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roosterforme · 10 months

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That's My Boy | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets caught up in his emotions after Everett turns twelve. As his son gets older, he realizes that days spent playing baseball in the park together will grow fewer in number. He wants to make all of them count.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Length: 2400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

This is a Batting Practice one-shot but can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @mak-32

"I can't believe he's turning twelve next week," Bradley muttered as you and he stood in front of a wall of baseball bats in San Diego's best sporting goods store. "It feels like he just turned seven."

You slipped your arms around his waist and gave him a squeeze. "Have I mentioned yet that I love that you kept the Padres game tradition alive every year for his birthday? Ev is going to flip when you tell him you got box seats for the game on Sunday."

Bradley kissed the top of your head and grunted softly as he smiled. "I fucking love that kid. He still asks me to take him to the park to hit balls all the time. And I just don't know how much longer he's going to think I'm cool, you know?"

You snorted against Bradley's chest and then looked up at him. "He'll probably think you're cool for longer than he thinks I am!"

"Well, yeah. Obviously, Kitten," he said as he rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh. "But I might only last another year or so past you."

"You're obnoxious," you informed him with a grin as he positioned you with your arms out in front of you and your palms up.

"I know," he replied, giving you another kiss. Then he walked around the store and loaded your arms with two new bats, a new mitt, cleats and some baseballs. "I think that's good. Plus I ordered him and I those personalized Phillies throwback jerseys."

"Seriously? You think the two of you needed more Phillies jerseys? You probably already have half a dozen with BRADSHAW on the back."

"Actually I have seven. This will make eight," he said, pulling you closer to him while your arms were still full. "But he won't be a kid for much longer. He's not gonna want to match with me when he's eighteen. And I love spoiling him. And you."

You set everything down at the register while Bradley dug his credit card out of his wallet. "So..." you said softly while the cashier bagged everything up, and he paid. Bradley looked at you out of the corner of his eye as you ran your hand along the back of his bicep. "You want to take me home and spoil me while Everett is with his cousins for the evening?"

Bradley smirked and grabbed the bag, lacing his fingers with yours. "You want to dress up in your bodysuit and kitten ears for me? Let me kiss off your whiskers?"

You were giggling as you ran out to his Bronco, and Bradley was hot on your heels.

----------------------------

"Dad, I want to try out my new gear," Everett whined as he looked out the front window at the pouring rain a week later. His voice was starting to get deeper, and all of the girls in his class had a crush on him. He had grown up so much since Bradley met him, and sometimes it still shocked him that he had a son.

"It's supposed to be nicer out tomorrow. We can go then."

Everett turned and looked at him. "But tomorrow's your birthday."

Bradley smiled. He couldn't think of anything he'd rather do after work than come home, get changed, grab his mitt, and go to the park. "Yeah, it'll be fun."

But Everett still looked skeptical. "Won't Mom be mad if we ditch her on your birthday?"

"Nah. We'll be home for dinner. And I'll make it up to her later."

Everett grimaced and started to head upstairs, but then he paused and asked, "Can we wear our new jerseys?"

"Of course."

And it turned out, you were a little annoyed at first the following day. "I have birthday dinner and cupcakes planned. I thought the three of us could eat together here since we're going to the pizza place with Molly and Bob on Friday."

Bradley pulled you close and whispered, "Just for an hour?" He rubbed your back and gave you his sweetest expression. "We'll just hit a few balls and come right back."

He turned as he heard Everett thunder down the stairs. "Ready, Coach?"

"Please?" Bradley asked you, kissing your forehead.

"Go," you said, pushing him toward Everett. "But seriously, be home by seven or I'll eat all the cupcakes myself."

Bradley and Everett ran out the front door with twin grins and loaded their gear into the back of the Bronco. It was strange to see how tall his son had gotten after a recent growth spurt; he was already almost as tall as you. Another few years, and he'd be the same height as Bradley. Maybe taller.

"You okay?" Everett asked, and Bradley realized he was just standing there staring at him. He looked a lot like his biological father, but he really looked so much like you.

"Yeah," he grunted, kind of missing the days when he would buckle Everett into his booster seat. Now he climbed into the front seat without help. Bradley started the engine and said, "A few more years and I'll be teaching you how to drive this thing."

Everett's eyes bugged out. "You'll let me drive the Bronco? Mom hardly ever even drives it."

"Yeah, well, Mom doesn't appreciate the fine art of making sure it doesn't stall out on the highway."

"I would," he replied, looking around the interior like it was a hallowed space.

Bradley nodded as he pulled into the parking lot. "I don't doubt it, Kiddo. You ready to test out your new bats?"

"So ready!"

The grass was still a little damp from all the rain, but the air smelled fresh as the sun dipped closer to the horizon. Bradley waited until Everett signalled that he was ready, and then he pitched an easy slider to him. Everett sent it soaring. "Holy shit," Bradley muttered as he watched where it landed so they could collect it later. "Nice," he called out as he reached into his bucket for another ball.

This time he threw the same pitch but harder. The result was identical as Everett nailed it far into the outfield. "I like this bat!" he said, adjusting his stance, ready for more.

Bradley rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck before throwing his slider again, this time with everything he had. He could feel the ball leave his hand. The perfect pitch. And then he heard the crack of the bat. The perfect hit. This time the ball went even farther than the last two.

"Damn," Bradley said, reaching for another ball and rolling it around in his glove a few times. "Try the other bat," he told Everett, and he watched his son switch them and take a few practice swings.

"Ready!"

Maybe he wouldn't be expecting a fastball this time. Bradley wound up and threw a pitch that even Bob could only hit half the time in the rec league games.

Crack!

"Jesus, Everett," he said as he watched the ball sail directly over his head. In a real game, it would have been an easy out for the center fielder, but it was hit so well and so hard, Bradley was kind of shocked.

"Come on, Dad," Everett called. "Throw a really hard one."

Bradley looked at his eager face. He wasn't taunting; he really wanted a harder pitch. But Bradley was already starting to get a little sore as he scooped up another ball. He threw the hardest changeup he could muster, and while it wasn't a clean hit, Everett still got some wood on it.

But when he threw that pitch again, Everett hit it square on and sent it sailing farther than the other balls in the outfield. "Damn, Kiddo," Bradley said, gaping at his son who looked completely unfazed.

"Wanna switch places?" Everett asked, heading toward Bradley and handing him the bat.

But it was more of the same. Sure, the bat wasn't quite big enough for Bradley, and it was still hard for Everett to stay in the strike zone, but Bradley could barely hit his pitches. They were too fast. His slider was so good, he had Bradley swinging too late. His changeup was so sneaky, Bradley swung early.

Finally, Everett threw a fastball that Bradley nailed so hard, they'd be lucky to find it in the treeline. "That's a birthday home run, Coach!" Everett cheered, jumping and tossing another ball up into the air.

"Yeah," Bradley rasped, just standing there staring at the twelve year old. He felt tears prickle his eyes as he smiled and closed the distance between them. "You're really good, Ev," he whispered, pulling him tight to his body. When his son smiled up at him with his slightly crooked front tooth and bright eyes, Bradley said, "Let's get home for dinner with Mom."

-------------------------------

You loved more than anything that you and Everett had Bradley in your lives, and that the boys so easily lost track of time when they were together. But tonight you made an enormous dinner for your husband's birthday, and now they were late getting back. Just as you started to make yourself a plate of food, unable to wait any longer to eat, the two of them burst through the front door. Everett was talking a mile a minute, and they looked absolutely adorable in their matching shirts.

"Did you have fun?" you asked, taking a bite of mashed potatoes. It was actually impossible to be annoyed at them when they got like this. But Bradley met your eyes with a soft smile on his face that almost looked a little sad.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice rough. When you set your plate down and went to him, he pulled you in for a hug. "Thanks for making dinner."

"Happy birthday," you whispered for probably the hundredth time today. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm perfect."

The three of you ate at the table, but Bradley was a little quieter than usual. And he only ate one cupcake instead of two or three. And you thought you saw tears in his eyes when he opened the enormous Phanatic foam finger Everett picked out for him.

"I love it. And I love you," Bradley told Everett as he hugged him. "We can put it upstairs in the Phillies room."

You watched the way your son hugged him as he said, "Happy birthday, Dad." There was no way that kid was ever going to stop thinking Bradley was cool.

"Ev, sweetie, it's time to start getting ready for bed," you reminded him.

"Go on up and get a shower, and then I'll tuck you in," Bradley told him as Everett went thundering up the stairs.

He was old enough that he probably didn't still need to be tucked in, but you knew for a fact that Everett had never once asked Bradley to stop. When you looked at your husband across the table, he was rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. You stood and went to him as you softly asked, "Will you please tell me what's wrong?"

He looked up at you with tear filled eyes before scooting his chair back and patting his thigh so you'd sit on his lap. You settled in with your arms around his neck, and he kissed your cheek and your shoulder as he visibly tried to hold back his tears.

"God, Kitten. You should have seen him tonight. He's just so fucking good."

"I know he is," you replied, kissing his cheek.

"No. He's better than me now. He hit the hardest pitch I could throw, and then I could barely make contact with his slider."

You let those words really sink in. Bradley was easily one of the best players in his recreational league. He could pitch nine innings and make it look easy. He could hit the ball beyond the fences. "Are you serious?"

"I'm so fucking serious, Baby," he whispered, rubbing his mustache along your neck. "He's twelve. His voice hasn't even changed all the way yet. He hasn't even reached his maximum height."

You took Bradley's face in your hands and kissed his nose. "And this is making you cry?"

He shrugged as you ran your thumbs along his rosy cheeks. "I'm just overwhelmed. He seems so grown up now." He closed his eyes, voice shaky as he said, "I wish I'd had more time with him when he was a little kid, you know? I didn't get to see him when he was a toddler or anything. It would have been nice to have another year of tee ball. Hell, I wish I'd had a few more years with you, too."

Now your throat felt tight with tears of your own, but you shook your head. "You found us at just the right time. Right when we needed you the most."

Your forehead came to rest against his as he gave up the battle and let himself cry. You loved that he was so soft for the two of you and let you see his emotions. He took as much time as he needed while you ran your fingers through his hair, and when he met your eyes again, he was smiling.

"I don't know what I'm going to do when he doesn't want to play ball in the park with me anymore," he said with a laugh as he wiped his eyes. "I live for this shit."

You kissed his cheek as you heard Everett calling for him to come upstairs. "I really don't think you're going to have to worry about that, Coach."

Bradley stood but kept you close. "Pretty soon he'll be grown. An actual man."

When he tried to walk away to tuck Everett in, you put your hands on his chest to keep him in place. "Yeah. He will. And he'll have the best role model in you to show him how it's done."

Bradley ran his hand over his forehead, and he looked like he might start crying again. "I better go tuck him in while I still can."

You nodded and followed him up the stairs. When he turned right toward Everett's bedroom, you stood in the hallway, blinking away your own tears as you listened to their voices. Their combined laughter filled your house and your heart as you waited to take your husband's hand for the night whenever he was done being the dad who was tailor made for Everett.

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Soft and sweet Coach makes me tear up every time. Bradley, Everett is always going to think you're cool, and he's always going to want to spend time with you. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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seravphs · 1 year

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ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — MIYA OSAMU x FEM READER

On a bad day, Onigiri Miya becomes your new comfort restaurant. Not only is the food good, but the man who takes your orders is always kind. You think the Miya you’ve been venting to on the phone is the same Miya who shows up at your door to deliver all of your orders.

It’s too bad you don’t know there’s two of them.

wc — 2k

tags — fluff, romcom, miscommunication, miserable corporate girl x small business owner who teaches her joy

The email doesn’t even do you the courtesy of being short. They make you read through two whole paragraphs before you get to the point of it all in the final sentence.

Your termination is effectively immediately.

You sit back in your chair to allow yourself a moment to take it in. It’s…not terrible, all things considered.

You get to leave this job that you hate. They’ll pay you severance. You have enough savings to be comfortable for the next few months.

It might even a blessing.

But it still doesn’t feel good. You worked hard to land this, and now you’ll have to start all over again. Change is always hard, especially when you haven’t asked for it.

You look at the clock. It’s currently 8:30 in the morning. You’re giving yourself exactly twenty four hours to wallow, and then it’s back to business.

First things first - a good meal. Food always make everything better, and you really deserve something special today. For a moment, you entertain the idea of calling your friends over to get breakfast somewhere fancy, but then you remember -

They’re all at work.

Where you would be, if you hadn’t just been let go.

That does sting a little, so maybe you’re not as okay as you thought you were. Hurriedly pushing those thoughts to the side in favor of scrolling through your options, a plain blue banner catches your eye.

Onigiri Miya, it reads.

Japanese comfort food. Family owned.

When you click on the link, it takes you to a page that’s as simple as it’s name. It’s just a menu and a series of pictures, but it’s what you need right now. Your head hurts. You don’t have the capacity to deal with anything more.

You want something straightforward and easy to digest. Onigiri Miya it is, then.

“‘Miya speakin’. What can I get ya?”

It’s a pleasantly accented voice. When you rattle off your order, you suddenly find it a little less pleasant after he says, “Er. Ya sure?”

This is some shoddy customer service.

“I’m placing the order, aren’t I?”

“Those two don’t normally go together,” he says. “I’d suggest number nine and number thirteen instead. Trust me.”

You don’t trust him, actually. This is probably just an upselling tactic he tries on every customer, but you’re not in the mood to argue. You had thought when you called a family owned restaurant, you’d be speaking to some kindly old grandma who might let you cry and vent into the receiver for just a little while, not whoever this is.

At least the delivery is quick.

A series of sharp raps on your door alerts you to the arrival. You pull it open to a man in a baseball cap and a uniform with onigiris on both. Their merch is cute. You’d wear it unironically.

Underneath the cap, yellow blonde hair peeks out. On his shirt, a name tag reads Miya.

Instantly, you feel a little worse for thinking poorly of him. Your bad attitude from work is no reason to take it out on this hardworking entrepreneur who’s running a one man show by himself.

“Here ya go,” he says, thrusting a paper bag at you. “Eat it while it’s hot!”

And then he’s off, scampering back down the stairs instead of taking the elevator even though you’re several floors up. You suppose there’s a reason he has those thighs.

That the food is good is an understatement.

Your former coworker Aiko used to work in food advertising before she pivoted. She loved to talk about how fake the industry was during lunch, both in terms of people and actual product. It’s through her that you know that half of the food in commercials aren’t actually food, but styrofoam and plastic painted to look appetizing.

Onigiri Miya, in contrast, doesn’t look perfect. Appetizing, certainly, but not like a work of art. It just looks like what it is - a ball of rice with special ingredients for flavor.

So why are you crying as you finish your first onigiri and reach for the next?

It’s been so long since you had a home cooked meal. You’re trying not to be maudlin, but you can almost taste the love that went into everything you’re eating. Imagining Miya carefully packing each triangular ball of rice by hand with a smile has you reaching for another, then another, until eventually the entire order is gone before you know it.

Exhausted from crying and eating, you sink into your couch with a satisfied sigh and fall asleep.

It’s 1:30 P.M. by the time you rise again, feeling a little better. Sleep really was the cure to all evils. Now you have 20 hours left to indulge yourself as much as possible.

You’re not in the mood to turn off your brain by binge watching a show. You want to do something. You want to use your hands to craft something from scratch.

Learning how to make onigiri could be a start. A quick run to the grocery store and the first recipe that popped up on Google later, you have a half formed, crumbling mound of rice with pickled radish shoved inside. If you squint, it looks almost like what you got from Onigiri Miya this morning.

Who are you kidding?

That’s an insult to Miya’s craft. He put so much care into each dish - you can hardly compare your shoddy workmanship to his. There’s only one thing to do. You have to taste the real thing again to see where you went wrong.

“Miya. What d'ya want to order?”

“I’d like-“

“Hold up. Didn’t ya call this morning?”

Flustered, you nearly fumble your phone. You’re breathless as you clutch is tighter and bring it back to your ear. “Yeah,” you admit sheepishly. “Is that bad?”

“I mean, yeah, a little,” Miya says. “I appreciate the business but ya shouldn’t be eatin’ onigiri for two meals a day. Yer going to make yerself sick.”

“It’s a special day,” you tell him. “I got laid off.”

In the resounding silence that follows, you have ample time to berate yourself for sharing that. What is wrong with you? Why would you say that? He’s a stranger that you’ve randomly dumped your misery onto and you’re sure he’s -

“Ouch,” he says. “‘Kay, I’ll make an exception just for today. What’s yer order?”

Miya shows up at your door promptly. He’s ditched the cap so his yellow hair is on full display. It looks like he’s run his hands through it. It sticks up at odd angles.

“Here ya go,” he says, almost distractedly as he hands you your bag. “Enjoy.”

You bring the bag inside and start rummaging through it immediately, excited to try new flavors you hadn’t gotten the first time around. Out comes the four onigiri you had ordered, a cup of miso soup, and…

A little takeout container of sushi with a cat’s face drawn on it. A speech bubble next to its head reads, “You can do it, meow!”

Laughter echoes around your apartment. To your surprise, the world feels less daunting already. You hadn’t realized how quiet you had been the entire morning. Miya’s the only person you’ve spoken to the entire day, and even that was a quick and whispered thank you. Your throat almost hurts with the force of your giggles after disuse all morning, but it’s a good kind of pain.

Onigiri Miya, family owned. You can almost feel the warmth of an embrace around you as you bite into your steaming onigiri, still a little too hot.

All too soon, it becomes a tradition for you to order Onigiri Miya as your comfort meal. It doesn’t even have to be a bad day - you actively try to avoid associating things you like with painful feelings by using them as treats for hard days. Instead, Onigiri Miya is anything from a reward for getting to the second round of interviews or a celebration for successfully starting a new hobby.

Onigiri has become your favorite food, and the person on the other line who takes your orders and even spares a few minutes to chat with you when it’s not too busy has quickly become someone irreplaceable in your life.

You think you might need to redownload Tinder if you’re this attached to the man who fulfills your onigiri orders.

Even though you know it’s strange, you can’t bring yourself to sever your connection. Miya is warm and kind, and you’ve quickly come to think of him as a friend. It’s a culmination of lots of little moments piling up over time.

When you had forced yourself to go on your first date after a while, determined to get back out there, it had crashed and burned catastrophically. Onigiri Miya had been there to pick you back up. Miya had even recognized the sniffles in your voice that you were fighting and drawn you another little cat.

The next time you had ordered, before you could even tell him what onigiri you wanted, Miya had asked you what happened last week. Maybe that’s just how family owned businesses are. They actually care about their customers. Enough so to play therapist to the girl that orders from you every week.

Then there was the time you had gotten your first call back for a job application, and you had called Miya to celebrate.

Well, not Miya. You didn’t have his personal number, but you had called Onigiri Miya, which is more or less the same thing at the moment. This time, he had been the one to be interrupted as you blurred out your good news.

You can almost hear the smile in his voice when he says, “What’d I tell ya? I knew ya could do it.”

There’s no container of sushi with a hand drawn cat this time, but there is a little note written on a napkin. It’s accompanied by an origami star.

You don’t cry, exactly, but your eyes water up as you read the note. He’s proud of you. The star is to wish you luck on your continued journey. The knowledge that he’s proud - his own words - fuels you as you keep applying and interviewing, never letting rejection stop you.

He’s just the guy that takes your onigiri order, but at some point, he’s become someone special to you.

He cares. He spends an extra two minutes on the phone with you to ask about your day even when you can hear the sounds of a busy environment in the background. He remembers your accomplishments and failures. Whether you fall or rise, he’s there with you every step of the way.

Sometimes, you get a fluttery feeling in your stomach when he laughs at you, calling you silly for whatever mistake you’re relying to him. You miss his voice when you don’t have an occasion to call, and when something happens, your first thought is always to tell him about it.

Maybe he feels the same way, because the next time he comes to deliver your order, he tells you, “We’ve known each other long enough, ya order every week. I don’t like being called Miya. My name’s Atsumu.”

Or maybe not, because he never treats you in person the way he does on the phone. There’s no spark of connection, no bright laughter, no willingness to linger, to stay, to listen.

Perhaps he’s just shy. In that case, you’re willing to take what he’s offered you and make the first move.

The next time you order, you end the call with, “Thanks, Atsumu. I’ll talk to-“

There’s an abrupt interruption from the other end immediately.

“What’d ya call me?” His voice sounds funny.

“…Atsumu?”

Even when you’re confused, the sound of his belly deep laughter makes you feel all shivery from your toes to your head. It makes your joints feel weak, like they can’t support you, and you ease into the dining chair as you wait patiently for whatever laughing fit that’s gripped him to pass.

“Atsumu,” he repeats, with another snort of laughter. “Atsumu, really?”

“What?”

“Ya know Onigiri Miya’s a five minute walk from yer place, right?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Come here,” he says, and hangs up.

When you enter Onigiri Miya, you get instant whiplash. There’s two of them!

You’re just wondering if you should get your eyes checked when you start seeing the subtle differences. They have different hair colors, and their eyes are just the subtlest shades apart.

The most discerning difference is the way the one with grey hair is looking at you.

“There’s the girl of the hour,” Atsumu says. “I’ll leave ya to it.”

When Atsumu leaves, Miya gestures for you to sit at the bar in front of him. He’s still packing onigiri.

“I’m a little hurt, ya know. Can’t believe ya mistook me for my twin.”

“It was an accident!” You protest. “How was I supposed to know?”

“I’m teasin’ ya,” he says, laughing. “Yer so easy to rile up. Remember this, okay? I’m Osamu. The nicer brother.”

“I heard that,” Atsumu yells from the back.

“Atsumu’s just the delivery guy,” he says. There’s a twinkle in his eye. You don’t think it’s that funny, but you like seeing him mirthful. “I’d rather make the food than deal with the people, so he does it.”

“Am I part of the people?”

He gives you a look.

“Stop fishing for compliments,” he says, and your cheeks grow warm with delight. “Ya know ya aren’t.”

“Here,” he says, sliding you a napkin with a series of numbers and a hand drawn picture of a cat. “I’ve been meaning to do this for a while.”

By the cat’s head, the speech bubble reads, “Miya Osamu’s personal number.” The cat is winking at you.

“Is this…?”

He smiles at you. “Stop clogging up the line cause ya miss me-“

“I don’t-“

He ignores you. “I got a business to run, ya know? Just call me next time.”

Then, he leans over the bar. He’s too close. Your cheeks feel warm under his attention as he whispers to you, “I’ll make something just for ya, compliments of the chef.”

Trying to recover, you swallow to bring moisture to your dry mouth. You’re trying to be playful when you say, “It’s a date, then?”

He looks at you with a hint of a smile. “It is.”

#sera writes #miya osamu x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #miya osamu fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff

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ambermeh · 2 months

Text

Dealer!Chris headcannons

I was writing something for Matt and this was on my mind

⋆ So the relationship would have started with you probably getting drugs for your friends or even meeting at a party. The introduction of drugs would not really be necessary as, when you become a 'thing' (he doesn't want to give it a real label) I think being around him so much and just having them around you, you might be a bit curious. This would lead to him and you having many nights where you lay down together while he places the sweet powder over your gums. You just look at him wide eyes, as he places kisses to your neck while the two of you letting the feeling sink in

⋆ If you got into an argument (quite a lot), he would never shut you out but use the dealings as a way to make you jealous.

'oh yeah i'm dropping some off at Summer's party today so you don't need to come'

He states casually while waiting for your reaction, although he didn't realise that you had something even more frustration up your sleeve...

'yeah that's fine Chris, I'm going to get some weed from Harry tonight, haven't seen him in a while'

You smile at him, a little too sweetly while he clenches his jaw and gives you a tight lipped smile. (and proceeds to make the both of you stay home that night)

⋆ He would never admit it. but he does actually really like you and shows you in some quite unconventional ways. A discount on some pills, or even to come over and smoke some weed with you. Only the best for his girl. Brings you to parties to give you some more fun and excitement that the mundane day to day does not bring. Hits you up (or just calls begging for you to come over) late at night when he feels maybe a bit too alone for his own liking.

⋆ Pays for everything.

Nails, haircut, perfume, clothes. Basically lets you get whatever you want if you do something for him in return (he always jokes but really is it a joke)

'ma, you are not buying that, let me get it'

'you don't need to pay me back with money...... kidding'

later that night 'I want to see how that dress looks like under me when your writhing and crying'

⋆ this man fucks like he hates you. Not even kidding, I think Chris normally would be a bit rougher than average but dealer chris is another level. He loves the high and this does not only relate to drugs, but also the way he teases you and the words he says to make you whine. Teasing you with his tip as you beg for him to put it in you. Pushing your hips back, yearning for the release.

'my god, all that attitude but now you can't even get what you want poor girl'

'stop pushing back and be patient or I'll overstimulate you until you can't move let alone speak'

and the after care would be sweet but still in true dealer chris fashion

'my girl looks so good fucked out'

'can I take a photo, just to remind you what happens when you try to threaten me with other guys?'

'Sweetheart, you have some mascara running come here and i'll help. okay?'

hope you all liked it :)

(thanks @enchanthings for the banner)

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #matt x reader #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x reader

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shamrockqueen · 5 months

Text

Omega retreat : chapter 4

Pairing : Alpha Bucky x Omega reader

Warnings : R18, Eventual Smut, General Discomfort, nothing is what it seems, fluff, heart ache

Word count : 2131

Masterlist

He was very understanding when you asked him to give you time to think about his invitation. It was the turning point you hoped to avoid just a little longer, appreciating instead that you could be just like any other normal girl. Yet, some things couldn't be left on the back burner.

The untouched notification continued to light up your inbox, no doubt just being the website’s way of ensuring their reservation went through and they would be paid.

You turned over to look at your phone and the little banner still sitting at the top that said, “You’ve been invited to reserve a cabin by JAMES BARNES.”

It was fitting that he’d picked the Gold Package, and you had to admit, a sexy getaway was incredibly tantalizing.

Yet, everything felt rushed, and you knew exactly why. You knew you were always going to give in, but ever since that conversation at the hospital, you wanted so badly for every choice to at least be your own. Something you wanted to do, not be coerced by circumstances.

You told yourself every second after you’d logged into your computer, your eyes still heavy with broken sleep, that this was still your decision. Accepting the invite would be your decision, no matter what reason you had to make it.

With one simple click, it was done, a cascade of hearts flooding the screen as their little mascot hopped around with joy. It was cute, yet still a little cheesy.

You set the computer aside before laying back on the bed and letting the small streaks of sun coming in from the window warm your skin. You felt so oddly relieved, yet still so anxious. It was a good start, better than what you had before.

A small ding sang through the peaceful morning, and once again you emerged from your little sheet cocoon to grab your phone from the nightstand. It was a message from Bucky, and he seemed as excited as ever to have gotten your confirmation.

‘Good morning :D’

You smiled at the message, feeling more relief spread through your tired body as you typed back.

‘Morning. I take it you got the notification.’

You watched as those three dots jumped inside the prospective chat bubble before two popped up at once.

‘I did indeed.’

‘You have no idea how happy this makes me.’

Everything he said always seemed to make your heart blossom with a new feeling of warmth. It really put into perspective how tiring all that stress and anxiety really was when it finally started to disappear.

Expressing his eagerness through text must not have been enough for him, as the phone buzzed to life in your hand before you could type another reply.

You didn’t hesitate to answer it, and your belly fluttered at the low rumble of his voice as it sang through the speaker.

“Hey, doll”

“Hi. You miss me already?”

You heard him chuckle softly, probably smiling at the bashful tone in your voice. “I hope I’m not coming on too strong.”

“No! I think it’s really sweet.”

It was nice to have someone care this much about your needs, especially above their own. It was someone who wanted to take care of you at what may well be your weakest.

You hear him clear his throat for a second, shaking the sweet and sugary vibe that the conversation had started on. “Do I have the date right? If not, then I can fix the reservation..”

“No, you remembered very well. I’m actually surprised.”

“I guess I’m just excited.”

“That makes two of us; I’m practically shaking in my boots.”

He laughed back at your goofy little retort, and you giggled nervously along with him.

“I was kind of afraid you’d say no.” His voice seemed to fall again as he spoke, giving you a glimpse of a few insecurities of his own. “Like, maybe I scared you away.”

“As if.” You laughed it off immediately, bemused at the thought that he’d consider himself anything more than the teddy bear he’d shown you.

“I needed some time to take it in for a second. I just felt so much in the moment, ya-know.” You smiled down at the phone as you spoke, hoping you could melt his fears just as he did yours. “Believe me, you're not scary one bit.”

You swear you could feel the laugh he’d let out as you chuckled with him.

He’d talked to you for hours, showering you with compliments as he finalized the details of your trip.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to take that time off? It is pretty soon.” You stepped around your kitchen, looking for a mug to pour some coffee into. Bucky watched your shapely form as it moved across his screen, smiling to himself before you turned back to the phone and caught his eyes wondering.

The conversation had since evolved into a video call, letting you see the actual smile on his face. There would be glimpses of the rough grain in his facial hair and the deepening blue of his eyes, but there were finer details that you couldn’t see.

You wanted to see so much more, and soon you will. That thought alone made you feel so much happier.

He brushed his hair back with his fingers, leaving a thick lock behind his ear and a few strands to fall back across his forehead and cheek.

“I’ll be just fine; help to be your own boss.”

“Oh? Big boss, man, huh?”

He huffed a chuckle before he spoke back, “A story for another time, but I’ll tell you now it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

You gave him a little pout.

“What about you?” He asked, in a clear attempt to redirect the conversation back to the original question.

“Oh, I always get my heat off. It’s kinda like that for Omega’s.”

You were more than lucky to work in an environment that was so welcoming to people like you, and you were sure that your supervisor would understand.

“Makes sense..” You watched his eyes wander from the screen as he pulled his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants. It looked so out of date that it was no wonder why he only used the webcam on his computer.

“Nice flip phone, grandpa.”

He laughed back at you with “gee thanks, doll” before tossing down the bad news. “I gotta go.”

“Awe, already.”

“Yeah, nothing like a work emergency on a Saturday.” You watched him toss the phone on his desk offscreen before turning back to you. “I can’t wait to see you, Omega.”

“I can’t wait either, Alpha.” You felt his eyes shift as you spoke, as if finally hearing you say his denomination so diffidently.

You tapped the red button on the phone screen, ending the call before you turned it off and set it aside.

By mid-afternoon, you’d since decided to knock out a few of your household chores. You were already elbow deep in some soapy dishwater when you heard another familiar ringtone. You fumbled for the dish towel nearby to dry your pruney fingers before grappling with your phone.

You accepted the call and called back a sweet greeting to one of your favorite people.

“Hi, mom.”

“Hi sweetie. I haven’t heard from you in a few days..” Her concern was sweet, but you were quick to cut her short, not wanting another reminder of the previous incident.

“I’m fine, mom.”

She sighed back, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I know.”

“Any news?” Her voice lightened, truly hoping there would have been an update on your condition and even more so that it was promising.

There was plenty of news, wonderful news that you weren’t ready to break to your worrisome mothers just yet.

Better now than never, it seemed, “I met someone.”

“Oh?”

She didn’t sound happy, and every second afterward that she left you in silence made your once-airy mood deflate.

"He's uh...He’s an alpha.” Your jaw only tightens further as you wait for an answer back. Anything would be better than another ‘oh?’

“Well, that’s nice. W-where did you two..meet?” Her discomfort was never easily hidden, but at least she was trying.

“We met on this dating site, and we’ll be spending some time together soon.”

“I see. So is it a date to a cafe or dinner?”

“We��re going away for...." You struggled to find the words, "...it’s just this vacation rental somewhere quiet and calm.”

“Oh, a getaway. Sounds nice, but... you know your cycle will be coming soon. It’s probably best to be careful.”

“I-I'll be taken care of..."

“Are you sure? I can always be there to take care of you in case of another emergency.”

You felt your stomach tighten a little as she spoke.

“That’s actually why we’ll be out of town.” Your toes shifted along the floor, carting you to the fridge so you could grip the handle to better hold yourself upright.

She didn’t answer back right away, only giving you a weak “you can’t do that.”

It made the blood freeze in your veins, leaving your body tense against the refrigerator. “Mom..”

“Do you have any idea what might happen to you all that way from home?”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“The hell you do. You can’t do this. I can’t lose you.”

She seemed to spiral nearly as badly as you did.

“If I go through another heat without a partner, you fucking will lose me.” You nearly wailed as you yelled back into the phone, only to be met with a few moments of dead air.

It made the frantic beat of your heart seem louder and louder. Proof that no matter how calm the waters felt, you couldn’t escape the truth that swam beneath them.

“Sweetheart, I only want you to be safe.”

You knock your head back against the fridge before letting your body slide along the side of it, letting the newly mounting anxieties drag you down to the floor. “I’m not safe alone, mom.”

“I’m sorry. I know you wanted to wait for all this, and it’s not fair.” Her voice was just as weak as yours was now.

“It’s fine; I need to grow up sometime.” You said back, pulling your knees to your chest. You didn’t want to wallow in this disparity anymore; you were so sick of it all. It takes a single thought—a glimmer of hope shining through the dark clouds that have begun to circle around you.

You thought of Bucky.

“B..James’ is nice; I think you’d like him.” You had to quickly correct yourself, knowing his nickname had been sweet to you but could seem silly to others. You still remember the abashed laugh you gave when he first told you.

“I…good, that’s good.”

You knew that wasn’t what she wanted to say, and now you weren’t afraid to say it instead.

“You think you’d like him more if you’d gotten to meet him.”

“I didn’t say that, but yes.” You hear her voice wavering as she speaks. “I’m glad, though, that he’s nice. I hope you have fun on your trip.”

“Thank you, mom.”

“Please be safe, sweetheart. I love you.”

You sighed for a second before telling her you loved her too, and the call came to an end. You were still hugging your knees, nearly curling in on yourself in your kitchen. The floor was uncomfortable, and you finally unfolded yourself and pushed off of it. You missed the careless feeling you’d had while talking to Bucky, lamenting how easily your mood had dipped like a sinking ship.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair at all. Just when you thought you could escape the anxiety, it rounded its ugly head around each corner. Well, this time you wouldn’t be taking it lying down anymore.

You used this new momentum to spur yourself through the house and towards your bedroom. You bolted for your closet, determined now only to look ahead to your chance to get away from it all. You tore through your hung clothes, wanting to find anything that could impress your perspective, Alpha.

You found yourself leafing through more khaki shorts than you’d realized you’d owned. Faded sundresses and worn-out old sandals littered the pile, along with plain cotton panties in contrast to any lacy lingerie.

You still had a long way to go before you truly felt comfortable in your own skin. But certainly, a little shopping could do some good too.

There was a fire in your belly, burning you forward like an angry locomotive.

It will be a cold day in hell before anyone takes this opportunity away from you.

Chapter 5

Tag list : @bethyruth @scott-loki-barnes @wintrsoldrluvr @buckysdoll85 @lendeluxe @meowmeowyoongles @heletsmelovehim @mcira @buckysbaby-doll @serendipitouslife90 @unicornicopia1 @animegirlgeeky @matchat3a @darkdemeter @onyxwolf @thebuckybarnesvault

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scoonsalicious · 5 months

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 21, Unacceptable - Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count: 947

Previously On...: Bucky confronted Steve when he thought you two slept together. It got... ugly.

A/N: Last part of Chapter 21! We're off to Atlantic City, baby!

I am probably going to start going back to 1/day updates tomorrow, at least until I make more progress on With Friends Like These.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

“That was pure evil,” Sam said as you both buckled your seatbelts in the convertible you’d be using for the mission. “I knew you were a genius, Baby Girl, but damn! Didn’t realize it was evil genius! Remind me never to get on your bad side!”

You smiled and shrugged, adjusting your hair in the visor mirror and putting on a pair of sunglasses. “Serves them right, acting like I’m a fucking piece of property either one of them can claim ownership of. I hope they break each other’s noses.”

Sam laughed as he pulled the car out of the Tower’s underground parking garage and onto the city street. “We got about a two and a half hour drive,” he said. “What do you feel like listening to?”

You were prevented from answering by the sound of Cherry Pie by Warrant filling the car. You both looked around for a moment before you realized it was coming from your phone. You picked it up, staring at the screen in confusion when you saw Tony’s name flash across the screen.

“You asshole, did you hack my phone?” you asked, putting him on speaker, “Because this was certainly not your ringtone.”

“Can you blame an old man for feeling nostalgic?” Tony asked, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “Did Cap give you my message?”

“Yes,” you said, eying Sam, “and Sam was very hurt when you called him ‘birdbrain.’” Sam did his best to stifle his laugh.

You could practically hear Tony roll his eyes. “Yeah, well Rogers needs to learn not to repeat everything word for word. Listen, kiddo, I meant what I said about visiting, though. You need anything, anything at all while you’re gone, you call me, okay? I can be there before you even hang up the phone.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Jesus, Tony. I’m not a child, and Sam’ll have my back. I know I’m not a mighty Avenger like the rest of you, but I’m not incompetent. I’ve been trained–”

“Whoa, whoa,” Tony interrupted you, “that’s not why I’m worried. Not at all. I know you can more than handle yourself. Hell, I’d send you on this mission solo– that’s how much faith I have in your abilities.” You smiled unexpectedly at that. “I’m concerned about how this mission’s going to affect you mentally and emotionally, given your–”

You immediately took him off speaker and held the phone to your ear as he continued “--history. We’re dealing with missing women who are likely being trafficked for sex. If that’s not gonna be a potential trigger for you, I don’t know what is.”

“I’m not fragile, Boss,” you said, your voice softer now. In all the turmoil you’d gone through since finding out about Bucky and Carthage, you honestly hadn’t given much consideration to what the mission might mean to you on a psychological level. “I never said you were, kiddo. I know you’re strong. But, this is a lot. You’ve just been dealt a major blow because of Barnes and I’m putting you back in a position that’s a lot closer to your old life than you’ve been living in a long, long time. You’ve come so far, and, well, I guess I’m concerned that I’m doing you more harm than good by sending you backwards.”

“Thanks, Tony,” you murmured, touched that he was still looking out for you, even from a distance. “That means a lot.”

“Just promise me– if it gets to be too much, if at any point you're struggling, you’ll tell me. I’ll pull you out, mission be damned.”

“But Boss,” you interjected, “these women need our help! We can’t just–”

“I know that, Pocket,” he countered, “and we will help them. But I’m not going to risk your mental wellbeing to do it. If it gets to be too much, we’ll pull you out, and we’ll find another way. Trust me.”

Your trust was running in short supply these days, but if there was one person who had never failed you, had never let you down, and was deserving of all the trust you had to offer, it was Tony Stark. “Yeah, okay,” you eventually agreed. “I promise. If it gets to be too much for me, I’ll let you know.”

“Good,” said Tony, and you knew he’d probably expected more of a fight from you, but you were too mentally exhausted to put one up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Pepper I’d do a stopover in Havana on my way home from Belize and pick up this massage oil she absolutely loves. See, it warms up when you–”

“Good bye, Tony,” you laughed, ending the call before he could go into further nauseating detail. You shook your head, smiling to yourself. You noticed Sam glancing over at you. “What?” you asked him.

“Nothin’” he said, eyes back on the road. “Just think it’s sweet how much Tony cares about you, that’s all. I knew you two were close, like brother and sister, but I never saw it in action before. It’s nice.”

“Oh,” you said, surprised he hadn’t jumped to the typical conclusions people came to when they considered your relationship. “Yeah, he’s really been the best.”

“So, how did you two meet, anyway?” Sam asked as the two of you pulled onto the highway. “I know Tony said the strip club, but I figure there’s got to be more to it than that. If you don’t mind sharing, that is. I mean, we still have two hours of driving left to do.”

You chuckled. “Nah, it’s alright– I don’t mind telling you. It’s actually kind of a funny story…”

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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enaelyork · 5 months

Note

Cooper Howard (ghoul) x fem!reader with this prompt:

*someone smacks readers ass*

*gun clicks*

Ghoul - “oh I really wish you hadn’t have done that”

Hi ! Thx for this request ! Here i go :)

Bad idea ~ The Ghoul x F!Reader

Tw : Injurie, Sexual harassement, insultes

Banners by @saradika

It wasn't a good idea.

However, he was used to bad plans, ever since he roamed the wasteland with the firm intention of surviving there. But he had never made a series of bad decisions so quickly.

Let yourself be convinced to be accompanied. Let his new companion in misfortune enter this mess to make a deal.

Really. That being said, this idiot clearly didn't give him a choice.

And he was obliged to follow it because it was the only possible option to know the route to take towards your next objective. Staying in the background, he observed all the eyes on her.

A woman like that wouldn't often walk through the doors of a bounty hunting establishment.

This interest they had in his associate bothered him more than it should and he felt a certain form of inexplicable anger boiling within him.

- I'll do it. Wait outside.

Sitting at the bar, Y/N turned towards him, her eyes filled with burning determination and resentment. It wouldn't be easy to change her mind, not after your little talk last night.

- Do you want to team up now? The Ghoul returned the bitterness in her eyes, resting her elbow on the counter where she had just swallowed her second glass.

What if he wanted to work in a team? Never ! What if this situation made him crazy? Absolutely.

- I didn't say that, I said you had to wait for me outside.

- And I told you that I would take care of this matter.

And if you continue, you're going to have a lot more business to attend to. He thought, observing the eyes fixed on her again. The irrepressible urge to put out each of those eyes was excruciating and he was going to have to keep a low profile if he didn't want the plan to screw up further.

But everything went to hell the moment this idiot placed his ass on the stool that separated you from her, devouring the entirety of her silhouette with a wicked and disgusting look. He shouldn't get involved. After all, Y/N had gotten into this mess alone, you had nothing to share other than a common quest.

It was now time she truly discovered the horror of the world they lived in. So if this guy wanted to try anything, she would defend herself or find out the hard way that there weren't all good people here.

- What is such a pretty girl like you doing in this shithole? The man stood between them like a thick, disgusting wall.

The Ghoul looked away, hoping that by detaching himself from this pathetic spectacle, he would also curtail his murderous urges.

- The pretty girl doesn't talk to strangers. You better give me some space.

A smile appeared on the Ghoul's mouth. Presumably, guts wasn’t a privilege Y/N reserved for him. And that was probably what he liked most about her, even if he would never admit it.

- Relax, my beauty. In this brutal world I just want to share a moment of gentleness.

And me a bloody parenthesis, but unfortunately we can't have everything. The Ghoul thought, looking down at the back of the man next to him. He had placed an arm on the table and was already handing Y/N a glass.

- I am not thirsty.

- So maybe you want something else?

That's how everything went wrong.

Him and his rudeness, him now clinging to her and his hand sliding up her thigh to go up to her buttock. He touched her with such eagerness that it was embarrassing and although she wanted to slap him, she did not want to attract the attention of the tenants. Big mistake.

- You have a fucking ass, my beauty. Would you like me to warm it up a bit? It seems that not many people have had the opportunity to…

The man didn't finish his sentence, the pressure he felt between his legs and the very characteristic click of a gun about to fire froze him in place.

- What is…

He met nothing but the cold, imperturbable gaze of the Ghoul. The sinister look he hid in the shadow of his hat would have caused the bar to evacuate immediately. Y/N saw him, she felt anger boiling in the pit of her stomach, causing a completely different reaction in her.

- Try touchin' her again and I guarantee you'll never be able to play with what's between your legs again.

- Such a smart one, you. Are you looking for troubles ? I was there before.

- Big mistake, she belongs to me.

- I don’t belong to…

- Shut it up, sweatheart. I have some scores to settle with this guy.

Oh damn, no problem. Y/N grumbled in a whisper mixing anxiety and excitement. Had he really just threatened a guy because he had the misfortune of touching her and feeling her butt? A thin smile appeared on her lips at this idea, but she preferred to leave this strange reaction to the effect of adrenaline.

- Get out of here where you will end up with a hole between your legs and, rest assured, I will think of you when I caress her with your blood on my hands.

It was too much.

No waves.

No shouting.

No tussle.

Just a stupid hunter freeing himself from the coldness of his gun to flee with a step that he wanted to be serene but which betrayed the panic that reigned within him. The ghoul followed him with his gaze, making sure that it wouldn't occur to his to turn back.

When he disappeared from the bar, however, he felt another figure settle down on the stool next to him.

- Did you really just do that?

YN.

She had taken her place there, next to him. Her eyes glided over him with a light he didn't know existed and it upset him. So much so that he preferred to ensure the safety of his weapon before storing it in its holster.

- I did it. And you will quickly forget everything. That and also your stupid idea. Let's get out of here.

He didn't give her time to respond, taking off from the seat to head towards the exit as well. If she stayed there, too bad for her, he wouldn't intervene twice. But her shadow followed him, and he could make out the sound of her footsteps behind his, hastily approaching him.

- It would be a shame to forget the idea that you could touch me.

This is how he understood that she had reduced him to nothing.

Him and his certainty of now being insensitive.

#fallout tv #fallout show #fallout #fallout series #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #cooper howard x you #cooper howard/the ghoul #cooper howard/the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x female reader

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msnanu · 10 months

Text

Libertine 04 | JJK

Libertines put value on physical pleasures, meaning those experienced through the senses.

❧ Series Masterlist ❧

⏤summary ❧ He has a reputation for being the most promiscuous man on campus, and you, well, you are basically him in women’s pants. It will be the very first time that Jungkook is faced with someone who is gonna make him question his feelings and actions.

⏤𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 ❧ f*boy jungkook x f*girl female reader

⏤𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 ❧ some fluff, smut, mild angst, teasing and lots of sexual tension.

⏤𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ❧ mature language, NSFW🔞

❧ banner by: @dojakoo ❧

Jungkook clutched the car key in his hand as he stomped to the ground.

He didn't want to be feeling that way, especially about a girl he hadn't even kissed. The rage was flowing through his veins, he was so close to get you.

Having a friend steal "his prey" wasn't something he was used to. Usually they always chose him, he never had to go through that kind of situation.

On the way home, he was sure he'd been fined several times. Speed was high and traffic lights just didn't exist for him. Alone in his car he could feel his hands stiffening on the steering wheel and his deep breath taking over the atmosphere.

He just wanted to get home. He wanted this day to end soon so he could talk to Jimin the next day.

Jungkook knew he looked pathetic, but he was going to face a friend over a damn girl he didn't even fuck. He refused to see that feeling as jealousy.

He was laughing to himself in the car, thinking how a guy like Park Jimin was considered better than him. His ego was screaming.

What the fuck were you doing too? His head was racing. Why had you gotten involved with that idiot. You seemed to have gotten along well at the bar, what had he missed?

As soon as Jungkook got home, he went straight to his room. Pulling off only the jacket he was wearing, he laid down immediately before he could do anything silly.

His friends had arranged to meet on the football field right before lunch. In a few hours he would solve his problem. He just didn't know if it would be on the basis of conversation.

Without needing to hear the sound of his alarm clock, Jungkook got up at nine in the morning. Jin and Taehyung would probably go to the field early, which would give him little time to sort out the situation with Jimin.

He hurried over and took a crappy shower.

The path to that little bastard's house was easy, and Jungkook was driven by the force of hatred. He parked in Jimin’s garage, and before getting out he waited a few seconds for his breathing to stabilize.

He went to the door and ignored the bell, banging firmly on the door. Jungkook wasn't a big fan of frequenting the Park house. Everything looked a little dirty to him, even for a man. Honestly, he always thought it looked like a pigsty.

The silence indicated that Jimin was still sleeping. So Jungkook knocked harder on the door.

A not-so-low curse came from inside the house, and Jungkook couldn't care less about it.

As soon as the door opened, Jungkook could see his friend in sweatpants and no shirt. He rubbed his eyes as if trying to get used to the light. It took a few seconds for Jimin to recognize him.

“What the fuck, Jungkook? It’s not even noon yet.”

Jungkook didn't understand if he was playing dumb or if he really was a clueless idiot.

“Can I come in?” Jungkook said huffing without a shred of patience.

“I don’t… I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Jimin tried to take the space by the door, but Jungkook pushed him inside effortlessly.

“Bullshit.” He said as he walked into his friend's house. “You and I need to-”

His words were brutally cut short as his eyes flicked to the sofa in the corner of the living room. At that moment Jungkook felt that all the air that existed inside his body had left him. He stuttered, trying to finish the sentence but failed miserably.

In the corner of the room, amid the gray sheets, you were lying on your stomach, your bare back completely exposed. He didn't know if you were completely naked, but your silhouette didn't show the opposite. You most probably were.

Your face was turned towards the entrance to the living room, which allowed Jungkook to contemplate the enviable serenity with which you slept.

His jaw was locked, and he felt like he might collapse at any moment.

Jimin stared at him sideways, swallowing hard.

Jungkook gave a weak laugh, wetting his lips, “We can talk later.”

His words didn't come out as firm as he wanted but they were enough to get him to get moving and get out of there as quickly as possible.

He felt like vomiting. Jungkook knew he had no right to demand anything from you, after all, he's been with Seulgi this whole time. However, seeing you sleep with Jimin made him question your judgment.

How it didn't cross your mind that maybe you would be too much for his “friend”. Jungkook couldn't understand.

He decided to go to the field, there was no point coming home now. Maybe there his real friends would make him forget everything related to this damn woman. He was always good at sports; it was the opportunity he needed to de-stress.

Parking around the field, Jungkook saw the figure of Taehyung alone.

“Always the first to arrive.” Jungkook said as he approached.

“Why is it my fault that I have a commitment to schedules?”

"Come on, you know we're always going to be late. That's already become a universal observation.”

The two laughed and Taehyung looked at him suspiciously.

“That makes me think, you are always the last to arrive. What happened?” Taehyung asked as he stretched his neck.

Jungkook chuckled to himself at how well his friend knew him.

“You saw me with Y/N last night, didn't you?”

Taehyung stuttered as he tried to formulate a convincing answer. “Ah, yeah, I mean-”

“You don't have to pretend you don't.”

“All right, I saw you approaching her at the bar.” He said defeated.

“Do you have any idea who she left with last night?”

Jungkook felt a little stupid as he recounted the events in a series of questions.

“Wasn't it with you?”

“She left with Jimin.” He said, looking at Taehyung to see his reaction.

Taehyung frowned. “What the fuck? What an asshole. He saw you two together before he left.”

Jungkook laughed at his friend's reaction and sighed in agreement. Of course, you could be with whoever you wanted, but the fact that Jimin had interrupted him yesterday so he could get close to you was unacceptable to Jungkook.

“Asides he’s an absolute jackass, I don't understand why you've become obsessed with Y/N all of a sudden,” Taehyung cut his thoughts. “I mean, she's gorgeous and all, but she's just like you Jungkook, everyone talks about it. It’s not news.”

At that moment Jungkook preferred not to argue, Taehyung was trying to help him. However, this talk about you being like him didn't go into his head.

What was that supposed to mean? That you enjoyed the pleasures of life just as much as he did? That wasn't the point, it was his friend's asshole attitude that bothered him. At least that's what he preferred to believe.

“Jungkook I've seen you like this before; you're seeing her as a challenge. This is not healthy; you already know that.”

“What if I am? That's my problem.” He said, losing patience. “The thing is, she just stopped being all that they say.”

He would never admit to anything else, that he enjoyed your company yesterday, that he enjoyed seeing you smile.

"What about Seulgi?"

“What about her?”

Taehyung laughed out loud at his friend's attempt to fake detachment.

“Come on, Jungkook, who do you want to fool? Yesterday you two were kissing in public.”

Jungkook glared at his friend, trying to intimidate him with a serious face, but Taehyung couldn't care less.

As Jungkook was getting ready to let out some acid response to Taehyung, he could see his friend's face turn into a straight face. He kept his eyes on the field entrance as he swallowed hard.

“Okay. This is gonna be weird.”

Jungkook turned quickly to see what it was. His eyes saw three people walking towards them.

Jin, Jimin and you.

“You gotta be kidding me.” He said as he walked away from his friend.

"Wait. Where are you going?"

“Fuck, anywhere else”

When he was finally within a good distance of the now all-assembled group, Jungkook began stretching for the game. From that distance he could see that Yoongi was coming along with four other guys. At least with more people he wouldn't have to interact as much with Jimin.

He already hated him for interrupting his moment with you, now he hated him even more for bringing you there as some kind of trophy.

After a few minutes, the game finally started. In the beginning the situation was under control, everyone was playing for themselves and doing their part, but as the heat of the game rose, that field turned into a battle arena.

From afar, it was possible to hear the screams and curses exchanged between Jungkook and Jimin. Each was on a separate team, but it felt like they were always together. The situation only got worse when the two of them started to push each other, causing the other to fight back even harder.

At one point, Jimin had fallen to the ground and Jungkook was standing in front of him teasing him. Taehyung was feeling that things were going to get out of hand at any moment.

"Hey, Jungkook! Out! Now! Go get some water." Taehyung screamed.

Jungkook looked at him displeased.

As Taehyung approached him, he heard his friend whisper. “Come on, help me out here. You know you are better than he is.”

Jungkook felt sorry for his friend and left the field somewhat reluctantly.

He walked toward the benches positioned outside the field. The closer he got to the outside of the field, the more his eyes fought a battle not to look directly at you.

It was inevitable.

With a sideway glance, Jungkook could see that you were wearing the same shorts as last night, but the top blouse was baggy, twice your size. It didn't take him long to assimilate that you were wearing one of Jimin's blouses.

Again, he felt uncomfortable. It should be his shirt instead.

He brought a bottle of water to his mouth, feeling his hands tighten around it. Jungkook was doing his best to stay silent and be the asshole he'd always been, but the words were slipping out of his mouth. He felt he would die if he didn't talk to you.

“Really. What were you thinking?” Jungkook let it slip.

He didn't turn to you, but he could feel you looking at him. It was like his back was burning.

“What?”

Your voice was so serene, Jungkook felt an overwhelming urge to start an argument. He hated feeling like he was the most affected in a conversation.

“When you decided to sleep with that half-brain idiot.” He emphasized.

You already knew that he was going to bring that up, Jimin told you earlier that Jungkook had come to his house and left when he saw you there. You imagined he might be angry but as always, you don’t owe anyone an explanation. He was at the pub with his little girlfriend and then proceeded to flirt with you, just to leave you horny as fuck and Jimin stepped in.

You had your fun with him, he took your stress away and you just got up today and got invited by him to watch a football match with his friends and since today you had no plans, you said yes and that’s all. It was just sex. Like it always is.

So, for you, it was too amusing to see how worked up Jungkook was in front of you right now, sulking like a five-year-old because you slept with his friend.

A faint laugh echoed in Jungkook’s ears, and he could see you lower your head slightly. You remained silent for about three minutes. Which was enough for Jungkook to tease you again.

“He’s not the guy for you.”

“How could you know?” This time your voice sounded more emphatic, as if you were enjoying the conversation.

Jungkook felt the blood rush through his veins. At this point he didn't know if it was the adrenaline of the game, or the way you were so excited defending Jimin – funny thing, you weren’t defending him, you just liked to see Jungkook worked up, it even made him look hotter.

And if Jungkook could measure his heartbeats right now, they would be fucking high.

“He can't handle a woman like you. You know that very well."

The complement of the phrase came along with a smug look on Jungkook's face. There was no longer any effort on his part to pretend that the sex between you and Jimin had been nothing more than a woman doing charity to a guy.

Jimin was his friend, or at least he used to be, but he'd never been around girls like you, and Jungkook knew the reason for that was because he just didn't know how to deal with them.

In a matter of seconds, you shot back, “And you can?”

He held back his laughter. He should have seen that coming. He didn't understand how you could change the tone of a conversation so quickly. It was as if you never lost during an argument.

Jungkook stopped sipping his water and finally faced you. You had a wicked smile at the corner of your mouth as you glared at him over your brow.

The sun was directly on your skin, making you shimmer. Jungkook took a deep breath as he tried to focus on anything but your exposed parts. Your legs were crossed, and your hands braced on the bench, your entire posture poised to intimidate him. As hard as it was for Jungkook to admit, that conversation alone had him turned on by you again.

He felt that his breathing was audible to you and decided to return to the field immediately. It was not in his interest to show any kind of emotion for you, much less let you notice his discomfort.

He had hoped to return to the game more relaxed, but that conversation only overthrew him more. During the game Jungkook felt absorbed, as if he wasn't really there. The pub scenes replayed in his mind, and he found himself inches from you again, about to kiss you, feeling your skin, stroking your hair, touching your lips.

In the back of his head, he could hear his friends complaining about his wrong pass or crooked kick.

The more he remembered that he had come close to finally being with you, the more his irritation rose.

When the game was finally over, the boys gathered around one of the benches and started to decide where to have lunch.

“Come on, it's Jin's turn to offer us something.” Taehyung said in an attempt to convince Jin to offer the meal at his house.

“Don't even try to escape, Jin. Last week it was on me, nothing could be more fair.” Yoongi provoked.

All eyes in the circle turned to Jin, who in return gave a defeated sigh.

After a little more talk, the group finally came to an agreement, and everyone started heading to their cars. Jungkook was already resigned to not going to lunch, it was better to be alone at home.

However, he didn't count on Jimin taking you with him to Jin's house. He should take you home, shouldn't he?

He narrowed his eyes as he tried to hear the conversation between the two of you walking behind him. Jimin was saying something about having lunch at Jin's and then taking you home.

As a child easily bribed with sweets, Jungkook decided to eat with his friends.

When Jungkook arrived at Jin's house, he could immediately see you and Jimin talking at the entrance to the gate, while Taehyung shouted in the background. He took a deep breath; he knew it was going to be a long lunch.

When approaching the "couple", he could again hear the conversation between the two of you.

“I can take you home if you want to.” Jimin said in his most concerned tone.

Before you even started to speak, Taehyung interrupted you.

“Don't worry about it, Jiminie. I'll take her later. Relax.”

Jungkook turned his attention to Taehyung who kept an affectionate smile on his face. He wanted to understand what was going on.

As soon as he got to the door, Jungkook saw his friend go down some steps and offer you his arm, so you could follow him.

Before accepting Taehyung's help, you turned back to Jimin and touched his face pulling him in for a kiss. It was indeed an intense kiss for a Saturday morning.

Jungkook chewed the inside of his cheek as he stared at the scene with the purest feeling of disgust.

When they were finally inside, and you were further in, Jungkook questioned his friend.

"Why isn't Jimin with us?"

“Oh, I don't really know how to explain, it looks like he had some family problem,” Taehyung said dismissively. “Why do you care? Y/N is here and alone, make some effort.”

Jungkook laughed at his friend's complicity. Indeed, it was an opportunity to take advantage of.

At the lunch table, Jungkook's friends began discussing events from the game. It was possible to hear all sorts of cursing as they each tried to prove their point: whether such a move had been a penalty, whether Yoongi should have been expelled when he pushed Jin, among others.

It was a masculine table, in its purest conception.

You remained silent as you answered trivial questions from Taehyung, who was trying to introduce you to the conversation.

Jungkook found himself watching you more shamelessly than he intended. He watched how your hands gestured to explain something to his friend, how your low laugh was nice to hear, and especially how your face turned into something amazing when you smiled at Taehyung's jokes.

Trapped in that vision, Jungkook didn't notice the moment the conversation between the two was over. Only minutes later he was startled by your gaze on him.

You didn't seem bothered by Jungkook's look on you, on the contrary, you looked at him as if daring him to get close to you. This provocation was the one that Jungkook could never win. You knew he desired you, and that was why you would always have the upper hand.

Despite having been willing to kiss him yesterday, Jungkook couldn't be sure what you really wanted. Much less after seeing you with one of his friends. You really were a master of confusion to him.

Jungkook broke eye contact when he heard Taehyung's voice close to his ear.

“Do you two need a room?”

It had been low just for him to hear, but that didn't stop Jungkook from laughing and telling him to fuck off.

It was strange for him to be getting support from one of his friends. At first Jungkook wasn't comfortable with Taehyung having noticed his interest in you, but now he recognized his friend's commitment to helping him.

As the boys began to disperse, you got up from the table looking impatient.

Needing no encouragement, Jungkook followed in your footsteps to the outside of the house. He found you with your arms braced on the porch as you felt the breeze touch your hair.

He couldn't tell if it was too presumptuous of him to imagine that you wanted him to follow you.

His thoughts were cut off by your calm voice. “Do you plan on staying there a long time?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, letting out a laugh.

“How did you know I was here; you barely saw me.”

“I didn't, but I heard you,” you turned your face back slightly, enough so that Jungkook could see your expression as you spoke the next sentence. “And I felt your perfume too.”

Jungkook tried to formulate some answer, but no sound came out of his mouth. Awestruck, he watched you turn forward with a haughty smile. You knew exactly how to mess up with him.

Aware that he'd already lost in today's "teasing" score, Jungkook swallowed his astonishment and approached you.

“Do you want a ride home?” He asked, trying hard to sound trustworthy.

You lifted your body from the porch and gave him a cocky look.

“I thought you would never ask.”

He frowned, confused by you being gentle and soft. Weren’t you supposed to deny it and say he wasn't the type of guy you'd hang out with? Instead, you took the lead and walked smugly in front of him.

As difficult as this was for Jungkook, he had to admit to himself that he was fascinated. When his friends told him you were just like him, he didn't expect that even self-confidence would be the same.

Inside the car, Jungkook walked an uncertain path for a few minutes, expecting you to guide him at any moment.

“Do you know where I live?”

“Should I?” His answer made you laugh.

“I don't know,” you stared at him, biting your lip. “You could be one of those stalkers.”

Jungkook's eyes widened, and he looked at you. “That's how you perceive me?”

You let the silence settle in for a few moments just to tease him.

“No, but that doesn't mean you're not.”

“If you had listened to your parents' advice, you wouldn't get in a potential stalker's car.” Jungkook said, trying to piss you off.

For the second time he was shocked by your talent in making him feel at ease. Yesterday at the pub he went from sullen and silent to flirtatious and excited. That drive home was already better than his entire morning.

“FYI, I didn't grow up with them.” You replied instantly.

Jungkook swallowed, regretting his joke.

"Oh, no. I mean, not like that." You said looking at his frightened face. "They insisted that I stay with my aunt in South Korea because of the universities. My aunt at that time had been already living here for a while and also attended college in Seoul so, I moved in with her."

“Oh, fuck you. I thought your parents had died.”

You let out a loud laugh that infected him. It was two young idiots laughing as they drove nowhere.

“I really should have let you believe that, I wanted to see how you would apologize.” you said, looking at him curiously.

A new moment of silence settled in the car. This time it wasn't your intention. Jungkook drummed up in his mind how to continue the conversation. It was more of a new thing for him, talking to the girl he wanted to have sex with. There was usually no conversation.

“You should take Seongsan Avenue, it's easier to get to my house from there.”

Jungkook blinked a few times. It took a while for him to assimilate that he wasn't following any path.

“I think you might know where it is. It's one of the bright green buildings around the corner from the college.”

As much as he wanted to admit that he knew where it was, after all he had already had sex with dozens of girls there, he thought it best to omit that information. So, he just nodded.

“Have you always liked Classical Literature?” He asked, instantly regretting his words.

Mentally Jungkook started cursing himself. There was no reason for him to want to know more about you, know details of your life. To him that kind of curiosity hinted that he was actually more interested in you than usual.

And he wasn't, couldn't be. It was just sex. He was convinced of it.

Too late to back off, he forced a smile as he waited for your answer.

You didn’t even think about the fact that he was actually trying to make a conversation with you. You loved talking about your choice of career, it was what you loved the most. So, you just started rambling without even thinking about it.

“Oh, wow. Yes! There's something about getting involved with the Classics that always takes you to a new story. I mean, it's a huge stream of references.” you said getting ready in the car seat. “If you stop to think, all the stories in the world derive from them, it's amazing.”

Jungkook had to suppress his laughter as he watched your enthusiasm as you spoke.

“It's like the myth of Orpheus. Nowadays you see several adaptations like Rilke's 'Sonnets to Orpheus' or Bausch's opera 'Orpheus und Eurydike'. Everything is interconnected.”

Jungkook frowned, trying to disguise his ignorance. He had no idea what you were talking about, and it somehow annoyed him. Maybe because he'd never dated a smart girl, he'd never had to struggle to understand a conversation.

Still, he was enjoying watching you talk about something you loved.

You stopped for a moment to take a breath and looked at him laughing. Then you realized that you got overexcited talking about your career.

“Sorry, I think I said too much.” You lowered her head.

“It's okay, I just can't keep up with you.” He said seeing a smile of complicity appear on your face.

“And you, have you always liked math and numbers?”

For a moment, you wanted to curse yourself, why the hell are you too making a conversation with Jungkook? You just want to fuck him. That’s it. You shouldn’t be interested in knowing him. Less you know, less chances of someone ending up getting hurt in the future.

As you were overthinking why you asked him about his career choice, Jungkook turned his eyes to the street. He honestly didn't have a decent answer to that question.

Did he like what he was doing? Would he do anything else if he could? Seeing you so excited about what you were studying made him a little depressed, as he had never been this happy in economics. The only time he felt some kind of joy was when he drew or paint a picture.

“‘Like’ is a very strong word, I had affection for numbers,” He took a deep breath, carefully thinking about his next words. “The rest went with my father.”

That caught your attention.

“What do you mean?”

He felt like he was going to explode at any moment. Why did you care? – he thought.

Why do I care? You were asking yourself too for a moment.

“Let's say he always wanted me to study economics.”

There was no point in spoiling that entire conversation with details about his terrible adolescence with his father.

“I see.” You said, placing your hand on Jungkook's thigh.

In other situations, he would take this moment as an invitation, but you looked at him as if he were a broken toy.

As hard as it is to understand, you were actually the kind of person that easily empathizes with others when it comes to this kind of issues, and you couldn’t even think if you weren’t able to choose to do what you love. You would be devastated. So, you felt sorry for him. You were human after all.

He hated that feeling. He didn't want anyone's sympathy.

“Is it here?” He asked slowing down as he pointed to the green building to his left.

“Yeah. Thanks” You paused. “For the ride.”

A wild thought went through your dirty mind. He looked so hot, and you couldn’t stop thinking about that freaking sleave of tattoos on his arm. What a sight to see.

Before he could say anything, even a “you're welcome”, you leaned over and stole him a kiss. Jungkook blinked, trying to understand what was happening. It didn't take long for him to know what to do.

Feeling your soft lips brush his, Jungkook brought his hands to your face, intensifying your contact. One of his hands was cupping your face, the other was roaming the back of your neck. He felt that your hand that was on his thigh had gone up a little. You were practically caressing the inside of his thighs.

Jungkook could only really believe he was finally kissing you when he noticed your tongues touching.

In the middle of the kiss, he could hear you moan between his lips, making the volume in his pants start to draw attention. He hadn't even offered a ride with that intention, but he would never complain.

When his hands slid to your neck, nearing the strap of your blouse, Jungkook leaned more ferociously towards you. He was willing to go ahead right there in front of your building. However, as soon as Jungkook advanced, you walked away, leaving him gaping.

You had an extremely victorious smile on your face as you saw him panting and desiring more in front of you. It wasn't supposed to be a reaction that had escaped, you were simply admiring it.

Jungkook began to slowly recover his breath as he watched the girl in front of him. It was impossible for him to contain his own smile when he saw you like that.

He stood for a few seconds staring at your lips as if he expected you to lean in again.

You opened the car door and unceremoniously left him there. Outside, you waved at him smugly, while carrying that damn self-confident smile.

“The pleasure was all mine.” He said low to himself.

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⏤ author's note❧ aaaaaaaaaah, i'm so loving this story so far (sorry, i know i'm the writer and i should be humble but i can't help it, i love it lol 😂) - hope you guys love it as much as i do, please give it a lot of love if you like it, reblog, leave your thoughts, send me asks. it will be all very much welcomed 🥰

⏤ tag list❧ @chimsworldsstuff @erica2283

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merrybloomwrites · 8 months

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I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 4)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: After battling the symptoms of touch deprivation for weeks, Y/N sees Harry again in Chicago and he helps her deal with the worst of it.

Previous Chapters: Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3

Word Count: 4.9k

Y/N POV

“You haven’t had a nightmare in 4 days?” Rachel asks.

“Nope!” You reply happily, taking a sip of your iced caramel latte. You and Rachel both have a free afternoon and decided to meet at a local cafe. You feel so much better than you had for the last few weeks that you felt confident to order a different drink. No tea that reminds you of Sarah, no hot chocolate that makes you think of Harry.

“And you’re not using those coping mechanisms you mentioned?”

“Haven’t needed them in days.”

“And you’re still not going to tell me what they were?” You blush at this question, embarrassed by the truth.

“No, that secret may come with me to the grave,” you joke.

Rachel looks at you, slightly worried and says, “It was safe right? You weren’t like, drugging yourself to sleep were you?”

“Oh God no!” You reply with a laugh. “Nothing like that, I swear.” Though you think to yourself that Harry’s scent in its direct form would probably be so delicious that it would act like a drug to you.

“Okay, I trust you,” Rachel says. “So, have you heard from Harry?”

You sigh, slightly disappointed by the answer you have to give. “Not since the night of the concert. I’m sure he’s been busy.”

“Maybe you should text him first.”

“And maybe you are out of your mind. No way. And before you say anything, it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm the girl or he’s the alpha or any of that sexist bullshit. It has everything to do with the fact that he’s Harry Styles.” You whisper the last part, aware that you’re in public and anyone around could hear the conversation.

“So what if he’s Harry Styles?”

“What would I even text him?”

“You could start with ‘Hi, how are you?’”

“Very funny. I mean, I guess I could. Maybe. I’ll give it a couple more days.”

“Waiting for him to leave the area?”

“Something like that,” you reply.

“Speaking of procrastinating things,” Rachel says teasingly, “have you called your doctor yet? To find out why that alpha knew you’re an omega even though you’re on suppressants and scent blockers?”

“Okay, that I did not procrastinate on. I called her but I can’t get an appointment until November.”

“Seriously?”

“Yea. I mean there aren’t a lot of doctors who specialize in omegas, so they’re always booked. Anyway, she said that my body has probably just developed a resistance to the pills. She’ll try to change my regimen after the appointment and told me to use the spray on neutralizers until then.”

“That sucks.”

“It does. I am so not looking forward to changing meds. It takes awhile to find the right combo and then there’ll be all new side effects. But it’ll be worth it.”

“I wish omegas didn’t have to hide who they are.”

“Me too. But that’s just how it is now.”

From there the conversation turns to lighter topics until you part ways to continue your day.

Another week passes and you still haven’t heard from Harry. On top of that the bad dreams come back, along with the restlessness, and chills. You’ve started using the old coping mechanisms again, which barely work this time around.

The morning after his final show in New York City, your social media is flooded with videos of him receiving his banner at Madison Square Garden. If there was any time to reach out to him, now was it. He said he wanted to be friends, right? A friend would absolutely congratulate him on this achievement.

It still takes you forever to type out the message, and ever longer to find the courage to press send. It’s nearly noon by the time you text Harry, “Congrats on the banner!”

It’s a simple sentence, just four words, and you still find a way to overthink everything for the two hours it takes Harry to reply. You’re taking a walk, grateful once again that you work on your own schedule and can take a break when you need one. And right now, you need one. Because you texted a celebrity and he still hasn’t answered and you for sure made a complete fool of yourself.

You stop dead in your tracks when your phone buzzes and Harry’s name appears on your screen.

From Harry Styles: Thank you! Can’t believe I got such an honor. How are you? What are you up to?

There’s a bench nearby and you sit to reread his message five times before replying.

To Harry Styles: You deserve it! I’m good, just out for a walk. How about you?

The next message comes in much faster.

From Harry Styles: I’ve been doing well. Took it easy this morning, currently enroute to Texas for the next shows.

You can’t help but feel disappointed that he’s no longer just a city away. You know it’s silly, but it was nice that he was so close by.

To Harry Styles: Enjoy Texas!

From Harry Styles: Thank you! Have you ever been?

To Harry Styles: Once, in college. Went to San Antonio with some friends.

From Harry Styles: That’s a great city, love the river walk there!

And so, you and Harry Styes became friends who text each other about random things. You talk throughout his flight to Texas, and sporadically over the next couple of weeks. It never gets very deep, all surface level conversations, but it’s nice. You feel like you’re getting to know the real him, and he’s getting to know who you are as well.

The texts from Harry are the high points. The low points are, unfortunately, very low. The hot chocolate, and roses, and forest smelling candles are no longer helping you. Bad dreams happen almost every night, you’re constantly cold, and there’s an itch under your skin that just won’t go away. The voice in the back of your brain is telling you it’s touch deprivation, but you refuse to admit that to yourself. You’ve never needed an alpha, and you refuse to depend on one now. So no, you do NOT have touch deprivation.

You’re checking your email, and you see that there are still spots open for a job training opportunity in Chicago. You rarely go to these, but it’s been a while, and you think maybe it would be good to go. There are always new types of data software, and you found the last two training courses you attended to be pretty informative.

Looking at the dates you notice the course is the following Thursday and Friday. In Chicago. You also notice that Harry will be doing shows there at the same time. You don’t admit that’s what seals the deal for you, but it totally is.

After registering and setting up your flight and hotel reservation you send a text to Harry. You casually mention that you’ll be in Chicago the following weekend. You’re surprised when your phone starts to ring, and Harry’s name is on the screen.

You answer the phone and he’s first to speak, saying, “You’re gonna be in Chicago?”

“I am!” you reply, matching his excitement.

“Can you come to my shows?”

“Which days are they again?” You ask this to try and seem like less of a stalker.

“I’ve got one Thursday, Friday and Saturday. You’re welcome to come to as many of those as you want,” he answers.

“I think Thursday is an all-day thing, so I won’t be able to come to that one. The training ends with dinner on Friday evening so I think I could make it just in time for the concert.”

“Ok great, and Saturday?”

“I am free all-day Saturday. My flight back home is Sunday afternoon.”

“Wonderful. I’ll have tickets for you for those two shows. That is, if you want to come of course.”

“Harry, I absolutely want to come.”

“Then the tickets are yours. All the details will come from Jada. I’d be a mess without that girl.”

“You paying her well?” you ask jokingly.

“She’s compensated handsomely, I promise,” he replies with a laugh.

“Happy to hear it.”

“I uhm- it sounds like you won’t be able to come before the show Friday, correct?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’ll probably get there right before you go on.”

“Forgive me if this sounds forward, but would you want to hang out after? It would have to be at the hotel, I can’t really be out in the city after a concert.”

“Totally understand that. And yea, I’d love to hang out after.”

“Great! I’m staying at the Nobu Hotel.”

You quickly look it up and see that your hotel is close by.

“No way!” you reply. “I’m at the Crowne Plaza like, two blocks away.”

“Well, that’s convenient. I’ll make sure there’s a car to take you to Nobu after the show Friday if that works for you?”

“Yea that would be great. I’d love to hang out!” You cringe, hoping that didn’t come off too strong.

“I’d love to hang out as well. Listen I have to go to sound check for tonight’s show. I’ll text you soon. And look out for the email from Jada, it’ll have all the info you need.”

***

Harry POV

“You’re extra happy today,” Elin says as Harry bounces around the venue smiling so big that both dimples are showing.

“I am!” He replies. “Thanks for noticing!”

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Sarah asks. “Because it’s definitely not how this sound check is going.” She has a point there. No less than a dozen things have gone wrong since they started, leading them to take a break while the sound techs work out a few problems.

“Just talked to a friend who will be in town next week.”

“Oh I see,” Mitch says. “So Y/N will be here?”

“Yes, and she’ll be coming to the shows Friday and Saturday. I can’t wait to see her!”

“Aw, someone’s got a crush,” Pauli says.

Harry ignores the teasing from his band members and says, “Honestly I’ve been a bit worried about her. I’ve just had this feeling that keeps getting worse.”

“Why do you think it has to do with Y/N?” NyOh asks.

“I mean, I don’t know for sure. But we’ve talked on the phone a couple times, and she always sounds exhausted.”

“I’m sure she’s alright,” Sarah says reassuringly.

“I know, I just can’t help it.”

“I completely get that,” Sarah replies softly, looking towards her mate.

“Fixed it!” One of the sound techs calls out, effectively cutting off the conversation as Harry and the band get back to work.

***

Y/N POV

The next week passes in what feels like slow motion. Every hour drags on. Your apartment building hasn’t switched from air conditioning to heat yet, so you’re constantly wearing layers of warm clothes and burrowing under blankets. The itch under your skin only gets worse, spreading to new areas each day until there’s a maddening tingle throughout your whole body.

Amelia drops you off at the airport Wednesday afternoon. You know she can tell that something is wrong, but you don’t offer an explanation, so she doesn’t pry for details.

You put on your mask before walking into the terminal. It’s a habit leftover from the pandemic, and also a great way to block out the potential strange scents. Alphas and omegas might be rare, but there’s always a chance a few will be around in such a crowded place. You’re extra sensitive to smells at the moment due to the touch deprivation that you’ve finally admitted you have. But it’s mild. Totally manageable. Not a problem.

The plane ride and subsequent train trip and walk to the hotel is exhausting. You stop and grab some food on the way. After checking in you immediately eat your quick meal, take a hot shower, and crawl into bed.

You’re almost asleep when your phone digs with an incoming text. You’ve already texted your family and friends letting them know you’re at the hotel, so you’re annoyed that someone is interrupting your sleep.

That is, until you see who the message is from. Harry’s name pops up with a text asking if you made it safely to Chicago. You practically melt at how sweet it is that he’s checking in on you. You send a quick reply before immediately falling asleep.

The first day of the training session is typical- informative, but boring. Harry’s show is still going when you get back to the hotel, so you watch on a livestream. You’re still exhausted and fall asleep before it’s over.

Waking up the next morning is difficult. Your body feels heavy, like your bones are filled with lead. The chills seem worse than ever and you’re grateful you packed yourself a heavy sweater to wear that day. Not only is it warm, but it covers up the marks from where you’ve been scratching at the skin on your arms due to the incessant itching.

You have trouble concentrating on the training throughout the day. There was one alpha there, and he was somehow in every single session you attended. He didn’t have a bad scent per se, but his presence alone became overwhelming.

By the time the sessions are over, you feel exhausted. You debate skipping dinner altogether but know you at least need some food before you can start your walk to the United Center. The alpha, whose name you’ve learned is Andy, sits next to you at dinner. He seems nice enough, you don’t feel threatened by him, but you still want to finish dinner and get away from him as quickly as possible.

Once dessert is over you grab your bag, ready to escape. Andy stops you before you go, asking for your number. Without thinking you quickly say, “I have a boyfriend,” and hastily leave the restaurant.

You’re not far from the venue, only a few blocks away, and you’re so out of it that you barely notice where your legs are taking you. It only takes fifteen minutes to get there, but you’re on edge the whole time. Glancing at your watch you see that it’s just before 8PM, meaning Harry should still be backstage.

You’re tired, and dizzy, and a little fuzzy, but knowing you’re so close to seeing Harry again has you moving faster than you thought possible. You’ve even built up a slight sweat, and you feel warm for the first time in weeks causing you to roll up the sleeves of your sweater.

As you approach the building you hear your name being called. You turn to see Jada running up to you.

“I didn’t think you’d be here so early! Glad I was talking to one of the security guards, you walked right past the entrance,” she says.

You smile as she hands you your VIP badge and leads you inside.

“Harry has a few minutes before he needs to finish getting ready. He’ll be glad you made it before he goes on, I know he’s been dying to see you,” Jada says, causing you to blush.

“Well, I can’t wait to see him either,” you reply.

She knocks on a door which opens a second later. The first person you see is Mitch, who gives you a hug as he says, “Hey kid, good to see you again.”

“You too!” you answer, somewhat surprised by the warm greeting.

Sarah’s there too, pulling you in to a hug next. The moment her arms wrap around your shoulders, you’re overcome with a wave of dizziness. Black spots flash in your vision and you blink rapidly to try and clear them.

“You okay, love?” she asks as she lets go and takes a step back.

After a couple deep breaths you answer, “I’m good. Practically ran here from dinner, still catching my breath I guess.”

Harry, who’s been quietly watching you quickly walks to the fridge and grabs a water bottle. You reach out your hand so he can pass it to you, and see his eyes focus on your arm. There’s no way he missed the angry red scratch marks there, but you immediately pull your sleeves back down to hide them anyway.

“Can we have a moment?” Harry asks, causing Mitch, Sarah, and Jada to promptly exit and close the door behind them. He motions to the couch, and you’re reminded of the last time the two of you were in his dressing room together.

Like the last time, you sit next to each other, but he seems to be giving you more space. This confuses you. If he’s so excited to see you, why didn’t he greet you with a hug like everyone else? And why is he so far away now? And why does he seem so serious instead of happy?

“Y/N, I have a question, and it’s kind of personal, but I’d like you to answer honestly,” he starts.

“Okay,” you reply, taken aback by this turn of events.

He’s quiet for a moment, seeming to think of exactly what he wants to ask. Finally, he settles on, “Where did those scratches come from?”

“My arms were itchy,” you reply. Not a lie, though probably not the full truth he’s looking for.

“And the dizziness? Cause I don’t think it was from your walk. You seemed fine until Sarah touched you. Until an alpha touched you.”

You know what he’s getting at. He’s no dummy. Just minutes after seeing you he’s figured out what you’ve been hiding for weeks. Hiding from everyone, including yourself.

He watches you, and you know he’s waiting for an answer. But you can’t think of one to give him. So, he continues, “Y/N, I think you have touch deprivation. Is that fair to say?”

You let out a shuddery breath and nod. “Yea, that’s fair to say.”

“It seems pretty severe.”

You finally decide to open up, saying, “It’s been getting worse the past couple weeks. I don’t think my meds are working anymore, and the soonest doctors appointment I could get still isn’t for a couple weeks.”

“I’m worried you’re close to a drop. Like, any minute now. Or that you’ll go under if I touch you. You realize that you were close with Sarah, right? That if you’d stayed in contact with her, or if she’d released any pheromones you’d be in a full drop right now?”

Part of you wants to snark back, yell at him for going full alpha male and acting like he knows your body better than you. But the problem is, he’s right. It’s been so long since the last time you dropped that you forgot what it’s like. You forgot what the signs are.

But now that he’s pointed out the obvious, you really start to feel it. He sees as you deflate, starting to fold in on yourself. His hand reaches out, wanting to comfort you in some way, but he can’t. He can’t risk sending you into a drop, not when he has a show to do in just twenty minutes.

“You’re right,” you finally say. “I didn’t realize it. I thought I was handling it, that I could make it to my doctor’s visit and get new soothers and I’d be okay. I just don’t know what to do if I don’t have meds that work.”

“I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

You finally meet his eyes and see that he’s completely serious.

After a moment you nod and reply, “Okay.”

“Okay? You’ll let me help?”

“Yes. I don’t know what else to do. And uhm, I trust you. You’re a good person, Harry. A good alpha.”

He smiles at your words before glancing at the clock and saying, “I have to finish getting ready in a minute. I’d still like to hang out after the concert. I think it might be healthy for you to do a drop with me there, if you’re comfortable with that?”

“I mean, I don’t like dropping. It’s only happened to me twice before and I was alone each time, so they weren’t good experiences. But maybe it will be different if you’re there?”

“I can help you through it, if you’ll let me.”

“What would you do to help? Like, how do alphas help omegas through that?”

“It depends on what you consent to but ah, I would hold you, help you get the touch your omega needs. Most alphas will scent the omega. It lets them know that they’re not alone, that someone is there protecting them, keeping them safe while they can’t do so themselves. I’d also release calming pheromones to keep your omega relaxed.”

“Okay. I’m okay with all of that. I’d like that,” you answer. Truthfully you’re a bit nervous. Harry Styles has just offered to hold you, to scent you for goodness sakes. That’s incredibly intimate. But you’ve felt so awful for weeks, and there are still weeks to go before you can get new soothers. And this is kind of a dream come true.

“Do you want to stay here for the concert? You can hang in here or go to the VIP box. Or you can head to the hotel now and take it easy if you’d like,” he says.

“I’ll stay in here if that’s alright,” you reply.

“It’s more than alright,” he answers. “And if at any point you want to get out of here just text Jada. She can arrange a ride back to my hotel and I’ll meet you there after the show. Or if you change your mind she can get you a ride back to your hotel too.”

“Thank you, Harry. For everything.”

“Of course. I know I don’t know you all that well, but I care about you. Anyway, I uhm, need to get dressed so I’m just gonna step into the bathroom for a moment.”

“I can go in the hall for a minute, get out of your way-”

“Nonsense. You’re not in the way. I’ll be right back.”

Harry finishes getting ready, and you make yourself comfortable on the couch. A couple of people come in, touching up his hair and make-up and before you know it he’s heading to the stage.

You watch on the screen in the room for the first few songs. After a while Jada joins you and you ask if you can watch from the VIP section for a bit. It goes well until Harry and the band take a break. You’d been so focused on the music that you were distracted from everything else around you.

But now all you can hear are all the other people, and it’s overwhelming. It becomes difficult to breathe, and you start to see dark spots once again.

You turn to Jada, and she immediately leads you back to the dressing room.

“Do you want to wait for Harry, or do you want to leave now?” she asks.

“I think I should go,” you reply.

“To your hotel, or his?”

“Harry’s, please.”

“Okay, wait here, I’ll get the car and come back for you in a minute.”

You sit back on the couch, seeking out Harry’s scent to calm you, but it’s barely noticeable.

Jada comes back and you follow her to the car. It’s a quiet ride to the hotel, and once there, she goes with you to the suite.

His room is on the top floor. It’s big, basically a full apartment, and you stay in what seems to be the living room. Jada sits on the couch with you, and you say, “I feel like you have more important things to do than babysit me.”

She laughs and says, “It’s not babysitting. I like hanging out with you. And you’re a priority to Harry. Which makes you a priority to me.”

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence for a while until Jada’s phone buzzes. “Shows over,” she says. “Harry’s just getting changed and then he’ll be here soon. He said you can borrow some of his clothes if you want to get comfy.”

You hesitate and she adds, “I have no problem going through his stuff. I can grab you some clothes if you want.” You laugh at that and nod.

A short while later you’ve changed into a pair of Harry’s sweatpants, as well as a t-shirt and hoodie. They smell like him, and you shamelessly inhale the scent you’ve been craving for weeks. The suite door opens, and Harry walks in, looking incredibly cozy in his own pair of sweats.

“Thank you, Jada,” he says. “Get some rest, you’ve earned it.”

“Night guys,” she says as she leaves the room.

You’re left alone with Harry. It feels different, here in his hotel room, surrounded by his belongings, while you’re wearing his clothes.

“You left early,” he says.

“Sorry,” you reply.

“Don’t be. I’m just worried as to why you left.”

“I was just overwhelmed. Needed some quiet.”

“I understand. Y/N, are you ready for this? You still seem on the edge of a drop.”

“I’m ready.”

“And have you changed your mind about anything? Or is it okay if I hold and scent you through this?”

You pause for a moment, scared at how vulnerable you’re about to be. “I haven’t changed my mind. I want you to do that. I trust you.”

He takes a step towards you. “Thank you, for trusting me. We’ll probably be more comfortable in the bed.”

“Lead the way,” you say.

It’s awkward at first, the two of you sitting next to each other in his bed, backs resting against the headboard.

He turns to you and says, “Can I hold you now?”

You nod, and his arms wrap around you, pulling you until you’re tucked under his chin and resting against his chest.

Everything starts to get fuzzy, and you feel yourself losing consciousness. It’s an unsettling feeling, but you know that Harry is there to help you through this.

The last thing you hear before it all goes black is Harry calmly saying, “I’ve got you. Let go. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Harry can’t describe the helplessness he feels as you go limp in his arms. He doesn’t allow himself to stress, or panic, knowing that his emotions will impact you. Instead, he takes some calming breaths and thinks through everything he knows he needs to do in this situation.

He hears you whimper quietly as you start to shiver, and he doesn’t hesitate to soothe you. It takes some maneuvering, but soon you’re both laying down in the bed. He tucks his nose into your neck and begins to scent you, releasing calming pheromones until you relax.

It continues this way for the next couple of hours. Harry holds you, and scents you, his nose rubbing against the gland in your neck. During one moment when you seem particularly distressed he can’t help but place kisses there to soothe you faster.

Finally, you start to stir. It takes longer than Harry had anticipated, so he’s relieved when your eyes meet his after hours of being closed.

“Hey there,” he says with a soft smile.

“Hi,” you answer groggily. “How long?”

“Couple hours. Your inner omega needed the rest. Now you need some too. Go to sleep, I’ve got you.”

It’s the same words he said before you dropped. You wish you could hear that all the time. No one has cared for you before, not like this. It feels good, but you remind yourself not to get used to it. Still, you curl into his embrace, enjoying every moment of contact with Harry that you can get.

The next thing you know, it’s late morning. You’re still cuddling against Harry, and his deep breaths indicate he’s still sleeping.

You feel amazing. You’re nice and warm, your mind is clear, and the constant itch and restlessness are nonexistent. You’re extremely grateful, but at the same time, you’re annoyed that you need to depend on another person just to feel normal. But you don’t dwell on that. Because Harry is starting to stir next to you.

“Hey,” he says when your eyes meet his. “How do you feel? Sleep okay?” God, you could melt at the gravelly sound of his morning voice.

“I’m good. Feel better than I have in a long time. And according to that clock, I slept wonderfully.” The two of you laugh, seeing that it’s nearly noon.

“I was hoping to treat you to a nice breakfast, but I guess I missed the window on that,” Harry says, continuing to laugh with you. “I do still have plenty of time before I need to be at the arena. Would you like to spend the afternoon with me exploring Chicago?”

“I’d love to,” you reply. His face breaks out in a huge smile before he leans down, once again running his nose along your scent gland. You go limp at the feeling, happily submitting to him.

You don’t think about the fact that this is temporary. That you leave to fly home tomorrow afternoon. That you’ll be without his alpha scent once again.

Instead, you think about the hours you have ahead of you, hours to spend with Harry. Nothing could be more perfect.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Thank you so much for reading! This was one of the scenes I imagined when I first thought of the story and I'm so happy that it's finally shared with you all!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305@creativelyeva@daphnesutton@selluequestrian@lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely@eversincehs1@boomitsallie1@rose-garden-dreamz @fictionalmensblog @buckybarnessimpp

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #wolfrry

168 notes · View notes

ellethespaceunicorn · 3 months

Note

I hope you are having a woooooonderful Friday!! 🥰

I was the anon requesting the Lloyd fic with him accidentally discovering that his assistant is hot lol and I LOVED IT. I can see she won't make it easy for him!

I wanted to know what you would think of Lloyd running into one of those toxic red pill/alpha male types after they corner his girl (or who he claims as his girl 😏 that's up to you) being gross to her.

Those types just make me so mad, I think Lloyd would teach them a good lesson and put them in their place 😈

TYSM for your time and the lovely words you give us! 💜

OMG my sweet Lloyd nonnie, this took me two months to post but literally only like three days to write. I'm a whole mess, but I really like this story and I hope you do too!!!!

Title: A Duke and His Duchess

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Lloyd Hansen x Chubby!Black!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2K

Summary: The night takes a dark turn when you are harassed at the club, but Lloyd comes to your rescue.

Warnings: Lloyd is a warning all on his own: possessive!Lloyd, soft!dark!Lloyd, lovey-dovey!Lloyd. Toxic “alpha male” behavior, Lloyd’s butterfly knife making an appearance, physical violence (some involving Reader), vaginal fingering, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids.

A/N: Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

The look that crosses his face says everything before his mouth can do so. He groans in the back of his throat, walking over to where you stand in front of the mirror, scrutinizing your outfit. He winks at you in the reflection and kisses where your neck meets your shoulder. His hands slide over your ample hips and grab a handful of your plump rump.

“Don’t you get started. You promised me that we were going out tonight,” you say, turning around and putting your manicured hands on his pecs.

“That’s not fair, Duchess. You put on this outfit, and my blood flow goes straight to my cock,” he sighs, pulling you closer so you can feel his heavy erection pressing against your mound.

Sliding your hands down his chest, you palm his length, and he hisses in response. “Is this all for me, Duke?” You squeeze him, and he closes his eyes, leaning his head back.

“Who the fuck else would it be for? I mean, look at you,” he implores, letting his eyes wander over your clothing.

He was always a fan of this outfit because it hugs all your curves. The halter top accents your full breasts with a healthy amount of cleavage. The high-waisted fitted skirt shows off your wide hips and thick thighs and stops under your knee. A pair of stilettos with a little buckle that Lloyd bends down to secure completes the ensemble.

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks and praise the melanin gods that blessed you with the ability to hide your blushing. Lloyd finishes buckling your heel, then rises to his full height. Holding your chin with his thumb and forefinger, he lays a sweet kiss upon your lips before nuzzling his nose with yours.

“After you, Duchess,” he croons, stepping out of the way and letting you walk ahead of him. You already know that he just wants to watch your hips sway while you walk in front of him, but damn if you don’t love how much he covets your body. And if you put a little extra oomph in your step, he wasn’t mad about it.

Lloyd stops the car at the curb and exits the car, tossing the keys to the valet. Walking around to the passenger side, he shoos away the other attendant trying to assist you in exiting the vehicle.

Nobody touches you when Lloyd is around.

He takes your hand, and you step onto the sidewalk, taking in the view of the line to get into the club. Lloyd pulls you along with him as he bypasses the line and walks up to the bouncer. They exchange a few words, and the very large, and probably armed, man at the door unlatches the velvet rope and ushers you in.

The lights in the place are spinning in dizzying patterns with blues, purples, and pinks. The music is both heard and felt as it thumpingly exits the speakers. Lloyd waves down a girl and she comes running. You’re a bit confused as he whispers something in her ear. Before you can ask him about it, you’re pulled in the direction of one of the tables on the upper level that overlooks the dancefloor.

In true Lloyd fashion, he gets the best table, and there is already champagne on ice waiting for you when you sit down. He pops the bottle and pours you both a healthy amount of the bubbly golden liquid. He toasts to you, as always. You clink your glasses and empty your drink in one go. Lloyd is there to refill your glass, watching and smiling as you dance a little in your seat as the DJ rolls from one song to the next.

The opening notes of Cobra hit your ears, and you can’t stop yourself from singing along with Megan Thee Stallion.

🎶

Long as everybody gettin' paid, right?

Everything'll be okay, right?

I'm winnin', so nobody trippin'

Bet if I ever fall off, everybody go missin'

🎶

You don’t remember closing your eyes in the middle of singing and enjoying the song. When you open them, Lloyd is sitting next to you, and he has that look on his face. The look that expressly means that he wants to watch you dance, and more specifically, he wants to watch you shake that thang.

You don’t keep him waiting for long. Standing up, you set your glass down on the table in front of you. Moving over to stand in front of Lloyd, you let the music move through your body as you start to give him a little show.

You sway your hips, bending forward to lean on the table. With your ass in the air, you twerk for your man, and he is in heaven. When you make it clap, you feel his hands on your ass.

He doesn’t want to stop you; he just wants to feel ‘the motion of the ocean’ as you dance just for him. You look over your shoulder at him, and he is definitely in his happy place. His tongue snakes out to wet his lips, his eyes laser-focused on your derriere until you giggle. Blue eyes meet yours, and his mouth upturns; that devilish little smirk silently tells you he’s pleased.

He moves his hands to your hips and pulls you back to sit in his lap. Between your gyrations, you can feel how pleased he truly is. That is if the hardness in his pants is anything to go by.

Song after song, you tease him with a lap dance. Making sure to grind into him this way and that, allowing him the opportunity for his hands to wander. As the music changes to something a little different, you notice that you and Lloyd have emptied the champagne. He offers to have another bottle brought over, but you wouldn’t mind walking up to the bar yourself.

He begrudgingly lets you raise from his lap. You saunter away, heading to the bar on the lower level. Ordering a margarita, you wait while the bartender makes a few drinks at the same time.

You feel eyes on you and turn to see a man watching you from a distance. His hazel eyes catch yours, and you smile politely, then turn away. The bartender hands you the strawberry-flavored drink, and before you can pay him, a hand reaches over yours and beats you to it.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing paying for her drinks?” A deep baritone escapes his boringly pretty face, and you instantly feel something off about him.

“Can’t a woman just buy a drink without the third degree?” You pick up your drink and sip while looking him up and down.

“Please don’t act like you’re not impressed. Just calm down, baby,” he says.

“Don’t call me baby, first of all. Secondly, what do I have to be impressed about? The fact you can pay for a $12 drink? Good job. Not interested,” you lament, turning to walk away. A hand gripping your arm stops you.

“Look, we got off on the wrong foot. How about you recognize when a man is being nice to you? You must not be used to getting attention. Let me break it down for you: I buy you a drink; we enjoy a little time together. And if you’re lucky, I might even fuck you,” he negs, standing up straight so he towers over you.

“Let my arm go, creep!” You shout, failing to tug your arm out of his grasp.

The grip on your arm gets impossibly tighter as he leans in to speak, “Listen here, you fat bitch. Ain’t nobody here looking out for you. So, it would be best if you do as you’re told and be a good little slut.”

Your eyes shut tight out of fear, and suddenly the clench on your arm is gone. You open your eyes, and the man is still in front of you; his eyes are wide as a butterfly knife is held under his throat.

“Alright, man! Be cool! I wasn’t-”

“Oh, what? You weren’t doing anything? You weren’t treating my woman like some piece of meat, like what? Fucking toxic, red pill, alpha male wannabe. No, I bet you weren’t doing anything,” Lloyd seethes, pressing the knife a bit further into the man’s skin. “I think you owe her an apology before I cut your fucking head off, sweet pea.”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I swear,” he cries, a tear escaping one eye and wetting his silk shirt.

Lloyd turns to you and sees you cradling your arm. His anger reaches a boiling point, and he moves the knife to his left hand before punching the man in the jaw and knocking him out. “Apology accepted, asshole,” he spits, stepping over him to get to you.

He carefully examines your arm while the other clubgoers start to gather. He turns back to the asshole, and you watch as his jaw clenches. You know he wants to cut this man up and feed him to the dogs, but you bring his attention back to you.

“Duke!” You shout, and when his eyes meet yours, you pull him behind you to the exit. Once the valet brings the car around, Lloyd opens your door and closes it behind you softly. Walking around the front of the car, he runs a finger through his hair before entering the car and slamming the door shut.

He pulls away from the curb and starts down the busy street, mumbling to himself about how he wanted to kill that shithead for laying even a finger on you. At a red light, you notice his grip on the steering wheel is leaving his knuckles white. You reach a hand over to lay atop his, and he starts to calm down finally.

Then you get an idea.

You loosen his hand from the steering wheel and place it under your skirt between your thighs. Once his fingers meet your saturated folds, his shoulders relax.

“You defended my honor tonight and slayed a beast for me. Now, either get us home fast or pull this car over so I can thank you properly,” you beg, already clenching around his digits.

You’ve never seen Lloyd drive faster than that night. You only make it to the driveway of your place before he adjusts his seat and pulls you over to sit in his lap with your skirt pulled up around your waist.

As soon as he is inside you, you get to riding, and you don’t let up until you’ve got him whimpering underneath you. You beg him to fill you, and he barely makes it through your plea before he’s emptying his balls inside your welcoming heat.

You lay kisses all over his face as he comes down from his high. As his softening length slips from you, you open the driver’s side door and exit as his spunk leaks out of you. You adjust your skirt and thank the heavens that the carport hides you for the most part. Lloyd stuffs himself back in his pants and follows after you. Locking the car with the fob, he steps ahead of you to unlock the front door.

“Well, I’d say our night out was eventful,” he jokes, and you are happy to hear that he’s not as upset as earlier.

“That’s one way to put it,” you laugh, kicking off your shoes and walking toward the bedroom. “Now, why don’t you come put me to bed properly, Duke?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice, Duchess,” he purrs, catching up to you in three long strides. He leans in to kiss your lips, reaching down to hold you close before turning you around to nibble at your neck.

You love this man with all of your heart. For all of his flaws, he always gets this part right. He treats you like royalty. But what else would you expect? He works hard, and he loves hard. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

A/N: I would love to know what you think!!! Feedback is appreciated!

**Tag List**

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@kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @sweetandgentlecreature @foxyjwls007 @art2emily

@titty-teetee @motivation-idontknowher @buckysteveloki-me @magnificentsaladllama @gyusbrownie

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wintaerbaer · 1 year

Text

things we don’t say: part 1 (kth)

banner credit goes to the absolutely incredible @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers (they’re so, SO stupid), slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 8.4k

series warnings: swearing, sexual themes, one instance of mild violence, alcohol use, infidelity, brief mentions of neglectful parents and alcoholism

chapter warnings: potty mouths, oc teasingly threatens her friends, art world inaccuracies (probably, idk how art shows work), fns music festival dynamite performance taehyung (BLESSED), friends who can’t mind their own business, quick backstory on the aforementioned shitty parenting, oc needs (and has) a drink

a/n: so here is my first foray back into writing after being out of the game for several years! big shout outs to @itaeewon / @jeonqkooks for the banner and encouragement as well as @taegularities for giving me writing advice and letting me cry in her inbox every time i got frustrated with this. they’re also both INCREDIBLE writers so go show them some love once you’re done here!

SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

“She was checking you out.”

“She was not checking me out.”

“Kim Taehyung, she was so checking you out!”

“No.”

“She tucked her hair behind her ear and gave you the ‘come hither’ head tilt.”

Taehyung makes a face. “No one says that anymore, and that’s a perfectly normal gesture to make in everyday conversation.”

“When you want to get someone’s pants off.”

He shushes you, eyes flicking over to the nearby tables in the mostly-empty dining room with all of its dim lights and dark wood paneling. The bar had been a go-to for you and your friends in college, boasting a wide variety of burgers, sandwiches, and wraps that could even satisfy Jungkook and his bottomless appetite. Though your visits have become fewer and farther in between after graduation, nostalgia occasionally drags you back for a lunch or round of late-night drinks, which is how you’ve wound up here on a bright Saturday afternoon.

“You should ask for her number.”

“I am not asking her for her num—!”

“Can I get you anything?”

Taehyung’s face turns bright red as the waitress materializes at the side of your table as if on cue. It’s subtle, but she bats her eyelashes at him, body angled in his direction as if you’re not even there. You raise an eyebrow at him from across the table. See?

“I think we’re ready to order,” you say, mostly to put Taehyung out of his misery as he wordlessly stammers at the blonde.

You’d think he’s never seen a girl before in his life.

The waitress jots your orders down before strolling away in the direction of the kitchen, and you’d swear she’s swinging her hips a little more dramatically than before. You turn towards Taehyung.

“Told you.”

“I said no,” he says sheepishly, cheeks still brushed with pink. “Besides, she looks like she’s probably still in college.”

“You look like you’re probably still in college.” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “And we’re not that old, Tae. You could date a college student.”

“Pass.”

You sigh, leaning back in your seat. “Fine, but we still need to find you a date to the wedding. Can’t let those youthful good looks go to waste.”

Taehyung huffs in faux annoyance, but his lips quirk up at the compliment. “I’m not bringing a date.”

“So you say, but I’m going to change your mind.”

His smile widens. “Oh, really?”

“Really.” You hold out a pinky, and he only hesitates a moment before linking his with yours.

“Okay, we’ll see.”

You fall into one of your usual conversation patterns as you ask about how his job is going. He tells you about the upcoming art show at the gallery where he works as a curator, doing some freelance photography as a side gig. He’d managed to snag Maya, one of the aforementioned friends, a spot in it, and he smiles as he gushes over how great her pieces turned out, cheeks lightly flushed with what you interpret as pride. The two of them met freshman year as photography majors and quickly developed into friends and partners, challenging each other artistically and now occasionally teaming up to shoot larger weddings and events.

It makes pride warm your own belly, seeing him flourish and succeed in the field he had always dreamed of. Photography had been an outlet for him throughout high school, a vital reprieve from the insulated struggles of your shared childhood. Taehyung has never been a negative person, never weighed down in spite of the home life which would have given him every justifiable reason to become jaded. Still, you’d watched a new light bloom in him after he discovered photography as if the camera lens truly gave him a fresh way of seeing the world.

And you’ve always loved seeing happiness spill from your best friend.

Your food is just being brought to the table when Jimin comes shuffling up in a zombie-like trance, eyes wide and mouth slack.

"Finally made i—woah, are you alright?"

Jimin drops into a seat, glazed eyes fixated on the window overlooking the street.

"Maya and Kook are hooking up."

Taehyung chokes on his drink, water spraying onto his plate, while your jaw hits the floor.

"They're what?!"

"What the fuck?!"

Jimin works his jaw before wiping his hands over his face, "Yup."

You and Taehyung gape at him.

"What in the name of God would make you say that?" you ask emphatically, just as Taehyung says, "They hate each other."

"I don't know. Probably because I just caught her straddling him on our couch half-naked. But it’s just a feeling."

"Oh my God, we don't need to know that!"

"Our couch?!"

Jimin scrubs a hand over his face again as if he could wipe the image from his brain. “Yeah, I…can’t say I’m entirely surprised, but, Jesus, I did not need to see that with my own two eyes.”

“Okay, wait, wait,” you say, blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to clear your thoughts. “You’re sure it was Maya—not another one of his random hook-ups?”

“You think I don’t know what she looks like?” Jimin asks, pulling a face. “Look, she stopped by to grab some camera equipment Tae left for her and said she was going to hang around for a minute to wait for an Uber. I was already late for here so I left, but I forgot my wallet. When I went back they were…compromised. And I didn’t exactly stick around to interrogate them.” He frowns again, turning to Taehyung. “Speaking of, can you cover me for lunch?”

“This is unreal. Fucking unreal,” you fume. “I’m going to kill them.”

“Is it really all that surprising?” Jimin asks. “Somewhere in all of their bickering and nagging and constant frowning at each other was always some thinly-veiled sexual tension.” When you glare at him, he adds, “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t sleep with her.”

“That’s not the problem, Chim. You know how this shit goes.” You rub a thumb between your eyes, trying to ease the sudden tension there. “They already fight all the time, and sex only ever complicates things. How long until this blows up and we’re forced to choose sides?”

And that’s the crux of your worry—a disaster seems inevitable. Maya and Jungkook have always been clear about their bare tolerance of each other, seeing it as a necessary evil for the benefit of the rest of your friendships. And while their arguments and bickering have been relatively muted in recent years after you, Taehyung, and Jimin had put down a collective foot and told them you were tired of hearing their shit, you are not eager to see them test the fragile thread that links all of you.

You’ve dealt with enough instability regarding the people in your life; the last thing you need is more.

The waitress comes up to take Jimin’s order while Taehyung studies you as you press the heels of your palms to your eyes.

“Hey,” he says as the waitress walks off again, a hand sliding across the table in your direction but not quite making it there. “No one is getting divorced or anything. Just talk to Maya first. We really don’t even know what’s going on here.”

Jimin lets out a puff of air. “I do. He had his hand up her—” He shuts his mouth as both you and Taehyung shoot daggers at him.

After a moment, your fingers tap absent-mindedly over your phone. “Yeah, I guess I’ll talk to her tonight. We’re supposed to go dress shopping for the art show.”

“Gotta get something nice for Jace?” Jimin asks, wiggling an eyebrow. You smirk back at him.

“No, he can’t make it. Work has him putting in overtime like crazy for their annual convention in a few weeks.”

“How is he doing—Jace?” Taehyung asks. His tone is light, but as Jimin turns to look at him, he notices his hand on the table had closed into a fist.

“He’s good,” you say, the tension finally melting out of your face as your eyes light up. “He’s been incredibly upbeat lately, actually—more romantic even.” There’s a pause as you hesitate. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was going to…you know.” You wave faintly with your left hand.

Jimin’s eyes go wide. “You think he’s planning to pro—” You quickly press a finger over your lips, and Jimin slaps a hand to his thigh. “Fuck yes! About damn time. Hey,” he settles his face in his palm and stares off dreamily. “Can I be your maid of honor?” Then, when you giggle, “Don’t laugh. I would look great in a dress.”

“I’ll put you on the short list,” you say, turning towards your food as Jimin pumps a fist. “But no more talk about that. I’ve waited damn long enough and do not want to jinx it.”

Taehyung’s knuckles had gone white.

“It’s really none of your business,” Maya says, picking up a bright purple, thigh-length dress off the rack and holding it up to her shoulders. “How about this one?”

“Too short.” She puts it back. “And I beg to differ. When something stands to get between two of my best friends who I care about deeply, I think that makes it my business.” When Maya doesn’t say anything, still nonchalantly flipping through dresses, you press on. “You know this can’t end well, right? You’re adding sex to an already volatile relationship, and I don’t like the idea of the friend group having to split if and when the two of you implode.”

“First of all, we’re not your damn parents. Kook may be a walking man child, but the rest of us are mature adults. We’d figure it out,” Maya says. She holds up a green gown, frowns, and returns it. Turning towards you, she quirks an eyebrow. “Second of all, who says that this morning was the first time?”

Your jaw drops. As you stand speechless, Maya resumes her dress perusal.

“Wha—how long?” you finally choke out.

“Ooh, this is pretty.” Maya pulls out a deep red cocktail dress, silver roses adorning the fabric. Catching the look on your face, she says, “Two years, give or take.”

“Two—!” you squeak before shaking your head. “No. No fucking way. You two can barely be in the same room for two minutes let alone sleep together for two years.”

Maya smirks. “Turns out he can do much better things with his mouth when he’s not using it to talk out of his ass.”

“Maya, oh my God!”

“What? You wanted to make it your business, right?”

You take a breath to steady yourself. “Look, I am just worried about you guys, okay? That’s it. You’re two of my best friends, and I don’t want to see anyone get hurt. And I certainly don’t want to be put into a situation where I have to choose between you.”

“That won’t happen,” Maya says, trailing off towards a dressing room. “For someone to get hurt, there’d have to be actual feelings involved, and the only feeling he gives me is a migraine.” She slips into a changing stall while you lean against the wall, still trying to wrap your head around what you’re hearing.

“Besides,” Maya’s voice sounded from behind the curtain, “Jimin only found out because of his stupid wallet, and he notices everything. If we could fool him for that long with no problems…” She pulls the curtain back. The red fabric of the dress hugs her hips, her dark hair draped over one shoulder. “How do I look?”

“Gorgeous, as usual,” you say. And then, because you can’t help it, “I’m sure Kook will love it.”

Maya rolls her eyes. “Oh, please.” She steps back into the stall and yanks the curtain closed again. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…weird.”

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” Maya says over the shuffling of clothes. “Nothing changed during the two years when you guys didn’t know and nothing has to change now.”

Maybe she’s right, you think to yourself, resting your head back and closing your eyes to the bright fluorescents above you. Maybe everything would be fine. Jungkook, in spite of his cocky playboy persona, may be a big teddy bear at heart, but you’ve never known him to mix emotions with pleasure. And Maya is certainly capable of handling herself.

Still, the whole thing just reeks of disaster waiting to happen.

The sun has just started its descent when the two of you step out of the shop, Maya now carrying a long white bag along with her. You pause for a moment, taking a slow inhale of the soft spring air. This is probably your favorite time of day, when the whole city is tinted gold, the push of the foot traffic slowing to a lazier pace as college students and businessmen alike meander their way to dinners and evening plans.

“Do you want to do dinner at my place?” Maya asks, starting to move in the direction of her apartment as you trail at her side. “I was planning on trying this new pot roast recipe, and I’d rather not get stuck with too many leftovers.”

“Ooh, that sounds good,” you say. “I’m in.”

“You just have to promise to stop looking so constipated.”

You let out a puff of a laugh. “I’m sorry—I really don’t mean to meddle.” You purse your lips. “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“I know, you said that already,” Maya sighs. “But we’re all grown-ups, Y/N. I know you mean well, but you’ve gotta loosen up the reins a little bit.”

“Whatever. As long as I don’t have to walk in on you guys like Jimin did.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “And just…be careful.”

Maya rolls her eyes for what feels like the hundredth time that day. She knows your heart is in a good place—the stereotypical “mom friend” just looking out for everyone—but your own blind spot drives her crazy.

You insist that you don’t truly mean to meddle. Maya, however, has no such qualms.

“You know,” she says, smirking at you with a sideways glance. “If you’re really worried about someone getting their heart broken, you should spend less time worrying about me and Kook and more time worrying about Tae.”

Your steps slow, frown lines gradually forming on your face. “Tae? What about Tae?” You pause. “He and Luna broke up months ago. He said he was over her.”

They were barely together a year, but the relationship had been the longest of Taehyung’s life. He’d spent the two weeks following the breakup locked in his room while you juggled both making sure he was alright and moving into a new apartment.

Maya gestures to the bag in her hands. “Don’t stop walking. This thing is a bitch to carry.”

As you jog a few steps to catch up, you ask, “Why? Did he say something to you?”

“Oh, please.” Another eyeroll. “He was never into Luna. It’s a wonder they even lasted as long as he did.”

“Then who?”

“C’mon, Y/N.”

“Maya, I genuinely have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

It’s Maya’s turn to stop in her tracks this time, passerby giving the two of you dirty looks as they swerve around you. She pins you with a pointed expression that has you blinking back at her. “What?”

Maya only continues to stare, tilting her head and biting her tongue until you finally put the pieces together. Your eyes going wide before you shake your head vigorously.

“No. No. You’re wrong.”

Maya scoffs and continues walking. “Uh-huh.”

“I’ve told you this before. We’re just comfortable with each other. He’s my—”

“Best friend who has made heart eyes at you the entire time I’ve known you two.”

“He does not. He looks at me like he’s always looked at me.”

“Exactly.”

“I—need I remind you that I’m in a committed relationship?”

“So? That doesn’t affect his feelings.”

“Tae has dated plenty of girls.”

“And with much success, obviously.”

You hesitate. “It’s not his fault that they all—”

“See how he looks at you and decide not to waste their time?”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Sure it is.”

“You’re misreading it. It’s just that we have history.”

“And chemistry. And while we’re rattling off school subjects the two of you share, I’m sure he’d be willing to help you with your physical education.”

“Maya.”

“I’m just saying!” She adjusts the bag, the plastic rustling the air. “I just got this sense that something, I don’t know, broke after Luna. I figured he finally realized how hung up on you he is or something, and that’s why he hasn’t dated since.”

The idea of a broken Taehyung squeezes your heart as your frown impossibly deepens. “That’s not…no. That’s definitely not what it was. He’s fine. We’re fine. Everything is fine.”

“Okay. Fine. If you say so.”

The two of you fall into silence, the light crackle of Maya’s bag hanging delicately between you. The sun is starting to dip behind buildings now, stretching long shadows onto the ground in front of you as you turn onto her block. You inhale a long, shaky breath.

Yes, it’s been a while since Taehyung has dated, and yes, this is a little peculiar. He may be your best friend, but part of that means you’ve watched him grow from awkward kid to gangly teenager to one of the most handsome men you’ve ever laid eyes on. You’re not blind—you’ve seen how it’s unsurprisingly garnered him a good deal of female attention throughout the years (Saturday afternoon was not the first time he’s been hit on by a waitress). And while he’s never been anywhere near Jungkook’s level of playboy, he’s definitely been on his fair share of dates.

You don’t doubt that Maya’s noticed something of a shift in him—after you, she’s probably the person who knows him best. But both you and Taehyung have always insisted that your platonic relationship is, well, entirely platonic. So even if something changed for him, she has to be off base as to the why.

Right?

“Maya—”

“Look, I’m not telling you to sleep with him or leave Jace or anything like that. Just…” Maya purses her lips together, blowing air out of her nose. “Step back and look at what you’re doing to him before you lecture the rest of us. The guy is crazy about you, and you’re the only one who doesn’t see it.”

Well.

Shit.

She climbs the steps to her front door, slipping in the key and opening it before turning back to where you remain at the bottom of the stoop fiddling with your purse strap.

“You coming?”

“Um,” you hesitate. Your eyes drift off down the street, mind suddenly racing . “I don’t know. I’m not really hungry anymore.”

Maya’s expression softens. “I didn’t mean to upset you…”

“No, no,” you say with another shake of your head. “I’m not mad. I just think I want to go home, maybe take a bath.”

“Okay,” Maya slowly responds. “I’ll see you at the show Friday night?”

You smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Perhaps, Maya muses as she watches you saunter down the sidewalk, calling you out was not the right move. But the thought only lingers for a moment before she turns with a shrug and goes inside.

It’s Sunday night when you find yourself at the guys’ apartment for your and Taehyung’s weekly meal prep tradition. The ritual is the evolution of several years of having to care for yourselves—a need to eat turned into a sacred bonding activity for two people who had learned to rely on each other.

You and Taehyung met when you were eight-years-old after your teacher had fatefully situated your desks next to each other on the first day of school. A compliment from Taehyung on the color of your pencil case (a bright and bold turquoise) turned into a fast friendship that rapidly deepened as you realized just how similar you were: both only children living in homes with parents who were neglectful in their own ways.

In spite of growing up in a lavish, sparkling house with more rooms than you could count, your childhood was a struggle as your endlessly-busy, high-powered-lawyer parents virtually ignored your existence and left you to your own devices, working late hours every day and oftentimes not even ensuring that you had been properly fed. The mansion had felt like a prison, long hallways and tall ceilings devoid of life, filled with nothing but a terrible sense of loneliness.

That was, at least, until Taehyung showed up.

When either of you had a bad day (which was, admittedly, most days), he would slip away from the tiny, one-bedroom house on the poorer side of town, where his mother had abandoned him to an alcoholic father, and you'd sneak him in the back door (your parents either never noticed or simply didn't care). The two of you would raid the kitchen cabinets for snacks and lug your loot up to your bedroom, where you'd throw together a giant fort made of pillows and blankets with your prized possession at the center—a small globe light with tiny cut-out stars.

You never really talked about your respective situations—there was never really a need to. He saw your non-relationship with your parents firsthand, and you had heard the rumors about his family—whispers at school about the boy with secondhand clothes and a dad who often had to be dragged out of the local bars. The outside world may have been cruel, passing judgment on the both of you (and Taehyung especially) for circumstances outside of your control, but in the comfort of your room, even that fostered your kinship. It was like your own minuscule universe, belonging only to the two of you, and as you munched on your popcorn and watched the soft stars dance across the propped-up fabric, you'd talk and tell each other stories. Stories about anything from kings and queens to pirates to cowboys to astronauts. The only rule was that every tale had to have a happy ending.

As you got older, you traded your storytelling nights for evenings experimenting in the kitchen, sick of gorging yourselves on chips, pretzels, and sodas. Occasionally, once Taehyung purchased his first camera from a secondhand shop with money he saved delivering newspapers, he'd drag you around town for a photoshoot. You’d wander the streets together, helping him to scout out areas for inspiration, and he’d use you as his model to practice portraits and photographing human subjects. This tradition, too, had faded once the two of you escaped your hometown to go to college (you're not sure your parents even realized you had left), as Taehyung began working on class projects with Maya and you started spending more time with Jace. Only your weekly meal prep had persisted.

Your cooking had been a staple during college, you and Taehyung hosting “family dinners” for you and your friends on weekends (usually followed by a good few rounds of drinks), eventually shifting into you making batch meals on Sundays once you’d all graduated and begun working. That was when it had been you who’d lived in this apartment, back before you’d moved in with Jace and Jungkook had taken your place here. Still, even as lifestyles and living arrangements changed, you always wound up cooking with Taehyung on Sunday nights.

“What are mom and dad making tonight?” Jimin trills, reaching over the counter to take a swipe at a baby carrot. You shoo his hand away.

“Nothing, if you keep stealing our ingredients. Aren’t you supposed to be going to the gym?”

“I am, but someone,” he turns to yell over his shoulder, “is taking their sweet ass time getting ready!”

A door clicks open down the hall before Jungkook’s voice yells out, “Calm down, asshole, I’m almost done!” The door slams shut again.

“Such a diva,” Jimin huffs, gaining an edge to pop a carrot into his mouth. You let out a cry of protest.

“Chim, cut it out!” You turn to Taehyung who is at the opposite counter with his back to you, chopping more vegetables. “Tae, stop him.”

Taehyung snorts, not turning around. “That’s my job?”

“You have a knife.”

“Sorry, I’ve taken a vow of nonviolence.”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter as Jimin tries to reach around you again. “Hands off, Park, or I swear to God I will kick you in the balls, and you will not see it coming.”

“Guy’s gotta get some action somehow, am I right?” Jungkook comes striding down the hallway in a tank top and shorts, looking more like he’s ready for a magazine cover shoot than a gym visit as he bounds up to where you and Jimin stand in the kitchen.

“Hey, I get plenty of action!”

“You were literally whining this morning that it’s been three months.”

Jimin flushes. “That’s because I don’t sleep with my friends.”

“Neither do I,” Jungkook says, throwing a wink in your direction as you roll your eyes back at him.

“You’re disgusting. It’s a wonder Maya puts up with you.”

“It’s definitely more of a puts out situation.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “And not really up? Contrary to what you might expect, she’s usually under—“

“Jeon Jungkook.” Then, when he makes a move to grab a carrot, you turn to Taehyung and snap, “Tae, give me a knife, I’ll stab them myself.”

Barely looking up, he reaches over to grab a knife out of the block, twisting it in his hands to hold it delicately by the blade and offer it to you handle-first. You grip it, only to slam the knife down firmly on its side in front of you, staring down Jimin and Jungkook in a silent challenge. But Jimin merely quirks an eyebrow in silent laughter, while Jungkook lets out a teasing, “Hot.”

You glare and raise the knife to chest level, pointing it at his sternum and trying to muster as much threatening energy as you possibly can in the face of a guy who could bench press you in his sleep. And while his facial expression remains one of passive amusement, he raises his hands in mock surrender and says, "Fine, fine, we're going."

With a sweep of their gym bags, they make their way out, and there's one last, "Save some for us!" from Jimin before the door swings shut behind them.

You sigh. "Idiots."

"But they're our idiots," Taehyung says, and a glance over your shoulder tells you that he's laughing at your frustration, a smile brightening his features and warming your chest.

"Remind me why we adopted them again?"

"You instantly fell for Jimin's puppy dog eyes when he was wandering around lost at orientation, and Kook..." He trails off. "Why did we adopt Kook?"

"School administration made you dorm with him, and we haven't been able to get rid of him since?"

"Oh yeah, that's right."

You fall into a comfortable silence, the only sound being that of your respective knives hitting the cutting board before Taehyung speaks up again.

"Speaking of Kook, you never told me how your conversation with Maya went."

You're thankful you have your back to him because you immediately feel yourself flush, heat shooting up your neck like an erupting volcano. You want to say, Yeah, it went great. She told me that you're desperately in love with me, and I'm the reason why none of your relationships have worked out. But that's ridiculous, right? Right?!

Instead, you do your best to mask your expression into one of relative impassivity and say, “Well, according to her, this isn’t new. They’ve been doing this for two years.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish.”

Taehyung ignores that. “How did none of us ever notice?”

“That’s what I can’t figure out. You’d think we would’ve noticed a change or something, right?”

He’s quiet, and you glance over to see him staring at a distant point out the window, lost in thought, the heel of the knife absentmindedly tapping a beat against the board. Taehyung’s always been introspective—content to sit in contemplation as he slowly works an idea through his mind. He’s thoughtful like that, ever the deliberator and rarely one to act on impulse. You balance each other out in this regard, with you having always been more inclined to break rules as you see fit and Taehyung being there to reel you in as needed.

“Maybe it works for them,” he finally says, and you feel your eyebrows shoot halfway up your forehead.

“You can’t seriously think this is a good idea.”

He shrugs, attention drawn back to the vegetables in front of him. “It hasn’t caused a problem yet, right?”

“The operative word there being yet.”

He shrugs again, brows tilting together. “I’m just saying that they’re both consenting adults, and if it’s gone this long without any catastrophes, maybe it really is a good arrangement for both of them.”

“It’s Maya and Kook. They’re always a catastrophe.”

“Exactly. They’d probably have an eventual falling out even if they weren’t sleeping together, so who knows? Maybe it actually helps them work some of that tension off.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“I didn’t say it was healthy.” He finishes chopping his last onion and sets his knife down, crossing the kitchen to check your own progress. Reaching over you, he grabs a piece of carrot and slips it into his mouth, grinning when you frown at him. “Really, Y/N, what can you do?”

“I know, but they’re…they’re the closest thing to family that we have. You know that.”

“Families can be dysfunctional. We both know that.” He munches on another carrot. “I’d still take them over my biological family any day.”

When that still doesn’t seem to entirely placate you, he reaches out to squeeze your shoulder, the tips of his fingers brushing the base of your neck and raising goosebumps there, before he slides his hand down to loop your pinkies together. “What will happen will happen. Don’t let it worry you unnecessarily.” Then he’s off heating up oil on the stove.

Normally, the brief touch would have barely registered in your mind—a simple gesture you had gotten into the habit of using when you were kids to provide reassurance. But it’s like your conversation with Maya has been inked under your skin, recoloring your perspective on the single-most steadfast relationship you’ve ever had in your life.

You hate it.

The oil begins to bubble on the stove, but Taehyung is distracted, rummaging around the refrigerator for something, so you take over, dumping in the beef that will help form the base for the soup. You throw in some seasoning, poking at the meat with a spoon and willing it to brown.

“So you’re really not interested in dating again?”

The words slip out, and the contents of the pot pop angrily at you.

Yeah, you might regret this later.

“Hmm?” Taehyung closes the fridge, cracking open the beer that’s now in his hand.

You curse your loose tongue under your breath. “Just…the other day at lunch. You were so against asking that waitress for her number.”

“She wasn’t my type.”

“And you don’t want to bring a date to the wedding.”

“I’d only bring a long-term girlfriend to a wedding. Less of a chance we’d have to edit her out of pictures later.”

“And how many dates have you been on since Luna? It’s been what, almost a full year?”

His brow scrunches, and the way he’s studying you makes you blush. “Why the sudden interest in my love life?”

You stare determinedly into the soup pot, trying to look nonchalant. “You’re my best friend, and I want to see you happy. Of course I’m interested.”

He props his hip against the counter in thought and takes a long drag of beer before he answers you. “I thought after Luna that it would be best if I take some time to focus on myself before diving back in. That’s all.”

“She really did a number on you, huh?”

“Something like that.”

You poke at the beginnings of your soup, memories of an absolutely miserable Taehyung surfacing in your mind. “It sucked, you know.”

“What?”

“Seeing your heart break.”

“Ah.” He takes another drink. “Right.”

“I swear, if I saw her again, I’d be tempted to kick her ass.”

He chuckles at that, and it rumbles his entire chest.

It might stir something in yours, too.

“I mean it, Tae.”

“Oh, trust me, I know you do.”

“Could be anywhere: club, grocery store. I’m not afraid to throw hands.”

He gives a tilt of his head. “She was a third degree black belt.”

“Well I kicked that Kenji kid in the groin during recess after he stole your backpack, and he cried for like twenty minutes. Remember that? He was practically six feet tall in the fifth grade, and that didn’t stop me. First degree black belt my ass.”

“Third degree.”

“Whatever.”

“Well as much as I appreciate your determined defense of my pride, I can assure you any emotional distress I suffered was minimal—“

“You haven’t dated since!”

“—and is definitely not worth putting yourself in the hospital over.”

“You don’t miss it though? What about like…” You trail off, cursing your stupid mouth getting ahead of your brain. You’ve never really talked about this before. Relationships, sure, but when it comes to the physical, along with your families, it’s one of the few subjects you avoid.

As your pause stretches on, he raises his eyebrows in question, and you decide to just come out with it.

“What about sex?”

Taehyung, to his credit, is unfazed by your sudden mention of the taboo. “I still have two hands, and they haven’t failed me so far.”

“Oh, Tae, ew.”

He grins devilishly at you, mischief brightening his eyes. It’s a look that he used to wear all the time when you were kids but which became rarer once he mellowed out with adulthood.

Seeing it on him now makes your heart jump.

“Point taken, forget I asked,” you say, and he laughs.

“Really, I’m fine with taking a break from dating for now. Isn’t that what that band you love is always preaching? Self-love and all that.”

You huff out a breath, nodding at his hands. “You don’t say.”

He laughs again, grinning down at you, and the uncertainty you’ve been feeling bubbles up again, your nerves sparking in time with a particularly loud crackle from the pot on the stove.

“Ah, geez, don’t let it burn,” he says, nudging you out of the way to take over. You take the opportunity to wander over to the fridge for a water bottle, feeling the need to cool yourself down. Honestly, what is wrong with you?

Taehyung, in sync with your moods by now, reads you like a book. “I feel like I should be asking you if you’re okay.” He says as he sets the meat aside and begins simmering the mirepoix in the fat. “You seem distracted.”

The conversation has become too much for you to wrestle with at this point, and you feel the need to shut it down before it gets out of control entirely. So you swallow down your anxieties like a pill without water and deflect.

“There’s just…a lot going on right now.”

It’s almost imperceptible, possibly a trick of the light, but his back stiffens ever so slightly. “Hmm, I’m sure.” He looks up at you from the stove, eyes pinning you where you stand. “But you’d tell me if there were something?”

You swallow. “Of course. You?”

“Of course.”

And that has to be enough for now.

The glow of the sunset creeps into your room as you put the finishing touches on your make-up for the night. You're running later than anticipated as you had hoped to catch Jace before you left—you know he has a virtual client meeting scheduled in fifteen minutes that he had planned to attend from home, but he texted you a half-hour ago saying that he got caught up at the office and might just take it there.

With your make-up done, you can't justify lingering any longer and decide to just leave him a note letting him know when you'll be back. Jace's desk is an absolute mess, but you're thankfully able to locate a notepad easily. A pen, however, is a different matter, and it's not long before you're rummaging through the drawers trying to find anything to write with. For a man who keeps his appearance so well-groomed, he has a true affinity for clutter, and you roll your eyes at the junk you have to sift through in search of a simple writing utensil: a hammer, old movie tickets, a broken picture frame, a ring box...

A ring box?

You pause, fingers hovering over the black velvet. Surely, you shouldn't look, right? You already feel like you're crossing some line by discovering the small box—you should preserve some element of surprise for both of your sakes.

Still, the devil on your shoulder whispers to sneak a peek...

Your decision is made for you as you hear the front door click open and shut, and you hastily close the drawer and try to school your features into something casual.

"Hey, gorgeous."

Jace leans in the doorway grinning, not a single sandy brown hair out of place and his impeccably-ironed dress shirt pulled tight across his toned chest. In a fraction of a second, you see his eyes flick from his desk drawer to where you stand stiffly in front of it.

"Hey!" The word comes out a little too loudly, and you rush to cover up the blunder. "I thought I wouldn't see you."

"Wanted to surprise my girl," he says, smile brightening as he swings a hand from behind his back to offer you a single red rose. You feel your cheeks heating up as you take it from him, marveling at how—even four years down the line—he can still manage to charm you.

He presses a kiss to your mouth, hands trailing down the back of your dress to palm your ass with a groan. "Fuck. Can't believe I have this work meeting when you look like this."

"And unfortunately, I need to get going, too, or Maya will have my head." You lean in for another quick peck. "Rain check for later?"

He chuckles, letting you go with one final squeeze. "I'll hold you to that."

"Look who finally showed up!" is what you're greeted with when you locate your friends in the gallery atrium, dodging the other patrons milling about.

"Sorry, got caught up with Jace," you say, shrugging at Maya's teasing glare.

Jungkook winks at you. "I'm sure you did."

"Yah, Kook, don't be gross," Jimin complains, slapping him on the arm.

"What?! She looks great! Right, Tae? Tell her she looks great."

You meet Taehyung's eyes for the first time since you walked up, and he shifts on his feet, gaze darting down to the accentuated curve of your hips. Clearing his throat, he smiles and says, "You look beautiful."

Cheeks hot, you murmur a quiet, "Thanks," so distracted by the awkwardness of the moment that you don't notice the look exchanged by Jimin and Maya between you.

Friends can call friends beautiful and not have it mean anything beyond that, right? You told Maya she looked gorgeous when she bought her dress with you last weekend, and you’d definitely be willing to admit that Taehyung looks incredible tonight. His navy blue suit hugs the lines of his body perfectly—highlighting his tall, lithe form—while his hair is combed up and off his forehead in a style that projects both professionalism and approachability. Combine that with the easy smile he keeps on his face, and he’s basically in male model territory.

You’ll be stunned if he doesn’t get hit on again tonight.

You make some idle small talk with your friends for a few minutes (Jungkook is trying to convince the others to head over to the bar where he works after the reception) before Maya gently nudges you with an elbow.

"Go and have a look around. Mine are back there," she declares, nodding her head towards the right hand corner of the exhibit, "but you should really check out all of the work—there's some good stuff. Hoseok and Sunny are around somewhere too."

You nod, welcoming the chance to see what it is your friends have been working so hard on, and excuse yourself to peruse the gallery. You may not be much of a creative mind yourself, but years of friendship with Taehyung and his infectious enthusiasm have at least helped you develop an appreciation for art. Weaving between the walls of frames and canvases, you stop here and there as a piece catches your eye: dark bars slashed across a messy outline of a heart titled Fake Love; a small boy offering up a waffle cone that holds a rose instead of ice cream—For You.

However, you find yourself slowing down entirely when you get to Maya's collection of photographs. They're mostly black and white candids of strangers. A woman shopping in an outdoor market. A girl chasing a dog in a park. Your friends pop up occasionally, and you smile at one of the memories you recognize: Jungkook pushing Jimin into the pool during your friendcation last year, bunny smile stretched wide across his face.

And suddenly you're frozen by a photo that's in full color.

It's Taehyung's face in close-up, his head turned to the side as he looks at something out of frame. His jaw strikes a downward line, mouth ever so slightly dipped open in something akin to wonder and tan cheeks curving with subtle delight. It's his eyes you can't look away from, though, opened wide enough to soak in whatever he's looking at that they reflect the golden lights around him, tiny galaxies swimming in his irises.

"Enjoying the view?" a deep voice teases at your shoulder, the man himself coming to stand at your side.

"That's an incredible picture of you," you tell him, still taking it in.

He hums in agreement. "I told you, she did a good job."

"Was that last summer?"

"Yeah." He nods his head at the picture of Jimin and Jungkook. "Same night as that, I think."

"What were you looking at?"

Taehyung is quiet as he thinks, scratching lightly at his nose. "I can't say I remember. Probably Hoseok walking out with that plate of pork belly. That was mouth-watering."

You laugh, and he smiles back at you before gesturing at the rows of artwork. "Can I show you some of my favorites?"

"I'd love that."

You let him drag you away, but not before glancing back to read the title card delicately placed next to Taehyung's image.

Your eyes tell.

Taehyung navigates you around the exhibit for a while, describing his role in organizing the gallery and stopping to gush about his favorite pieces. You've always loved hearing him talk about art, his passion for the subject illuminating his face as he enthuses about light and shadows and colors.

He's explaining the rule of thirds to you when Maya interrupts, telling Taehyung she has a potential client for him that she wants him to meet. He promises to find you later as she whisks him away, and, alone again, you decide to head to the adjoining reception area in search of your other friends.

You’re only a few steps into the room when you hear a voice call out your name, Jimin flagging you down from where he stands at a table with Jungkook, Hoseok, and Sunny, and you quickly slide up to hug the latter two.

“You guys made it! We’ve missed you. How’s wedding planning going?”

Hoseok groans into his champagne. “Please do not remind me,” he grumbles. “It makes med school feel like a cakewalk.”

“What my wonderful fiancé meant to say,” Sunny says, playfully elbowing Hoseok in the side and making him sputter on his drink, “is that it’s going fantastically, and we can’t wait to celebrate with you all.”

“Rumor is that it’s the can’t-miss event of the year,” Jimin singsongs. “And Kook and I are bringing the party!” He reaches over so he and Jungkook can share a short but excessively elaborate handshake.

Sunny looks on, amused. “Speaking of, do you two know if you’re bringing dates? We don’t have to finalize headcount quite yet, but knowing sooner rather than later would be appreciated.”

“I will definitely be going stag, but I think Kook might have one, yeah?” Jimin’s voice is teasing, but Jungkook doesn’t catch on, throwing him a quizzical look and causing Jimin to clarify with a smirk. “Maya.”

Jungkook scoffs, muttering, “Not a chance,” while Hoseok’s and Sunny’s eyebrows shoot up in sync.

“You and Maya are dating now?” Sunny asks, eyes wide.

Jungkook tosses Jimin a glare. “No, he’s being an ass.”

When Sunny and Hoseok continue to look confused, glancing back and forth between Jungkook and Jimin, Jimin explains, "We found out recently—and unpleasantly for me, might I add—that Maya and Kook here have been engaging in some activities with, ah, no strings?"

Hoseok's eyebrows go impossibly higher, threatening to meld with his hairline, as his mouth pops open in surprise. "Uhh...congrats?"

Jungkook shakes his head, bottom lip jutting out like a child. "Chim's just jealous because he's in a drought."

"Hey!"

"I, for one, don't see an issue," Sunny says, hopping in to play peacemaker before Jimin and Jungkook devolve into one of their notorious bickering sessions. "You're both adults. And don't sweat it, Jimin, any girl would be lucky to have you."

"What's that supposed to mea—" Hoseok starts to ask before Sunny shuts him up with a finger to his lips, subtly nodding her head at the clearly placated men.

"I just can't believe you two are finally getting married." You change the subject, snatching up a flute of champagne off a tray as a waiter walks by. "Been a long time coming."

Sunny hums. "To be honest, I'm surprised we're beating you and Jace to the alter," she says, and now it's your turn to cough on your drink. "When is that happening?"

"Oh, I, um—" you stutter, as you weigh how much you should say. You should keep what you saw earlier a secret, right? After all, what if you're wrong and you come out looking like a fool?

But four pairs of eyes are now fixed on you expectantly, and these are your friends so you cave.

"Okay, I am swearing all of you to secrecy," you say, making deliberate eye contact with each of them in turn to emphasize your point, "but I literally found a ring box in his desk earlier when I was getting ready to come here."

The table erupts in your friends' squeals and cheers, Jimin and Jungkook coming around to playfully shake your shoulders.

"Oh my gosh, I knew it!"

"That's amazing news!"

"I want to be man of honor!"

"I already called dibs!"

"What are we calling dibs on?"

Your heart skips as Taehyung joins your table, smiling at the five of you but obviously perplexed as to what the ruckus is about. And maybe you're imagining it, but your friends all seem to quiet down at his appearance as well, causing Maya's words to once again echo in your mind. The guy is crazy about you, and you're the only one who doesn't see it.

An awkward silence drapes itself over the table, Jimin being the one to pipe up when Taehyung's expression begins to morph from curious to concerned. "Y/N, tell him the good news!"

At that, Taehyung's brown eyes settle on you, and so you take a deep breath and spill. "I found a ring box in Jace's desk."

You're looking at him intently, and it's only the tiniest sliver of a second, but you see it. Unmistakably.

His face drops.

If Maya's photo captured stars in his eyes, you watch each go out one-by-one, his lips pressing together like he's trying not to be sick. A heaviness hits his shoulders that has his chest curling inwards and you almost reaching out to him...

And just like that—all at once—he's gathered his features into a smile and beams at you.

"That's fantastic, Y/N. I'm so incredibly happy for you."

His voice sounds genuine, dripping in the baritone honey that is so warm and so him, but you know what you saw—you're sure of it—and it has your mind spinning.

Shit, shit, shit, she was right.

You down your champagne in one gulp, oblivious to the shocked faces around you as you throw it back and thump the glass harshly on the table. "I'm going for a drink. Anyone want anything?"

You barely give them time to shake their heads before you're scurrying away to the bar and ordering a cosmopolitan—strong. Thoughts whirring, you try to make sense of Taehyung’s crestfallen expression as the bartender mixes your drink. There surely must be an alternate explanation, right? Until now, Taehyung has never, ever given any indication that he has feelings for you. This must be a mistake; you must be seeing things…

But just as the bartender slides your glass across the countertop, you glance back at the table, blood running cold as you find Taehyung already looking at you. He gives you a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite make it to his eyes before turning back to listen to whatever Jimin is currently saying.

You quickly down your second drink of the night and order a third.

a/n: and we’re off! likes, reblogs, comments, asks, feedback, constructive criticism, and carrier pigeons are all appreciated! this started off as a story with all OCs, and the first drafts of some of these scenes were originally written in third person omniscient so please forgive me if the POVs are a little all over the place in this chapter. it’ll be rectified moving forward!

taglist open: just message or reply 😊

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung #bts fic #bts fanfic

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gleefullypolin · 3 months

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My top 10 ships

I haven't done this in forever, and I was bored and didn't feel like working so.....felt like an appropriate thing to do instead.

My top 10 ships!

#1 Polin - Bridgerton

Did you really anticipate anyone else being at my top spot? Friends to lovers....Swoon! They have my heart, soul, and life. I literally love a girl who knows what she wants and a man who loves the fuck out of her like no other so this is like porn and comfort. Give me everything tonight and more!

#2 Captain Swan - OUAT

If you aren't going to give me friends to lovers, I'll move over to Enemies and find my kind because holy hot out of hell, there is nothing better than Captain Hook and his smolder winning over Emma Swan. Fuck that man can burn! Years after that show ended and I can still sit in them and ruminate and catch myself on fire.

#3 Clois - Smallville

There have been a lot of different Lois and Clark's out there, but none have been Erica Durance and Tom Welling. I've never been so happy and angry with a show in all my life. I used to wish so much against Lana Lang that I am embarrassed my own behavior. But I truly loved the banter and way these two brought these characters to live. It was marvelous.

#4 Reylo - Star Wars

Being a Reylo shipper was like being sentenced to death and hell all at the same time for many years. We were bullied, tortured, shat on, and then given everything we wanted in 30 seconds only for them to fucking KILL HIM after a sacrifice. I have never both smiled, cried, and then curled into a ball in a theater so quickly that I wanted to die before. Even my family ridiculed me. It was torture but I still live there. I still ship it and you cannot make me stop!!

#5 Fitzsimmons - Agents of Shield

The brilliant science couple put through so much that even they thought they were cursed. Pushed to find each other across time and space, kidnapped into a matrix, forced to fight one another, half the couple killed, duplicate versions of themselves, but champions of the hug, star crossed and so full of love. Friends to lovers, he fell first, she fell harder and GOD I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR!

#6 Starpollo - Battlestar Galactica

A couple who knew how to tear out my heart, throw it to the ground, and then trample it with their feet to ashes. While Lee and Kara were not destined to end up together, they damn sure made it hard not to want them to find a way. They truly loved each other more than anyone they were with in the show, but guilt always found a way to fuck that up for them. God it hurt to love you two.

#7 Romanogers - Marvel Universe

Let's talk crack ships because oh how they break your heart. But it is glorious. This one is mine. I will forever love Nat and Steve and I will live in the space and time that they were on the road together living their lives without a banner. Because you can't tell me what they got up to! I refuse to believe you! But let's not talk about how it all ended because my heart still hurts and I don't like to talk about it!

#8 Finchel - Glee

Since I'm already ripping my heart out, let's go all the way with it. Finchel has always been that ship that tears my heart to shreds. I was all in from the characters to the actors and I'll never honestly get over it. I'll probably always bleed Finn and Rachel, Cory and Lea. And I'll never be able to talk about it to normal people. It was something I lived, breathed, and honestly part of me died with. So I think that's enough of that.

#9 Caryl - The Walking Dead

You can call this whatever it is, some say crack ship, I say...otherwise. It's my ship of ships for TWD. It's my coming home ship. Because that's what they are to each other. They are love. No one tell me otherwise, I live there, I love there. So do they. Deal with it.

#10 Roschel - Friends

Look, say what you want, but I stayed home on Thursday nights just to watch whether they would or wouldn't. Nothing grabbed me like these two. They were lobsters, they were on a break, I didn't give a fuck what it was, only that they had me in a chokehold and that's what I realized what shipping was. Because dammit, I wanted whatever feeling it was. And thus the 9 people above because the passion I sought. So bless it, they needed to be here.

And there you have it, my top 10 ships! Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to add your own :)

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azzibuckets · 5 months

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For the Love of the Game - [Pazzi | Part 1/10]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: part 1 of my pazzi fake dating series!! i originally meant for it to be friends to lovers but i realized enemies is easier to write so i changed it up 😶 lmk what u think!

word count: 760

masterlist | part 2

“So the rumors are true.”

Azzi spun the basketball in her hands, finding comfort in the familiar texture of the Wilson Evo NXT. Here she was, at the Werth Championship Center, in front of banners unfurling the glory of all the NCAA champions that have walked here before her - a much different scene than the small high school gym of St. John’s. With all the different colleges she’d visited in the last year, she’d had a rough time adapting to how different everything was, but the one thing that always stayed the same was this ball in her hands. The reason she was doing all this, she reminded herself.

Azzi turned around. It was almost out of a movie, seeing the three girls that stood facing her. On the left, she recognized as Aaliyah Edwards. Her hair was intertwined in her signature yellow and purple braids, and there was a friendly smile on her face. On the right, Nika Muhl. The Croation phenom with long, straight brunette hair tied up in a ponytail, a neutral expression on her face. And in the middle-

Oh boy. In the middle, there was Paige. Good ol’ Paige Bueckers. Her light blonde hair hung loose, framing her face. Her eyebrows were turned down, her lips pressed into a straight line. Talk about unfriendly.

Azzi swallowed. “Hey,” she spoke uncertainly.

Aaliyah stepped forward, and before Azzi knew it, she was being wrapped up in a bear hug by the 6’3” power forward. “Welcome to UConn!” Aaliyah grinned. “I’m Aaliyah, but all my friends call me Lili.”

Azzi awkwardly patted Aaliyah on the back, her gaze falling to the other two after she stepped back.

“I’m Nika.” The brunette offered Azzi her hand instead of swooping in for a hug like Aaliyah did, but she suddenly smiled warmly, and Azzi felt at ease. “Nika Muhl.”

“Nice to meet all of you. I’m Azzi.”

“We know,” Paige responded curtly, a frosty look in her eyes. Nika nudged Paige, probably reminding her to be nice, and Paige heaved a sigh before sticking out a limp hand. “Bueckers. But you know that.”

Aaliyah rolled her eyes. “God, Paige, don’t be so cocky.”

“I’m not!” The blonde quickly defended. “Azzi and I go way back. She knows me.” She smiled at Azzi then, but it was sharp and wolfish, nothing alike Nika’s welcoming beam from earlier. Azzi preferred Paige’s resting bitch face.

Azzi twirled the basketball she was holding on her finger. “Yep,” she responded dryly. “Paige and I played together for a couple of years. USA basketball.”

Nika’s eyes lit up. “That’s so cool! So you already have a friend here. Nice.” She looked between the two of them with a big smile on her face.

“Not really,” Paige scoffed. This time it was Aaliyah who elbowed her, and Paige winced. “Give us a second, will ya?” Aaliyah smiled brightly at Azzi before she aggressively grabbed Paige’s elbow and pulled her a few steps back.

“What are you doing?” Azzi heard Nika hissed. They were being very conspicuous, especially because they were the only ones in the gym and the three sophomores had retreated literally only two steps back. Azzi could hear every single word they were saying without even having to strain her ears. But apparently they thought they were being sneaky, so Azzi could only awkwardly stand there and listen to them. She now regretted asking to stay in the facility when Geno had finished showing her around. All she’s wanted to do was shoot some hoops in her new home, familiarize herself with the gym before practices officially started, and now she was stuck here dealing with the bitchiness of Paige Bueckers, a girl who was constantly grating on her nerves.

“She’s not visiting,” Aaliyah added on. “She literally committed, so I don’t know why you’re trying to scare her away. She’s on the team now.”

“What do you even have against her?” Nikka questioned.

There was silence for a second, before Paige groaned. “Nothing. Just some tension from a few years ago, I guess.”

Tension that you caused, Azzi thought to herself. When she’d first met the blonde, she’d been fine with her, not particularly liking or disliking her. But after Paige had started being hostile around her, Azzi started to reciprocate the same negative feelings, resulting in the tensions that Paige was speaking of.

The girls returned. Paige’s face was now contorted into an unnatural, almost creepy smile. Azzi was sure Aaliyah had forced Paige to smile and this was the best the blonde could come up with.

“Welcome to UConn!” Paige said, her words dripping with faux excitement and peppiness. She glanced at Nika, who prodded her on with an encouraging smile, as if Paige was a kid that was being forced to apologize to their classmate whose blocks she’d knocked over. Paige motioned for the ball, and Azzi reluctantly tossed it over to her. She examined it, then spun it on her finger, copying what Azzi did earlier. “UConn.” She gestured at the banners, at the gleaming trophies lining the walls. “The basketball capital of the world.”

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi #uconn #uconnwbb #wbb #wlw #fake dating #enemies to lovers #wcbb #angst

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mybworlds · 6 months

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CHAPTER 10

status: ongoing

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: your life is full of 'must'. You live with your overprotective mother who controls every aspect of your life. You have a dream, to write romance novels, but love - real love - you haven't found yet. Your mother has even decided what you must do in your free time: play music. One day, however, when you go to your music teacher's house, you will have an unexpected encounter and from that day on things change…

Masterlist

rating: 18+ explicit (minors, DNI)

Before to start... Thank you for your support, for your likes and reblog, thank you, thank you, thank you ❤️If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging and leaving comments 🫶 if you don't like it don't be rude and keep going. 😉 Please remember English is not my first language, so please be merciful! 🙏

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner and thanks @saradika-graphics for the divider.

Joel shortly after invites you to close your eyes and you obey by covering your eyes with your hands, when you feel his bed fold under his weight and he tells you that you can open your eyes, you see in front of you in his hands a brand new computer with a small rosette on it.

You widen your eyes and in a whisper you say, "Joel, but…today is not my birthday…I…I…don't…" you are totally speechless, you stare at that appliance as if it is one of the most precious things you have ever seen, then you stare at the man sitting next to you who knows how to warm your heart even with these seemingly trivial gifts, but not for you.

"Sssh, it doesn't matter 's not your birthday," he says putting the computer on the cover "you told me you had a computer and I thought you didn't have it anymore to talk about it in the past and then I know you want to write. And so I thought…" you don't let him complete the speech because you throw your arms around his neck feeling your eyes pinch with joy.

"Oh, Joel. I…" you don't know what to say, this gift is totally unexpected. You hide your face in the crook of his neck for a few seconds as he lays his hand on the nape of your neck in a sweet gesture, then you look at him, "Thank you-- I don't know what to say. But, how…when…?"

He smiles lowering his gaze for a moment "Remember when I wrote ya I was still in the other city and wouldn't finish work until 5?" you nod "Well, actually I was already here, but I was deciding which model to buy. Actually I know nothing 'bout computers and I hope I got ya a good model."

"Oh, Joel," you squeak, "you know I can't take it home with me, though," you remind him regretfully.

He shrugs his shoulders, "Leave it here, he'll be our little secret."

Thankfully it stopped snowing, slowly snow and cold are giving way to sunshine and beautiful days. It warms your heart to feel nature reborn and blooming again. Although there is a constant gray cloud over your head: your mother and her behavior. Indeed, going back to your home, expecting to be the same as before, acting the same as before, praying with your mother before meals and before bedtime causes cramps in your stomach. You are no longer the little girl who used to submit to your mother's will to please her, that obedient little girl who did and said whatever her mother wanted is no longer there. Of course, you have respect for her and her role, but many things you no longer tolerate or want to do: it's unbearable. Before for you to do everything she told you seemed almost right, almost normal, today for example having her drive you to work and feel her look at you until she sees that you are inside, has become too much. You'd like to let her know that it's probably time for her to let you fly away, but you already know what her response will be: honey sooner or later you will, but as long as you are under my roof that will not happen. Maybe it would be time to think about getting away, leaving your home, but to go where? It's true you work, but you don't earn that much, sure you put some money aside, but you could never afford rent, not yet. Also because you haven't worked for many months. You could go to your friends, but for how long? You don't want to be a burden to either sweet Kristen or feisty Gina or that meddlesome Helen, you couldn't stand the look in their eyes of someone who can't wait to have their freedom back.

"Excuse me can I have this coffee!" a customer blurts out rolling his eyes and shaking his head "These kids today!" he adds in an exasperated tone.

"Yes." you say. Today, all these thoughts only make you go in slow motion or get your order wrong.

The customer finally leaves. It's almost 1 p.m. therefore not many people come anymore, and so you have the luxury of sitting mournfully on one of the bar stools. You look at the incoming e-mails, hoping to find the e-mail sent for that job as an assistant librarian, but there is nothing but e-mails containing advertisements or requests for shipments of supposed packages. You block the phone.

Joel is out of town again, apparently there is some new construction to be completed, he told you about this other job that will take him out for about three weeks, then come back and then leave again. He has told you he will be back a few days just for you, and that can only please you. You are not a couple it's true, but he makes you feel as important as if you were his other half and you like the idea of being someone's other half, the idea of being his other half makes your heart beat fast for joy. Since he showed you how to touch yourself, you do it often. When your mother is away of course, you tremble at the idea that she might find you with a hand in your folds pleasuring yourself and moaning the name of a man she knows is your music teacher only. You never would have believed that day almost three months ago, when you first met each other on Tommy's doorstep, that he would become so important, that slowly he would become a fixed thought in your days. You love him, very much. That's for sure. If you thought so that day in his parents' cabin, today you are certain. You don't want and cannot do without him. At the same time, however, you feel guilty toward Jack; it's true you are not often seeing each other, but you call each other every night and often write to each other. You are very confused about what you should do and how you should behave toward both of them, but you know that sooner or later you will have to choose.

Jack, that day, gives you a surprise and picks you up outside at the bar. He greets you with a bouquet of red roses and a big smile. He kisses you tenderly on the lips and then wraps his arm around your shoulders.

"How was your day?" he asks you.

"Fine." you reply, smiling at him, "And yours? Still in the library?"

"Yes, but now I've come to pick you up to take you out to dinner," he replies, giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose.

You look at him blinking, looking puzzled. It's a gesture Joel always makes. You swallow.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asks you, noticing your expression.

"N - no, sorry … it's just that I'm very tired. I hope this place is not too far away!" you exclaim, changing the subject by smiling at him.

He barely squeezes his hand on your shoulder "No, it's a block away. All calculated for my princess."

You smile at him. He also gives you nicknames. Can life be even more unfair?

"Are you okay?" he asks once you get into the car, "You look a little absent-minded. If you don't want, we can go to my place or yours, order a pizza, lie down on the couch, and if you want I can give you a massage." he proposes.

You look at him, "You are so sweet. No, dinner is fine," you say rejecting his proposal unable not to feel guilty. He's so sweet, he's attentive, he loves you, he's handsome, but you never went further with him, you never wanted to see him in secluded places. He'd like to, in fact he pushes to see you at his home too, but you always declined. You don't want to.

"Do you know how many exams are now left until the end of my studies?" he asks you, starting the engine and moving away from there.

"No."

"Only six. Do you understand? S i x. Six!" he exclaims happily, the smile lighting up his face making it even more beautiful.

You can't help but smile, "I'm so happy for you."

Jack has a reservation at a very nice, upscale little place, you've heard great things about it from some of the customers at the bar, but until that moment you had never been there. At the entrance there's a very small flight of stairs with tanks-aquariums filled with fish, lobsters and crabs on either side. A little later two waiters greet you with a big smile as they escort you to your table, which is in a dimly lit room. You take a seat and then enthusiastically look around: all the tables have two seats, there is a central sea-colored blue runner, soft pillows with two starfish on each chair alternating with others that are completely blue and still others with little drawings of seahorses on them.

"It's beautiful here," you say looking at him dreamily.

"For my princess this and more," he replies, smiling at you.

You smile and lower your gaze.

"Please." a young waitress says bringing you menus.

You thank her and then she leaves. You decide to get a seafood appetizer and an entrée.

"You know, Jack maybe there's something about me you don't know," you tell him.

"Tell me." he replies in curiosity, laying his phone down next to his plate.

"I like to write." you decide to confess to him hoping he understands how important it is to you.

He smiles "To do what?"

"What do you mean?" you ask him wrinkling your forehead.

"Why do you write? What do you plan to do with it?"

You don't know what to answer suddenly, you have all the words and reasons on the tip of your tongue, but in this moment everything freezes inside you. You seem to hear your mother's words again when she found out that you had enrolled in a writing class and had your own computer on which to write your stories.

"Don't get me wrong, it's great to write, but if you don't take course after course after course, if you don't have specific preparation," he says waving his hands as he speaks, "you're just wasting your eyesight and risking carpal tunnel before you're 35, honey." he concludes with an annoyed smirk.

He has offended you. You feel offended. You look down feeling your eyes tingle, suddenly wanting to run away and tell him to go to hell, not to say those words to you.

"Think about serious things, for example you told me you are waiting for an e-mail as an assistant librarian, now that's an important thing. So you quit that degrading job of yours as a bartender." he comments using an abrasive tone that hurts you.

"That degrading job, as you call it, is who I am, it's part of me." you say using a firm tone even though you feel deeply hurt "Frankly, I can't understand how you can be sweet and then be such a jerk at other times." you add, only then realizing that you're trembling.

"Come on, princess, I'm only talking like this because I know you can have so much more and you deserve better," he says, spreading his arms wide as if to say he wasn't saying anything bad after all.

"Jack, you are studying psychology." you retort feeling your cheeks on fire "Yet you are saying so many horrible things."

"But what's my study got to do with it now?" he asks you with an annoyed air "If you want to quit your bartending job fine, otherwise it's okay. I'm not imposing anything on you, that's all right." he says looking at you almost offended "Excuse me bring us the bill!" he adds turning to a waiter.

You don't talk anymore and honestly better that way. You have nothing more to say to each other. He leaves you in front of the house, you get out of the car without saying goodbye without looking at him and leaving the flowers in his car.

You are mad about what he said to you, at the tone he used, almost as if he from his seat could not bear to see the girl he hangs out with dedicated in doing such a normal job or devoted to activities he says are so unsuitable for you.

"I'm home," you say as you enter and slip off your shoes. When you are in the kitchen, you find a small post-it note "Out with some friends, see you at 11:30."

You drop into a kitchen chair looking despondent, totally despondent. The more time passes, the more you notice the differences with Jack, you close your eyes and think you were a fool for believing he wanted you despite your social, cultural disparity. It saves your phone from a total meltdown. It's Joel.

"Hey babe, 's me," his tone of voice is firm, confident, but happy.

"Hi." you say without any enthusiasm.

"Did something happen?" he asks you, immediately hearing the tone of your voice cracked.

"No, it's okay." you strive to maintain a normal tone of voice.

"Doesn't sound like that to me." he replies.

"Don't worry." you say again, but this time your voice trembles a little and you know that you haven't convinced him and that this time - unlike other times - he will insist.

"Will ya tell me what's going on?" he insists.

"Oh, Joel…" you tell him everything and finally you break down, you never wanted to confide this deep discomfort of yours to him over the phone, but you can't take it anymore just cashing in, you can't take it anymore. It's not fair for you to feel this way. You know he can't do anything given the distance, but you wanted to talk to someone who would really listen to you and not judge you like everyone else does.

"If I could, I would come and get ya right away." he says as you try to control your breathing and strain to control your voice so that you can be heard and understood on the phone "Look, I'll do my best to come to ya in two days, okay?" his tone of voice is concerned and you are really sorry about that. You want to be strong, don't make him worry, but you're exploding.

No, you don't have to do this for me, you want to tell him, but you find yourself saying, "Yes, please, Joel, I feel like everything is falling apart and the only good thing I have is you," you confess to him.

You hear him sigh heavily, "Please don't say that. Listen to my voice, okay, honey?"

"Yes."

"Breathe deeply with me. Inhale and exhale, inhale and exhale." he tells you, you swallow slowly feeling your heartbeat slow down to its normal beat "Now go to the bathroom and rinse your face, I'll stay with ya." he says trying to calm you down.

You do as he told you by feeling guilty for having this breakdown with Joel. Not because it's him, but because for him you would wanted to be different, a grown-up and instead you proved yourself immature and foolish once again.

"What's up, baby?" he asks you after a few minutes of total silence from both of you "I'm sorry ya have to go through this alone." he continues "Why don't ya vent to those friends of yours, maybe they can give ya some advices." he adds.

"That's better now, Joel. You don't have to. I already know what they'd say to me." you say, opening the window facing the street a bit "They'd say stop letting your mother demean you and leave Jack."

"If they make ya feel that way…" he comments "Forgive me, I know your mother is important to ya however I think there have to be limits. She can't make ya feel that way, not at the age of 30! About that other guy… well, I don't know what ya see in him…" he sighs heavily "No, forget 'bout it, I didn't say anything. I'm just sorry you're feeling so sorry for someone who doesn't deserve your torment." he adds.

"I wish you were here now," you tell him deglutinating feeling suddenly pathetic.

"Forty-eight hours and I'll be there, promise." he replies.

"Joel, if it's a problem for you though, I don't want to be a burden or put you in trouble!" you exclaim, your tone of voice slowly becoming less shaky and calmer.

"Babe," he interrupts you, "don't say that. For me to see ya is just a joy. I wish I could be there with ya and hold ya close to me." his deep tone of voice conveys confidence, tranquility.

"Joel, I…" you breathe heavily "sorry, maybe I shouldn't have thrown my fears, my anguish at you, but you are the only one who listens to me, who really cares for me, who doesn't judge me and indeed sometimes even speaks against his best interest." you say going to your room and throwing yourself on the bed, you sigh "I just wish I could be worthy of you. To be strong and…"

"Worthy of me? Hey, hey, babe, ya don't have to think about these things at all. I told ya once before, you only hurt yourself." you hear him sigh "I thought about ya today." he adds "A lot. My mind was somewhere else."

You smile with your eyes closed. "And what were you thinking 'bout me?"

"I was thinking about your eyes, your incredible sweetness despite the fact that life has been so hard on you. I admire ya." you hear him smile, or so it seems from his tone of voice.

"Really?" hearing Joel's opinion of you makes you feel special and it's the first time in the span of a day when someone's words make you feel good.

"Yes. God, how I wish I could be with ya there in that bed and hold you to my chest! That'd be two of us being peaceful." he confesses to you in a slightly cracked tone of voice.

"Why? What's going on?" you ask him wrinkling your forehead and sitting in the middle of the bed.

"Nothing." he only replies, but his tone of voice is no nothing. You know him a little by now, though he stubbornly keeps everything to himself. It's like he has put up a wall so thick between him and the world that talking about it seems impossible for him. You wish you could figure out what it is, whether there is a way to break it down, whether it has something to do with his daughter or his wife or both!

"Joel, please talk to me," you beg him, you hate not being able to help those who help you, you hate not knowing how. Joel has always been there for you, held you, reassured you, helped you come out of that subservient state you were living in, is helping you understand who you are. You'd like to do the same for him.

"Babe, don't distress yourself, just bad thoughts," he tells you.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" you invite him.

"No." he replies dryly, "Sorry. Just used to keeping it all inside. 'S not because of ya, honey." he adds "I trust ya, but I can't talk about it."

You nod, unable, however, to help but feel disappointed at this persistent closure on his part. On the one hand, however, you tell yourself that he probably just needs time. You wonder again how much he has had to suffer for being so secretive, you wonder how terrible his experience has been.

"Please don't be hurt," he adds, not hearing your response.

"Yes, yes, of course. Don't worry." you say quickly, maybe too much, who knows maybe he sensed that everything is not all right as you just told him, but you can't help it.

"Will I see ya in two days?" he asks you in an uncertain tone, as if his lack of openness to you will prejudice your next meeting.

"Sure." you answer him, "I look forward to seeing you." you add, reassuring him immediately.

The next evening at dinner, your mother peers at you for a long time, you look at her, but say nothing. You eat in silence.

When you clear the table and wash the dishes, your mother finally speaks. "Mrs. Bixby stopped me this morning to give me my mail and she also told me something interesting," your mother begins, using a strange tone.

You look at her, "Such as?"

"She told me she saw you in an SUV with some…strange guy."

You swallow, but without showing your face.

Mrs. Bixby is the usual busybody who as soon as she notices something different or peculiar she has to immediately report it. In fact, she must unfortunately have seen you with Joel and immediately told your mother about it.

"What kind?" you ask, playing dumb.

"A man, an adult. Definitely older than you." she is silent for a moment "You have nothing to tell me? You know, I don't want you getting into strangers' cars or hanging out with guys that much older than you."

You shrug your shoulders, "Mom, I'm not dating anyone, don't worry."

Lie, but what choice do you have?

Since your mother started listening to that man's words during her prayer groups, she left that man with whom she was having an affair, she goes to confession every day and demands you do the same. You discussed this point at length as well, but your mother became rigid on this position and won't listen to reason. Sometimes you accommodate her, but other times you respond with categorical no's that lead to more arguments between you.

"Then why did Mrs. Bixby tell me you two seemed very close?" your mother insists.

Your stomach contracts in a painful grip, "Don't know," you only reply.

"Missy, look me in the eye," your mother says in a firm tone.

You turn around and she stands there in the doorway with her hands on her hips, her icy gaze fixed on you. When she does that, it scares you.

"Tell me the truth," she insists again.

"I see no one," you reply.

"I don't believe you, child," she says in an icy tone.

You shrug your shoulders, "I can't help with," you dare to say.

"Who was the man you hugged in front of our front door?" she asks you. Shit, but she wasn't there, but how…?

Your expression must have changed because your mother's expression changes as well, she reaches over and grabs you by your wrist with such violence that you are surprised and let a plate slip from your hands that crashes at your feet, she yanks you with a force you didn't even think she had and starts insulting you and giving you epithets you didn't even think she knew or had ever dared to address to you, she drags you to your room and then locks you in.

"MOM?! MOM?! MOM OPEN!" you scream, clapping your palms against the door, your mother no longer responding. You stand there, your face pressed against the door and your eyes filled with tears.

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mrworldwideshoulders · 2 years

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can’t take my eyes off of you || reader x kth

Pairing: reader x KTH Word count: 5.1k Rating: M / R (18+) Genre: one night stand, smut, pinch of fluff Summary: It was supposed to be a girls’ night out. So what are you doing here by yourself, and why has the guy across the bar set his smoldering gaze on you of all people? Inspired by Runaway Baby - Bruno Mars. Warnings: alcohol consumption, penetrative sex (protected of course), orgasms, big dicc!tae (my god), reader is a blushing mess (and so am I jfc) A/N: this took forever for some reason (even though it was totally supposed to come out sooner T_T) but it’s finally here (and just in time)! first attempt at real smut so this is probably a mess but enjoy anyway >.< as always beta'd and bannered by the amazing april (@onmypillow-onmytable). thx! ly - robyn P.S. I do not own BTS or their likenesses, nor do I own the music of Bruno Mars (lol), they simply inspire me.

inspo playlist here

part of the doo-wops, hooligans, and unorthodox magic collection (masterlist)

“Should we take this somewhere more…private?” That deep, velvety-smooth voice again, a whisper that brushes lightly against your ear.

You awaken with a start, eyes roving around, attempting to make sense of your surroundings. That is definitely not the ceiling of your apartment above you. Everything is unfamiliar: everything from the sheets to the art on the walls to the handsome stranger in bed next to you. He’s asleep, a flop of messy hair sweeping over his delicate, almond-shaped eyes. His arms wrap around you, as if he’s hugging a pillow to his chest – as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear. You only have to look at him to remember that it was his voice in your head. Who is he? And how did you get here? Memories of what must have happened last night flood into your brain, though somewhat obscured by the fog that comes with heavy drinking and other bad decisions.

The bar. You remember getting to the bar. What happened afterwards? You were supposed to meet your best friend Hyejin, but she cancelled on you at the last minute, something about how her younger brother was visiting on surprise leave from the military. "I'm sorry, y/n!" she'd wailed into the phone. "I had no idea Jun was going to pull something like this. I was literally walking out the door when he showed up, and he's only in the city this weekend, so our parents will kill me if I don't take him out to dinner at least once."

You sigh, only slightly annoyed. "It's fine, Hyejin. He's your brother. I understand."

"Not that I don't appreciate the thought, but aish, I could just kill him sometimes. Will you be all right by yourself?"

You glance around the bar, which is starting to get noisier as more people fill in. "I'll be fine. I'll probably just have one drink and then go home. Since I’m already here."

Hyejin blows you a raspberry. "Boring! And we were going to get you laid tonight, too. Finally break that dry spell of yours. All because my brother decides he just has to surprise me this weekend."

"Jin!" you hiss, cheeks flaming. You’ve never been the casual hookup-one night stand type, and she knows that. Why is she so hellbent on getting you laid?

"It's true!" she insists. "It’s been months since you’ve gotten any. Y/n, please promise me that you won't just have one drink and go home. Have two drinks. Three, even. Give excitement a chance to unfold. Maybe get yourself something – or someone – special?" You can almost picture her waggling her eyebrows on the other end of the phone.

You roll your eyes. “I’m hanging up on you.”

“Okay, okay. Promise you’ll tell me all the gory details at lunch tomorrow?”

“I doubt they will be in any way gory or interesting, but fine. I’m really hanging up on you now, Jin. Have fun with your brother.”

“Be safe, y/n. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and don’t forget to use protection!” You can hear the mischievous grin in her voice.

You let out a disgusted groan, and hang up without another word, sighing as you stare down into your nearly empty cosmopolitan. Hyejin is right. It's been what, almost six months since you found your boyfriend in your bed with another woman? You still miss the sheets you’d had to throw out after you kicked him out of your apartment. The whole experience was enough to put you off dating permanently – but you can’t deny you have your own needs. You’re a grown woman, after all, and there’s only so much your vibrator can do for you. You finish off the last of your cocktail and order another, fully intending to leave once it’s gone. There will be other nights, and other men, and you’d much rather do this when Hyejin is around to keep you from embarrassing yourself too much.

The bartender sets a fresh glass down in front of you. “Compliments of the gentleman over there.” He nods toward the end of the bar, where what may very well be the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on is sitting. Dark hair falls in a swoop over one eye, and his shirtsleeves are rolled up to reveal a set of toned forearms. An expensive-looking watch rests on one wrist, completing the full image. He nods at you, winks, and raises his glass of red wine. You raise your own in return.

First and last time that’ll ever happen, you think to yourself, sipping on your drink. The clamor of the bar builds, and you sit there alone, not quite sure what to do with yourself. You tug at the hemline of your dress: short, spaghetti strapped, uncomfortable, thinking of the sweatpants you’re going to change into immediately upon returning home, the shows from this week that you need to catch up on, and then maybe you’ll fall into bed at a reasonable hour, waking up just early enough to squeeze in a workout and a shower before you have to meet Hyejin for lunch and tell her all of the non-details of your non-adventurous evening. Boring, routine, and comfortable. A glance tells you the man at the end of the bar is still staring at you. You try to ignore him, but his eyes are still laser-focused on you. You shift uncomfortably.

Just who does this guy think he is?

You down the last of your cosmo and vacate your stool, making sure not to wobble in your heels as you march toward him. He watches you approach with what seems to be great interest. "You," you demand, pointing a finger at him. "Why do you keep staring at me?"

He holds your gaze, almost defiantly. He doesn’t even flinch at your accusing finger. "I like looking at pretty things," he says, his mouth quirking up at the corners in a smirk. "Can you blame me?"

You're not sure whether to feel flattered or creeped out, but your mouth speaks for you before you can even think about it. "What, so I'm a thing now?"

"Is that so bad?" he questions. "To be the object of someone's admiration?" His eyes darken as they look you up and down.

You feel bare. Exposed. Like he's seen something about you that you've never even seen yourself. “What if I don’t want to be an object?” you challenge. ”What then?”

“Hm. I don’t know,” he says. He seems amused. “I’m sure we could figure something else out.”

“Who are you, anyway?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

"I'm Taehyung." The name rolls off his tongue. "But you can call me Tae. Yours?"

You hesitate. "Buy me another drink and maybe I'll tell you," you say finally.

Taehyung smiles. Challenge accepted. He motions the bartender over, who looks between both of you questioningly. "You heard her," he says. "Whatever she's having."

You slide onto the barstool next to him, and the bartender sets another cocktail in front of you. "So," you start. "Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to stare at people?"

"They have. It's never stopped me before, though." Taehyung takes a sip of his wine. “You still haven’t told me your name, by the way.”

“Y/n,” you say after a momentary pause, debating whether or not you should give him a fake one. “It’s y/n.”

“Y/n,” he repeats. Your name sounds different when he says it. “A pleasure.”

Your cheeks warm, though you’re not sure if it’s the liquor or his gaze. "What brings you out by yourself tonight, then?" you ask. “Surely someone like you has plenty of places he could be on a Friday night, instead of sitting by himself in a bar, staring at unsuspecting women.” Handsome. Seemingly well-rounded. Fairly charming.

"Hmm,” he muses. “I’m an artist of sorts, but I’m feeling a little…blocked at the moment, so I guess you could say I'm looking for inspiration."

“You’re an artist?” you say. “I never would have expected that.” A closer glance at his hands reveals a few stray flecks of paint around his nails.

“I get that a lot.” He chuckles. “I guess I don’t really look the part, do I?” The corners of his eyes crinkle with the boxy smile that emerges from his laugh.

“Well,” you say, resting your chin on your palm. “Mr. Artiste. How’s the search for inspiration going?”

"Between you and me," he says, turning to you, one elbow leaned against the bar, "I'd say it's looking fairly promising. But…” Taehyung looks you straight in the eyes. “I could ask the same of you. Y/n, what’s a beautiful woman like yourself doing alone at the bar on a night like this?”

“You flatter me.”

“It’s true.” He shrugs. "Anyone can see that you're positively captivating."

Your ex never would have told you anything like that, not in the months before things ended. Your ears tingle. "At least someone thinks so."

“Why do you say that?” he asks.

“Where do I start?” You stare down into your glass, running a finger around the rim. You shake your head. “Ah, don’t listen to me. I don’t want to bore you with complaining about my asshole ex.”

“Whoever he is, or was,” says Taehyung, gently turning your head to look at him, “it’s his loss. He has no idea what he’s missing out on.”

"You just met me five minutes ago," you say. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Well," he says, the corner of his mouth twitching, "I get the feeling I'm about to find out."

Oh my god. Oh. My. God. You take a deep breath in an attempt to keep yourself from panicking. What did you do last night? What are you supposed to do now? Your memories are still blurry, but one thing is for certain: you’ve got to get out of here before he notices you’re gone. Hoping he doesn’t wake up, you extricate yourself gingerly from his grip and edge gently to the side of the bed, holding one of the blankets to your chest while you scan the floor for your clothes. As you’re about to stand up, a hand suddenly locks around your wrist in a firm grasp. You look over your shoulder. Taehyung’s eyes are open now, his gaze fixed on you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demands. His voice stops you in your tracks. Even half-asleep he sounds like the type of person who’s used to getting what he wants. "Did you think I wouldn't notice you trying to disappear on me?"

“I was just…” You clear your throat. Your cheeks burn. What exactly are you planning on telling him? Leaving? Looking for the bathroom? Going on a coffee run and never coming back? You can’t make yourself finish the sentence. It's as if his gaze has caused your brain to short-circuit.

Taehyung sits up, the bedsheet draped tantalizingly low across his hips, the firm planes of his lower abdomen taking your mind somewhere it shouldn’t. “Don’t tell me you’re getting shy on me now.” He dips his head at the blanket covering your breasts. “Especially not after everything you begged me to do to you last night.” He smirks.

Your face flames even hotter. “Um – I…I don’t —”

“You don’t remember?” he says. “Hm. And what should we do about that?” An arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back toward him. “Should I give you a refresher?” he whispers into your ear. “I’m ready whenever.”

“I can tell,” you say breathlessly. You can feel him pressing against you – every inch of him.

Taehyung kisses you, just behind your ear, letting his teeth graze the outside of it, planting a trail of blooming kisses down your neck and across your shoulder. “Anything?” His voice is low and dark, filled with lust. “Or should I continue?”

“It’s coming back to me,” you exhale. Don’t stop. Please.

The brick wall outside scrapes against your shoulder blades, the cold night air making you shiver slightly. His lips are on yours, on your neck, trailing down across your bare collarbone, each one burning more than the next until you’re completely aflame. The front of his shirt is clenched in your fists, the only thing keeping you from sliding down to the pavement. But he pulls away, and you let out a frustrated huff. A crowd of people leaving the bar walks past, chattering loudly, and Taehyung’s hand is suddenly on the wall next to your head, his arm out to shield you from anyone’s view. He’s biting his lower lip, dark eyes glinting. “You have no idea how much I want to just take you right here, right up against this wall.”

“So do it then,” you breathe. "Take me. Fuck me right here in this alley.” You don’t know what you’re saying. All you know is that you want his hands back on you, right now, so you guide them toward your waist.

“So eager.” He smiles. “But not here. I want to be the only one who hears you scream tonight.” Taehyung’s voice lowers to a whisper as he leans in. “Should we take this somewhere more…private?” He tilts your chin up to look him in the eye. “Last chance to say no.”

“Is there a reason I should?” You look up at him through your lashes.

“Not in my opinion.” Taehyung smirks. “So what’s it going to be?”

You're barely inside the door of his apartment before his hands are on you again, fumbling for the zipper of your dress, eventually giving up and yanking the whole thing over your head. "Hey, be careful," you giggle between kisses, working at unbuttoning his shirt. "That dress was expensive."

"I'll buy you a new one," he says, flinging it away so you don't see where it lands, nimble fingers moving to unhook your bra, an uncomfortable strapless push-up you only ever wear to make your tits look good. “I’ll buy you ten new ones." He tosses the bra over his shoulder as well. "God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He hoists you up, palming your ass with those massive hands of his, letting your legs wrap around his waist. You buck against him, needing the friction to lessen the ache between your legs. “Fuck, y/n,” he growls. “I can’t control myself around you.”

“I don’t care,” you say, gasping as he presses you up against the wall. “I don’t fucking care.” You’re moving again, down a hall to another room. The bedroom.

Taehyung tosses you down roughly on the bed. He looms over you, his eyes nearly black with desire. “Stunning,” he says. “Absolutely stunning. Now that I’ve got you all to myself…I might never let you go. I’m going to ruin you, y/n.” He snaps the waistband of your underwear. “Are you all right with that?”

“Why are you still talking?” You pull him down toward you and kiss him, pushing the unbuttoned shirt all the way off his shoulders. “Go ahead and do it already. Ruin me. I’m all yours.”

"That's right," he says, dropping another kiss on your lips. "You're all mine, baby. Just for me.” His lips trail down, a waterfall of kisses running through the valley between your breasts, down your stomach, stopping just above your hips, where he deftly slides off your underwear and tosses them aside. “Are you ready?”

You nod wordlessly. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” He’s gorgeous, standing there in the moonlight. He leans over you, reaching for something in the bedside table, enveloping you in his scent: sandalwood and bergamot, hints of pine. You hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper.

“Wait.” You stop him before he can put it on. “Let me. Please, Tae. I want to.”

“You want to touch me?” Taehyung smirks. “Even better.” He hands you the unwrapped condom. “I’ll let you do the honors.”

You draw in a breath and roll the condom up his cock: thick, heavy, already wet with precum. It’s bigger than you imagined, especially in your hands – in fact, massive might be a better word for it.

He groans as you move slowly up the shaft. “Y/n…”

“What?” you tease. “Something wrong?”

“It’s not every day I have your pretty little hands wrapped around my cock.” He grins. “I’m just enjoying the ride.”

"Oh, these hands?" you ask innocently, running a finger down his length.

"Fuck," he exhales. He leans down, bringing his face inches away from yours. “You trying to kill me?” God, this man knows how to use his mouth. And his fingers. He traces one long index finger down your drenched center, teasing at your entrance. “So wet for me already,” Taehyung marvels. “It won’t be long now.”

“Tae…” you whine, biting your lower lip.

“Say please.”

You inhale sharply. “Please.”

“Good girl.” He slips another finger inside you, circling your clit. It’s so swollen and sensitive he barely has to touch it before you let out a soft moan. "Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me what you need."

"I need you," you gasp. "Need you inside me. Right now."

Taehyung gently touches your face. “Not yet, baby,” he coaxes. “Wait for me. Just a little while longer.” He settles himself between your legs, the tip of his cock pressing against your core. You close your eyes, sucking in your bottom lip, gasping slightly as he slips inside, feeling yourself stretching to accommodate him, shifting your pelvis to take on even more. You feel full. Warm. Good. It feels good.

“Fuck,” you breathe. He’s huge.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Can I move?”

You nod earnestly. “Move, Tae. For the love of god, fucking move.”

He rocks into you, slowly at first, then faster. “God, you feel amazing. How is it possible that you’re so amazing?”

“Show me,” you demand. “Show me how good I make you feel.”

“Whatever you want, baby. I’ll give it to you.”

“Harder,” you pant. “I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t see straight. I want to see stars. Constellations. The whole damn solar system.”

“Happy to oblige.” Taehyung smiles. His thrusts intensify, leaving you teetering on the edge, fists clenching the sheets underneath you. You cry out, the pressure of your impending orgasm nearly too much to bear. He touches your cheek. “Wait for me,” he commands. “Almost there. Almost.”

“I can’t,” you whimper. “I’m going to –”

He silences you by touching a finger to your lips. “Shh,” he whispers.

That moment seems to last forever, building, building – until finally, the dam bursts. Pure, white hot adrenaline, the passion, the desire, all setting off fireworks behind your eyes. Your nails dig into his back as you hang on, seemingly for dear life. He comes undone with a groan, spilling himself inside of you as the force of your climax hits you like a tidal wave.

He collapses onto the mattress, panting slightly, and presses a kiss to the side of your forehead. “Fuck. That was…”

“Really something,” you finish. Your heart is still racing.

“You could say that.” Taehyung chuckles.

“I haven’t come that hard since…ever.”

“Never?” He turns his head to look at you, one eyebrow raised.

You think back. “Maybe once. But it’s been a really long time.”

“So definitely better than your ex?” he teases. “I’ll take it.”

“That’s it? You’re easily satisfied.”

His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you toward him. “No. I’m not. Not usually. So you’d better be careful or…”

“Or what?”

Taehyung smiles, eyes closed, almost half asleep already. “Hmm.” He hums gently. “I just might fall in love with you.”

“So,” he says, his low voice bringing you back to the present. “Where were you running off to in such a hurry just now?”

“Uh…” What was it you were about to do? You were looking for something. Clothes. You were looking for your clothes. “My dress. I need my dress.”

“Oh, that,” Taehyung says dismissively. “I think we left it somewhere near the kitchen. Along with, well…” He peers around at your face, grinning. “Everything else.” He’s still pressed up against you.

Your senses come rushing back, and you pull away. “Look,” you babble. “I don’t normally do this kind of thing, and last night was…great, but —”

“I’d like to think it was more than just great,” he shrugs. “Phenomenal. Earth-shattering. Damn near amazing. But call it what you like.”

“I’ve really got to go,” you blurt. “I have an…engagement.” Lunch. With Hyejin. Right. What time is it, anyway?

“Ah.” If he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it. “Of course. Don’t let me stop you.” Taehyung cocks an eyebrow wolfishly. “Unless you’d like me to.”

"Uh, no. That’s all right." How does he do that? How does he know how to fluster you with a single look? You keep the blanket wrapped around you while you pad into the kitchen, where you find your dress in a mound on the floor. Wrinkled. Of course. You sigh and pick it up. The daylight allows you a better look at the rest of his apartment, one that you didn't get the night before. The front room is high-ceilinged, exposed brick and tall windows overlooking the street below. Your eyes linger on the canvases leaned up against one wall, the easel with the cloth-covered painting on top of it. Or you would assume there's a painting under there; you can't exactly see it, but it would only make sense. "So he is actually an artist," you say to yourself.

"Of course I am," he says, appearing behind you out of nowhere. "Not exactly the kind of thing I’d lie about."

You whip around to find him standing there, clad only in boxers and an amused expression. "I don't know. You could have just told me that to make yourself seem more interesting. You wouldn't be the first guy to do it. Women love a man with depth."

"So did it work, then?" He presses his lips together, obviously trying to hide a smile. "Do you think I'm interesting?"

"Hm." You smile and look down. "Not sure yet. I'll let you know."

"Please. By all means."

You seem to remember there was something else you were supposed to be doing. "Uh…bathroom?"

"Down there." He points you back in the direction of the bedroom.

"Thanks." You gather up your things into a pile and shut the door after you, letting out a breath as you lean against it. You dress quickly and fix your hair as much as you can with the comb you keep in your purse, splash some water on your flushed cheeks, then head back into the kitchen. He’s there at the island, scribbling something on a piece of paper. “What’s that?” you say as you approach, still fiddling with the back zipper on your dress that seems to have jammed itself on its way off last night.

“My number. I realized I didn’t give it to you last night.” He smirks, pushing it toward you. “Just in case you need me.”

God, he's cocky. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little into it. “Who says I'll need you?” That’s what you say – but you tuck it into your bag anyway.

“If you change your mind. Here, let me.” Taehyung gets the zipper unstuck and finishes zipping up the back of your dress. He presses a final kiss lightly against the shell of your ear. “You should go. You have your engagement, don’t you? Wouldn’t want you to be late.”

"Are you rushing me out?" you say, glancing over your shoulder.

"Oh, you can stay as long as you like," he says. “Just trying to be considerate of your time.”

"I appreciate that." Suddenly you don't want to go. You’d rather stay here, in bed, in his arms. But that’s not what that is. You don’t know what this is, but you know it’s not how this kind of thing works. You pick up your shoes and walk toward the door. He follows closely behind you. You hesitate, turning back toward him. “I guess this is it, then?” you say.

“I suppose it is,” he says.

“Well…thanks,” you say, unsure what to say next. “I had a good time.” You recall the stiff, sore feeling between your legs and sigh internally. You’re going to be feeling this for the next day or two – but regret doesn’t even begin to cross your mind.

“Until the next one?” He’s still smirking.

Next time? “Who says there’s going to be a next time?” You cross your arms and look up at him.

“Just wishful thinking. I would like to see you again, but we can discuss that when the time comes.” He smiles down at you. “Enjoy the rest of your weekend, y/n.”

Wishful thinking indeed.

You hurry home with just enough time to take a quick shower before you have to go and meet Hyejin for lunch. Your mind wanders to Taehyung several times while you’re waiting at the restaurant: the way his hair fell across his eyes, that squinting, boxy smile of his, his hands, exploring every inch of your body. The way it felt when he—

“Y/n? Y/n, hello? Are you there?” Hyejin is looking at you pointedly.

You jump. “Yeah. Sorry. My brain stopped working for a minute. Were you saying something?”

“What happened last night?" Her eyes narrow. "Please tell me you didn’t just have two drinks and go home. Did something happen?” Hyejin raises an eyebrow.

You consider telling her about Taehyung, but you’re not sure if you could do him justice. “Nothing happened, Jin. And that’s exactly what I did. Two drinks, went home, fell asleep watching Bridgerton.” You redirect your focus to your lunch, the smell of which makes you a touch nauseous.

She crosses her arms and stares you down. “I don’t believe you. You definitely had more than two drinks. You’ve got that look in your eyes that you get when you’re hungover. I’d know it anywhere.” She squints at your right shoulder, right in the crook of your neck and gasps. “Y/n! Is that a hickey?”

You nearly choke on your water. Shit. How could you have not noticed that? You tug at the neck of your sweater. “Not so loud! I don’t need the entire restaurant knowing I have a hickey! Which I don’t. Because it’s not a hickey. It’s, um—”

“Oh my god, it is! It totally is. Y/n! You got some, didn’t you?”

“No comment.” Your face burns red hot.

“Okay, well, based on the fact that you don’t want to tell me, your best friend, about it, it was probably either really good or really bad. And judging by the way you’re blushing…” She leans her chin on one fist. “I’m going to guess that it was really good.”

"Stop it. You're the worst. The absolute worst." There might as well be steam coming off your face. You lower your voice. "Yes. It was really good. He was hot, thorough, and not clingy at all. The consummate hookup. Are you happy now?"

"Overjoyed." Hyejin looks far too pleased with herself. "Does this guy have a name?”

“Taehyung.”

“Taehyung,” she repeats. “So. Are you going to see him again?"

You think about his number written on the scrap of paper currently sitting in the change pocket of your purse. In case you need me. "I don't know. Probably not. I mean, that's how one-night stands work, isn't it? Kinda defeats the purpose of the whole ‘one-night’ thing if you see them more than once."

Hyejin shrugs. "They can. There's no rule that says they have to. You said he's hot. Would you want to see him again?"

"Well…maybe?” You think about it. The man hasn’t left your mind since you left his apartment. “If the opportunity presented itself? He did give me his number. And he did say he wanted to see me again."

She sighs. "Y/n, I love you. But you might be the dumbest person in the world when it comes to this kind of thing."

"What?" you demand. "What is that supposed to mean? He was probably just being flirty. I doubt he really wants to see me again."

"Of course he was being flirty. He wants to see you again. He made it a point to give you his number, y/n. Opportunity is literally pounding on your door. Are you just going to let the best sex of your life slip past you when you could seize the day and do something you’ve never done before?” Hyejin leans in. “Look. I know what you’re going to say. You’re not looking for anything serious right now, and I totally get it after what that piece of shit did to you. But why not have a good old-fashioned no strings attached fling? You deserve it. You’re practically a saint for putting up with that asshole for so long. And if this guy isn’t on the same page, then you cut your losses and move on. Simple as that.”

“Simple as that, huh?” You cross your arms and stare pensively at the table.

“Honestly.” She shrugs. “If you don’t text him, I will.”

“Jin, you’re engaged.”

“Yeah, but I’m not dead, am I?”

You: Hi. It's y/n. You: From last weekend? You: This is Taehyung, right? Taehyung: It is. Taehyung: I was wondering when I’d hear from you. You: And I was wondering when I could see you again. Taehyung: That depends. You: On what? Taehyung: How bad you want to see me.

You rap three times and wait, the silence in the hallway almost unbearable. For a moment you think you’ve made a mistake coming back over here, but then the door swings open, and there he is. Barefooted, in shorts and a baggy, paint-stained t-shirt. A far cry from the way he looked when you met him last weekend, but at this moment you don’t think you’ve ever found anyone more attractive.

He looks you up and down, a satisfied smirk creeping across his mouth. “So you came.”

“Yeah. I did.” Your heart is pounding. “This is probably a bad idea.”

“Uh-huh.” Taehyung nods, leaning against the frame of his front door. His crossed arms draw attention to his rolled-up sleeves, accentuating his biceps.

“A really bad idea.” Your nails are digging into the palms of your hands.

“So you’ve established.” He tilts his head to one side. “Still time to leave. Although I won’t say I’m willing to forget it ever happened.”

You shake your head. You’ve already spent way too much time thinking about this. “No. I want this.”

“Good, because I do too.” He holds out a hand. “Are you going to come in, then?”

You put your hand in his, and he immediately tugs you toward him, until you’re mere inches away from each other. His touch is magnetic. Like perfect polar opposites. “Yeah,” you breathe, inhaling his scent. Sandalwood, bergamot, and pine. “I’m coming in.”

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