."

"Ugh," you complain. "But you said I could see."

"I said I was gonna share," he clarifies with a snort. "That doesn't mean I want your speed-reading ass going through it at lightspeed without understanding any of it."

"Fair." You cross your arms but stare at him expectantly, trying your best to be patient.

“Is this love?”

He pauses to spare a glance up from the screen and freezes when his eyes meet yours. Even after everything you’ve shared he still finds himself sweating through the thin tank top he’s put on. Although he’s sure he’s masked his apprehension behind a wall of stone, all it takes is your soft, reassuring smile to break through. A wave of serenity quickly douses the anxiety. It crashes against his wall, and erodes its harsh edges until all that’s left is a familiar longing to kiss your lips.

“Is this love?” he repeats with emphasis. “Sometimes I know. Sometimes I don’t.”

He can’t stop grinning at the way your smitten gaze matches his own. It’s a difficult decision, but ultimately he chooses to ignore the urge to pull you in for the hundredth kiss of the morning and continues on instead. You sit and listen, hanging on every word you know was painstakingly thought out and written for you.

You're my person. You're my desire. You're my pride.

You're my love. One and only love.

The closing words are left echoing in your head. It’s so easy for you to forget that Namjoon is as smart as he is. Right now you feel too stupid to respond. Nothing can possibly match the perfection of his poem.

“Please say something.” He quickly closes his laptop and sets it aside. “Actually, wait, don't. It was too much wasn’t it?” He reaches over and places a large palm over your forehead and begins lightly rubbing. “Delete it from your brain.”

A laugh bubbles from your throat. “What are you doing?”

“Wiping your hard drive.”

His response has you cackling. Did he really just make such a lame joke all on his own? You grab his wrist and pull him close while a big cheesy grin graces your features. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

He groans as he leans in and pauses before kissing you. “You are.”

His hand gently cups the back of your neck as he slips his tongue inside your mouth. You lose yourself to the rhythm of your tongues rolling across one another, hungry to keep tasting and feeling. It takes every ounce of self control you have to pull away long enough to breathe out a compliment.

“You’re incredible. Your poem is so good.”

“I had a good muse.” He smiles and moves in for another kiss but you press a finger to his lips.

“I mean it. I love what you wrote. I don’t think anyone’s ever written anything so beautiful with me in mind.”

To spare himself from the embarrassment tingling in his belly, he presses his lips to the pad of your finger with a few light, teasing kisses before moving to repeat the motion against your neck. Goosebumps immediately prickle at your flesh and you can’t help the way your hands travel along the warmth of his body, seeking to consume his heat to assuage the chill in yours.

“You make it easy,” he mumbles, kissing a line up to your ear.

“Do I? I thought I made it harder.” Your smile grows impossibly bigger as you reach down to palm him through his basketball shorts and find exactly what you’d been hoping to.

A breathy sigh warms the shell of your ear. “Fuck. You know you do.” He drags the lobe through his teeth and exhales another sigh at the way you tease his shaft. “Wanna practice?”

He whispers the words against your ear like they’re some secret he’s almost too shy to reveal and you deliver your response with equal timidity. “Please?”

Warm fingers press into the skin at your stomach and travel upward. The action disregards the flimsy white fabric of your borrowed shirt, which slides up with the rising of his arm. You think he's about to cup your breast when he suddenly changes direction and slides his fingers around your ribs to tickle you.

"Na-Namjoon!"

You're a little offended that he would do you dirty like this when you basically just begged him to fuck you for the second time today. But, if you're being honest you're also incredibly grateful. He knows how to take the nerves out of everything with such ease that you almost forget how new this aspect of your relationship is.

You grab at his hand, effectively pulling him down into a kiss brimming with laughter between the pair of you. When you try to retaliate he grabs your wrists to keep your cold fingers at bay. As his tongue dips into your mouth again, he slowly guides your hands above your head. You shift beneath him, spreading your legs so he can slot a knee between them and get even closer. It feels like it's always been this way. Nothing's going to change. This is just you guys. It's always been you guys.

At the heart of your friendship, it's always been about you being dorks together and having each other's backs. You'd never considered the possibility of adding even more physicality to it before but now you don't want to imagine life without it because it feels so fucking good. It feels so fucking right.

Instead of bearing his weight down on you, he drags your bottom lip through his teeth and lets it snap back. He hums a satisfied sound as he rises, pulling you to your feet with him. Your head feels light and for a moment it feels like you might float away, but his arms are strong and they ground you in a tight embrace. He begins walking you backwards and peppers your neck with light kisses.

“Trying to get me back into your bed, huh?” you tease.

He brushes his nose against your neck and inhales deeply, taking in your scent before expelling an airy, audible sigh. “Ah… You see right through me. I mean we could do it on the couch if you prefer. I just thought it might be a little more comfortable, you know, somewhere where I can lay you down so you don’t get a leg cramp or anything.”

You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of his statement. “How considerate.”

“Yeah, you know, ‘cause I plan on being between your legs as long as it takes.”

“Oh?” You feign ignorance. As he spins you towards him you’re glad he’s holding you steady because it feels like you’re about to faint. “As long as it takes for what?”

The tone of his voice drops low as he leans against your ear. “To make you cum.”

You stiffen in his embrace, frozen by interwoven fears of inability and inadequacy.

“Is that okay?” he asks, guiding your stiff form towards the bed.

The large, borrowed t-shirt bunches up around your thighs as you sit on the edge. It seems like every few days he’s telling himself he’s never seen you look so beautiful. Maybe you’re really to blame for the increased frequency. Now you’re looking at him in a similar light to the way he’s always seen you, and it’s added a new layer to everything.

“Yeah.” You nod, pausing to chew on your lip. “Just… don’t expect too much, okay?”

“Hey, no pressure. I promise. I just want to make you feel good.”

You pull him into a kiss before wiggling backwards up the bed. He follows your lead, slotting a knee between your legs as he climbs over you in an attempt to chase your lips.

“You do make me feel good. All the time.”

He assails your neck with kisses until he’s hovering above your lips. “Really good, though. Like right now. Right here.”

He takes a moment to meet your eyes as he ghosts his fingertips over your stomach, traveling down towards your mound. Almost as if he second guesses himself he stops and moves his hand back up to rest just above your navel.

“Can I try again?”

An embarrassed smile creeps across your face. “You really want to, huh?”

“Of course.” He pauses and his voice drops to a low whisper. “Will you show me how you like it?”

Your palms slide up your cheeks until your fingers cover your eyes. You purse your lips and try to keep your brain from short-circuiting. “Joooon.”

“What?” He shakes his head and offers a small laugh. “Why are you so shy now?”

“Because,” you murmur.

“Because...?” he prods when you leave the explanation unsaid.

“I’m embarrassed.” The words tumble out in a whisper but he seems to catch them regardless.

Hot, sweaty palms encircle your wrists and push them aside. It doesn’t take much effort to separate your hands from your face and when he does he slides his hands up to meet yours. In perfect sync, the pair of you weave your fingers together like you have a thousand times before.

The truth is that you want him. You want him so badly that your cheeks are on fire and all you can hear is your heartbeat in your ears. Despite seeing his mouth in motion, every nerve ending in your body is preparing for his touch. Anticipation overrides every other command in the forefront of your mind as your knuckles press into the pillows beside your head.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he whispers, planting a kiss on your cheek. “Your body is perfect. I could spend all day exploring it, exploring you. I wanna learn what feels good for you. Teach me. Teach me how to make you cum.”

In a stupor you blink slowly and gape at him in wonder, offering a tiny wordless nod. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to instruct him with much success. It’s not like you’re a teacher in any sense of the word and it’s definitely not something you’ve ever tried to talk through with a partner. But his eyes seem to sparkle in the dim light and the sight floods you with the determination to try, even if you don’t know how to begin.

Luckily Namjoon has an idea to assist with comfortability. He carefully positions himself beside you and runs his fingers down your chest, basking in the sight of your areola, which are perfectly visible through the faded fabric.

“You look so hot in my shirt.”

Your ears flush with heat at the compliment. Massaging light circles around the nipple he’s chosen to tease, he watches in wonder as it grows rigid. He experiments, alternating featherlight touches with a tiny pinch between his fingers.

“Do you like this?”

Words seem to escape you at the moment so you nod and mirror his actions on your other nipple. The barrier between his fingers frustrates your growing desire for skin on skin contact. You slowly hike up the shirt past your stomach to expose your breast. His eyes widen and guiltily dart away.

You pull the shirt back down abruptly and sit up with hot embers of embarrassment heating your cheeks. Maybe he's having second thoughts now that he's seeing you up close again. Before your mind can spiral too far he places his hand over yours.

"Sorry. It's not that. I just— Promise me you won't ask me to forget? I want to remember how you look, how you feel, how you taste.”

Relief cools the fire in your face and you half-heartedly chuckle as you climb over his lap. Cupping the side of his face, he Instinctively he leans into your touch.

"Joonie, I don’t think I could ever do that now. There's not a single restore point we could go back to, and I don't want there to be. I never want to pretend like I don't love you with my whole heart ever again. Because the moment you kissed me it's like this weight lifted from my shoulders. Everything I'd been locking away in my heart finally broke free. And it felt… incredible. It felt right. There's not a doubt in my mind. You're my person. You're my light. You're my pride."

"My one and only love," he adds with a kiss to your palm.

You smile and nod, pushing down the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes with a joke. "Are you gonna change your mind now?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." He smiles at you softly, watching you struggle to regain your composure as you sit back on his abdomen.

"Good. 'Cause it's like a totally binding thing now."

"Oh, okay," he laughs and lifts himself with his elbows to get a better look at you. "You gonna type up those terms and conditions for me? I'll sign, Geeksquad. Get me those papers."

"Yeah, yeah. Let me write a draft right now.” You press him back against the bed and lean over his chest, splaying your fingers out for a moment before pretending they're tapping away at a keyboard.

"Under this agreement, I, Y/N, agree to the following conditions..."

"God, you're a dork."

"We have fun. We have lots of…" you stop to giggle and wiggle your eyebrows, "you know, sex when we both want it."

He rolls his eyes but he's smiling so big his cheeks hurt. "You're so corny and I'm here for it."

"And…" you pause and meet his eyes as you fake-type the next condition. "We don't ever feel bad about loving each other. I'm in love with you and I don't want to waste another minute of my life acting like I feel any other way."

He looks down at his chest. Your fingers have stopped moving. "Is all that going in the, uh, love contract? It's a binding thing, you know."

"Yes, yes," you agree, pretending to catch up on typing. "If something doesn't work, we will talk about it. Deal?"

He doesn’t even stop to think about it before he answers, looking down at your fingers like they'll show him an invisible dotted line. "Okay where do I sign?”

"See I'm typing on your heart because that's how this works. So..."

You bite your lip and lift your shirt over your head, watching his eyes struggle to stay focused on your face. You really don't deserve him.

"You type and sign right here." Your fingers lure his gaze down to the valley between your breasts and then slightly to the left. "Right on my heart.”

He ghosts his fingers over the area you’ve pointed to and licks his lips, trying to hide his smirk. “Actually your heart is a little bit lower and a little bit…” He massages his fingers against your breast. “Here.”

“Hmm. Educational and strategic. What a combo.”

"Do I gotta type the whole thing up before I sign?"

You roll your eyes. "Depends. You gonna type as shitty as you usually do?"

He tongues his cheek as he starts tapping away at your breast with his two pointer fingers. It’s too true to reality. “Under this agreement I, Kim Namjoon--”

“Nevermind this is taking too long,” you complain, wiggling over his lap. He quickly drums his fingers over your chest. “--Agree to everything you just said. Signed... Namjoon...” His fingertips trace his name along your breast. “It’s a deal.”

“Okay, okay.” You laugh and reciprocate. “If you break it I'll probably cry and Jennie will beat you up."

“Like I would ever…” he mumbles.

With a rut of his hips he cups your breasts in his hands and resumes gently working his fingers over your nipples. Following the slow rhythm he sets, you grind yourself down and thumb at the band to his basketball shorts, pulling them down just enough to reveal that sliver of dark hair leading below. A loud groan escapes with his breath. His heart aches to feel you against him again, without barriers.

He sits up and heaves his shirt over his head with reckless abandon. His arms are immediately wrapping around your waist, fingernails digging into the skin of your back with the hope feeling your body can assuage the ache in his chest. The heat of his mouth envelops your nipple before you can comment on his earnest behavior and you whimper instead. His rough embrace draws you closer, and his sinful tongue batters your nipple as you loop an arm around his neck and tangle your fingers in his hair.

The suction of his mouth makes you throw your head back. “Fuck, Joon.”

He moans and skims his lips across your chest to show your other breast love. Despite his adoration for the current position of his face, it’s not enough. Greed overtakes him. He holds you tight and musters the strength to flip you onto your back. The tiny squeal you make in response makes his dick twitch. You make such wonderful sounds.

As you draw him into a kiss, the barrier of silky basketball shorts do nothing to conceal his hardness. It makes you crazy. You want to feel his dick glide against your folds again. When you raise your hips to grind your clit against him he meets your motion with equal enthusiasm.

“Take them off,” you mumble. “Put it in me, Namjoon. Please.”

It’s hard to say no when every fantastical thought about you he’s ever had is now coming to fruition. How long has he yearned to hear those words? He thinks of earlier. He thinks of the disappointment he holds for his own performance, how he squandered his opportunity to make you feel the way you deserve.

“But I wanna go down on you,” he insists, slowly making his way down your torso. He plants deep kisses as he goes, working a trail of tiny dark marks into the surface of your skin.

“Joon…” Your fingers claw at his back as he descends.

“Show me how you like it. I’m a good student. I promise.”

The ever present flames in your chest burn hotter, searing a path to your cheeks. He kisses along your hip and pauses to inspect the bruise from your earlier slip. He carefully creeps past it, and instead focuses on the skin of your inner thigh. Taking your hand in his, he positions it over your cunt. He rests his cheek against your thigh to watch the way your fingers settle in place.

“Are you gonna be looking at me like that the entire time?” You laugh, covering as much of your sex as you can with your hand.

“I’m a quick learner,” he assures you. “Plus…” He leans in and laps at the glistening slick in the space between your fingers. “I could taste you all day.”

“It’s after noon,” you mumble, drawing your fingers away to allow him greater access to your folds.

“Mmm,” he hums against you, letting his tongue explore every crevice of your labia. “You want me to keep going?”

Your head falls back against the pillow and you lift your hips with a whimper. “Yes.”

“How?”

Pulling his mouth back just enough to allow your finger to creep back into place, he offers a blissful sigh as you work light circles against your clit. He places a finger over yours and follows the movement, listening to your quiet breathing. He cocks his head to the side and repositions, sliding his finger beneath yours to take control.

“Like this, baby?”

It’s been so long. You’d forgotten just how good it feels to have someone else touch you, to not have to put the work in yourself to attain the reward. It feels so good. Maybe you will be able to let go.

“A little more pressure.”

You guide him again by pressing down over his finger and moving him towards the peak of your clit. He immediately gives in to the change of pace. After a little while he finds his own rhythm and you move your fingers to the back of his head where you tangle them in his hair.

“Yes, like that.”

Confident in his ability to hit that spot again, he glides his fingers down to tease your entrance and brings his lips to your clit. Your entire core tingles as he presses down and creates suction around the tiny bud. As your hips lift in ecstasy he wraps an arm around your thigh and slips two fingers into your slick cunt. Much to his delight you moan in tandem with your desperate exhale.

A proud grin spreads his lips apart and he does his best to hide it by battering his tongue over your clit instead. How many fantasies has he indulged in? How is it that they all pale in comparison to your true taste and sounds? Determined to keep himself on task, he focuses on the spot you seemed to favor and presses his lips back down while rolling his tongue along you. His fingers curl up and search for the promised sweet spot within your cunt.

You tense and clench around his fingers, body desperate to draw him deeper, to take more of him inside of you in any way that you can. Then you feel it: the unmistakable pleasurable pressure steadily rising within. You don’t want to let it slip away this time. With the pads of his fingers pressing as close to your g-spot as he can, the area of your clit you need him to hit with his tongue seems to shift.

Palms shaking, you pull on Namjoon’s hair to guide him to your newest point of pleasure. “Right there. Right there.”

He moans and expels shaky breaths through his nose. Immediately feeling guilty for being rough, you soften your grip and lovingly smooth back his hair. Disheveled, sweat-slicked strands fall against his forehead, rebelling against your touch.

“Sorry,” you mumble, cradling the sides of his face, trying to draw him up from his position. “Did I hurt you?”

He doesn’t budge. Dark brown eyes flicker upwards. The electric tingle in your heart steals your breath as you’re caught in his lurid gaze. He digs his fingernails into the soft flesh of your inner thigh and the energy contained in your chest bursts. Shockwaves of internal chills scatter throughout your body.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he whispers. “Pull me however you want, baby.”

His voice is so low and soft that it barely registers to your ears. Your brain doesn’t have time to process the words before he drags his nose over your clit and sucks on your labia. You gasp out his name as he moves back to tongue your clit. He keeps his eyes on you as he plunges his fingers into you with a renewed sense of urgency, desperate to make you say it again. It doesn’t take long for a stuttered verse of his name to sputter from your pretty lips.

Another shockwave of excitement pulses through your gut. He makes it so easy to lose yourself in the pleasure he offers. Any shame and anxiety falls to the wayside, making way for your impending orgasm. You gasp out a pitiful sound and grind your pelvis towards his soft, plush lips to create even more pressure where you need it most. There’s no doubt he feels the way you clench around his fingers and because he reaches as far as he can in search of your g-spot and looks to your face for any sign of discomfort. Instead he finds you looking back through half lidded eyes that threaten to close any moment. With your eyebrows knitted together and quivering lips parted, he knows you’re on the brink of coming undone.

You reach for the back of his head as you lift your hips and cry out. You might not make those exaggerated pornstar moans, but yours are infinitely better. It’s better than anything he could have imagined. His name spills from your lips again, tired and quiet as you come down. There’s no need for you to tell him to stop or push him away this time. His softened lips are already crashing down against your mouth.

As you glide your tongue along his, the tang of your own juices fills your mouth. It doesn’t bother you. If anything it spurs you on to wrap your arms around his back and pull him closer. You tug on his shorts again. This time he raises no argument. He inhales a shaky breath as he goes in for another kiss and works the clothing down his legs until he’s steadying himself over you and clumsily struggling to kick them off.

You take his face in your hands while he gracelessly fights the fabric caught around his ankle and he smiles at you. Another jolt of electric butterflies pulse in your gut, frazzling your senses as they travel outward from their point of origin. By the time the sensation reaches your brain, it carries along the weight of your feelings. You reflect on how he cares for you, how he’s always cared for you. Navigating the key pleasure points mapped to your body is just one more way he can show it. You’re so incredibly lucky to have someone in your life so attentive and considerate of your needs. It makes you wonder how you meandered through life without a guiding light like Namjoon to lean on for support. Meditating on that thought threatens you with torrid tears.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Before he can respond with you draw him into a deep kiss, crossing your legs behind his waist to pull him closer. His shaft presses against your sensitive clit as he grinds himself down. While your body reacts with a twitch, you still roll your hips up to meet him. His bottom lip quivers and you suck it between your teeth, slowly drawing it away from him. When it snaps back to him he chases your mouth and presses you down into the pillows.

He follows the enticing motion of your hips with a loud groan. The slippery nature of your folds promises to make his entrance effortless. Each pass his cock makes over your cunt is another strike against his willpower, but god if it doesn’t feel amazing. It would be so easy to slip in, just a little bit, just enough to satisfy the aching need of the tip that inches closer and closer to your cunt. The way you lift it for him only serves as a greater invitation.

He rolls himself through your slick folds, floating on the high of the pleasure, encouraged by the moans you breathe into his mouth. He ruts into you, coasting into your entrance just enough to make him break the kiss with a whispered expletive. You whimper as he retreats and try to beckon him back with another gentle roll of your hips. He sighs, allowing himself to rock back into you enough to coat the tip of his dick with your warmth. Your cunt pulses against him, seeking to lure him further inside.

Again he surrenders to your salacious advance, sheathing the head of his cock in its entirety within your heat. You gasp and moan at the welcome intrusion, pulling on his hair as though it will move him closer than he already is.

“Please,” you whisper. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Desperate to feel the stretch of his cock diving deep inside, you make your best attempt to raise your hips higher to take more of him in. He moans into your mouth, gently rocking himself further into your cunt and then slowly pulling back out.

Playing this game is dangerous. He knows that. But with each gasp and moan he pulls from you, the stakes rise. He tells himself he’s allowed to drive another moan from you with his teasing. Just one more time. One more sound. He tests his own resolve with each shallow thrust, never sinking deeper than before.

“Joonie,” you whine as he pulls back again. “Please. Stop teasing. I want your cock in me.”

His stomach does a somersault and it snaps him back to reality before his hips can snap forward instead. He leaves the comfort of your sweet cunt to lean over you and fish for the packet in the drawer of his nightstand. It should be right on top, but it’s not. Where the fuck is it?

The sticky wet head of his cock slips against your belly while he frantically rummages through the drawer. You shudder and reach down to take him in your palm, earning you a breathy curse in response. He spares a glance towards your mischievous eyes before looking down at the way you gather the moisture from the peak of his cock and pump it down to the base. His eyes roll back in delight for a moment and he drops onto the weight of his arm. The drawer rolls out farther than it should and promptly clatters off its track and onto the carpet below.

“I can fix that,” he announces.

“Are you okay?” You laugh, trying to sit up to help.

“Fine,” he murmurs, leading you back to the pillows with a kiss. “You just got me a little...”

His eyes wander to the nightstand. Perched on its surface are the remaining foil packets he’d been searching for in the drawer with its contents now spilled on the floor.

“Oh my god.” He sighs.

“Yes?” you press with a smile. “You good?”

“Mhm.”

He quickly snatches one up, fumbling it in his hands for a second before he recklessly rips it open. He leans back on his knees to roll the condom on, but about halfway down his shaft the rubber splits and snaps against his fingers. He vents a frustrated sound from his throat and scolds himself internally for being too excited, too eager. He wasted another one in his haste.

“I’m sorry,” he says in defeat. “Hold on.”

You’re already carefully opening the last packet while he rises to discard the bits of ruined rubber. “It’s okay. Come here. I got you.”

As he approaches the bed you reach out and begin to slowly roll the new condom down his shaft. He watches your hands roam over his cock with wonder. You seem much more confident now that he’s made a complete fool of himself for the millionth time today. Maybe you won’t think of him as so much of a saint now. He’s just as much of a mess as you are.

“You don’t have to worry so much,” you say with a slow pump of your hand over his cock. “I always have that five dollars, you know?”

It’s difficult to take your eyes off of the perfect shape of his dark cock. It’s veiny and thick in your palm, and long enough to make you wonder how it might feel hitting the back of your throat. You manage to shift your gaze to his face and beam at him.

His worried expression melts into a dimpled smile. “Geeksquad saves the day again, huh.”

“Yeah. Pretty great, right? So, come here.” Despite feigned confidence, your jaw trembles with anxiety as you settle against the pillows once more. Nerves set your body alight with excited anticipation. “And put your cock in me.”

He slots himself between your thighs and cups your cheek, catching the subtle shiver of your body.

“Cold, baby?”

“Excited,” you admit, grazing your fingers over the expanse of his back until they’re nestled in the hair behind his neck. You kiss him.

It doesn’t matter how much time he’s had to recuperate. As soon as your lips are on his and he’s teasing himself into you, he knows he’s in trouble. You’re so tight. How is he supposed to last? Inch by slow inch you take him in, then out again. Your fingers twirl around strands of his hair until you’re sure it can’t be twisted any further.

“Oh fuck.”

Your jaw drops and you gasp a stuttered slew of nonsense as he bottoms out. He remains there, unmoving as your body adjusts to the stretch of his cock. Every executable file in your brain stops working as you lie beneath him with your mouth agape, eyes wide, and fingers tangled in his hair.

“Need a minute?” he asks, peppering kisses along your bottom lip and lightly working it between his teeth.

Finally you find the command in your brain to resume all processes. You moan into his kiss and purposefully clench around him. “Do you?”

“Evil,” he murmurs as he begins setting a slow, steady pace with his hips. “Goddamn, you’re tight.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy, exposing your neck for his mouth to latch onto. Your hands explore the muscles of his back, digging into the sculpted flesh with your nails. He grunts against you, sucking a mark into the crook of your neck to muffle the sound. Taking time to follow the creases dividing the defined muscles of his triceps, your palms drift further down to curl around the pillars of his forearms. Without disrupting his pace, he reaches up to lace his fingers with yours.

The back of your palms press into the soft pillows beside your head. You’re connected as deeply and as literally as two people can be and still you crave more. When you moan his name into the open air he trails a line of sloppy open-mouthed kisses to meet your lips. You meet each slow thrust with a roll of your hips and a desperate need to keep him inside of you forever. Frenzied panting fills the space between you as you break the kiss.

Dark eyes full of adoration peer down at you, focused on the way the force of his accelerated thrusts shake every part of your body but leaves your gaze untouched. It’s insane just how much he cares for you. By now you must be sick of hearing his declarations of love, but he wants to say it all the same. He wishes he could make you cum for him like this. He would do anything to make you cum a second time before he does. Maybe with more practice he’ll learn your body well enough to make it happen. For now he’ll settle for making you feel good. You’re enjoying yourself at the very least.

A smile spreads across your face and a sweet laugh slips out. “What?”

“What?” he echoes, lost in the sight of you beneath him like this.

It’s like his head goes empty when you laugh like that, when you look at him like you’re shy and infatuated at the same time.

“Looks like you wanna say something.”

The serious expression plastered on his features matches the intensity of his whisper, “Yeah. Maybe I do. You wanna know what it is?”

Every muscle in your cunt contracts around him. He purses his lips, takes a slow breath through his nose and relaxes his pace.

He leans next to your ear and whispers in a quiet tone, “You’re just so fucking sexy.”

You’re so flattered that all the embarrassment resting on the tip of your tongue dissipates the moment you open your mouth. Flustered words form and then decompose the moment they’re to be spoken into existence. All that comes out is a broken sound of uncertainty.

It’s like the lights dance in his eyes as he takes a moment to straighten up and regard your features. His lips press against your forehead, then your nose and he pauses over your lips.

“I love you.”

The words fall from your mouth easier than ever. “I love you too.”

He kisses you like it’s the first time: passionate, desperate, and needy. You break off to rest your forehead against his.

“So are you gonna cum inside me or what?” You can barely conceal the smile that breaks through your pursed lips.

“Wow. So am I just a piece of meat to you, Geeksquad?” he jokes.

“I mean… Protein right?” You make a ‘yikes’ face at him and start to laugh.

He shakes his head but he’s grinning like a fool. “Well if it’s what you want…”

Just like that he calls your half-bluff. He ducks his face into the crook of your neck and begins to suck another mark over the fading mark from his earlier endeavors. Your laughter quickly turns into a string of moans as he resumes the previous tempo of his thrusts. A surge of adrenalin flips your stomach on itself and excitement pulses through your body at the thought of his cum slowly dripping out of your cunt.

“I do.”

You squeeze his hands and shimmy him away from your neck so you can sink your teeth into his shoulder to hide the shame of your desire. A broken moan rattles its way up his throat as he entertains the fantasy you’ve conjured in his mind.

“You want me to fill you, hmm?” he whispers in a breathy tone between shallow breaths.

There’s no doubt in your mind that he feels the way your cunt tenses at his words to offer a wordless answer, but you also offer a muffled hum of affirmation.

“You want me to fuck my cum into you just like this, baby?” His words are followed by the sound of his balls slapping against your ass at a new feverish pace.

“Yes,” you whimper and bring your lips to his, high off the sensation of his dick plowing into you.

“Gonna take it all for me?”

“Mhm. Cum for me,” you plead between sloppy kisses. “Cum inside me.”

“Oh shit, baby,” he gasps.

You don’t get another opportunity to coax him into letting go because he’s already slamming his hips into you and crushing his mouth over yours. He’s buried deep inside of you when his hips still but you wiggle beneath him and purposefully clench to give him the tiniest overdose of pleasure. He sighs as he leans back, finally releasing his death grip on your sweaty palms.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“You’re sweet,” you murmur, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Good lay too.”

He rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless. “Likewise.”

When he pulls out to rise and dispose of the condom you already miss his shape, but the unmistakable ache starts to set in: the ache of a pussy pounded too well after a long hiatus. You clamp your legs together and roll onto your side to expose the skin of your sweaty back to the cold air of the room, closing your eyes as you listen to the patter of raindrops against the window.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Mmm.” You don’t bother opening your eyes. “I seriously need another shower. Sorry about your bed.”

He kneels on the floor next to the edge of the bed and carefully moves the hair from your face. “You can soak my sheets any time.”

“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind. Sounds gross though. Definitely don’t wanna lay in the puddle behind me.”

“Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna sleep right there?”

“No.”

You’re such a liar.

He lets a few seconds of silence pass before he speaks again. “How about shower and movie?”

You peek at him from beneath one eyelid. “What movie?”

“Thinking The Kick, unless you have something else in mind.”

“No, that’s— Wait, what time do we have to be at Tae’s?”

Namjoon’s eyes widen and he rubs the back of his neck. “Later… Uh, about that. Are we— I mean on one hand I don’t wanna make a big deal about it but…”

You bolt upright. “Oh no. They’re gonna make such a thing out of it. Nevermind. I’m never seeing them again.”

“It won’t be that bad.”

“Won’t it? Oh my god, if I show up in your clothes…”

“Geeksquad.” He grabs your face.

“Joonie.”

You reciprocate the action and squish his cheeks towards the center of his face, causing his lips to pucker. He quickly takes your hands into his own.

“Hey. Look at me,” he pauses to make sure you meet his eyes before he continues. “You’re fine. Stay. We’ll figure it out when we get there and we’ll do it together.”

“Okay,” you breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“Be my ride?” He flashes you his wide dimpled smile.

“Only if you’re mine later.” You wink and draw him into a chaste kiss.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

"Geeksquad."

His voice sounds distant and soft while reminding you you’re home. In this moment, you’re safe, you’re warm, and you’re loved. It’s too comforting to move away right now, too comforting to bring your eyes to open, so you cling to the heat of his body.

“Hey,” he tries again, gently nudging your shoulder. “Geeksquad, wake up.”

You make sure that your distaste is apparent with a loud grumble. You nuzzle against his chest with your cheek and hum like it will drown him out. He laughs softly as the sound fades away. He briefly lets silence fill the space, which allots you the precious seconds needed to hit the imaginary snooze button and doze off again. It seems he isn't having it when he lets out a loud sigh.

“You missed the end and it’s already five,” he tries to reason. “Weren’t you the one who told me not to let you sleep too long? Unless…” He carefully snakes his fingertips down to your side, hoping to remain undetected. “...You changed your mind about going home to get all cute because you finally realize you are cute, you know, without trying."

You groan against his chest and that seems to be enough to keep him quiet. Just as he feels your head begin to drop down he starts talking loudly.

"Oh, I see. You just really wanna be out flaunting how good you look wearing my clothes. That’s it, right?"

You lightly smack your hand against his chest but don’t allow yourself to let your guard down until you’re certain he's given up.

"That must be it," he continues. "Not you... Being a pain in the ass to wake up. At all.”

With your head pressed against his chest, you find it difficult to drift back off with every loud word dropping from his mouth and vibrating straight into your eardrum. Still you rock your forehead against him and try to ignore his booming voice. When his fingers dig into your side to tickle you, your body jolts up straight and you can’t help but laugh.

“Wow. She speaks,” he jokes. “...Kinda.”

You wiggle against his grip, thrusting your chest up while dipping your head back. You attempt to scold him with his name between a fit of giggles. “Stop,” you wheeze.

“But I love the way you laugh.” His fingers relax despite his words. He leans in to press his lips to your perfectly exposed neck.

Your breathless laughter quickly transforms into a subtle slew of whimpers. He swathes his tongue across a particularly sensitive spot and your breath hitches. You grab his arm and pull down like you want him to crush you like a bug. He doesn’t. Instead he smirks against your neck when he feels your nails dig into his bicep.

“Joonie…” you whine.

He offers his inquiry in the form of a hum that radiates vibrations from the point of contact with your skin.

You’re embarrassed to admit the million things you want to ask him to do right now in place of complaining about his teasing. “Come closer.”

“Closer how?” he murmurs before kissing that spot again.

You take the hand at your side and slip it beneath the worn fabric of your shirt. You don’t have to lead him very far until he’s molding the flesh of your breast with his hand and you’re panting shallow breaths into the air around you. The sweet kiss at your neck turns into a sinful demonstration. The things he could do to you, for you. Do you truly know?

You know you never want him to leave. The heat from his mouth seems to sear a path of lava straight to your core. Your fingers glide through his hair and settle at his jaw. It takes all of your self control to gently push him away from that delightful spot he’s found so that you can plant a soft kiss against his jaw.

You draw out a groan as you pull away. “Maybe we should just cancel.”

“Mmm, don’t tempt me. You know I will,” he murmurs, chasing after your lips.

You lean back just a bit further, a grin plastered on your face as you allow him to press his mouth against yours just one more time.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

The rain has been reduced to a light patter against your windshield now. You’re grateful that visibility is decent as you pull up to the familiar curb in front of Namjoon’s building. Already waiting just within the building’s entrance, he sprints out at the sight of your headlights. He eagerly hops into the passenger seat and you do your best not to look over at him. Suddenly, you’re nervous. Have your palms ever secreted this much sweat in your life? Still you keep your hands planted on the steering wheel, staring ahead like you’re playing the role of a first-time chauffeur.

Sensing a lingering apprehension, he clears his throat as his seatbelt clicks into place. “Everything okay?”

Keeping the car in park, you allow yourself to look over at him. He smells good. He looks incredible, even in a simple black tee and jeans. And he’s looking at you like all he wants to do is kiss your lips for the millionth time today. It’s like you can feel the anxiety melt from your face.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, shaking out your hands as though that will clear the sweat from them. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

Your sheepish laugh causes him to reach out for your sweaty palm. To your surprise his hand is just as hot and moist as yours. Regardless of how uncomfortable it is, he holds on tight and laces his fingers between yours.

“It’s okay. Me too.”

The pair of you stare at each other for a few seconds in silence, just smiling and trying to think of what you were going to say before promptly getting lost in one another’s eyes. How is it you’ve never noticed the softness in his features when he looks at you like this? It still feels kind of surreal. But your heart skips a beat and you allow yourself to acknowledge the way heat radiates from your cheeks. You want to kiss him, to reassure him you’re not going to waffle on him again, but you’re too entranced by the infatuation smeared across every aspect of his face.

When you finally speak, he starts at the same time and you both have to pause and laugh. Silence falls between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s charged. It’s shy. It’s excited. He bites his lip and drags it through his teeth as his eyes rake over any part of you they can.

“You look beautiful.”

You lick your lips and your smile grows larger in response. “I- Thank you. I’m. We-- I mean, you look…” A nervous laugh slips into the breath between your words. “Hi.”

He leans across the armrest and plants a soft kiss against your lips. The moment you reciprocate his tongue dips into your mouth and glides against yours. It takes all of your willpower to keep the car running instead of plucking the keys out and dragging him back into his apartment to fuck him stupid. Still you rely on him to break the kiss.

“Hi,” he whispers, dragging a thumb across your cheek as he cups your jaw. “Still nervous?”

You nod. “My stomach hurts.”

“Hey, they’re our friends. It’ll be okay.”

“I know. You’re right.” You sit back against your seat and stare blankly out the foggy windshield. “I haven’t answered Jennie all day. She’s asking and I… I don’t want to answer.”

His heart sinks. It sounds like you want to keep things a secret, even though he knows you’re a terrible liar. No wonder you’re so nervous. It’s the last thing he wants to do, but if you asked he would attempt to cover for the both of you. He sincerely hopes you don’t ask.

“It’s just… I don’t want it to be a text. I mean, do we go in holding hands?” you ask, instantly allaying his fears. “Do we just announce it?”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Geeksquad, come on. Pretend like nothing’s changed. Things are basically the same right?”

You nod, but your expression casts uncertainty over the action. “Right, right. We can just say it like that, right? I mean, we still work at the same place. We still like to hang out together. Watch movies,It’s just a little more… intimate. You know, the kind of time you spend with someone that you care about and like… make out and have bomb sex and—”

“I’ll tell them we’re together,” he interrupts. “You’re my girlfriend. You signed the love contract.”

“Okay but you’re not going to tell them about the contract right?”

“Mmm. Maybe. Didn’t see anything about it in the terms and conditions.” He laughs.

“Uh, the fine print says you’re sworn to secrecy of its existence. You know, like fight club.”

“Must have missed that. Didn’t have my glasses on, you know?”

“Oh, here.” The lightbulb in your head flickers on. You rummage through the compartment beneath the armrest, presenting Namjoon with the glasses you’d been meaning to return for some time now. “Maybe these will help. You left them at my place.”

“Shit. I thought I lost those.” He sighs, taking them from you. “Wish I hadn’t ordered another pair.”

“Sorry, I kept forgetting to give them to you,” you admit.

He smiles. “Did you forget, or were you pining over me? Be real with me, Geeksquad.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay. I’m gonna start driving before I push you out of this car.”

“Sniffing them because they remind you of me?” he teases.

“Yeah. They smell like avocados.” You laugh as you turn your attention to the road. “You’re lucky hipster glasses are in.”

“Alright, baby.”

He hums in amusement, sparing a glance out the window beside him. It seems like the barrage of rainy days may be coming to an end soon. At least he hopes so. There’s not much he wouldn’t give to take you to his favorite hiking spots, have a picnic with you under clear blue skies, or lay on a sandy beach with you by his side.

“You keep calling me baby,” you point out quietly, pulling him from his reverie.

“Wha— I’m sorry. It was heat of the moment and it felt really natural when we were fucking you know? But if it’s weird now, I-I can stop. I’ll stick with tried and true Geeksquad.” He stumbles through his embarrassment in true Namjoon fashion.

“No, I like it. I just wanted to tell you it... makes me feel good. Way better than Geeksquad.”

“Yeah, you are.”

You smirk and reach for his hand and he gives you a tight squeeze, driving the rest of the way in a comfortable silence. Holding his hand is enough to keep you distracted from all the noise in your head.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

Knock-knockknock—-knock-knock.

The answer to your knock is the resounding pound of Hobi’s fist through the barrier of the door.

KNOCK-KNOCK.

The door swings open and Hoseok’s smiling face greets you. Namjoon’s hand falls from around your shoulder on instinct. Although Hoseok’s eyes briefly drop to Namjoon’s twitching fingers he draws no further attention to the reaction, stepping aside and gesturing for the pair of you to enter. Seokjin’s incoherent shouting carries from the other room, nearly drowning out your greetings.

“It’s about time.” Hoseok tips a bottle to his lips and the majority of the liquid sloshes back down as he makes a face and runs to shove it against Yoongi’s shoulder. “Yuck.”

Yoongi takes a hearty swig without so much as a glance away from the kitchen. The unmistakable bounce of a ping pong ball springs from the unseen room and you lean back to attempt to see around the blockade Yoongi and Hoseok’s bodies have created between you and whatever is happening in there.

“They started playing while we were waiting for you. Should be done soon,” Hobi says, walking back towards you. “Jimin and Tae put up a good fight but Jungkookie is too good.”

“You didn’t have to wait. We could have met you there,” Namjoon says, rubbing the back of his neck and stealing a sideways glance at you.

Hoseok raises an eyebrow and smirks, his eyes following Namjoon’s to you. His bony finger pokes your spine and you instantly tense and straighten your posture.

“I think we all wanted to wait.”

He knows. Even as you spin towards him you feel it. Despite the words left unspoken, somehow he already knows.

Yup. It’s time. Just get it over with. Easier thought than done.

“Why?” you blurt.

“Well...” Hoseok begins, ghosting his fingers over your shoulder as he walks towards the couch to put his shoes on. “We wanted to see you guys. Had a feeling we might not see too much of you as the night goes on. Figured you might want some,” he pauses to finish knotting his shoelace, grinning at you as he stands, “hmm, alone time?”

“I— Pssfht. What?” The unexpected shrillness of your voice cuts through the space between you. You clear your throat and do your best to dampen your anxiety. “I mean, like, why would we—? We’re—We, uh, whew… Is it hot in here?”

Words are no good right now. Anything else you say will just be another unnecessary embarrassment to endure. Your heartbeat resides in your ears as your flight response kicks in. Namjoon must hear it too because drapes his arm around your shoulder and pulls you towards the comforting mass of his chest.

Your fingers fidget with your keys even though you know you won’t need them tonight. You consider tossing them in the bowl Tae keeps on the counter, but that would require walking past the rest of your friends and abandoning Namjoon. You agreed you would face them together.

Namjoon smiles softly and gives your arm a reassuring squeeze. “We’re good, man.”

“Are you?” The look on Hoseok’s face tells you he’s hoping you’ll expand on Namjoon’s short answer. “How are you doing, Y/N? Has that douche tried to contact you?”

You almost forgot about Jihoon. It seems like such a distant memory now. The sting of his words echo in the darkest corner of your mind, but not for long. A smile forces those thoughts to scatter as you look to Namjoon for support. You take a breath and exhale a relieved sigh.

“Nope. He’s gone for good, I think.” You reach for Namjoon’s hand, using the courage his touch instills to fuel your confession. “If he comes back around I’m sure my boyfriend will try to kick his ass.”

“Wait. It’s finally happening?” Hoseok’s eyes go wide and he springs from the couch in an instant to poke his fingers against your sides. He didn’t expect to be totally correct in his assumptions, but he hoped for it. “For really real?”

You said it first. Out loud. Namjoon’s stomach churns in excitement as he looks at you. You’re grinning like a dork and nodding even though he knows you’re embarrassed as hell. Yeah. He’s pretty sure he’s never been more in love with your goofy ass smile. Hoseok covers your entwined fingers with both of his hands and practically drags you both towards the kitchen.

“Guys, guys! It’s official!”

The ball leaves Jungkook’s fingertips, launches across the table and circles the rim of the final cup as his opponents turn away. The room goes quiet, save for the airy spin of the ball slowly decelerating into the contents of the cup. Namjoon adjusts his glasses and you swallow hard under the burning spotlight of your friends’ eyes.

“Drumroll, please!” Hoseok demands with a smile, rolling his tongue to begin the buildup. “Bdrdrdrrdrdrdrdrdrdrdrdrdr--”

Yoongi presses his lips together to hold back a smile and begins drumming his fingers on the wall beside him. Not willing to be outdone, Seokjin and Jungkook join in, pounding their fists on the table, followed by the light tap of Jimin’s hands against his thighs, and the smack of Taehyung’s palms against his face.

“I present to you the moment we’ve all been waiting for…” Hoseok ducks behind the pair of you and lifts your arms like you’ve just tied for victory in a boxing match. “Joonsquad!”

The inflection at the end of his tone makes you cringe almost as hard as the nickname.

“Nope. No. We’re not calling it that.”

“Joonsquad? Really?”

The combined cheers from your friends drown out your objections.

Jimin’s arms are the first to wrap you both into a tight bear hug. “I’m so happy for you both.”

The statement seems genuine, but you’re flooded with the embarrassing memory of drunkenly slobbering over his face. Namjoon had always reminded you that Jimin was used to keeping things casual but still you find yourself ashamed for going there. Harmless flirting and games of chicken ruled your friendship with Jimin for so long. You used to fantasize about his lips exploring your body, but it seems so preposterous now. You’re not sure when it happened, but things changed.

Despite your mind’s acknowledgement of his beauty there is no worry accompanying it, no butterflies wreaking havoc on your senses. Your simple crush has faded into surface appreciation. It seems easy to recognize that now that you’ve stopped trying to push down the feelings you have for your best friend. Any lingering affections you bear resemble nothing more than a strengthened friendship, much like the one you’ve shared with Jennie for years.

Even with all the back slaps and fistbumps, Namjoon’s eyes are trained on you in a smitten stupor. Embarrassment does nothing to steal the light in your eyes or the joy in your laugh. All of the congratulations in the world can’t reach his ears when you’re looking at him like that.

“I knew it!” Jennie comes running from around the corner, pushing past all the men in her path to throw her arms around you. “No wonder you’ve been dodging my texts. I wanna know everything.” She attempts a whisper, but softness doesn’t translate through the liquor already clouding her voice. “In detail.”

Namjoon clears his throat loudly to combat the redness spreading along his ears. “Where are we headed? Seesaw?”

Everyone looks at one another like they hadn’t really thought about it.

“Sure. Your first drink is on me.” Yoongi throws an arm around Namjoon.

Hoseok weaves his arm beneath Yoongi’s from Namjoon’s other side, beginning to walk them towards the door. “It’s a dancing night, don’t you think?”

“How about we hit up the strip club after?” Jungkook suggests, already tugging his sneakers on and stumbling towards the door.

Seokjin rolls his eyes and claps a hand around the youngest’s neck. “Do you really want to break up a couple so soon?”

“What? They can look together, right? Wings doesn’t discriminate. It’s like a bonding thing. You don’t mind, do you, Y/N?”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We’re not going there.” Seokjin turns back to Jungkook to whisper, “Not every celebration needs to be at a strip club.”

“I’ll remember that on your birthday,” Jungkook mutters, already on his way out the door.

The others begin to follow suit but before you can get too far, Taehyung latches onto your elbow. “Keys.”

“Right.” You produce a tangled mess of keychains and keys. Namjoon hangs back to wait with you, leaning against the doorframe as Tae disappears.

“You’re always welcome to stay here,” Tae offers as your keys clang against the others in the bowl.

Namjoon chews on his lip and looks to you. As long as you’ll lay next to him he doesn’t care where he sleeps tonight.

“Depends how drunk we get,” you reply with a smile, lacing your fingers with Namjoon’s to lead him out of the apartment. “Thanks, Tae.”

He grins and pats Namjoon’s shoulder after locking the door. “Don’t worry, Jungkook washed all the sheets yesterday.”

You flip up the hood of your sweater and tighten the strings to cover your face. You’re definitely not coming back here tonight.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

You’ve done your best to balance your attention between your friends throughout the night, sharing food, drinking and laughing together. But as the night continues you feel your energy draining with each attempt to remain social and engaged in conversation. You’re grateful when Namjoon steers the conversation away from you, leading most of the table towards the bar to collect more drinks for everyone. Only Hoseok and Yoongi are left to hold down the table with you. You’re pretty sure Namjoon is counting on the majority of the group getting distracted and splitting off. At least you’re hoping that’s what he’s playing at because you’d really like to get away from all the questions and stories.

When you yawn Yoongi nudges your elbow out from under you, forcing you to catch yourself before your chin slams against the table.

“Tired?” he asks with a smirk, eyes focused elsewhere.

“Mmm,” you agree with a nod. “I guess I should get up before they come back or I’ll be stuck here forever, huh?”

“You know, you’re not being rude if you want to head out. You don’t have to stay and prove anything. We’ve all been rooting for you to get together. If you wanna slip away for some privacy, you should.”

It’s funny how well your friends know you. You can’t even remember what life was like before they came along.

“A break from questions would be nice,” you admit with a stretch of your arms.

Hoseok, who’s been nursing the same drink all night, brings the glass to his lips and gulps down a rather large sip and scrunches his features together. “Blegh. Ooooor you can come dance with me.” He wiggles his eyebrows for good measure.

You stare him down, tonguing the straw to your tequila sunrise and trying to steal the last sip of the drink from the ice that remains in your glass. Is he trying to fuck with you?

“Don’t worry, I’ll be good.” He laughs, offering you his hand. “Namjoonie’s not much of a dancer, but I think he’d be willing to learn from you more than me. Think I can teach you something to show him before he gets back?”

“Hobi, I know how to dance,” you say with a laugh, although you’re already taking his hand.

“Mmm, do you though?” Hoseok flitters his free hand back and forth. “Ehhhh.”

With a roll of your eyes, you spare Yoongi a glance. “You coming?”

Yoongi leans back in his seat with a shake of his head. He casually pops a fry into his mouth.“Go on. I’ll send Namjoon your way so Hobi will keep his hands above your waist.”

“That’s just rude,” Hoseok scoffs, pulling you towards the dance floor.

He’s true to his word, dancing as respectably as someone with hips like Hoseok can. He guides your hips with his hands as he sways behind you.

“You’re perfect for him,” he says.

“What?” Your rhythm falters and you lose your sense of balance, stepping on his foot as you try to keep yourself from falling. “Sorry.”

He laughs, tickling your sides. “See? That’s what I mean. Took you dummies long enough to realize it.”

“It’s my fault. I was too scared and stupid to see what was right in front of me this entire time.” You sigh and lean back, surprised to find his chest a decent distance away. “I still think he’s too good for me.”

“Oh, pffft. Stop it,” Hoseok chides in your ear.

“I hope— Ugh, nevermind.”

“What?”

A small chuckle escapes with a held breath. “It’s dumb.”

“So?”

“I just— I hope my love is good enough for him.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.”

His hands hug around your stomach and push you closer to him, but the way they subtly tremble as they descend to rest on your hips feels different. When Hoseok steps around and hands still clasp you from behind, your heart soars. If not for the familiarity of the stiff chest at your back and the loving embrace enveloping your form, you might be nervous.

Namjoon’s lips caress your ear as he whispers, “You know it is.”

Even your best attempt to hide your embarrassed smile would fail, so it’s a good thing you’re not even trying. Hoseok wears a satisfied grin as he watches you turn towards Namjoon for a shy kiss. He thinks about leaving you with dancing advice, but instead he decides to slink away wordlessly. There isn’t anything he could say right now that the two of you would hear, not when you’re in a world of your own like this.

It’s easy to lose track of time as you grind against him, teasing him with every swaying motion of your hips. Every sigh against your ear spurs you on to press him further. Even with all the layers between you, the hard length grinding against your ass is ever-present and obvious enough to make you want to bend over so he can take you right here.

Instead you dance and feel his body move against yours until exhaustion starts to set in. Tae and Jennie are already waiting for a ride by the time you step outside. Your cheeks ache from smiling so much and every muscle in your face is too tired to speak. She looks just as tired as you but she gives you a small greeting.

It’s funny how you don’t find anything odd about the way she leans into Tae as they sit near one another, or the way Tae is absentmindedly stroking her hair. You feel like it should be odd, but the world is so far away that you can’t hold the details in your brain long enough to make a connection. Between the haze of alcohol and sleep, you’re too far gone to think too much about it.

Namjoon keeps his arm around you as he talks to Tae, but you don’t catch much of their conversation. Sleep threatens to take you where you stand. You count yourself lucky that Namjoon cares for you so well. You close your eyes to rest for a moment, but when you open them again he’s unbuckling your seatbelt and helping you out of the lyft. You shuffle past the threshold of Tae’s home.

Namjoon leads you down the hall to the guest room and pulls on the dangling chain on the lamp near the bed. A soft yellow glow fills the room as you start to sleepily yank the clothing from your body. Namjoon quickly goes for the open door, but Tae is already in the doorway averting his gaze with one hand and holding a small quilt in the other.

“Thanks. She, uh, gets really cold,” Namjoon says, blocking your body with his frame as you bend at the waist to untie the shoes you now realize are blocking your pants from sliding over your feet.

“Sorry. Let me know if you need anything else,” Tae mumbles, clearly embarrassed. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Namjoon murmurs back, clutching the quilt as he softly closes the door and turns to you. “Baby.”

“Hmm.”

Your foot is stuck in your shoe but you can’t get your foot out because your shoe is stuck in your jeans. This is a conundrum.

“Baby, you’re gonna fall. Sit down. I’ll help you.”

“I can do it,” you mumble, plopping down on the edge of the bed.

“I know,” he says, already on his knees before you.

He frees your legs and gives you a kiss as he helps you wiggle below the bedspread, setting the quilt on top of your side.

“It’s hot,” you mumble.

“I know.”

“Too hot for blankets.”

“I know. How about the sheet?” he asks, rolling everything back except for the topsheet. He knows you. You’ll want them again soon enough.

“Mm. Come here.” You reach your grabby hands out for him as he flicks the light off.

“I’m coming.” He laughs and slides beside you. “So needy.”

Although you know he can’t see you pout, he pulls you toward his chest anyway and it turns into a smirk against his warm skin.

“It’s ‘cause I needy--you” you slur with a giggle, planting your lips against his chest in a drawn out kiss.

“You’re a hot mess and I love you,” he says, shaking his head.

“Love you, too.”

It’s clear you’re already falling asleep but he gently strokes your arm until the world around you begins to cool and fall away. When you roll away with a shiver, he carefully secures your body in a cocoon of blankets and drapes his arm and leg over you. Not even overheating could keep him from your touch. A wave of calm overtakes him.

This time he knows: this is love.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

Months into your relationship,you’ve have prepared for the end of the semester by planning a little vacation for just the two of you. Namjoon struggles to get through his last day of work, daydreaming about staying at Tae’s summer home and laying on the beach with you. His favorite hiking spot isn’t too far from there and he’s been dying to take you and show you the clearing of wildflowers he loves so much. Hopefully they’ve bloomed beautifully.

He yawns and stretches out, flipping the binder on his desk. It’s been a long day, commemorating the end of a long week. He’s exhausted, but he’s graded every last paper and is in good shape to submit final scores by the deadline. His phone buzzes against the dark wood in the only spot bereft of errant papers. He flips the screen around, finally allowing himself to check the time and give in to distractions.

You: Still working bae

He smiles, thumb gliding over the screen effortlessly while attempting to organize the mess on his desk.

Namjoon: Just finishing up. You: 😏 You: can I You: come before you finish You: it’s only fair

He halts his efforts to stare at his phone.

Namjoon: … You: yes?? Namjoon: 🤦‍♂️ You: what? I’m serious You: 😈😈😈 Namjoon: You on campus? You: I mean... You: who else is gonna be your ride 😘

He shakes his head, smile growing wider as he glances up at the monitor before him. He definitely doesn’t miss running to catch the last bus on late nights. He’s nearly done logging final comments. He’ll be done sooner than you can get here, but this might be as good a time as any to make the reveal.

Namjoon hits the icon to call you, swooning at the familiar image of you stealing his drink. He straightens his glasses and types away at the keyboard while trapping the phone between his ear and shoulder. It doesn’t ring for very long.

“Joonie?”

“Hey, I gotta upload these grades but I’m having trouble.”

You sigh. The last thing you want to do tonight is work, especially not with what you had planned. “What kind of trouble?”

Even as he types away on the keyboard, his mind searches for a term, some kind of red alert to get you off the phone and into his office so he can tell you in person.

“Uh… blue screen.”

“Blue screen of death?” You rub your temple. “What does it say?”

“Uh,” he swallows, pausing to proofread the comment along with the grade he’s about to submit. “It just restarted.”

“On its own?”

Submit.

“Yeah.”

“Is this the first time it’s doing this?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, see if it starts up okay. We can always come back before we go on vacation.”

“Baby, I really want to get these done tonight. I was so close to being done so we can start tonight.”

You sigh heavily and check your makeup in the rearview mirror. “Is it starting up?”

“No, it’s beeping.”

Even straining your ears doesn’t help you pick up on the sound. “Are you sure?”

“Can you come here? Please?”

Your heart melts. “I’ll be right there.”

You turn the car off and grab one of Namjoon’s oversized hoodies from the backseat. You slip it over your skimpy outfit and carefully make your way to the library, tugging on the hem like it will somehow magically cover all the exposed flesh down to your knees. No such luck. Regardless of how many times you’ve practiced wearing these awful heels, it’s not like you expected to be walking up several flights of stairs in them.

There’s no security guard at the station across the quad. You don’t know if you should feel as happy as you do about that. Despite the voice in the back of your head telling you to get in your car and demand an escort to his office, embarrassment outweighs any fear for safety and you push on. Only a familiar yellow cardigan draped over a chair greets you at the receptionist’s desk, its occupant long gone for the night.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins as you climb the stairs, passing stack after stack of dimly lit bookshelves until you’re standing outside of the only office still illuminated. Thankfully the door is propped open and you power walk as fast as you can towards it. The faster you can fix it, the faster you can head home and celebrate the end of the semester the way you originally planned.

He nearly tips the chair as he stands. It hits the back wall of his office with a graceless bang. “Y/N? Are those heels? Did you drive here in those?”

It’s difficult to keep your lips as they are when he adorns that expression, features battling between where they might settle: aroused or awestruck. You’d rather not screw up the perfect lipstick application you worked so hard to achieve— not yet at least. The plan is to be on your knees when that happens.

“You look—” he pauses as his traveling eyes try to glean any information they can. His voice lowers to a whisper and he quickly attempts to sate his curiosity with a wandering hand up your thigh. “Are-Are you not wearing anything under there?”

Before you can answer his fingers find the pleated fabric hidden beneath the hoodie and a new, eager question fumbles from his lips. “What are... you wearing?”

As much as you’d like for him to keep exploring, you muster enough willpower to smack his hands away. It’s only fair that he has to wait while you work.

“Computer first. You said it was beeping. Did it ever start back up?”

He swallows hard as you round the desk and start troubleshooting. It’s hard to think when all the blood in his brain is quickly evacuating in favor of inhabiting a far less intelligent location. He’s supposed to say something. He knows that much. But you look so beautiful he forgets how to say it. Your brows furrow in frustration and you sigh his name.

You’ve done your makeup, your hair is down for the first time in a long time, and you even put on a cute outfit as far as he can gather. But here you are in his hoodie, donning a pair of blue-light blocking glasses, rolling up the baggy sleeves, and tying your hair into a tight ponytail as you start to go into full on geeksquad mode. Even with your hunched shoulders and irritated tongue clicking, you’re trying to help him, still beautiful in the way he loves.

Underneath all that skin-deep beauty that fades with time, within the wrinkles that have already begun to crease the edges of your eyes and the corners of your mouth, you shine. You shine brighter than any star he’s ever seen. Months of reflecting your light haven’t been enough to show you the true glow of your soul, but he’s confident that one day you’ll see it.

He’s pulled back to reality as your scowl settles on him. Repeatedly pressing the power button with your finger won’t change the fact that he’s purposefully unplugged it, a fact it seems you’ve come to realize when you reach for the VGA cable and there’s nothing there.

A charming, dimpled smile graces his features and he picks up the monitor with ease. “I, uh, think maybe something fell off before you got here.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your computer, is there?” You lean back in the chair and sigh as he stands there like a fool on the opposite side of the desk, cradling his LCD screen like a bouquet.

“No,” he says sheepishly. He gently lowers the monitor to the floor and sighs. “I planned on presenting this better, but you distracted me. There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about for a while now.”

Your stomach is spinning and you take in a deep breath. Oh fuck. Is he really going to break up with you? No, he can’t be. He wouldn’t be smiling about that. Would he?

“Nothing bad,” he quickly adds, circling behind the desk and your chair in one large stride. His thumbs dive into the fabric of your hoodie to rub circles into your shoulders. “At least I don’t think you’ll think it’s bad…” Terror strikes at his belly and he adds, “Unless you do...”

“Joon. Please. You’re stressing me out. Whatever it is, just tell me.”

He spins the chair around and squats down onto one knee. He straightens his tie and reaches for your hand, sending your stomach on another rollercoaster ride, only this one is running in the complete opposite direction and you’re equally as unprepared. You’re not really a marriage kind of person. Well, maybe you are, but you’re not sure. It’s too soon to know! You’re more of a limbless amoeba at this point, stuffed into heels and floating with the other protozoa in the petri dish of the universe, unthinking, just existing.

The world stops as he reaches into his coat pocket and you find yourself too petrified to speak. You close your eyes and slump into the chair like you’ve become a being comprised solely of pudding. Your skirt rides up as you sink and your panties shrink into the world’s thinnest thong. Have you ever held a breath for this long? Maybe you’ll melt through the mesh seat and evaporate into the cheap carpet below. It takes him too long to realize his latest mistake.

It was probably the pudding hand that tipped him off.

“Oh. Shit. Okay. No, look at me. I’m not—” He laughs and sets something in your palm, closing your fingers around it and holding them there. “Look.”

You finally settle on the floor before him and squeeze the item in your palm. It feels unremarkable, like a basic wire or plastic cap. The most remarkable part about it is that it is definitely not a ring.

Relief washes over you with the breath you exhale. “Joon. You’re killing me. Please.”

“Here’s the thing.”

He releases your hand so you can look at this unremarkable thing that has caused you so much panic. It’s the plastic head of a CAT5 plug, pins and all. You tilt your head to one side and inspect it with childlike curiosity and bewilderment.

“I’m not that bad with computers. I mean, I’m not like you-level, but I’m not as bad as you think.”

Things begin to click into place. This isn’t just any ethernet plug. It’s the first one, the one you couldn’t fathom disappearing like it did, leaving a mess of wires in its wake. Namjoon just seemed so clueless that you naturally blamed drunken students vandalizing campus property for shits and giggles. It never crossed your mind that the sweet, quiet professor could have staged the whole thing.

“Before I knew you, I wanted to know you. But I felt like I needed an excuse to talk to you so I…” He reaches into his pocket and adds various bits of broken plastic and screws to your cupped hand. “...did this.”

You blink stupidly at the pile in your palm, watching busted pieces of plastic slide off the side of the tiny heap of junk and fall onto the floor beside your knees. “Oh my god. You…?”

“Breaking things seemed like the easiest way to spend time with you,” he admits. “At least at first. I started doing less destructive things after a while. Deleting empty documents. Unplugging my keyboard. Turning off bluetooth. Moving my email shortcuts. I mean, damn. I thought you caught me more than once. I kept waiting for you to call me out. I dreaded it. I hoped for it.”

A cackle bubbles in the back of your throat but you suppress it with a snort. “So you held onto these? This whole time?”

“I didn’t know if I should like, recycle them or not and it’s not like I could ask you. And I mean googling that just seems suspicious. I’m not about to land myself on a watch list or something. But like, for real, you should definitely tell me if I can recycle them though because I have more and I would really like to clean out my drawer.”

Laughter breaches your lips in full force. “You faked being bad at stuff this whole time? Joonie, are you serious? I can’t believe I fell for the way — the way you type!” You cough and wheeze, trying to catch your breath between laughs. “With two fingers! I should have known. Only dads type like that. Oh my god. “

He offers a sheepish smile. “Actually, I really type like that. Something about the keys.”

“Oh.” Your laughter dies. “Sorry. I mean that like… mmm. You know what, I meant what I said. Kinda crazy, considering you text faster than me.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Okay. Texting is different.”

You cross your arms, burying the broken pieces in your clenched fist. “Have you ever needed my help? Should even come running anymore?”

“Hey, sometimes I really do. I’m still clumsy. Plus, it’s out there now. I have no reason to waste your time... unless you want me to. I won’t stop you from climbing under my desk in those hot pants you wear with all the little pockets.”

You furrow your brows and scoff, an incredulous grin spreading across your face. “My cargo pants? Those pockets are huge.”

“Not compared to your ass.” He shakes his head with a smile, holds up his hands like he’s cupping your ass and pretends to squeeze it a couple times.

“Why are you like this?” You laugh with a roll of your eyes.

“Excuse me, who’s the one getting so drunk she’s going on thinking it’s hot to talk about making guacamole with my avocado dick?”

“Vaguely remember that. Smeared it all over me though, didn’t you?” You grin and wiggle your eyebrows.

He purses his lips and takes a breath. “If you mean watched you drink too fast on an empty stomach while we waited for takeout, sat with you while you dry-heaved for 20 minutes untiI I carried you to the couch and held your hand till you drank enough water to fall asleep, then yeah. Smeared it good.”

“And that’s why… I love you.”

You lean in and stop short of his lips, sitting back enough to narrow your eyes at him.

”Wait a minute. Projector.”

If you’ve been living on a ramen and cereal diet for two years because of a man’s inability to properly express romantic interest, you’re going to be pissed, regardless of how much you love said man now.

“Oh, hey, no. Hold up. The projector was a real accident. I cried,” he reminds you. “I will proclaim you as my goddess and savior for all time on that one.”

“Goddess, huh?” you smirk and close your fist around the busted pieces, leaning in for a kiss. “You gonna call me that instead now? I think I like that better than Geeksquad.”

He hums disagreement against your lips, “Mmm-mmm.”

You rest your forehead against his. “Promise me you won’t purposefully break anything else going forward.”

“I promise. That includes your heart,” he whispers, cupping your chin and pressing his lips against your cheek.

“You are so corny.” You pull at his tie, grinning as you lure him to your lips again. “And I’m so here for it. Now are you gonna help me up so we can start our vacation? Or are you gonna sit there with a hard dick and pretend like you still have work to do?”

He clicks his tongue and rises to his feet to extend a hand to you. As you attempt to pull yourself up, he reaches for your sides and lifts you with ease until you’re perched on the edge of his desk. He didn’t ask you to part your legs yet they spread for him anyway, wrapping around his waist and pulling him close.

“Are you gonna make me guess what all this is about?” he asks, tilting his head to the side and giving your crude ponytail a soft tug.

You smirk, staring at the red streaks of your lipstick circling his mouth while you try to ignore the heat between your legs that begs you to take him right here. You’ve imagined fucking on this desk thousands of times, but at least you still have enough sense to realize the risk in playing out that fantasy. He’s got a perfectly good desk at his place anyway.

“Take me home and maybe you’ll get to find out,” you say, pulling your keys from the hoodie pocket and letting them hang from your finger.

He groans as he takes them from you. “You know I can’t do highways.”

“Backroads are fine.”

“It’s gonna take forever,” he complains, dropping his head to your shoulder.

“It’s a good time to practice. Come on.” You pat his back a couple times and hop down from the desk, making sure to grind yourself against his erection. “I promise I’ll make it worth the wait.”

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

As soon as you’re in his apartment, you remove the hoodie to reveal your very crude surprise: a slutty schoolgirl costume. Eyes wide and jaw slack, he stops loosening his tie to imitate a lifeless statue of a drooling neanderthal.

“Y/N, what is… Why?”

“Because,” you begin in a low, sultry tone as you drag your fingers over the soft silk still in his hand. “I want you to teach me a lesson.”

His soft exhale fills the space between you and he stumbles to form a response. He laughs nervously, unable to compose himself. “What?”

You bite your lip, suddenly feeling stupidly uncertain. “You… watch this porn all the time, don’t you? At least I thought you did. Oh. Oh god. This is stupid. Sorry.”

He grips your shoulders to keep you from running towards the bedroom. His eyelids flutter for a

second as he struggles to compose his thoughts. “No. It’s fine. I’m all for roleplay. I’m just... I’m not into the teacher-student trope.”

You frown and reach into the hard-drive files of your brain for any porn you’ve seen on his computer. He’s lying and he knows you know it. He wilts under your puzzled gaze.

“I’m not that into it. Like a lot. I’ve seen some, but only when the story is there.”

“Oh, the story?” You hold back a giggle.

Is he really trying to tell you he’s watching porn for the plot to cover for some terrible porno choices? He should know by now that you don’t care about that. You’ve watched more than your fair share of terrible videos just to get off and immediately hated yourself after. It shouldn’t come as a surprise considering he pretended to be a total idiot with technology for years to cover up his feelings.

“What? I’m serious. I think it’s great when the woman is the teacher and the guy is her equal, you know? She definitely makes as much as he does, if not more because she does it in tight clothes because of the dress code, you know? And he comes in one day after hours and is like how does all this work, anyway? And she starts explaining but you know a button snaps and there’s tension. Baby, you know I’m a feminist. I would never—”

“Joonie. I’m not judging you. I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t into it myself. I thought it might be fun. And I mean… I really wanted an excuse to have you bend me over your desk, but if you’re not interested I can just—” As soon as you start to work at the buttons of your blouse, he reaches out to stop you.

“We can try it,” he says, bashfully taking a step back and tapping his fingertips against yours. “I’d like to, if you’re down.”

You see an opportunity to break the tension and put him at ease, donning your best valley-girl accent. “Oh em gee, Professor Kim! You are, like, my favorite teacher. Is there some way I can get some extra credit? Puhleeeaase.”

“Nope, none of that,” he says with a laugh, twining his fingers with yours. “As a rule you cannot use that voice.”

“Fair enough.” You lead him towards the desk and gesture to the chair nearby. “How about I’m the teacher since you like that plot point so much?”

He chews his lip to hold back a toothy grin and watches with eager eyes as you bend at the waist to inspect the desk before him, giving a clear view of your ass and panties as your skirt rises. You relocate anything valuable to the nearby bookshelf and work on gathering the papers strewn about the surface.

“Sorry just let me gather up all my extra paychecks,” you mumble.

Once the desk is clear you perch yourself on its edge. Namjoon is already holding out a hair tie and a pair of glasses.

“You forgot these at the staff meeting.”

You roll your eyes and grin, working your hair into a messy bun and resting the glasses atop your head. “Thank you, Professor Kim.”

“Professor Kim is my father. Call me Namjoon.”

You purse your lips and try your best not to laugh, uncrossing and recrossing your legs purposefully. “I suppose you can call me Y/N, then.”

He makes no attempt to hide his lurid gaze, but his eyes travel to your face and he smiles. “Can I call you beautiful, instead?”

“Very smooth, Joonie,” you chuckle, breaking character for a moment.

“Joonie. Hmm. I like the way that sounds in your mouth.”

“I think there’s something else you’d like in my mouth. Maybe you’d like to put it in?”

Namjoon straightens in his seat as you approach, chest heaving in anticipation as he spreads his legs further so you might slot yourself between them. He dips his tongue into your mouth and you work his belt off, slowly sinking to your knees as you try to will yourself to break away from his kiss. He’s eager to unzip his pants and free his cock for you. It stands at attention, eagerly awaiting your touch.

Your breath warms the tip as you skim your lips across him, teasing him just enough to have him twitching, aching to thrust into that pretty mouth. He bites his lip as he looks down at you and inhales sharply through his nose the moment you grip his shaft. The moan that follows is like music to your ears and you grant him the flat of your tongue to reward such a sound.

He combs his fingers through his hair and clutches your shoulder as you take him into your mouth. The dark swollen head of his shaft is thick enough to make your jaw ache, but the sound of him cursing and losing all sense of coherence makes it worth it. As he sinks further into your mouth, he tilts his head back and squeezes his eyes shut in ecstasy.

You take him as deep as you can, allowing your spit to coat his cock. He likes it when it’s sloppy, when you’re drooling over yourself while he fills your mouth and you’re more than happy to oblige. Your eyes water as he flirts with the back of your throat with a soft, shallow thrust. When you choke his head snaps up to focus on you but you wave his concerned look away and grip his shaft tightly.

A thin string of precum and spit still connects your mouth to him as you lean back for just a second to compose yourself.

“Hope you don’t have any other meetings planned.”

“Why’s that?” His palm gently cups the back of your head, waiting for the moment you’re ready to take him again.

“I’m gonna make a mess of you.”

“Good.”

You meet his eyes and gather as much spit in your mouth as you can, allowing it to dribble down his cock before pumping your fist over him. He doesn’t have time to guide your head back down because you’re already on him again, working him over with your hand any place the warmth of your mouth can’t reach.

He chokes out an expletive and buries a hand in your hair, taking in the sight of your perfect mouth offering the bliss he craves. “You take me so well.”

You bob on his cock until he snakes his fingers down to undo the first button of your blouse, granting him access to a sliver of cleavage. He’s eager to see more of you, to feel more of you. Even after months of being with you, it doesn’t take much to tip him over the edge. He won’t last much longer if you keep going, but he’ll be damned if he blows his load in your mouth before even getting an opportunity to touch you.

“I wanna feel you,” he murmurs, leaning forward to coax you away from his cock and back to his lips.

The moment you press your lips against his he reaches for your waist to help you stand. He’s about to follow suit when you surprise him, straddling his lap and grasping at his tie to pull him towards your chest. His cock throbs as it grinds against the slick barrier of your soaked panties, begging for entrance as he buries his face in the splendor of your cleavage. A roll of your hips tempts him to push your panties aside and plunge into you like this. His fingers work as quickly as they can to pop open a few more buttons before slipping down to grip the meat of your ass.

“Fuck me,” you plead, grinding yourself down.

His arms tense and before you can entice him further he stands with a grunt, hoisting you onto the desk. You barely have time to react as he yanks your panties down and plunges a finger into your dripping cunt. Planting an arm behind you and keeping the other clasped around the back of his neck, you weakly attempt to keep yourself somewhat upright.

“How about you make a mess for me instead,” he whispers, leaving your cunt in favor of rubbing quick circles against your clit. “And then I’ll fill you up. Walk you out of here past everyone so they can see my cum dripping from your thighs. Everyone will know what a filthy slut you are for me, won’t they, beautiful?”

The way your muscles tense up nearly gives you a cramp. You bite your lip and nod with a pathetic fucked out grin as he fucks his fingers into your cunt, continuing to rub against your clit. Your elbow wobbles and you frantically grasp at his shirt instead, balling the material into your fist, desperate to undo the buttons but too close to nirvana to remember how to perform such a simple task. Your legs shake against the surface of the desk, and while the steady rhythm of his finger against your clit is heavenly, you’re ready to cry when his fingers leave your hole empty and aching to be filled.

“Joon, please.”

As soon as the desperate plea leaves your mouth, the tip of his cock teases your entrance, providing small, shallow thrusts that send you soaring past the threshold of your release. He can’t help but smile against your kiss as you drag his bottom lip through your teeth and melt into his form. Your walls spasm wildly around him and he gradually lets the pressure off your clit, instead increasing the pace and depth of his thrusts. He fucks you through the shockwaves of pleasure that follow your orgasm, stilling only when your eyelids stop fluttering and you’re able to meet his gaze with a fatigued satisfaction.

“Why’d you stop?” you wonder, lazily opening the buttons on his shirt. Pert brown nipples poke out from beneath the soft fabric, with the silky tie still swaying between them.

He watches you with a smile for a moment before pursuing the last few buttons of your blouse. Quickly working it off your shoulders, you give him the opportunity to reach for the clasp of your bra. It doesn’t take long for him to sweep you into a deep kiss, entranced by the way your skin feels against him while he’s still buried inside of you.

“Bend over this desk for me, baby. Show me that sexy ass.”

You whimper at the loss of his cock but do as he asks, knowing you’ll soon be full again. He lifts your skirt, takes both cheeks in his hands and squeezes before giving one side a slap. The moan that escapes you is embarrassing and it spurs him to repeat the action.

“Fuck,” he whispers, finally allowing his cock to press against cunt once more. “So fucking wet.”

Your own juices coat the expanse of your thighs, slowly trailing down them. Without warning he slams into you hard and fast. Wet slapping sounds fill the room as he holds your hips, driving them back to meet his thrusts.

“So fucking tight.”

You grip the opposing edge of the desk and moan. “You’re so deep, baby.”

“Fuck...” The word is exhaled through a shaky breath.

“So deep you could read me poetry,” you whisper, unable to stop the joke even though you know he’s on the cusp of cumming.

He huffs out a strained puff of air as he tries his hardest not to laugh. He gives in to the laughter after you begin to giggle. Unable to save himself, he leans into the joke that threatens to ruin his orgasm. “You’re my person. You’re my desire. You’re my pride...”

His thrusts are sloppy, his legs tense. You crane your neck to look over your shoulder to make sure he’s not mad. It must be your own grin that is contagious because he’s smiling even though he’s shaking his head at you.

“You’re my love. One and only love,” you recite for him, reaching back for his hand and pushing your hips back into him with force.

His grip on your hip tightens and he squeezes your hand. He slams into you a final time with a moan, ensuring he’s as deep as he can be before filling you with his seed. The pleasure amplifies every time you try to wiggle back for some sort of movement and he moves his hand to your ass, digging his fingernails in like it will keep him grounded. He leans over your form, kissing any bit of skin on your back his lips can reach.

Regardless of the sensitivity he keeps himself buried in you, hoping by some miracle he’ll stay hard enough to fuck you a second time. He can’t tell what’s his mess and what’s yours anymore as it drips down his balls to his thighs. As he finally slips out, you turn to face him with a sweet smile on your lips.

Your fingers glide through his hair and trail down to cradle his cheek. “I love you.”

Namjoon leans into your touch, pressing his lips to the inside of your palm. “I love you too.”

Maybe it’s the endorphins, but he can’t remember the last time he felt so comfortable and happy with another person, someone he can be so unapologetically himself with. He’s completely certain that he’s bound to you by fate. The love you share is destiny, a gift from the universe he never intends to take for granted.

No matter what the future holds, he knows he wants you by his side through it all: his one and only love.

#moonchildnetwork #smutcentralnet #namjoon smut #namjoon fic #bts fic #bts smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #bts x reader

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master-sass-blast · 3 years ago

Text

Care and Trust: Chapter Two.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five -Chapter One

Summary: “--and he says to me ‘my birthday’s every year, dude,’” the shorter one --he’s got gentle green eyes and dark, wavy hair--laughs. “Like, if the bushel of lilyweed I caught him with wasn’t evidence enough--” He pauses when he sees you and Lin waiting, takes one look at your bag and table, then tries to book it. “Nope!”

The taller one grabs him by the shoulders. “Bolin, come on! It’ll be okay!”“Nope! I’m totally fi --agh!”

You wince sympathetically when the younger one cringes and jerks in pain, then step forward so you can get one arm behind him, then introduce yourself as you usher him into Lin’s office. “It’s nice to meet you, Bolin. Why not sit down for a minute, okay? Take a load off? Maybe” --you glance at Ryu-- “we could have a cup of tea?”

AKA you learn why you got called to Lin's office.

Pairing(s): Lin Beifong x Reader

Rating: T.

Word Count: 4.2k.

Also, a huge thank you to @chromecutie for beta reading this fic in addition to all the others in this series! I would not have had the confidence to post any of HTH if she hadn’t assured me that I was doing the characters justice.

Lin’s office is a real, proper office; go figure, she’s the Chief of Republic City’s entire police force. It’d be weird if she didn’t have a proper office.

It’s an expansive, long room, with wrought iron support beams and a dark, wood panelled ceiling. A desk sits in the center of the room, right across from double doors. There’s a leather chair that looks like it’s worth more than your apartment behind the desk, as well as one to the side of the desk (presumably for visitors or reporting officers).

There’s a small sitting area to the left of the doors. Two couches are positioned across from each other, with a metal coffee table in between. On the opposite wall is a wardrobe --you’re putting money on a second set of armor and some clean casual clothes, given the horror stories Lin’s told you about messy crime scenes.

Aside from a third couch tucked into the corner of the room --it looks luxuriously padded, and you’re also putting money on Lin sleeping on that couch during long haul shifts--and a vase to the right of the double doors, the rest of the room is entirely utilitarian. Filing cabinets, bookshelves, a few boxes with active case files in them.

It’s Lin to a tee. Thoroughly practical, borderline spartan, but what is there is more than you could afford in a lifetime.

You politely turn down Ryu’s offer of tea or coffee, then set your massage table and bag on the floor. You pace a short circuit back and forth, mentally filing through what you know about Lin and how her body bears out physical stress. Any injury is liable to have aggravated her hip, given the body’s tendency to compensate to avoid pain. Combine that with her scars and her left side’s propensity to knot up… she’ll probably need some stretching and healing work before I could even try to adjust her--

The doors open again --and in walks Lin Beifong.

You cross your arms over your chest and cock your head back. “Let me guess --you didn’t have time to see a healer earlier, and now it’s biting you in the ass.”

Lin’s eyebrows spike to her hairline. She blinks, then holds up her hand. “Whoa, no. I’m fine.”

“Cut the hippobullshit, Lin. Your personal secretary called me here--”

“It’s not for me,” Lin interjects. She glances behind her, then closes the doors before continuing. “It’s… for one of the younger officers. Something of a situation.”

Your brows draw together as you frown. “If they’re seriously injured, they should go to the hospital--”

“No, no, it’s not like that. He was…” Lin grimaces as her voice trails off, “...advised to see someone like you after getting injured during the dock explosion debacle, but he’s… not comfortable with the thought of getting adjusted.”

“Oh.” You blink, wind going out of your sails as the panic ebbs. “And… your assistant called me…”

“I asked her to,” Lin clarifies. “I know I can trust you to handle this right.”

Something warm and heavy settles in your chest at the thought that Lin trusts you, especially with the well-being of someone that’s clearly important to her. You gulp hard and ignore the way your eyes are starting to sting. “Oh. Thanks.”

The sound of footsteps and chatter outside Lin’s office draws both your attention.

Ryu opens the doors and lets two young men in --one shorter and stocky, the other taller, leaner.

“--and he says to me ‘my birthday’s every year, dude,’” the shorter one --he’s got gentle green eyes and dark, wavy hair--laughs. “Like, if the bushel of lilyweed I caught him with wasn’t evidence enough--” He pauses when he sees you and Lin waiting, takes one look at your bag and table, then tries to book it. “Nope!”

The taller one grabs him by the shoulders. “Bolin, come on! It’ll be okay!”

“Nope! I’m totally fi --agh!”

The assistant smiles knowingly, nods, then slips out of the room.

“Okay, sure,” Bolin concedes, still wincing. “But I promise, I’m totally fine.”

You hold up your hands and take a seat on the other side of the coffee table. “Understood.” You staunchly ignore the way your pulse spikes when Lin sits next to you --Spirits, the effect this woman has on you--and turn your attention to the other man. You introduce yourself and extend your hand.

He takes it --firm grip, but not painful. “I’m Mako.” He nods to the younger man. “I’m his brother.”

“Ah, wonderful.” You smile warmly at the brothers. “How long have you two been on the force?”

***

It’s easy to get the boys talking --or, rather, it’s easy to get Bolin talking.

Mako’s a harder platypusbear egg to crack, but there are small things to pick up on; the way he frowns whenever Bolin winces in pain, for instance, tells you he’s genuinely concerned about his brother. He sits a little straighter whenever he looks over at Lin, but he’s not sweating or cowering in front of her, which you take to mean that he wants to impress her, to earn her approval.

He’s also watching you closely --which is fair, considering you likely scare his brother.

You meet his scrutiny with a relaxed, polite smile and do your best to convey ‘I’m here to help, please trust me,’ through your eyes and posture.

Bolin’s far more relaxed around Lin --almost remarkably so. He leans back against the couch as much as he comfortably can, and actually jokes with her (or tries to, but he doesn’t seem deterred whenever Lin doesn’t respond with more than a twitch of an eyebrow).

You also catch him looking towards Lin whenever he talks about an aspect of his job, a hopeful smile on his face, which then broadens every time she nods or confirms whatever he’s saying.

Honestly, it’s adorable.

(Lin’s also an interesting one to watch in all of this. She’s still as stoic as ever, but she doesn’t roll her eyes at Bolin’s lame jokes or talk down to Mako despite him being miles lower in rank than her. If anything, the air you’re getting from her is… warm. Almost maternal.

It’s wonderful to see.)

“I’ve been studying for the detective’s exam, though,” Bolin chirps with a bright smile. “Mako says I’m doing pretty good.”

You grin, then shoot a playful glance at Lin. “And your thoughts, Chief?”

Lin smirks and crosses her arms over her chest. “They’re both green --but, with time and training, they’ll be excellent members of the police force.”

There’s no missing the way both boys glow under Lin’s praise; Bolin outright beams, and while Mako’s more subtle, you still catch the small, pleased smile that flickers across his features.

You smile.

There’s a brief pause in the conversation when Ryu walks in with a tea set. She sets it on the coffee table between the two benches, then leaves with a nod when Lin waves her off.

You murmur a quiet “Thank you” when Lin fills your cup, then turn your attention back to Bolin. Time to try and make forward progress. “So, what happened to your neck?”

Bolin turns his head to look at you --and promptly winces. “What? What do you mean? How did you know?”

“You’re not the only detective,” you say with a wink. You smile when he chuckles, then gestures to his neck and head. “You’re compensating. You’re tilting your head to one side to avoid using the injured muscles. You probably didn’t even realize it.”

Bolin’s eyes widen. “Wait, seriously?” He tries to straighten his neck, then grimaces and lets out a yelp. “Ow!”

“Just leave it be for now,” you interject, holding one hand out to stop him. “You won’t be able to force it to straighten out on your own. Best leave it to the professionals.”

He offers you a weak smile. “And that’s you?”

You smile and nod. “That’s me. I’m a chiropractor and massage therapist; I specialize in scar tissue treatment and injury rehabilitation. Started my degree at Atege Medical University in the Northern Water Tribe, then finished it here at Republic City Medical University, and then I did my training here in Republic City at Kyoshi Rehabilitation Center. About… oh, five years ago, I moved to the Northern Moon Physical Therapy Facility.”

Mako raises one thick eyebrow in assessment. “So that’s… what, seven years?”

You snort. “Flattering, but no. Try closer to twelve. Medical school and residency takes a long time for chiropractors, too.” You spare a moment to watch Bolin --he’s paled since you’ve started talking about being a chiropractor, and the rest of his body’s gone tense--then try getting to the point once more. “What happened to your neck?”

He grimaces and rubs the side of his neck. “I was at the docks when the explosion went off. I didn’t get hit by the debris or anything, but the shockwave knocked a lot of us over.”

You nod along. “That makes sense. Considering how close you were, the shockwave might’ve been enough to throw something out of alignment.”

Bolin grimaces. He hesitates, then offers you a nervous smile. “Look, I appreciate you coming all the way out here, but I’m fine. I promise! I’ve had tons of injuries before --used to do competitive pro-bending, all that jazz. I know how to handle these kinds of things: a little heat, some stretching, and everything will clear up before too long.”

“Street beat’s a physically demanding job,” Lin interjects. She arches an eyebrow when Bolin opens his mouth, then continues when he closes it. “I can’t have you on the duty roster if you’re hobbled.”

“Not to mention that if something’s out of alignment, you could make it worse by stretching,” you add with a concerned frown. “And things are likely to get worse without treatment, too. I know this isn’t your favorite idea,” you say with a sympathetic smile, “but it really is best to handle things early before they become bigger problems down the road.”

“It’ll be okay,” Mako assures his younger brother. He puts one arm around Bolin’s shoulders. “Chief’s the one who called her in; she wouldn’t ask some quack.”

The corner of your mouth turns up at the commendation, but your mirth fades when you watch Bolin cover his face with shaking hands. You cock your head to the side, listening, then purse your lips when you hear a quiet sniffle. “What is it about adjustment that scares you so much?”

Bolin shrugs (and winces), then waves his hand dismissively with an unsteady smile. “Eh, it’s nothing. No big deal to let someone jerk around your neck like crazy; not like it’s gonna break or anything.” He grimaces, then ducks his head to hide the tears forming in his eyes. “That’d just be stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” you assure him. You duck your head so you can catch his gaze, then smile understandingly when he looks at you. “It’s not. Self-preservation is one of our most natural, baseline instincts. Besides, you’re hardly the first client to be scared of getting adjusted.”

Bolin straightens gingerly. “I’m not?”

You shake your head. “Not at all. I work with a lot of trauma patients; several of them have anxiety over being touched and adjusted. And I’ve had a lot of people ask me about snapping necks, believe it or not.”

Bolin turns his head to one side and assesses you warily. “And… what do you tell them?”

“The truth: I don’t use remotely enough force to snap a neck,” you say, “nor am I working at the right angles to cause a break. It’s not as easy as all the pulp fiction novels make it seem.” When Bolin doesn’t relax completely, you start mulling over other ideas to help convince him. Chances are he’s never been adjusted before, given how nervous he is, meaning he doesn’t have any previous experience to apply to what I’m saying. Short of letting him watch an adjustment-- You snap your fingers when a lightbulb turns on in your mind. “What if… what if you could watch me adjust someone else? That way, you’d be able to see that it’s perfectly safe.”

Bolin quirks his mouth to the side. “...I guess. It couldn’t hurt.”

You nod, then turn to Lin. “Would you be willing to let me adjust you, since you’ve already been through it all before?”

Lin nods without hesitation, then smirks. “I’m guessing I’ll need to take my armor off.”

“Well, since I’d rather adjust your back than crush my hand, yes,” you quip back. You shoot a reassuring smile at Bolin, then stand. “Let me set up my table.”

...

Bolin, for all his warmth and magnanimity, doesn’t coax along easily. It takes adjusting both Lin and Mako before he agrees to it (who has scarring in his left arm from a lightning injury that he got, according to him, while taking down Kuvira’s giant mechadroid less than half a year ago, and if you get a little too caught up in analyzing his injury and talking about treatment plans and Lin has to remind you --albeit subtly--that this is her office and she has work to do, well, it’s only a tribute to your commitment to your career.

Anyway.)

Between the three of you, though, you manage to get Bolin onto your massage table so you can start working on him.

He grunts as you dig into the muscles that run along his neck. “I know what you said about not using enough force, but it sounds like you’re breaking something.”

“I get it,” you laugh. “What you’re hearing, though, is the release of gas that builds up in the joints and tissue, plus the joints and ligaments being adjusted back into place.” You let up for a moment so you can reposition your thumbs, then press down again. “Okay, deep breath in… and out… good; just like that.”

Some light examination and prodding with your waterbender had revealed the culprits: stuck rib heads in the upper back, a few misaligned vertebrae in the neck, and some very irritated and inflamed muscles. Painful, but easy to fix with the right treatment.

You curl your fingers, using your waterbending to knead the muscles in Bolin’s right shoulder. “Oh, come on… I know you’re not happy, but if you could please relax for me…”

Bolin groans when the muscle finally unkinks. “Oh, yeah, that’s the spot.”

“I bet,” you laugh. You bend the rest of the water back into your skein, then put some oil on his skin and start working the spot with your hands.

“Is it hard to work around injuries?” he asks, voice slightly muffled by the massage table’s headrest.

You make the grunt equivalent of a shrug. “It depends on the location and what state of healing it’s in. Sometimes, it means I can’t do a normal adjustment --or do one at all, really; some injuries or scars mean that moving the joints and ligaments around would cause further damage to the site. Other times, it’s a matter of waiting until everything’s healed, and then I can do normal adjustments again.”

“How can you tell which to do --oooh, right there.”

Your lips turn up in a small smile, and you keep working a tense, knotted muscle in his upper back. “The patient’s medical history tells me a lot. X-Ray imaging helps, too, if there is any --and I can usually get a good feel for what’s wrong with my waterbending.” You keep going until the muscle releases, then pat Bolin’s shoulder. “Okay, I think you’re ready for adjustment.”

As expected, he tenses. His neck works as he gulps, and when he speaks again, his voice comes out high-pitched and thready. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t try if I didn’t think you’d adjust properly.” When Bolin doesn’t respond --or move--you kneel down so you can see his face through the hole in the head of the massage table. “Hey. It’s going to be okay. We’ll take this nice and slow, alright? I’ll tell you everything I’m going to do before I do it.”

Bolin nods, gulps again, then flips onto his back.

“I need you to sit up so I can put the adjustment board under your back.” You slip the board into place, then put a pillow under his head before having him shift lower on the table. “Okay, good. I’ll adjust your middle and upper back first, like I did on Lin. You might feel some discomfort in your upper back because of how the rib heads are stuck, alright?”

Bolin nods, then offers you a feeble smile. “You’re sure I’m not too heavy for you?”

You wink. “I’m stronger than I look. Whenever you’re ready, cross your arms over your chest.” Once he does what you ask, you adjust his arms so they’re in the right position. “Okay, curl your chin down against your chest… good. Alright, it’s gonna be just like how you saw on Lin. I’m gonna help lift you up, I’ll put my hand under your back, and then I’ll lay you down so I can adjust your back. Sound good?”

Bolin clenches his jaw, but meets your gaze and nods minutely.

“Alright. You ready?” When he nods again, you do exactly as you said you would --help Bolin curl upwards, put your hand under his back, against the board, then adjust the position of your arm around his shoulders. “Alright, deep breath in… and out.”

The series of adjustments up his spine go without a hitch. You grin down at Bolin after the last adjustment and congratulate him for doing so well. “You took that like a champ!”

Bolin blinks, startled, then smiles. “Eh, I’ve been told I’m a quick learner.”

“Oh, you’re an absolute natural.” You grin when he chuckles, then step towards the head of the table. “I’ll give you a minute before I do anything else, but is it okay if I feel around your neck to see where the tension is?”

Bolin pales. His eyes go misty, but he nods regardless.

You murmur a quiet “thank you,” then put one hand on each side of his neck and start prodding at the muscles. “Well, it’s better after the massage work and the adjustment.” You rub your thumb against his trapezius muscle, then grimace when it refuses to relax for you. “Actually…” You take your hands off his neck and rifle through your bag. “I think I’m going to use an activator on your neck, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“What’s that?” Bolin asks, voice fraught with panic.

You hold the device up for him to see. “I use it to tap the side of your neck; it helps loosen up your joints so that when I adjust you, we get you back to your full range of motion.” You fire the device so he can see, and your stomach sinks when you see tears well up in his eyes. “I can use it on your forearm, if you want, soyou can feel how hard it’s going to be.”

Bolin swallows hard, then nods. He holds his arm up --then blinks when you press the tip of the activator against his arm and fire it. “Oh. I thought it’d be a lot stronger than that.”

“Tui and La, no,” you say with a laugh. “The neck’s a delicate instrument; I’m not trying to make things worse for you.”

Bolin smiles shakily, but it slips back to a frown after a few seconds. “Is… Will it hurt?”

“I’ve never had a patient complain before,” you say, sincere. “I’d be stunned if you felt any pain whatsoever from this.” You smile reassuringly when he gives you a questioning look, then place the tip of the activator against his neck when he nods. “Alright. I’m going to tap you a few times on each side of the neck, then I’ll take another feel at what your joints and muscles are doing. Okay?”

“Can you… give me a minute?”

“Of course.” You pull the activator away from his neck, then place a hand on his shoulder when he inhales shakily. “Hey, deep breaths. You’re gonna be fine. I promise.” After a moment he nods again, and you press the activator back against his neck and fire it.

“...It kind of tickles.”

You let out a huff of laughter. “That’s a new one.” You finish working on both sides of his neck, then tuck the device back in your bag before putting your hands on his neck once more. “Alright, right now I’m just going to stretch your muscles some more and get your head into position, okay?”

Bolin clenches his fists at his side. “Could you --do you think you could give me a countdown before you, y’know, do it?”

“Uh…” You purse your lips, then shake your head. “I don’t think so, no. I don’t want you tensing right as I try to adjust you; you’re liable to get hurt that way.”

“It’ll be okay, kid,” Lin says when Bolin lets out a shaky breath. “I wouldn’t have called her if she wasn’t the best.”

You duck your head to hide a shy smile, then try to focus past the warm glow spreading through your chest. “Okay, Bolin. Deep breath; in through the nose, out through the mouth… good, just like that.” You slowly turn his neck, angling his head until you feel the right resistance. “Tilt your chin up; I’m gonna stretch your neck a little.” You tug gently until the muscles loosen, then surreptitiously keep working him to the proper angle. “Good… just stretching… feeling everything out…” You adjust the position of your hands on his neck. “Another deep breath in, then let it all out.” You wait for him to exhale --for his shoulders to relax--then jerk his head to the side.

Bolin grunts, then shoots you a wide eyed look. “You said you were just stretching me?”

You smile apologetically. “I needed to make sure you were relaxed. Makes things better for both you and me. Did you feel any pain?”

“No,” Bolin says after a moment of consideration. “It felt… pretty good, actually.”

“Good!” You start massaging the other side of his neck. “You think you’re still alive?”

He chuckles. “Pretty sure I’m still breathing, yeah.”

“Good stuff,” you joke right back. “Means less malpractice suits for me.” You grin when he laughs, then start stretching the other side of his neck. “Let’s do this side, and then I’ll do your lower back and get you back to work.”

***

“Sorry that took so long.”

Lin waves a hand at your apology. “It’s fine. I figured the kid would take a while to calm down enough for an adjustment.” She offers you a small smile. “Thanks for making the trip up here.”

“Of course.” You resume packing up your things, then let out a quiet laugh. “Honestly, I’m just glad it wasn’t you that needed an adjustment. I damn near had a heart attack when the receptionist told me your assistant called.”

“I told you I was fine.”

You shoot Lin a flat, unimpressed stare. “Right, because you’re the type to always consider the limits and needs of your physical well being.” You roll your eyes when she merely arches an eyebrow at you, then zip the carrying case for your collapsible table shut. “How does the department handle billing?”

“Send the bill to my assistant,” Lin answers, writing down the proper mailing address on a slip of paper before handing it over to you. “She’ll file it with the department’s insurance company. The department will pay out the rest.”

You nod and reach out to take the paper--

Lin holds it back. “Write the bill for all three adjustments. Clear?”

You smirk and pluck the paper out of her fingers. “Pay me more. Fine by me.” You grin when she rolls her eyes, then cast your gaze down to her desk.

It’s a nice desk. Solid, polished wood, with engravings and etchings of Earth Kingdom style patterns.

Unbidden, images of Lin fucking you on her desk --bending you over it, laying you out on your back, sitting in her chair while you bury your face between her legs--flood your name.

Lin either picks up on the spike in your pulse, or maybe she knows your facial expressions well enough to know when you’re horny. Either way, she smirks up at you. “Problem?”

“No…” You absently trace your fingers along the edge of her desk, then shoot her an impish smile before grabbing your things. “Call me when you have a free night.”

You can hear Lin chuckle behind you as you walk out of her office.

#sass writes #lin beifong x reader #next week will be more smut #because we must have our character development and massage therapy before we have smut #aka i'm projecting how much want a massage again #my back hurts lol #also this is my first time writing mako and bolin so be nice pls #the hands that heal #legend of korra

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years ago

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Quarantine Lovers (Part 3) | Charlie Gillespie

A/N: Happy Halloween, you guys! I hope you’ve had an amazing day so far, whether you go all out for the holiday or not! Hope you enjoy this little imagine-fic-thing of celebrating Halloween in quarantine with Charlie :) Love you guys! xxx

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Warnings: fluff

Words: 2, 827

Happy Halloween, Witches

Ah, 2020. The year that canceled everything thus far. No traveling, no real summer. You couldn’t even get back to work and neither could Charlie. You had spent your time writing up ideas for new shows and pitching some ideas over Zoom to the rest of the Outer Banks writing team. It sucked. Mostly because you couldn’t see any family or friends in real life. And now that October has come around, it seems nothing has changed much. In fact, it’s gotten even worse.

There was a second lockdown looming and you could just about see your perfect Halloween night shattering right before your eyes. Sure, you were just planning on inviting some friends over and watching horror movies, eating pizza and snacks, but it still sucked that wouldn’t happen now after all.

Charlie had noticed on Monday how bummed you were when you realized things were getting worse. He knew how much you loved the holiday and how excited you were to see friends and spend some time with them. So, he set his plan in motion.

On Saturday morning, you wake up to a cold, empty bed and the sound of clanging pans and cutlery coming from the kitchen. Confused, and still a little sleep-drunk, you get out of bed and slip on Charlie’s sweater to keep you at least a little warm since you were just wearing a shirt of his. (You’d almost think you don’t ever wear your own clothes anymore). From the little corridor that connects the bedrooms to the living and kitchen area, you can already spot him at the stove. Curious and a little endeared that he’d be cooking this early in the morning, you make your way towards him, only to be surprised by the living room being coated in full Halloween gear. Spiders in spider webs everywhere, pumpkins, skeletons, ghosts in every nook and cranny.

“Char… Wha--?” he turns to you, eyes widening first before his smile appears instead.

“Get back to bed, I was gonna wake you up with a song.” You walk over to him, peeking over his shoulder to what he’s making. Pumpkin pancakes. He’s actually making pancakes in the form of little pumpkins. Could he be any cuter?

“You’ve missed your true calling, baby,” you tell him and kiss his bare shoulder. A light chuckle arises from his body, making his shoulders shake slightly. You then turn around to eye the feast he had already spread out on the table.

Everything is in theme. Halloween doughnuts, a giant fake pumpkin with fruit seeping out of its mouth. You assume he just went on Pinterest to inspire him and then, when walking down the aisles in the shops, just grabbed everything that seemed even slightly Halloweeny. “Can I help you with anything?” you ask, looking around for a job to do. Charlie turns around to place the plate with a pile of pumpkin pancakes on the table, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back as he leaned past you.

“No, I got it covered,” he presses a kiss to your hair before turning to go to the fridge. “Sit down, baby.” Slightly disgruntled, you sigh and sit down on the chair closest to you.

“Why are we doing this, Gillespie? Got something to make up for?” you ask teasingly after taking another glance at the breakfast spread in front of you.

“Can’t I just surprise my girlfriend with the breakfast of dreams?” He asks and places a hand on the back of your neck while leaning forward to pour some orange juice into a glass. His fingers softly scratch your scalp, and you can’t help but lean into his touch. “Besides, I noticed how bummed you were about our plans with our friends falling apart, so I came up with a plan to make it the best Halloween I could, despite being stuck inside with me.” You nearly melt at this idea of his. He did all of this. For you. Just because you were bummed about cancelled plans. How did you ever earn a beautiful, good soul like him?

“I would’ve enjoyed just watching movies tonight with you, too, you goof,” you say, which sends a smile right up to his lips. “But thank you.” He leans down to press his lips on yours quickly before turning to grab a few more things and then joining you at the table.

“So, I have an entire day of fun things planned for us,” he starts when you take your first bite of pumpkin pancake, a delightful moan escaping your lips at the amazing taste tingling your taste buds. Charlie shoots you an amused look with risen eyebrows and a smirk.

“These are good!” you exclaim, “But go on, what are the fun things you planned?” Charlie is seemingly brought back into reality by that question as he slightly shakes his head and blinks his eyes a few times quickly.

“So, remember when you kinda joked we should go as each other for Halloween?” You nod your head slowly, that was something you did suggest as a Halloween costume last month when you were planning the whole night. All your friends would’ve come dressed up. It was mandatory to do so on Halloween, you thought. “I think we should do it. We should dress as each other and then we’re going to the shops to get us some tools and pumpkins…” Your eyes widen at this, already know what the rest of his plan is.

“We’re gonna carve pumpkins?!” you nearly scream. This makes him laugh, shaking his head at how freaking adorable you are with your little bounds of excitement. It’s the same way he gets excited about the things he’s passionate about.

“Yes, we are! And then we’re gonna bake some Halloween cookies, order pizza and watch movies all night long!” You shriek with exhilaration, and get up to run around the table towards your boyfriend, attacking him with your lips on his. He chuckles against your lips, pulling you down to his lap. You deepen the kiss while your hands tangle up in his hair. This makes him stop giggling as he melts right into you, his hands roaming from your waist down your thigh and back up.

“You are the greatest boyfriend, you know that?” you tell him when you pull back, resting your forehead against his and staring in his eyes. He pecks your lips once more before leaning over to grab a piece of fruit and feeding it to you.

“You deserve it, baby,” he tells you with a shrug whilst you grab another piece of fruit and hold it out to him to eat. “We both love Halloween, so it seemed a little lame to just watch movies together, you know? That’s a regular Thursday in this household.” You giggle at that. He’s not wrong. During lockdown, you’ve watched so many movies, you’ve lost count.

“I love you,” you whisper and kiss him again. The taste of strawberry still faintly on his lips.

“I love you too, like so much.” He plants another kiss on your lips before you both turn back to your breakfast, but staying where you are; on his lap. You feed each other fruit and pancakes and doughnuts whilst chatting about how excited you were about the entire day.

After breakfast, he let you get dressed first whilst he cleaned up the kitchen. You’d suggested to help, but he insisted on you getting dressed and ready instead. So, you do. You shower, dry your hair and curl it, then put on very minimal makeup, just to hide those bags and blemishes. As an outfit, you picked out some dungarees (because, let’s be honest, Charlie looked cutest in his dungarees), steal his Sunset Curve Summer Tour ‘95 shirt to go underneath it and your white Adidas on your feet. You also steal one of his snapbacks since his lockdown-hair has needed some support to keep it out of his eyes.

Once ready, you check yourself in the full-length mirror, then nod, satisfied with the ensemble. You can’t wait to see Charlie’s reaction to this costume of yours or what he has planned for his costume.

“Cover your eyes!” you yell into the direction of the living room.

“Covered!” he yells back, and you make your way cautiously into the living room where you find Charlie on the couch with his phone in his lap and his hands over his eyes. He looks like an actual toddler like this. It’s the most endearing thing you’d ever seen, so you quickly snap a picture before stepping in front of him.

“Okay, open.” He slowly takes his hands away from his eyes, and lets them wander over your entire body. His lips part as some excess air needs to leave his lungs from that breath-taking view in front of him. “You like it?” you ask, twirling around, so he can see the entire thing. He quickly places his phone on the couch and stands up, placing his hands on your waist.

“You look better in this outfit than I ever would, Gorgeous,” he mumbles before leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “You make me crazy, Y/L/N.” You comb your fingers through the front of his hair, making his gorgeous eyes more visible to you.

“Ditto, Gillespie,” you whisper and kiss him once again. “Now, you get dressed. I’m curious to see what you come up with.” After having kissed your nose quickly, he dashes past you and into the bedroom, leaving you all by yourself. It takes him about fifteen minutes before his voice chimes through the apartment.

“I’m ready! Close your eyes!” You place your hands over your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips in excitement. “Okay, open.” His voice sounds closer, a little teasing, even. You slowly remove your hands, your eyes widening and your mouth dropping at the sight in front of you. He’s wearing a loose, black boiler suit, complete with red-and-white belt, exactly how you’d wear it. On his feet, he’s wearing Dr. Martin’s ankle boots.

“This is the best thing I ever did see!” you exclaim excitedly as he makes a little twirl. “We need to take a photo!” You grab your phone from the pocket of your dungarees and get it set up on a self-timer and so that it takes multiple pictures in one take before placing it on the tv stand. Once you press the button, you hurry to Charlie, who has his arms open.

“Jump!” he says, and you quickly do so, wrapping your legs around his waist at the same moment your phone starts taking the pictures. For the next few, you keep your feet on the floor, leaning against your boyfriend. The first ones, you’re looking at the camera, but Charlie’s looking at you. Then you’re looking at him but he’s not. And on the last one, you’re staring in each other’s eyes with wide smiles on your faces. For the last group of shots, you squat down and cross your arms, Charlie following your example. In the second shot, you both hold your hand up in a rock sign, sticking out your tongues. The last one of that group of pictures is of both of you falling on your butts due to the lack of balance.

“Those last ones are hilarious,” he says, pointing at the ones where you’re both on your ass, throwing your head back with laughter. “Let’s go get our pumpkins now first!”

Back home with the two biggest pumpkins you could find, -- there weren’t very many left -- the two of you start by covering the floor with an old sheet before getting your new utensils out and starting the carving process. While you’re spooning out pumpkin seeds, there’s music playing in the background, and the two of you are talking about what you’re about to do to the pumpkins. Charlie’s going to go for a Pennywise face whilst you’re cutting out three ghosts. He couldn’t help but smile at that idea of yours. You really were the cutest when you’re in your element about this holiday.

“I think I’m done,” you say, leaning back to take a last look at the entire finished product. Charlie rests his head on your shoulder, peeking over to see your piece of art. “The guitars were really hard to do.” You point to Ghost Reggie’s bass and Ghost Luke’s guitar. “But the drumsticks were easy.” Charlie chuckles and plants a kiss underneath your ear, tasting a bit of pumpkin. This makes him scrunch his nose in disgust. Raw pumpkin does not taste that great.

“How in the holy hell did you get a little pumpkin behind your ear?” he asks and takes his finger to wipe any residue away.

“I’ve got no clue,” you say and turn your head to face him, only to find a pumpkin seed stuck in his long hair. A laugh erupts from your body, shaking you from head to toe. “You’ve got some in your hair.” He tries to pluck it out, but keeps missing, so you help him out instead. “I shouldn’t have showered this morning,” you laugh, shaking your head at your own stupid desicion. Charlie laughs too before getting up with his pumpkin in hands.

“Let’s put them on the kitchen island,” he suggests and makes his way there. “I’ll grab some tealights.” While he does that, you get up too and place your Julie and The Phantoms one next to his Pennywise one. They don’t look too bad in your opinion.

Charlie returns with two little tealights and places one in each pumpkin whilst you grab the matches, but Charlie stops you before you can light them. “It’s still light out, babe. That’s not gonna have much effect,” he chuckles. “We’ll light them later. Let’s bake now!” You nod your head vigorously and skip into the kitchen.

That afternoon is spent baking cookies and cupcakes, and ends in a food fight with flour everywhere. To say this is the best Halloween you ever had would be the biggest understatement of the year. Even though it’s not exactly how you planned it, it’s still the most perfect day ever, thanks to Charlie. And that’s not even all he’d planned.

By nightfall, the two of you had lit your pumpkins, placed the treats on the coffee table and had a movie ready to play on the tv when Charlie’s phone started to ring. A little confused and disgruntled about the interruption, you peer over his shoulder to see who’s calling him. Owen Joyner wants to facetime Julie and the Phantoms

Charlie glances at you with a smirk on his face before picking up the phone. The blonde guy you’ve come to love appears on the small screen, along with Jeremy and Carolynn, and Madison.

“Hey guys!” Charlie greets excited while you offer an excited wave.

“Happy Halloween, Witches!” Owen yells. That’s when you realize they, too, are dressed up. Owen has fake blood run from his lip and has a black cape draped over his shoulders. Carolynn and Jeremy are dressed as angel and devil whilst Madison is a witch.

“What are you dressed as?” Owen asks, peering at his screen to try and figure it out.

“Each other!” you reply, which sends all of them into a fit of laughter.

“That’s very original!” Carolynn compliments. “You rock those dungarees, Y/N!”

“Thanks, angel,” you retort, a little flustered at the compliment.

The FaceTime call lasts for about an hour and a half until Charlie decides to call it quits and start watching movies instead. You bid your goodbyes to your friends before cuddling up to Charlie as he puts his phone away.

“This has really been the greatest Halloween, Char. Thank you,” you whisper and lean up to meet his lips for a sweet, long kiss.

“Anything for you, Gorgeous.” You lie down on his chest again, getting kissed on the head as you do so. You can’t help but sigh happily. Charlie really went all out with the surprises. From the breakfast spread to carving pumpkins and baking Halloween cookies to the surprise phone call from the guys and even the costume.

That night, you post a bunch of pictures to Instagram. The first is one of the posed one of your outfits, then follows the one of Charlie covering his eyes on the sofa, your carved pumpkins and the one picture where you’ve both fallen on your ass after losing balance.

“Wanna thank this little goofball for going all out on my favorite day of the year. Guess I should be more bummed about little things from now on if it means getting pumpkin pancakes, dressing up as each other and all the other amazing surprises. Thank you, baby. You really are the greatest of all time. @charles_gillespie 💗 Happy Halloween, Witches! 🎃”

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon @caitsymichelle13 @calamitykaty @parkeret @lukeys-giggle @gingerxarmy @lovesanimals @lolychu @perfectlywrongformend3s @luckylouiebug @camiladelrio98 @myfriendscallmebeans

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sanchosammy · 4 years ago

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Baby, I was going to tell you.

Description: You find out through a friend that your husband has taken another job with the guys. This leaves the two of you to have a very serious talk.

Warnings: Mention of Frankie’s drug problem. Cursing. Slight NSFW. Trouble with getting pregnant. Slightly angst, but made up with fluff.

Note: I did edit this while being very tipsy on a margarita...Yeah. I feel like this isn’t my best work, but it is a very cute story. (This does have Frankie and the reader actively trying to have children. If you’re not a fan of children, this won’t be for you. I just wanted to put that out there!)

Word Count: 4,373

Tonight was your turn to host dinner with your favorite neighbors. Jacob and Hannah, the first married couple you met who was tolerable to hang out with. That was considered a rare find in the marriage world. It was nearly three years back when you and Frankie officially tied the knot and afterwards you searched to find your forever home.

And you did four months after the wedding! A beautiful home to raise a future family. Since then the couple next door had been nothing but pleasant to the two of you. They’ve helped out whenever you needed a hand with a house project that turned out to be a little more than a four hand job, and the couple had attended nearly every party you’ve ever hosted. With that, Jacob and Frankie became close friends over the years. The two of them spending time in Jacob’s ‘man cave’ as he called it. A lame way to say they played pool and talked about who knows what on the weekends.

You didn’t mind though, in your mind it was healthy for him to have someone like that in his life. A friend outside of his old service buddies. Not that you didn’t love the men you’ve come to know, but he needed someone who could normalize his life a little.

It was a beautiful night. The sun setting in the distance as the summer sky remained bright. A soft warmness covering your skin from the perfect weather. The four of you sat at the table on the brick patio in your backyard. The string lights hung above you beautifully setting the mood for the evening, it was a small project you asked Frankie to do a month ago.

He loved to tease you about ‘overworking’ him since you’ve bought the house, but it was only jokes on his end. You knew he loved those projects. It was something to prove he was needed somewhere and you did everything possible to make sure he knew you couldn’t do it without him.

“The meal was delicious as always, (Y/N).” Hannah complimented as she wiped her mouth with a napkin, the plate in front of her now empty. Jacob chimed in an agreement as he complimented the taste of your well-known lasagna. It was a meal you continued to make for events throughout the years and it was always praised.

“Thank you,” You responded, a little flustered by the attention but nonetheless happy with everyone’s satisfaction from the meal. You loved to host these small dinners with friends. A part of you knew deep down this was used as a distraction, nothing but a small activity to keep you busy outside of work. Truthfully, you and Frankie had been trying to have a baby.

Sure, it was only four months into the attempt, but your disappointment had started to stick with you. The excitement running out slowly, and was replaced with a small flame of doubt left. Your doctor assured you that some women’s bodies take time after switching off from their birth control, but that didn’t stop the worry you carried each month that passed. Frankie had been so supportive throughout the whole process as he continued to promise you that the time will come when you become parents.

It was sweet of him. He tried so hard to make you happy and somehow always managed to bring back your smile. It reminded you of why you adored this man so much. You just wanted to be a mom… The mother of his children.

Frankie practically beamed with a look of pride beside you. His arm rested against the back of your chair as he placed a kiss on the side of your temple, his mouth still close to your ear as he commented “Thank you for dinner.”

You returned a soft kiss on his cheek in response with a quiet ‘you’re welcome’. No matter how many years passed, you still looked at him like a love-sick puppy and he looked at you the exact same way. His brown eyes softened whenever he looked at his beautiful wife. The only thing that made him feel complete in life.

You stood up collecting Frankie’s plate, that was before he swiped it from your hand casually while picking up yours as well from the table. “No baby, you cooked. Let me clean up.” He smiled as he started to collect the rest of the plates.

“Allow me,” Hannah chirped in as she picked up the side dishes before you could protest. A small tease came from her as she passed by. You were the type to do it all no matter what, and so Hannah liked to force you to relax once in a while. Both Frankie and her tended to bother you about taking on too much.

You watched the two of them head towards the house to put away the used dinner plates. Hannah talking to Frankie about the new window panels he put up.

Jacob was now standing with you, a small chuckle leaving him. “Your husband is going to kill my bank account. Everytime that woman sees something Frankie did in the yard, she wants to change something about ours.”

You couldn’t stop a small laugh. You grinned as you replied, “I’m sorry about that Jacob, I’m usually the one who put Frankie up to it.”

There was a small pause as Jacob looked at the kitchen window. Hannah kept Frankie in place as she talked about something in the house, that woman could talk forever. Jacob’s smile faded as his eyes came back to yours and his voice came out softer than before. “I know things are probably really rough right now, (Y/N). If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call me. No matter the time or day.”

You blinked at him. You had no idea what Jacob was on about, or what he was being so soft hearted for. Did Frankie tell him about the baby trouble? You didn’t think Frankie would spill such personal information. “What are you referring to?”

“Frankie told me about them calling him into deployment… I know that has to be really hard on you. He’s been putting on a brave face about the whole thing but I don’t think he’ll know how to function without you.”

You paused for a brief second and forced out a chuckle. “Frankie isn’t being deployed, Jacob.” He clearly had Francisco mixed with someone else. You would know if your own husband was being shipped off anywhere. Plus, Frankie said he was never going back to that life. He told you himself countless times. Though your smile faltered as you looked over Jacob’s face and the silence between the two of you became deafening.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Your question came out a little breathless, “Jacob, did Frankie tell you that himself?”

The new information hitting you like a freight train. You watched as the guilt on his face spread. You felt like you couldn’t breathe suddenly and you wanted to burst into tears on the spot.

As Frankie stepped out of the backdoor he saw you. He knew that look, and his movements slowed down. He hasn’t seen that look since the neighborhood cat you secretly fed was hit by a car and you cried for the rest of the week. That heartbroken look hardly showed up on your face and worry shot through him instantly.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” He asked as he came by your side. He noticed the look of remorse plastered on Jacob’s face. The mood in the air was now stiff, and the light from the summer sky was filled with darkness.

You turned towards him and your voice cracked as you asked “You’re being shipped off?”

He stiffened in front of you. He was going to tell you soon but he wanted you to have a few more days of bliss. This isn’t how he wanted you to find out though. Frankie knew you wouldn’t take this well, he had been married to you long enough to know how devastated you’d be hearing the information. He had planned to be sensitive about this as much as he could, and now here he was looking at the tears filling your eyes in front of him.

His shame now matched Jacob’s and that told you everything you needed to know.

“Baby, I was going to tell you.” His words fell short as you pushed past him. Not allowing him to finish his explanation. You couldn’t believe Frankie hid this from you, and told Jacob before you for that matter.

You weren’t deaf upon him calling your name behind you, but you didn’t want to see his face. You shut the backdoor behind you before rushing upstairs towards your shared bedroom. Tears finally surfacing as you let out a sob.

A few minutes passed by as you sat alone on the end of the bed. The bawling slowly died down into a quiet sniffle. You couldn’t believe your husband was leaving. The two of you had never spent time apart like this since you’ve started the relationship.

Frankie assured Jacob that it was alright after hearing him apologize for several minutes, but he was just attempting to be polite for his own sake. He had enough shit to deal with after tonight, and he didn’t want to add a fight with his neighbor on the list. Plus, he needed Jacob’s support for when he left. He needed to know there was someone there to help you while he was gone.

The house was silent when he entered through the backdoor. It became an unbearable reminder in his mind that you’d be alone in the silence while he was God knows where in the jungle. As he walked up the stairs he didn’t miss the sound of your quiet sniffling behind the shut bedroom door. His heart shattering with the confrontation of how he was hurting you.

His knuckles knocked on the wood. He didn’t want to push your boundaries by walking in when you were in a vulnerable position. The sound of you telling him to ‘Go away’ nearly made him wince.

A sigh escaped his lips as he rested his forehead against the door. He couldn’t stand the feeling of you being this upset with him. Your marriage wasn’t perfect by any means, but you had never shut him out like this. He called out keeping his voice gentle “Please let me in, (Y/N).”

There was a pause as he waited. You shuffled to the door and opened it without looking at him. You didn’t want to face him, but you couldn’t leave him outside the door like a kicked dog. You returned to your spot on the bed without a word.

Frankie awkwardly followed and placed himself next to you.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered. He couldn’t take it. He was the reason you looked this upset and that killed him inside.

“This is another thing with the guys, isn’t it?” You asked as you finally looked at him.

He nodded his head faintly. His eyes studied your expression and it was filled with disappointment. You brought your hands to your face trying to remain calm. Your relationship had always been filled with communication and you wanted to keep it that way.

“I’m just so…” You bit your lip feeling the tears coming back. “I’m so hurt. You didn’t even ask me, Frankie. Why would you do something this dangerous while we’re trying to have a baby? I thought you were finished with all of this when we got married.”

He found himself forcing back his own emotions. He wasn’t comfortable with crying; but as with everything in his life, it was different when it came to you. He hasn’t felt this kind of guilt since your second year of marriage, when you found out about his little cocaine problem he tried to hide from you. That was a war within itself that left the two of you crying on the floor a couple of times because you refused to let him spiral throughout his recovery.

He cleared his throat trying to push away the burn. “I know…” He wrapped his arms around you trying to soothe your shaking figure. “I was done… but Santigato needs a pilot, and I thought we could use the extra money for the baby. I thought I was doing the right thing for us.”

You were upset still, but his words melted your heart. That’s Frankie for you. He tried so hard to be the perfect husband. And he was in your eyes. He was such a good man and he did everything for you without a complaint, but he personally struggled to feel like he was enough. A part of you knew deep down Frankie had never forgiven himself for the cocaine situation he had put you through. He carried the guilt on his shoulders, no matter how many times you told him that it wasn’t something for him to feel guilty about. That never stopped Frankie from trying to do more to show his worth and love for you.

“Money isn’t worth your life.” You looked up at him. You noticed his eyes were glossed over before he kissed your temple to hide away his pain. He forced out a strained ‘I know’.

You knew that you could guilt Frankie out of this mission, but that seemed unfair to do to him. He wanted to do this because it would prove that he could provide, and that he was the husband he wanted to be. Could you really push down your own fears to allow your husband on some stupid operation so he can have self closure?

You let out a sigh. You shifted to hug him back and his arms tightened around you in response. You mumbled into his chest “... How long would you be gone?”

He stiffened in realization that you were considering letting him do this.

“I don’t know…A week or two.” His hand started to rub up and down your back. He knew this was stressful for you, and that’s why he was even more grateful that you were considering.

“Is it…” You wanted to ask if it was dangerous, but of course it was. Everything he did with them was dangerous. You silently recalled the stories he told you about the shit he did before you started dating. You take in a deep breath and change the question, “How risky?”

“I told Pope I wasn’t doing anything with active fire.”

You hummed in acknowledgment. At least he put down a ground rule. That didn’t change the fact that anything could go wrong though, and that’s what scared the hell out of you. It was hard to make a call on this when you were wrapped safely in his arms. His cologne surrounded you and brought peace like a favorite candle.

It dawned upon you. “Frankie, what about your pilot license?” You questioned, confused. He was still under review, he couldn’t legally fly anything right now. His chest vibrated as an uncomfortable chuckle came from him.

“It doesn’t really matter in this case… Will knows a guy.”

“Sounds legal.” You joked. He gave a half-hearted smirk at the comment.

You pulled back from his arms with a hesitant nod. He was surprised that you were giving him the green light to do this. His heart beat a little faster as it reminded him of another reason why he loved you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” You collected some air for a second. Forcing yourself to come with the terms that this was going to happen. “If you feel like this is something you need to do… Then I’m here to back you up.”

You blinked before suddenly his lips were on yours. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back and fall backwards on the bed. He was above you as he leaned away slightly, his chest pressing against yours with heavy breathes.

“I love you.” His brown eyes looked over your face. He studied every part of it. He had seen it so many times and somehow each time it managed to take his breath away. How did he land someone like you?

“I love you too, Frankie.” You smiled at him. Your hand reached up to run through his hair. You liked when he kept his hair long like this, and so he never cut it too short. He didn’t care either way since he covered it with a ball cap most of the time anyway.

You didn’t notice his hand started to explore further until your breath hitched. You weren’t sure when his hand slid under your dress, his fingers tracing the bottom of your panties causing you to freeze from the contact.

“Francisco.” You shivered from his touch, which only brought out that shit eating grin of his.

“What?” He played innocent before he started to press kisses in a trail down your neck. Pleased when he heard the soft moan that escaped your lips after he left a love-bite. He could feel himself practically drunk off your perfume alone. “I just want to show you how much I’ll miss you.”

You started to lean into his touch as his fingers pulled at the soft fabric. He lifted himself up to look at you again. The need in your eyes making him weak. You stopped him by his wrist and he paused immediately.

“What about Jacob and Hannah?” You blinked at the sudden memory of your neighbors downstairs. The last thing you needed was your friends hearing you moan from the upstairs window.

“Oh,” Frankie breathed out in relief. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea that you’re worried about the neighbors after everything that happened tonight. “I sent them home after you went inside, honey.”

“Dammit!” You cursed quietly. “I didn’t get a chance to give them dessert, I made cheesecake.”

You frowned at him a little regretful of how the night ended with them. He laid there propped up on his elbow admiring your beauty. He was so beyond whipped for you, and it was the best part of his life. His smile returned as he leaned forward pressing a soft kiss on your lips before he pulled back again.

“Too bad for them,” He commented and you watched him move to the spot between your legs. His hands busied themselves unbuttoning the sundress you wore as he looked back at you. Your cheeks flushed as you realized where he was going with this. “I found something else sweet to eat.”

He had only left a couple of days ago, but you missed him so much. The two of you had never spent more than a weekend apart. Plus, you had something important to tell him. Your hands nervously shake as you look at the white stick.

There it was in front of you… The little pink lines you’ve been praying to see. Tears pooled your eyes as emotion took over again. You were filled with an indescribable type of joy. You had no idea which night was the reason for this surprise because honestly your sex life with Frankie was a regular occurance. And now you had a new reason to be thankful for that.

You had taken the test a few hours before but it felt so unreal that you continued to come back and look again. You did a couple of them just to be sure, and everytime the pretty color appeared in front of your eyes. As happy as you were inside from the news, this only heightened the state of your anxiety because Frankie wasn’t home.

You weren’t even sure if you should tell him until he came back. A part of you was worried this would be a distraction that could throw him off, and you didn’t want him to have another thing to worry about at home.

Looking in the mirror as you placed the test back on the counter. The soft smile beautifully placed on your face. You wished Frankie was here to experience the moment with you. You imagined you’d be squeezed into a hug right about now.

You jumped as your cell phone brought you back to reality. The screen lit up from the spot on your bed waiting for you to pick up the call. An unrecognizable number from Brazil…. Frankie?

“Hello?” You questioned nervously.

“Hey, it’s me.” Frankie’s voice was on the other end. You relaxed at the sound. He was safe right now.

“Hey! How’re you holding up?” You asked.

“Uh,” He let out a small huff before he continued. “Everything is planned out… Which means you might not hear from me for a few days.”

“Yeah, I figured so.”

You knew this part was coming, he told you in advance. Once everything was sorted out that means he’d be out of service until they’re back on their way home. That didn’t stop the small pit of sadness from washing over you.

. It was going to be difficult to not know if he was alive for several days.

“Hey, hey,” He called out softly into the phone trying to bring back your attention to him. He knows how easy it is to spiral into every ‘what if’ possible. “I know what you’re doing. It’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

You listened with the phone pressed against your ear. The sound of him shuffling away from what sounded like the guys in the background. He continued talking in a hushed tone for privacy, “This will be good for us… Money for the future baby, right?”

It was an attempt to cheer you up and keep your spirits high about the whole ordeal. Your view shifted back to the bathroom as you let out a shaky breath. You wanted to tell him now, it seemed impossible to keep him out of the loop for several days. What if Frankie died never knowing? The thought made you feel sick.

“Actually, I…” You stuttered out. You paused as your mind raced between the idea of not telling him and spilling out the truth right now. No, no, you couldn’t hold this in. You had to tell him in case anything happened. Consider it encouragement to come home.

“Francisco?”

“Yeah? I’m here, baby.” He waited patiently as there was a small pause on your end. His nerves started to feel uneasy by your sudden hesitation. His own what ifs started to float around his brain.

“I’m pregnant.” You say it in one motion. Not rushed, but quick.

His eyebrows scrunched together and he stood still in the room alone for a moment. His mind trying to process what you just told him through the phone. He heard the words clearly, but his brain wouldn’t connect them together.

“What?” He asked dumbfounded.

“Frankie, I’m pregnant. The test was positive.”

His breath hitched and his heart stopped, “Wait, really?”. The two of you talked about becoming parents for so long, and he tried to be encouraging the past few months. It seemed unreal to finally hear the words out loud. “I-... This is… We’re going to be parents.”

“Yeah,” Your voice broke, but you were filled to the brim with happiness. “We’re going to be parents, Frankie.”

You heard it, and you almost didn’t believe your ears. There was a sob on the other end of the phone. He tried to hold it in as he covered his mouth with his hand, a couple of tears falling down his face in the process. Frankie hardly cried like this. It was the type of cry that comes from the bottom of someone’s soul and it only surfaced if somebody died or a fucking mirale happened to you.

“Francisco?”

“I’m here, baby.” He repeated the words he used earlier. This time his voice strained from emotion. He wiped his face with his hand trying to collect himself before he had to return back to his friends. “I’m just overwhelmed… In the best way possible. Fuck, we’re going to be parents!”

You let out a small laugh trying to stop your own crying. “I’m so happy, I can’t wait for you to come home.”

He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before replying, his voice leveled out now “Let’s celebrate when I come home. Whatever you want to do, I’ll do it. What about that restaurant you’re always talking about, baby?”

You snorted. “Frankie, you hate that place.”

It was true… It was overpriced and he didn’t think the food was worth the forty minute drive, but that didn’t matter to him. He just wanted to spoil you for everything you’ve done. You allowed him to come on this stupid operation in the first place, and now you’re pregnant with his child.

“It doesn’t matter, I know you love their fettuccine alfredo.”

“Frankie Morales, you know my weakness.” You hummed into the phone.

He chuckled in response before replying “How do you think you got pregnant in the first place, sweetheart?”

You burst into laughter “You’re terrible for that.”

His laughing was cut short as someone walked in the room. You heard them mumble out ‘we have to go’ before Frankie replied an okay back.

“I have to go, mi amor.”

The nervousness returned as you were forced to remember this was it for now. You weren’t going to hear from him for a couple of days and you’d have to hope everything went smoothly on his end. “Be careful, please?”

“Of course. I’ll be home in a few days, okay?” He said the words like a promise rather than a reassurance. “Don’t stress yourself out over this, and take care of yourself until I come back. I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Francisco.”

The phone clicked and the call ended. He had such a new fire in him now. His heart pounding in his chest was only a reminder that he lived another day to be needed. His focus was now on coming home in one piece. He had a wife and kid on the way, and nothing would stop him from coming home to you.

Taglist: @warrentrash @mandoclan

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfic #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier x you #triple frontier x reader #frankie morales fluff #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #sammywrites #sanchosammy #triple frontier catfish #catfish x reader #catfish x you

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taexual · 4 years ago

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i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (19)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: suggestive themes, some angst

words: 7.7k

chapter nineteen

You expected Jungkook to skip class the next Monday morning because neither of you had gotten enough proper sleep this weekend, but, surprising you, he was standing outside of your dormitory even though it was barely light outside, holding two coffees in his hands, and smiling.

Squinting at him suspiciously, you waited for an explanation why he looked so excited to be awake at seven in the morning – not to mention, why he got up early to get you and him coffee, and then showed up at your dormitory in time to catch you leave.

“I just wanted to go to class together with my girlfriend,” Jungkook said simply enough, emphasizing the last word.

“You’re lying,” you said, still watching him intently but accepting his coffee nevertheless. You almost considered yourself overly paranoid as soon as you took a sip of the blissful beverage, but Jungkook’s smile widened.

“Okay, fine,” he said, unable to hold it in much longer. “Yoongi told me something last night and I’d been looking forward to talking to you about it, so I’m still on a high.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

“No—listen. We got an out-of-town gig,” he said, his eyes glittering so bright, some of the street lamps nearby flickered awkwardly, intimidated. “It’s the first one. Apparently, the manager of some club or event hall—I don’t know—was visiting a relative on campus this Friday, and they saw us play. It’s next weekend. I want you to come with me.”

“Tha—that’s great, wow. I’m proud of you,” you said and you did mean it but, at the same time, you felt worried.

Jungkook had abandoned Parental Advisory right before the encore last Friday. What if some inane force got into his head and made him ditch the show again? He was obviously still not used to the consequences of his actions since, most of the time, he miraculously came out of every mess alive.

“You’re all very excited, I don’t doubt,” you said, choosing your words carefully, “but, uh… are you sure about this?”

You could see some of the initial joy fade away from his face after your question, and your mind immediately awarded you with a mental kick.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, last Friday—” you tried but Jungkook cut in as if he’d guessed that this was going to be the direction in which your conversation turned.

“No, don’t,” he said hurriedly, not wanting you to say another word about how much frustration he’d caused his bandmates. “We’re fine. We’re family, we don’t fight long.”

You nodded empathetically – or so you hoped – and tried again, “I was just saying that you—”

“I’m fine,” he cut you off again, still smiling patiently even though his voice was inching closer to the edge with each hesitant word that came out of your mouth. “You’ll be there with me. I’ll be fine.”

The confidence in his tone was infectious, however.

He said he’d be fine. You weren’t going to insist and make him doubt himself, not when he was voicelessly asking you to trust him.

“I hadn’t technically said yes,” you pointed out instead, more to tease him than anything else.

Jungkook replied, tongue-in-cheek, “I asked as a courtesy. I’m kidnapping you if you don’t agree to come with me.”

Relieved that the tension seemed to dissipate after you decided not to shove your worries on him and maybe even push them away from your own shoulders, too, the two of you started to walk towards the building where your class was going to take place.

“You always take my choices away from me,” you told him, a playful smile still on your lips. “Let me make a decision.”

Jungkook nearly froze, feeling the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up. He saw your face and could recognize that you were just playing around, not really trying to tell him that you were offended, but your words, joking or not, still hit a painful, throbbing spot inside of his mind.

He was using your feelings for him to get you to do what he wanted. He was doing it again. Even despite his mother’s concerns about his influence on you seven years ago. Even despite you both being adults now.

“I wasn’t—I… I just didn’t want you to make the wrong choice,” he said, browsing through dozens of lame excuses and choosing the one that made him sound the least like an asshole.

You knew he wasn’t an asshole. That was why you didn’t get upset when he told you that you were coming before you got a chance to accept his offer.

Still, wanting him to open up and explain what was going on inside of his head, you wondered aloud, “what’s the wrong choice here? Me, not going with you?”

“Yes,” Jungkook answered, not hesitating but looking down at the gravel underneath his boots, “I need you there with me,” that didn’t sound right. He corrected himself with an awkward chuckle – as if to reduce the strength of his next words, “I always need you with me. That’s why I didn’t wait for you to—”

“Well, say it like that, then,” you asked in a voice that was almost as impatient as your heart, who’d suddenly decided it wanted to leap out of your chest and take a walk around campus. “I’ll never say no.”

His face lit up. “Is that a promise?”

You responded to him by smiling and then looked away, letting him know, “absolutely not.”

“What?” the boy blinked, suddenly lost in his translation of your language. “You just said—!”

“You’re a shithead with unreadable intentions,” you told him kindly. “I can’t promise to always say yes to everything you do. But if you actually ask—”

“Okay,” he gave in, accepting your condition because you were making a good point. “I’m asking now.”

You nodded, appreciating that he did ask, after all, even though it’d all been decided already.

“I’ll come,” you said.

Jungkook smiled – genuinely now, not looking for ways to tease you or fool around anymore – and exhaled heavily to show you an exaggerated version of how relieved he was to hear this.

“Thank you,” he said. “I love you.”

The confession was supposed to be the new normal, but your heart was still on a field-trip, your heartbeat echoing all over your body as you smiled back. “I love you, too.”

The first time you saw Inna since she left last Friday, was when you got home from class on Monday. She heard you come in but, contrary to what you’d expected, she didn’t greet you by the door, demanding to know what had happened over the weekend.

Instead, you found her sitting by her desk, turned over in her chair as she was facing the door of the bedroom, a smirk on her face.

Automatically, you felt your own lips stretch into a smile as you entered the room, asking, “what?”

“Should I prepare for a third roommate to move in with us?” she asked, taking enormous pleasure in the way you sat down on the bed and purposefully turned away from her to unpack your bag.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, hoping to sound nonchalant but, judging from the way Inna snorted, probably sounding desperate to change the topic. “Did you have a good weekend?”

“Oh, I did,” she replied, her face still adorning a Cheshire Cat’s grin. “But I bet it was nothing like the weekend you’d had.”

Pursing your lips because you couldn’t help but feel yourself respond to her cheerful expression with a smile, you asked, “will you stop looking at me like that?”

“I absolutely won’t,” she replied, “not until you tell me every detail.”

“You don’t want every detail…”

The way your sentence faded made Inna gasp. She jumped from her chair abruptly and threw herself across the room, landing on her stomach right next to you, on your bed, her legs flying up from the floor in excitement.

“Oh, like hell, I do!” she exclaimed, drumming on your thigh with her palms as she waited for you to stop digging around your bag and finally give her something. “Come on, I’m starving here. Feed me.”

Almost laughing, you allowed Inna to grab your bag out of your hands and shove it away, out of your reach.

“Did you hear how that sounded?” you asked as you lied down on the bed next to her.

“Unfortunately, I did,” she countered, “because you won’t start talking. Come on! I know you want to.”

You did want to. But, unfortunately for your dignity, you also wanted to giggle uncontrollably and your roommate’s encouragement wasn’t helping your restraint.

“I won’t be able to say one sentence if you keep looking at me like that,” you warned her.

Inna had a solution for everything, turning away from you as she talked you through her plan, “Talk to my back. I promise I’ll stay quiet. Well, no, actually, I can’t promise that, but I promise I will definitely hear you out until the end before I start screaming.”

In fact, she did not.

You could hear her supportive whining and flapping of her feet as soon as you told her about how you found Jungkook outside of your dorm room when you returned from the barbecue. Her response to your story kept growing louder, and, before you were through with the re-telling of the conversation you’d had with Jungkook this morning, she was nearly shrieking, making it impossible for you to quit beaming.

Even when you expressed your concern about Jungkook’s tense relationship with his bandmates, Inna responded in a way that supported your joyful state of mind and made all of your anxiety seem unnecessary and over-the-top.

“This is it,” she declared, triumphant. She still wasn’t looking at you. “You’re really together this time and there’s nothing that can happen to ruin that.”

“Famous last words, Inna.”

“Oh, please,” she turned on her back, looking at you through her eyelashes. “You’ve reached the limit of the curveballs the universe can throw at you. You’re fine now.”

You felt a natural instinct to argue – it was like a rudimentary reaction to anything that promised you a good future: you had to find every way in which something could go wrong so you’d be prepared once it inevitably did – but you swallowed it, nodding instead.

“Yeah,” you agreed, choosing to live in the moment because it was too precious to just let it pass. “We’re fine now.”

Coincidentally – marking the beginning of a new period in your life – something almost unbelievable happened on the day of the Parental Advisory performance.

Because a gig out-of-town was, obviously, a huge deal for a band that had only performed locally before, Jungkook brought it up to his parents.

He did it offhandedly, almost as a last-minute way to let them know that he was finally advancing in more than one aspect of his life. And also, to spite his father who’d called his band a “hobby”.

But, surprising him to the moon and back, his parents asked if they could come and watch him play.

And so, they were here, inside of the venue, exploring the poorly lit and barely furnished event hall, and not being any more judgmental than they usually were.

“It starts at eight, right?” Jungkook’s mother asked you, since her son was backstage with the band, dealing with the lighting. “Maybe we could sneak in some dinner before the show.”

“Oh, actually, the band is planning to go out for some food together,” you said, unsure if the invitation extended to parents – and doubting it very much, considering the name of the group – but still feeling like it wouldn’t be polite to not invite them. “Maybe you could—”

“No, we won’t intrude,” Jungkook’s father replied this time. “We’ll meet you here after. Eight o’clock sharp. Although, being sharp doesn’t matter much at events like these, right?”

He smiled, waiting for your supportive laughter, but you could barely muster up a chuckle.

He’d said it like he was about to watch a street performer break dance outside of an opera house – like it was a form of art that was universally acknowledged, but it didn’t hold any meaning in the larger context of art – and you had to fight your sense of justice so you wouldn’t correct him.

Jungkook may have been reckless and, sure, he may not have finished a show one time – that you knew of – because he got wasted instead, but you’d never heard of a Parental Advisory performance that did not start exactly on time. Inna had used this argument to convince you to get into them a dozen times before: the members respected their audience, they didn’t think of this as a joke.

“Yes, eight o’clock,” you said, the same polite smile frozen on your face. “Jungkook is really looking forward to this.”

“He should be looking—”

“We are, too,” his mother stepped in, bringing a hand to your shoulder and squeezing it gently – a gesture meant to make up for her husband’s immediate response about what Jungkook should have been looking forward to. “We’ll see you later tonight.”

You nodded and followed after them so you could see them out of the venue – not that this was your responsibility, but it felt like the right thing to do since their son wasn’t here – except someone grabbed your hand right after you reached the exit. Gasping in shock, you turned around to see the son in question, grinning at you.

Fighting off the surprise, you looked back to see his parents walk out of the venue and then narrowed your eyes at Jungkook as you inquired, “were you waiting for your parents to leave before you came out?”

“Yes,” he admitted, shameless. “Sorry I had to use you to keep them company.”

“It’s fine, they’re nice people,” you said and then added teasingly, “you should hang out with them sometime. I think they’d like you.”

Jungkook gave you a look full of skepticism. “I could hear my dad basically call my band useless from all the way over there.”

“He—” you started, but then realized that defending his father would have meant lying to Jungkook, so you sighed instead. “Yeah. He just doesn’t see what this is all about, I guess. Have your parents ever watched you perform before?”

“What do you think?” he asked, nervously tugging on your hand – that he kept on holding – as a reflexive reaction whenever the topic turned to his family.

You nodded knowingly.

“So, this will be their first time,” you said. “They’ll come around. Well, your dad will. Your mom seemed excited.”

“About the show?” Jungkook asked, lifting up your hand and intertwining your fingers, “or about the fact that you’re here with me?”

You smiled, unable to help it. “Both?”

“No, that can’t be it,” he countered, taking one remaining step to close the distance between you. He dropped your hand on his shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist. “No one’s more excited about having you here than me.”

You ignored your racing pulse and played along, “are you sure? Because I’m pretty excited. I was even thinking of getting one of those ‘I’m with the band’ t-shirts that I remember your groupies wearing.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened in humor. “My groupies?”

You shook your head in a chastising manner. “Don’t act so surprised.”

“That’s not surprise, that’s indifference,” he spoke and, even though he was clearly using his lines on you again, the smell of his cologne when he stood so close to you, pressing your body against his, was too intoxicating for you to call him out on it. “And, in any case, I’d like to see you wear something else entirely.”

“Hmm? What’s that?”

Jungkook leaned in closer until you could feel his breath on the nape of your neck as he whispered, “nothing at all.”

Almost jumping in surprise as a wave of excited shivers ran down your spine at his words, you squeezed his bicep in a warning manner and chuckled. If Jungkook didn’t know you better, he’d have thought you sounded nervous when you spoke again.

“Don’t forget where are are,” you reminded him as he hummed against your neck, pressing several gentle, butterfly kisses on your tender skin. “Your bandmates are right behind that wall—”

“Are they?” Jungkook asked, pulling away enough to look at you but not enough to give you any space to breathe as his forehead lingered mere millimetres away from yours. “Maybe we should do a soundcheck of our own, make sure they can really hear us?”

You watched him with parted lips and he cherished in rendering you speechless so much, he couldn’t help the smirk that spread on his face right before he leaned in to kiss you.

Sighing – mostly in defeat because, clearly, he’d succeeded and you weren’t going to protest much anymore – you tightened your grip on his shirt as you kissed him back.

Jungkook had very much forgotten where he was as soon as he felt the softness of your lips against his and, taking a few steps forwards until your back hit the wall, he used the element of surprise to his own advantage as he deepened the kiss, trapping your body between his and the wall.

Both of you could hear muffled noises, coming from somewhere in the venue, but just like before – in his childhood bedroom or in the hallway of your dormitory – you were too far gone to care about any noise – or anything at all – that wasn’t literally right in front of you.

He kissed you like he had a point to prove, like the performance he’d come here for wasn’t going to begin at eight, but it began now. And he gave his all, pulling you closer and tightening his grip on your waist as his fingertips crept down to your belt to pull out the turtleneck that you’d carefully tucked into your jeans this morning.

Wanting to touch you, not just your clothes, he evidently couldn’t have cared less about your relative exposure to the rest of the venue, as he pulled out your sweater and sneaked his hands underneath. As soon as his fingers felt the warmth of your skin, he exhaled into the kiss, forcing you to grasp his shirt harder.

You knew of Jungkook’s abilities when it came to mood swings – the boy could climb from zero to one-hundred in under a second, that was nothing to him – but the unexpected lust and the intense passion of his kisses still took all of your breath away as you held onto him, not making any requests to slow down or take a break even if your lungs were starting to ache.

“Oi!” a voice called out suddenly. Jungkook didn’t even flinch, kissing you harder, if anything. “You need to tune in your—nevermind. Just hurry up and come backstage, will you?”

Jungkook made no sound of acknowledgement whatsoever, too focused on the task at hand and too lost in the feeling of your lips to worry about anything else, so you were the one who had to pull away, your lips smacking against his as you broke the kiss. When he opened his eyes, Jungkook looked almost offended.

“They’re waiting for you,” you told him, breathing heavily as if you were recovering from finishing first at a marathon. He looked at you as if you spoke a different language. You tried, “the band?”

“They can—”

“We don’t have the whole day!” his member called out again – you couldn’t see which one it was because Jungkook still refused to pull away – and you heard him open the door to return backstage. He shouted at Jungkook again before leaving, “but you do your thing! Not like a lead vocalist is that hard to replace.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes at the last part and you felt yourself smile softly, nodding your head in the direction of the stage.

“Go,” you encouraged. “I’ll go sightsee.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And leave me here?”

“You have a soundcheck to get to.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, grinning again as he leaned in to press a soft kiss right below your jawline. He pulled away far enough to add, “with you.”

You half-laughed, half-exhaled as he peppered gentle kisses down your neck.

“Not that kind of—Jungkook,” your voice did not sound nearly as stern as you wanted it to; even your hands seemed limp as you tried to push him off of yourself and gain some space to breathe, “seriously.”

He reacted to your rejection in the way he always did – by taking a step away from you and giving you an almost mournful look, “you are pushing me away. That is unacceptable.”

“You have more important matters right now,” you told him.

“I do not,” he insisted childishly.

“You do,” you repeated and then, pushing yourself off the wall, you placed your hands on his shoulders as you attempted to turn his resistant frame around, “go. I’ll come back in time for the dinner.”

Jungkook allowed you to push him towards the door to the back of the stage, but he still whined dramatically in a last-ditch attempt to tug at your heart-strings, “I don’t want you to leave.”

“You act like you’re five years old sometimes,” you told him and then added, less seriously, “I’ll see you soon. Be a good boy and behave.”

“Oh, behave,” he repeated, intrigued now. You stopped in front of the door and released your grip on his shoulders, allowing him to turn to face you. The twinkling lights in his eyes were challenging as he asked, “will I get a reward if I behave?”

“Yes,” you said, “your reward will be not getting your ass handed to you by your members. Now go.”

You gave him one last nod towards the door and then a reassuring smile, too, because the boy was pouting as if this was his first day in kindergarten; you felt ridiculous and he was absolutely using that to win more of your love.

You were about to turn around to leave when Jungkook suddenly leaped forwards, taking your hand and stopping you.

“You’re leaving without kissing me goodbye?” he asked, looking almost outraged. “Your audacity is just—”

You pressed your lips to his abruptly, shutting him up before he could proceed any further with this game, and then pulled away as soon as you felt his grip on you tighten; Jungkook was losing his sense of reality again.

Not saying anything else, you used his disappointed reaction as a way to get your hand out of his without him stopping you, and then, with a quick wave, you jogged towards the door. When you turned to glance at him one more time before you left, Jungkook was still standing there, shaking his head and smiling at the ground.

You‘d checked Google Maps before arriving to get acquainted with the area and, as it turned out, you didn't have to look very far to find an activity to occupy yourself with, because right across the street from the venue, was a horror book store that Namjoon had told you about before, back when you were working on your Sociology project.

Snapping a quick picture of the exterior of the store, you texted it to Namjoon to let him know you visited it, and went inside to explore.

The space was small, with barely enough room for two people to pass each other, but it was paradise for every horror fan. Not only did it contain books – many of them first editions, no less! – but also old DVDs and promotional movie posters. Actually, you thought you even saw a few VHS tapes hidden behind some books, too.

Canceling your plans to explore the rest of the city, you made a split-second decision to spend the few hours before the dinner here. And you didn't regret not going anywhere else – the several books and movies that you‘d bought seemed like a great purchase and you were satisfied.

However, as you headed for the restaurant where the band was supposed to meet up for dinner, you felt weirdly worried. It was Jungkook who‘d sent you the address of the restaurant, but he sent you four texts of it, and you were concerned that no one else was going to show up because he‘d only informed you – four times – and forgot about everyone else.

As it turned out, that wasn't what you should have been worried about.

In fact, at first, you didn't think there was anything worth worrying about at all. You saw the boys seated at a table outside, underneath a large parasol, laughing and having drinks. Jungkook noticed you first and he stood up to meet you on the steps of the patio.

“Heyyy,” he said as soon as he saw you, drawing out the y’s for what felt like three whole seconds.

You lifted your eyebrows but chose not to make a comment. “Hi. Did you order yet?”

“No, we were waiting for you,” he explained, putting a hand around your shoulders to guide you towards the table. He didn’t duck when you two walked past the narrow space between two tables and nearly got his eye taken out by a parasol rod. “Oh, wow! Now that—that could have killed me.”

“It could have blinded you,” you said, giving him a long look, “how would it kill you?”

Laughing instead of replying – because, apparently, you had just made a joke – Jungkook helped you into your seat and took one right next to you. When he turned to take your glass and fill it with champagne – the waiter had left three bottles on the table; one of which was already empty – you got to take a closer look at him and realized with horror that his red eyes were definitely not a sign of having had too much champagne.

“So, how was the soundcheck?” you asked, looking at the other members of his group – which was a mistake because Jungkook wasn’t aware of how much champagne was too much, and it ended up spilling out of your glass and pouring all over the table. “Careful—! Jungkook, why—let me. I’ll do it.”

He was laughing again and apologizing as he clumsily tried to clean up the mess on the table with the sleeve of his jacket. Gently pushing him back into his chair by his shoulder, you grabbed a few napkins and tried to soak up the liquid that hadn’t seeped into the tablecloth yet.

The rest of the group wanted to help – a chorus of belated “oh!”’s sounded around the table – and, even though you expected them to be about as useful as Jungkook, they proved to be a lot more in touch with their surroundings.

“The soundcheck,” Jungkook said, pinching his thumb and index finger and kissing it like a chef, while everyone else around the table cleaned, “was great. We’ll have an unforgettable night.”

You saw Taehyung giggle and gave him an inquisitive look – one that proved to be more threatening than you’d intended, because the boy blinked and stopped smiling as soon as he caught your eye – prompting him to explain.

“We had a quick, little smoke before we came here,” Taehyung said and then nodded his head at Jungkook, “him a little more than the rest of us.”

From the way it seemed, the smoke Jungkook had had was nor quick, nor little – he was swinging on the back legs of his chair as he sipped champagne; a second later, he lost his balance and would have fallen over if you hadn’t been standing next to him.

Hearing his alarmed gulp and seeing the chair freewheel backwards, you stopped and pushed it towards the table with your thigh and Jungkook burst into laughter.

“You are my lifesaver,” he declared and would have probably burst into a solo round of applause if the waiter hadn’t distracted him by bringing the appetizers.

“Is he going to be able to perform like this?” you asked, sitting back down. You glanced at Jungkook and noticed his preoccupation with the shrimp on the plate in front of him. “He probably doesn’t even realize where he is.”

“We still have a few hours,” Taehyung replied. “He’ll be fine.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched the boy next to you indulge on everything that was on the table at the moment – it seemed like he would have gladly tried to take a bite out of the glass bottle of champagne, too, that’s how little attention he was paying to the things he was putting into his mouth – and you tried to find the reason why he decided to get high before a show that his parents were going to attend.

But then, perhaps, that was precisely it. This was a concert like none he’s done before in more ways than one: not only was it off-campus but it was also going to be the first time that his parents would see him sing live. So, however ridiculous it was to say this about someone as confident as Jungkook, but he must have been nervous.

“Maybe it’d be a good idea for him to—” you started to say but half of a breadstick was shoved at your face before you could finish.

“Try this!” Jungkook insisted, waiting eagerly for you to open your mouth as if he was going to feed you ambrosia itself. “It’s brilliant.”

Worried about what he would do if you refused, you parted your lips and allowed him to feed you the breadstick. He waited patiently while you chewed and then smiled proudly when you gave him a nod and a weak smile.

“I could have a hundred of them,” he announced then and, judging from the dedicated glint in his eye, he was planning to do just that.

“Is that normal?” you asked his members again, nodding your head towards Jungkook as he stuffed his face with breadsticks.

“What, his love for bread?” Hoseok replied this time, snickering. “Surprisingly, yeah. It becomes more prominent when he’s high. He once ate an entire loaf in one sitting.”

The other boys burst into giggles – thus, reminding you that they weren’t sober, either – and you exhaled slowly, realizing now that this dinner was going to be a particularly long one.

You’d hoped that by the end of your main course Jungkook would be back to his normal self, but that was not the case at all. In fact, his high didn’t wear off even when you returned to the venue after the dinner.

With less than an hour left to the show, Jungkook was dozing off backstage, harmonizing under his breath and dropping the microphone in shock when you entered, closing the door a little too loudly for his overly-sensitive ears.

“Oh!” he exclaimed matter-of-factly before leaning down to pick the microphone up, all while ignoring the scolding of audio engineers. “You’re right on time—listen to this.”

You stopped a few steps away from him and watched as Jungkook put his microphone to his lips before he opened his mouth to grunt and release other low, gruff sounds, coming from somewhere deep in his throat, that made him sound like a cat, choking on a ball of fur.

He looked immensely pleased with himself when he finished the impromptu concerto. Raising his eyebrows, he awaited your reaction.

“That’s good,” you said, mentally calculating if there was enough time left to push him into a cold shower. “You’re all set for your audition to join an a cappella group.”

“An a capp—no, I’m not joining—wait, do you think I should?” he asked, sounding terrifyingly genuine.

You heard the door open and close behind you, but Jungkook leaped forwards before you could turn around and embrace the distraction.

“Hey, Yoongi, listen to this—!” Jungkook said and was about to repeat his previous demonstration, but you decided this was enough.

Pulling on the sleeve of his shirt, you cut him off and, ignoring his surprised yelp, you dragged him towards the communal bathroom on the other end of the changing room.

“Hey!” Yoongi called out after you. “Where are you taking him? The show’s in forty-five minutes!”

“He needs a cold shower,” you called back, not bothering to stop or turn around, “or he will perform his rendition of a hairball being stuck in his throat on stage.”

Yoongi didn’t question you further – he’d regained enough of his rationality to understand why that’d be a bad way to start the show – and, a second later, you were already pushing Jungkook into the shower stall, still fully dressed. He hadn’t changed into his stage clothes yet, so you didn’t think it mattered.

“Are we taking a shower together?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows. “Because I’d prefer to be undressed for that.”

You turned the shower on. A long moment of silence passed after the water hit Jungkook.

“Ah, shit!” he finally exclaimed, gasping and jumping away from the stream of the ice cold water that had already soaked him. His reaction was, clearly, still delayed.

Regardless, Jungkook gave you a look full of terror and disbelief – as if you’d thrown him to the wolves and he only realized that after half of his leg got chewed off.

“Why are—” he tried to ask but you cut him off, getting the front of your own clothes splashed with water as you redirected the barely motioning shower head towards him.

“Because you’re high out of your mind,” you replied, “and if you don’t want to get disowned, you need to sober up as quickly as possible.”

“How is this—my head is going to freeze!” he complained, trying to bolt but only slamming his body into yours – and, thus, making you even more wet – as you blocked his exit. “Please. I’m cold.”

“Good,” you replied – so honest, it was almost ruthless. “That should speed up the process.”

He whined for the next few minutes – you were convinced that, after the first minute, his whining turned into a habit because, at that point, he already looked half-asleep – but he didn’t try to run away, which was a blessing, because if he came to his senses, he could overpower you and escape with relative ease.

However, escaping wasn’t on his mind and Jungkook endured the cold shower with newfound determination. You chose to take it as a sign that he was now sober enough to recognize the danger of going to perform while he was so high, he wouldn’t have been able to recognize himself in the mirror.

He climbed out of the shower shaking, somewhat dizzy, but aware of his surroundings.

“I’ll get you a towel,” you said after you’d helped him take his black t-shirt off – it basically rolled off his damp skin, really – but Jungkook pulled you back by squeezing your hand.

“T-thank you-uh,” he said, his lower lip trembling from the cold.

The gesture surprised you – you thought he’d sober up, but you didn’t think he’d appreciate that – and you felt yourself respond to him with a nod and a smile.

“I’ll be right back,” you promised again.

Most surprisingly, the shower seemed to work. To be fair, Jungkook still giggled when he walked into the side of the door on his way out of the bathroom, but he could actually sing now – as soon as he stopped shivering, that is – and, with five minutes until the start of the show, he looked much more ready for the performance ahead.

“Thank you,” a voice said to you as you lingered by the door of the changing room, toying with the end of the extra shirt that you’d borrowed from Jungkook. You turned around to see Yoongi. “Most people would have just left him to deal with it on his own.”

You were quick to realize that Yoongi was, obviously, thanking you for taking Jungkook off his hands.

“He’s capable of a lot of things,” you replied, “but cleaning up his own mess isn’t one of them.”

That got him to chuckle. “Yeah. I honestly thought he’d be fine. It’s not the first time we went for a smoke before a show. To ease the nerves, you know?”

You didn’t know. Somehow, you’d assumed, the members of Parental Advisory never felt nervous.

“Yeah, uh, I get it,” you said, realizing how naïve that belief had been. “He sort of overdid it this time, though.”

“Sort of,” Yoongi repeated, “that’s one way to put it.”

“Would it make me sound masochistic if I said I’d seen him worse?” you asked, only half joking.

“No,” he replied, “but the fact that you stayed with him in spite of it, kind of would.”

He gave you an apologetic smile but you responded with an understanding nod.

There was nothing to get upset about: Jungkook had wreaked havoc on your life, that was true -- but only because you’d let him. You could have walked away if you felt like you’d had too much, but you chose to stay.

“Yeah,” you started to say after inhaling deeply enough to fill up both of your lungs. “Well, he’s—”

“He loves you,” Yoongi said. “He probably thinks that’s enough to make up for the times he fucks up.”

You lowered your head, admitting this to him and to yourself, “sometimes that is enough.”

Rationally, the fact that Jungkook loved you probably wasn’t supposed to be enough, but, to you, it was. And you were the one who made the decisions for your life; you were the one who decided if you were treated fairly or not.

And tonight felt fair.

Tonight felt like you were helping someone out; someone who didn’t have enough strength – or, simply, pride – to even ask for help.

“His parents are in the audience tonight,” you said, voicing the reason why you understood Jungkook’s thought process that had lead to him, getting high right before the show. “He’s probably ten times more nervous than usually.”

Yoongi nodded. “Yeah, but he’ll do great. He’ll be fine now.”

“The shower should have—”

“Because you’re here,” he added unexpectedly. “He would have probably found a way out of this even if you weren’t here – no offense – because he’d had plenty of practice coming out of fires he’d set himself. He’d come out of them burned and in pain, of course, but, at least, he’d survive. And now... with you being here, he might come out of this completely unscathed.”

You thought about his words, looking away from him and, thus, giving Yoongi the permission to excuse himself and join the rest of his bandmates by the side of the stage as they prepared to start the show.

Then, finally, choosing not to fight the small smile that had successfully made it to your lips, you exited the changing room, too, and joined Jungkook’s parents in the venue.

Apparently they’d been back here for a while and Jungkook’s mother had an ambiguous smile on her lips when she saw you approach their seats. You were taken aback by the similarity between the expression on her face right now, and the look on Yoongi’s face when he told you that Jungkook loved you.

Too surprised to ask how long they’ve been back, you chose to remain quiet as you took a seat next to Jungkook’s mother, and waited for the show to start.

Parental Advisory performed in the same breathtaking manner as they did back on your campus – they’d captivated the attention of everyone here before the first song even ended – and you could not stop yourself from cheering along with everyone else.

You could distinctly recall yourself in a contrasting position just a little while ago – back when Inna had dragged you to the Parental Advisory gig, right before you went to their after-party and talked to Jungkook for the first time in seven years.

Back then, you couldn’t let go of your prejudice and did not think it was fair for the group to have a following this large. They weren’t anything exceptional, after all. But, even so, you could remember the awe you felt when you watched Jungkook on stage.

He was in his element. They all were.

You still thought the music they performed may not have been extraordinary, but the members of the group had something inside of them – something that helped them connect with their audience. Something that made their performances a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

And every time Jungkook looked at your box – you weren’t sure if he could distinguish your and his parents’ figures – you realized that your preliminary opinion about him had been correct: he was arrogant and very full of himself.

But Inna was right, too – from the way he got every single person, even the security staff, immersed in the band’s performance, he had every right to be arrogant.

You kept looking back to Jungkook’s father, anticipating a comment from him and even biting your lip to resist the urge to smile after you involuntarily allowed yourself to imagine the way his voice would sound when he admitted that he’d been wrong and that, clearly, Jungkook had already discovered his place in life.

But his father remained quiet all throughout the concert and, perhaps, that was enough. He hadn’t made a single negative comment – and that alone said plenty.

However, surprising you, the biggest compliment from Jungkook’s father came as soon as the performance ended, and Jungkook returned backstage.

His eyes were still red, but his entire body was glowing from the post-show high, so you’d have never guessed the real cause of the redness on his face. He enveloped you in a hug as soon as he saw you, nearly suffocating you with the strength of his grip, and leaned over to press a quick kiss to his mother’s cheek.

That was when his father spoke up and offered to drive you both home.

You didn’t find it unusual at first – they had a car, why wouldn’t they offer to drive you home? – but Jungkook went stiff in your arms and, when he pulled away, you suddenly understood why the offer was unexpected.

Jungkook’s father had never driven his son anywhere, not unless it was for the sake of the company. Making it worse, you were probably correct to assume that, ever since Jungkook moved out of his parents’ house years ago, his father’s urge to drive his son anywhere had disappeared completely, regardless of the motives behind this drive.

“Uh,” it took Jungkook a minute to gather his words. “Thanks, dad.”

That wasn’t something he thought he’d get to say when he first woke up this morning.

His father nodded and reached into the pocket of his jacket for the car keys when Jungkook suddenly continued.

“But, actually, we thought of staying behind to get some drinks. To, uh, celebrate the successful performance, you know?” he said, threading carefully and holding onto your waist tighter. Even though you’d already pulled away from the hug, Jungkook did not let you take one step away from him.

His father’s face grew clouded. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

He asked it in a very official tone, as if he was making a business deal – almost wondering if merging with a different company was a wise choice.

“Yeah. It’s nothing big,” Jungkook said, caressing your shoulder to bring attention to the fact that you were standing next to him and his father had no reason to stare him down like that, “I won’t be there alone.”

“Did you even ask her if she wanted to come?”

The question – that sounded so natural coming from his father’s lips – forced him to freeze, just like that Monday morning, outside of your dormitory.

A loaded moment had to pass before Jungkook found himself again but, by that time, you’d already realized you had to interfere.

“I don’t mind,” you said, not wanting someone else to do the speaking for you when you were, technically, a part of the conversation. “I’d love to share a toast with the guys.”

You tried to substantiate your words with a convincing smile but, really, you didn’t know why you paid any attention to your facial expression at all – you weren’t lying.

Aside from Jungkook getting into a fight with Brock at the last Parental Advisory party, you didn’t have a terrible time there, and you figured that, perhaps, your bias against partying with the band members had been unfounded. Either way, you were genuinely ready to give it a second chance, especially when your body was still abuzz with the electricity from the show.

But Jungkook’s parents watched the two of you for another moment, looking very uncertain. You hadn’t heard them talk about you all of those years ago, and yet the shadows of their voices seemed to echo in your mind, expressing their concern about Jungkook being too big of an influence on you and, eventually, dragging you off the rails along with him.

Finally, a very defeated, “very well” sounded from his father’s lips as he gave you both a nod and turned around towards the exit, waiting for his wife.

“You were wonderful,” Jungkook’s mother whispered to him, giving you a wink and then bringing her hand over her son’s cheek, “thank you for inviting us.”

“Thank you for coming,” Jungkook said and, when his parents left, he turned to you and repeated his previous words with a deep exhale of relief, “thank you. For coming, for staying, for—”

You could feel the tension pulsing in his blood as he still hadn’t let you go and, wanting nothing more than to ease his anxiety, you cut him off with a kiss.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you allowed him to pull you into his arms as he held onto you as if you really were his lifesaver as he’d called you before.

“You’re welcome,” you said when you pulled away, taking his breath with you.

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