#i feel like my apartment is just gonna be a mess until the weather cools down i cant function like this

[voidimp]

thinking i may have seasonal depression (summer flavor)

[gyunglitter]

➷ 03 ➷

-“oh, the way he makes me feel that love isn’t real -– cupid is so dumb”

or

unlike you, your brother’s best friend just doesn’t know when to quit

word count: 4,034

warnings: cursing, mentions of running, soobin and reader bickering, a sweaty beomgyu in a tank top, CRINGE lmaooo

tags: brother’s-best-friend!beomgyu x reader, ??? to ???, angst, fluff(??), beomgyu is the cool boy-next-door, reader is an independent girlboss (or trying to be, at least), beomgyu’s gonna be GROVELING, simp!gyu, pathetic pining from both sides lol, maybe some cringe from reader (she was a teenage girl in love, have some empathy plz😭)

notes: this chapter literally didn’t exist lol, but as i was writing chapter 4, i realized it didn't flow well and spawned this. while writing it, i HATED it, but then threw in some crack and suddenly it’s my favorite thing lol. hope y’all get a laugh out of it—if not, i’m officially so unfunny :)

–> masterlist <–

One of the habits you had picked up while away: working out early in the mornings. Whether it was going for a run, doing yoga, or some pilates you would wake up early and start your day with a good bit of sweat before devouring a smoothie and protein bowl.

Of course, you couldn’t quite replicate your routine with how your parents’ blender was broken and the protein in your house was a bit more limited than you had back at your place, but you could make do. Then there was your childhood neighborhood that didn’t have the same layout as your apartment’s neighborhood did; there were many more hills and way less sidewalks. But you figured you had walked these streets for eighteen years with only the occasional complaint, so it shouldn’t be that hard. You could make do.

Or at least you thought you could.

Currently, you were gasping for breath as you finished trekking up the last hill to your house. You’d forgotten just how much worse the monsoon season felt at home than at school. Thankfully, you’d dressed correctly for your morning run: your running shorts, a sports bra, and breezy tank top to help your dying body breathe easier. You just wish your terrain was more forgiving.

You decided to walk the rest of the street back to your house, feeling utterly humbled (and old) as the early morning sun beat down on your back. Sweat glided down your cheeks, making you take the hem of your tank top to wipe it off, before ultimately taking it off and using it as a towel instead. You swung the top across your shoulders and sighed at the discomfort, vowing to stick to your indoor pilates workout routine until the weather mellowed out. 

You spent the rest of your walk internally whining about everything you’d done wrong since waking up, going over all of your worst regrets. But it wasn’t until you got to your front lawn, that you actually faced your biggest one. Which, of course, came in the form of Choi Beomgyu.

A gorgeous, sweaty, messy, out of breath Choi Beomgyu.

Feeling your cheeks heat up beyond what would be considered healthy, you gawked at the boy–no, man–who was currently putting together some machine in his own front lawn–the front lawn that your birdbrain had completely forgotten was right next door to your own. Beomgyu had also been dressed for the weather, wearing a loose, white tank top and black shorts with wire headphones as he worked. He looked like he might’ve been up for as long as you had, with sweat running down his forehead and arms, leading down to his dirty hands that you could only assume caused the multiple oil stains smeared on the front of his top. His hair was a delightful mess, but of course on Choi Beomgyu it made him look like a greek god. His face was a bit flushed from working, but you knew it was no match for the red on your face at the moment. 

Lucky for you, he was completely focused on whatever the hell he was building.

Feeling hopeful, you discreetly inched towards your porch steps to avoid garnering his attention. You deemed your confrontation with him the night before to be good enough interaction for the next year, and you really did not want a repeat of it now, when you’re half naked and sweaty.

But as life would have it, you still have many regrets to live through today.

“Y/n?” he called.

You nearly shrieked as your body went on autopilot and jumped.

…Into the nearest bush.

“Y/n?!” he yelped, sounding a bit more concerned this time around.

WHY THE FUCK DID I DO THAAAT?

You hit your forehead with your fist as you berated yourself now physically and mentally while you basically hid behind the shrub by your porch. It’s not like you could escape the interaction, the only way to get out would be the way you came, which would only make you look so much weirder since he literally watched you jump, anyway! Now you were naked, sweaty, and had sticks in your hair. You really had to work on your fight or flight response because what the hell.

So much for acting like you moved on–what happened to being unbothered?!

You groaned and took your hair out of its ponytail to at least have something covering your shoulders a bit more. You used your tank top to wipe off additional sweat and dirt before trying to calm down and gather yourself.

“Y/n, are you okay?!” Beomgyu yelled, making you sigh heavily before popping out of your hiding spot.

“What–Beomgyu? Wow, I totally didn’t even see you there,” you coughed, pulling a random stick out of your hair.

Kill me.

You tried to not make eye contact with the boy, but you saw he was gaping at you and your disheveled state. 

“W-what hap– a-are you okay?”

“Never better,” you replied. “I just thought there was a squirrel in the bush and-well, uh, you know...”

“I don’t think I do,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

You didn’t either. But you weren’t going to say that.

Instead, you waved his words off and let the space between you fill with silence. Beomgyu took both of his earbuds out and scratched the back of his neck while he tried to string together words. But it seemed neither of you were going to come up with much of anything as he continued to stare at you while you stared at the floor.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, wanting nothing more than to escape whatever the hell this was supposed to be. “See ya.”

You turned to run up your porch and into your house to curl up into a ball, when Beomgyu interrupted you once again.

“Wait, hold on!” he called, making you want to smash your head into the wall.

“We really have to stop doing this,” you groaned.

He let out a chuckle while you turned back towards him. “I know, my bad.”

You folded your arms as he nervously fiddled with the hem of tank top once again. While you tried to keep your self restraint in check, you allowed yourself one more second of drinking in the veins that popped from his forearms, before shaking yourself. “What do you want, Beomgyu?”

He motioned toward the half-finished machine sitting in front of him. “My dad just got this new grill for this weekend, and I’ve been trying to put it together all morning, but I need some help carrying the tank and finishing it up,” he explained.

You grimaced, “I don’t think I can help you out with that, to be honest.” Nor do I want to.

But luckily, he shook his hands frantically, “No, no! I just meant–I mean, I was going to come to your house to ask Soobin for some help, anyway! I just figured it would be kind of weird for me to knock on your door after you just left, you know, so…”

He let the words die awkwardly after rambling for a bit, but he looked to you with red ears and a hopeful look on his face that you got the gist of what he was saying without thinking he was weird or weak, or whatever was making him so anxious.

Not that you felt you were in a place to judge, after he just watched you jump into a bush.

Sighing a little bit, you hesitantly nodded at him and gestured to your house. “Alright, well come in then. I’m sure oppa’s not doing anything important right now, anyway.”

Beomgyu’s eyes slightly widened at the offer, before nodding enthusiastically. 

“Oh, perfect! G-great! Thanks, Y/n,” he rambled, which you ignored as he started speed walking over from his spot to follow you into your house.

You opened your door that was almost always unlocked and toed off your shoes easily and slipped into a pair of slippers while Beomgyu tried his best to not touch anything with his grease-stained fingers. Noticing his predicament, you bit the inside of your cheek in slight annoyance as you slid another pair of slippers next to his feet.

“Thank you,” he muttered, slightly embarrassed.

“Just go wash your hands in the bathroom,” you dismissed, immediately walking away from him to go further into the house. “Man, I’m starving.”

“Y/n? Is that you,” your mom’s voice called from the kitchen, making you walk in her direction.

Turning the corner, you’re faced with your mother in her usual pajamas, making herself a pot of coffee. You smiled brightly at her, but she gave you a confused look.

“Where are your clothes, bean?” she asked, making the smile drop off your face.

You heard Beomgyu choke from behind you, making your cheeks heat up ridiculously.

“Hello to you too, eomma,” you grumbled, making your way to the fridge to make yourself a yogurt bowl and fight off your blush. “I just went for a run at the worst time possible.”

Your mom snorted at that. “Why in the world would you want to do that?”

“Because I hate myself,” you grumbled sarcastically, only half joking considering your circumstances.

After taking a bit of time to grab all of the ingredients you needed, you went to sit at the counter by your mother who was making herself a mug.

“Did you want a cup?” she asked you, to which you made a sour face. “Oh, right, I forgot you hated coffee.”

“Which is a crime, by the way,” Beomgyu chimed in, coming into the kitchen as well, drying his hands off on a towel from the counter.

“Beomgyu! When did you get here, dear?” Your mother smiled at the boy who was practically her second son.

He smiled widely back at her, going in for a hug before realizing his shirt was horribly stained and pulling back.

“I came with little Y/n. I just went to wash my hands really quickly,” he explained.

Your mother let out a little laugh, “Speaking of washing, what happened to you? You look like you slept in a garage.”

You smirked at that, while Beomgyu went to explain himself. But before he could, you all heard heavy footsteps thunder down the staircase. It had been a few years, but you could recognize Soobin’s footsteps anywhere.

You were proven right when the steps had rounded the corner, revealing your older brother with his eyes barely opened. Soobin slowly trudged through the kitchen, his body on autopilot as he instinctively opened the right cabinets to get a bowl and cereal. It was only when he opened the fridge and grabbed the milk that you decided to say something.

“Well good morning, sunshine,” you cooed, making Beomgyu snort from behind you.

Like on command, your brother screamed and dropped the milk carton. He whipped around to face you, while you were currently swallowing a spoonful of your yogurt bowl.

“Jesus Christ, I forgot you were here,” he muttered. After rubbing his eyes roughly, he opened them once again to look at you, but quickly shielded his eyes and screamed again. “Where the hell are your clothes?!”

Your mom and Beomgyu laughed while you rolled your eyes and chucked a piece of granola at him. Your brother flinched when it bounced off of his forehead. 

“Is my nakedness really that bothersome to all of you,” you grumbled, scooping more yogurt into your mouth.

“Not bothersome,” your mom said as she went to grab another mug for your brother as she could tell he was in need of his own cup of coffee, “Just very shocking to see you in a sports bra considering the most exercise you did in high school was walking to the convenience store for ice creams.”

You absentmindedly grinned at that as you remembered all of your ice cream runs with your brother back in high school. 

It seemed Soobin was doing the same thing as he let out a happy sigh. “Ah, good times.”

You nodded in agreement as he picked up the milk carton and made his way to sit next to you to eat his breakfast.

Beomgyu came over as well and took the other seat next to you. “Did you enjoy your beauty sleep?”

Soobin squinted at the boy around you. “I did, actually. You look like you could’ve used it though–”

Your mother lightly swatted the back of your brother’s head, ignoring his cry as she asked, “Did you want a cup, Beomgyu?”

He eagerly nodded at her. “Thanks, Mrs. Choi, that sounds great!”

Beomgyu smirked at Soobin, while he merely pouted back. “Why are you even here, Beomgyu? It’s too early to deal with the sight of your face.”

Beomgyu snorted. “I literally texted you about it yesterday before the dinner; I took apart appa’s old grill and I’m setting up the new one since all the guys are coming in this weekend. I need your help with the tank and stuff.”

Soobin groaned at the idea of doing manual labor, while you turned to your brother with a confused look and asked, “‘Guys’? Who’s coming in?”

“Some of our friends from school are coming down to visit. Yeonjun and Kai are definitely; not sure about Taehyun though,” Soobin sighed. “They’ll be here all weekend and staying with Beomgyu. But for the first night, we’re barbecuing and having a bonfire.”

You recognized all of the names: you’d actually met Yeonjun in person years ago, Soobin having met him in his first semester at school and became friends through Beomgyu. They brought Yeonjun back home with them since he didn’t have any plans for the holidays, so you got to know him a bit. Then there was Taehyun, who you’d only heard every now and then from random stories. But at last, there was Kai, who had been a common name thrown around by Soobin, claiming he adored the guy and would pick having him as a younger sibling over you any day. 

Whatever.

It honestly surprised you to hear about Taehyun and Kai since it turned out they graduated high school the same year you had. Soobin told you they had met during a party where all three of them hid in a corner and bonded over their friends ditching them for the night. You’d been pretty interested in the lore behind your brother’s friend group when you were eighteen, until you’d heard the reason Soobin was ditched was because Yeonjun had been dragged into a beer pong game where he got smashed, and Beomgyu wanted to hook up with some random girl–who you would rather listen to your brother singing the Attack on Titan theme song for ten hours, than learn about. 

“You should actually come with, Y/n,” Beomgyu piped in, nudging your elbow.

You didn’t turn toward him, instead remaining adamant on facing the other direction toward Soobin as he shook his head.

“Uh, no. Why would I surround my sister with a bunch of men? It’s bad enough you can see her like this,” Soobin wrinkled his nose at you, to which you promptly kicked him in the shin. It didn’t take long for him to kick you back.

“Soob, come on,” Beomgyu scoffed. 

You honestly couldn’t tell whether Beomgyu was more offended over Soobin refusing you going, or the fact that him being around you was such a bad thing. And, the more you thought about it, the more you really didn’t want to know.

“What?” Soobin defended. “Men are disgusting!”

Your mother placed a mug in front of Soobin and Beomgyu respectively, before adding in her two cents, “I don’t know if you remember, Soobin-ah, but your sister isn’t thirteen anymore. She’s twenty-one and perfectly capable of deciding for herself if she would like to have men around her or not.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Choi! Spoken like a true feminist,” said Beomgyu, a wide grin on his face.

“Since when did you get so progressive?” Soobin deadpanned.

“Since when did you refer to Taehyun and Hyuka as ‘men’?”

“Touché, touché.”

Beomgyu said, “Our friends are literally the greenest flags to walk in South Korea, if little Y/n will be safe with anyone, it will be them.”

“That is true,” Soobin pondered, but you rolled your eyes at the both of them deciding on your weekend’s fate for you.

“Exactly! I don’t know why you never let Y/n come with us,” Beomgyu complained.

Soobin scoffed. “Why do you care so much?”

Your ears burned when Beomgyu stayed quiet at that, not really knowing what to say. Instead, you turned back towards your yogurt and took another mouthful. “Whatever, it’s fine. I don’t wanna go, anyway.”

“What? Y/n,” Beomgyu whined, but you just ignored him. Again.

Even if Soobin hadn’t refused, you would’ve had to look for a good excuse to not go for multiple reasons. And Beomgyu was not the biggest this time. You honestly planned to rot for at least a couple of days, after all the traveling yesterday and your run this morning. Truly, you’d only gone for a run because it was routine and basically instinct. But you were still jet lagged, not to mention your social battery had run fairly low after your best friend, Yunjin’s, party yesterday, and then your surprise reunions with Beomgyu. The party had been a little tiring, but it was incredibly lightweight compared to being with your brother’s best friend. To say the brunette boy was exhausting would be an understatement for you.

“Seriously? You don’t want to go,” Soobin asked, eyebrows lifted. “You always used to beg to hang out with us.”

You nodded and gestured to yourself. “I’m tired, oppa. Besides, like eomma said, I’m not thirteen anymore!”

Soobin looked at your attire once again and mocked, “You sure about that?”

You kicked the crap out of his shin under the table as he cackled.

“You’re adopted,” you growled, making Soobin laugh even harder at you. “You’re not funny, and you’re not cute. I hope you trip over the sidewalk and that your favorite anime character dies–oh wait, he already did.”

Soobin’s jaw dropped. “You bitch–”

This time, it was Beomgyu who roared with laughter as you stood up and placed your yogurt bowl in the sink. After putting all of the food away, you went to stand next time your mom and cling onto her.

She shook her head at the both of you as she wrapped her arms around you as well. “I have to say, even though I love the peace and quiet, I did miss hearing the creative insults you two would throw at each other.”

You tried to hide your smile at that, while Soobin continued grumbling into his cereal. Another thing you had missed: your brother. Your age gap wasn’t very wide and the both of you had many things in common growing up. Though you’d always been close, the both of you had grown a lot closer while in high school. No one had known you better than he had, and the same vice versa, besides maybe Beomgyu. It had honestly broken his heart when you decided to study abroad and leave for four years, but the two of you stayed in contact with random facetimes and his many visits. You would say you stayed in better contact with him than you had anyone else.

“I know you missed your sister too, Soobin,” your mom cooed, causing your brother’s nose to twitch.

He gave a big sigh, “Whatever. Come, don’t come–your choice whether you want to or not.”

Your eyes widened a bit at the yield. Despite all those embarrassing years of begging to hang out with him and his friends, Soobin was adamant on the both of you not mixing friend groups. You knew all of his friends in high school since you passed each other in the halls everyday, but Soobin remained stubborn that you couldn’t join his friends when they went out. It always confused you since his friends were a bunch of angels, but your mom said Soobin was just too protective when it came to you. This never made sense to you, but your parents would always take his side on it. To see your mom voice her opinion against his and your brother finally giving in was a bit of a shock. Maybe you weren’t the only one who had changed a little over the past four years.

“Come on, Y/n, it’ll be fun,” tried Beomgyu.

He turned in his seat to face you and your mom, giving you those famous puppy eyes you’ve recently started to really dislike.

You turned your head away stubbornly, but your mom wasn’t quite done either.

“You should go, bean,” she said, petting the top of your head. “It’ll be like ‘healing your inner child’, or something.”

Your eyebrows raised as you faced your mother. “Who taught you that phrase?”

“Yunjin-ah. I called to congratulate her on graduating the other week,” she supplied, making you roll your eyes at the mention of your childhood best friend.

Of course she did, you mentally laughed.

“Look, I understand you’re tired, but it’s only Tuesday! The boys don’t come in until this weekend, you have plenty of time to rest,” she continued.

It honestly surprised you how much your mom was pushing you. She typically didn’t push you to do much of anything besides clean up. To see her have an actual opinion on it and pursue it against you made you think for a second.

“What, is IU supposed to be there, or something?”

“Huh?” your mom asked, thoroughly confused.

“I mean, there’s gotta be another reason as to why you want me to go so bad.”

Your mom laughed before pinching your ear lovingly, making you squirm away from her. “Sorry I want you to have fun while you’re at home!”

Shrugging your shoulders, you relented. “Fine, because you guys are so desperate–”

“YES!”

Beomgyu cheered as he suddenly stood up from his seat. He clutched the mug your mom gave him in one hand before using the other to give her a one-armed hug and kissed her on the cheek. Your mother laughed as he sang, “Mrs. Choi, I owe you the world!”

Soobin rolled his eyes so harshly it made you stifle a laugh.

“Stop rizzing up my mother, you loser,” he groaned, before getting up to put his bowl and breakfast away. “Let’s just go finish this stupid grill before I ghost you and leave you to build it yourself.”

Beomgyu’s mood didn’t deflate at your brother’s negativity and instead picked up the other mug as well, to bring with them. “Thanks for the coffee, Mrs. Choi! I’ll make sure to bring it back later!”

“Oppa can bring it back,” you reasoned.

“That’s what I just said,” Beomgyu said, a bit of mischief in his tone.

You deadpanned him, but his grin didn’t shift.

“See you later, little Y/n.” And the bastard sauntered away, carrying both mugs for him and your brother who looked like he was going to need it more than anything to get through the rest of the morning.

“Is it too late to back out?” you asked your mom, the fake smile on your face contradicting your serious tone.

Your mother hummed as she studied the view from the window on the side of your house that showed Beomgyu and Soobin on his front lawn, before moving back towards you.

“I have to say, that is probably the happiest I’ve seen him since you left,” she said softly, making the fake smile melt off of your face. “You don’t actually have to go; like I said, you’re old enough to make your own choices. But I think it’d be really good for you to. And if not for you, at least it would be for him.”

You knew your confusion was evident on your face by the knowing smile that crept onto hers.

“Just give it a shot, bean. Besides, I think you’ll really like Soobin’s friends. They’re the sweetest boys you could ever meet.”

–> next <–

[bropunzeling]

Director's commentary, anything from mattdrai soulmate AU (or future snippets!)

hello anon! gosh it's been a while since ive looked at this one; here's the early section where they are in germany and going for a little walk:

Leon harries Matthew until they’re both dressed and ready to go, grabbing a spare key from the table in the hall. The weather outside, once they get there, isn’t too bad; it’s a little brisk, but nothing that either of them can’t handle compared to an Alberta spring. Matthew still looks shivery, though, hands tucked into his sweatshirt pocket and head bowed. [poor bondsick matthew! in all seriousness figuring out how to portray bondsickness was honestly really fun - just being a pathetic lil mess until someone touches you. idk if i ever said so explicitly in the fic/fully committed, but in my head/memory as of now, i think it's one of those things that is not so much caused by physical distance but by emotional distance. they haven't figured out/reconciled their feelings = you get sick. leon leaving was just a triggering event. but the beauty of never saying so explicitly is i can't get it wrong either way lmao.]

“Hey,” Leon says, bumping Matthew with his elbow until Matthew looks up. “You okay?” he asks, feeling like a broken record, but there’s not—what else is he supposed to do? [leon just actively flailing throughout the whole of the 2022 sections was also fun. he's a demonstrative guy but it's hard to be demonstrative when you don't have a clear sense of what either of you want. also, he is not yet willing to internally acknowledge how important matthew is to him, so he's just gonna... kinda suck at it.]

“Yeah,” Matthew says flatly. There’s big purple circles under his eyes. It makes Leon think again about how badly Matthew’s taking it, much worse than how Leon’s doing. Sure, he supposes he didn’t feel great for the twenty hours they were separated by an ocean, but he also didn’t look like he’d been run over by a zamboni. [bc you are not in emotional turmoil my guy]

Leon knows, at this point, that he should know better, but he’s still not sure how exactly all of this works. Bond-sickness is a thing from romance novels and weepy made-for-TV movies, not for a couple of hockey players who are regularly a continent apart. [again because it's an emotional thing, and leon isnt ready to clue into the emotional aspects of their relationship - purposefully oblivious] Leon leaving shouldn’t have done anything, he’s pretty sure. What difference would the Atlantic make, compared to North America? [bc you ~left~ him/aren't easily accessible anymore!]

Besides, in every depiction of bond-sickness he’s seen—which was mostly the one movie Kim watched on repeat when she was thirteen, some weepfest based on a Nicholas Sparks novel that Leon got so sick of he threatened to snap the DVD in half [my favorite thing about writing aus is figuring out alternate media for aus. i love a shitty reality tv concept. i love a bad romance novel. i love an ed sheeran ballad. it's the most fun part and also is such an easy way to add color and a sense of heft to your world building.]—it always happens to both sides of the bond. He’s pretty sure that if Matthew’s sick, he should be too, or else neither of them should be. [more hinting at one-sidedness] Which—that’s something he’s not sure he wants to interrogate too closely.

“Here,” Leon says finally, pulling at Matthew’s arm until he finally manages to get at Matthew’s hand. “Let me just—”

The second his fingers wrap around Matthew’s, Leon has a sensation of realignment, like one of his joints has eased back into place. Matthew starts to look more alive, color returning to his face as he sighs with relief. It’s kind of fucked up, how much touching makes things better, but it’s kind of cool, too, that this is all it takes. [one of my fave lines! (a) i think that would be the appeal of a thing like a bond to me, that you can make each other feel better and (b) i like it as an unconscious acknowledgement on leon's part that he wants matthew to feel better. he gives a shit! it isn't really platonic anymore even if he can't see that or admit it]

“This okay?” Leon asks, darting a glance at Matthew before looking down the street.

“Yeah,” Matthew says, fingers squeezing once. “I mean—if you don’t mind.”

“Whatever will help,” Leon says, more sincerely than he means to.

Leon started their walk without any destination in mind, but it isn’t far from his parents’ new house to the west bank of the Rhine. Once they get to the river, they stop, looking out at the Rodenkirchen bridge, huge and coppery green; the trees dotting the riverbank on the opposite side; the water reflecting the bridge as it flows north. There are ducklings following their parents down through the current, people walking past with dogs and strollers or only themselves. It’s peaceful to be around other people, to hear pieces of their conversation and the rush of the river and Matthew’s steps in time with his own. [i never made it to cologne but it looks really gorgeous in pictures! love a big bridge by the river. fixes me every time]

He wonders what it’s like for Matthew, somewhere unfamiliar, where not even the background noise is the same. [there's a thing about this that like, is tricky to articulate but i'll do my best lol - when they were both in alberta, they were both far from/couldn't always go home, which is a theme i find compelling (see marriage bets) but leon is obviously more separated. and during the 2022 sections of the fic, it was fun to explore matthew as the one far from home, in an unfamiliar environment, with leon as the one fixed point. idk! it's a fun theme.]

“Want to go farther?” he offers, tugging their hands towards the river. “Not too bad right now.”

Matthew nods, fingers tightening around Leon’s. “Sure,” he says. “If you want to.”

“Yeah,” Leon says. Now that he’s looking at Matthew, it’s like he’s gotten stuck, gaze snagged on Matthew’s eyes, as clear and blue as the spring sky. [ur in love with him. hope that helps.] He has to blink hard before he can look away, back to the tree-lined path and the river ahead. “Yeah, I want to.”

They spend another half an hour walking down the river and back, until it’s too cold to continue. [i just love a romantic walk!] Then they turn down into the neighborhood, wandering streets that should be more familiar to Leon than they are. [another bit of that far from home theme; what even is home in the first place if you've spent your adult life somewhere else?] Eventually they find a café and Leon gets them coffee, more to warm their hands more than anything else. Matthew stumbles through a “Danke schön” when he takes his.

“Did you practice or something?” Leon asks, raising his eyebrows.

The tips of Matthew’s ears flush, [he has been practicing for at minimum six months and at least a year. maybe started during those summer calls. he has an irrational hatred for the duolingo owl] and he takes a long sip of coffee. Leon decides not to push. It’s just—unexpected, is all.

Eventually they find their way back to the right street. Matthew’s shivering again. Leon should’ve given him one of his heavier jackets; they’re close enough to the same size. [them being the same build is important and sexy to me] He’ll remember next time.

“You good?” he asks again.

Matthew nods, takes another sip of coffee. “This is strong,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

“I’ve been telling you, your coffee is shit,” Leon says easily, accepting the misdirection. [european coffee just is better. alas.]

“Just because you’re a snob,” Matthew retorts, and they’re back to not quite normal, but closer. When Matthew nearly shoves him off the sidewalk mid-argument, it’s practically a relief. [they will always be a little bit butting heads but in a fun flirty way :)]

[inadaydream99]

When They See You With Another Guy ~ with The Boyz

Requested by anon

A/N- Hi, thanks for requesting! This has taken ages for me to write but I hope you enjoy! ☺️

Sangyeon

Sangyeon had been minding his own business, walking along the street, when his eyes landed on you stood talking with a guy he’d never seen before

It wasn’t that he was jealous, but he doesn’t like the fact that the wide smile on your face is because of someone other than him

He’s confused… should he go over to you or just keep walking and talk to you about it later???

But he decides it’s best to wait until he has a chance to talk to you properly. Though that doesn’t mean he’s not replaying the scene over in his head all day

You burst into laughter upon hearing Sangyeon’s question. It really does make you feel amused that he’d been so obviously concerned about it all day

“That was my friends boyfriend. We’d just so happened to bump into each other in the street and had a little catch up, that’s all.” You clear things up instantly

Sangyeon’s instantly chuckles, his hand awkwardly scratching his neck until you reach out and hold it, intwining your fingers together

Jacob

Being an incredibly rational person, it’s probably expected that seeing you with another guy wouldn’t bother Jacob much

Except, it really really does…

There’s this underlying protectiveness within him that he only has for his members and his s/o

So when he sees that you are close to another guy, its almost shocking how mad it makes him

Of course, Jacob is mature enough to manage his emotions when in public situations. But the instant you’re alone, it’s a completely different story

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?” Jacob controls the conversation, staring you directly in the eyes as a seriousness encompasses you both

“He’s just a friend from work, more of an acquaintance really.” You reassure, placing a gentle hand onto his arm in an attempt to calm his tense posture

“How come you didn’t introduce me then. You always introduce me…” Jacob remains firm, a jealous tinge emerging through his tone

You can tell it’s taking a lot for him to hold his emotions in this moment. Although, his anger isn’t aimed towards you, but your handsome colleague

“Truthfully.” You emit a deep breath. “He’s a huge fan of yours and when I offered to introduce you he said he was too nervous.”

Upon hearing this confession, a huge grin explodes onto Jacob’s face

He’s relieved, the soft laugh you love so much making an appearance as he pulls you into his arms and presses a loving kiss atop your head

Younghoon

Younghoon had been acting off all night, everyone had noticed it, but no one was really sure why he looked so pissed

It wasn’t until you’d managed to get him alone that you were able to fully understand, and honestly, you weren’t too impressed by his reason

“So I’m not allowed to talk to any guys.” You defensively sass, arms folded across your chest to close yourself off from your childish boyfriend

“No, I’m not saying that. I just don’t like it when guys get to friendly with you.” Younghoon grumbles moodily

“So you don’t trust me, that’s what you’re saying?” You sarcastically laugh, it’s really hard to believe he’s acting this way over such an insignificant thing

The ‘thing’ in question isn’t insignificant to Younghoon, however. Especially when you seemed so much happier hanging out with your guy friend than him

“Of course I trust you, it’s just him I don’t trust!” Younghoon completely looses his cool, throwing his arms up in frustration

Hearing his blatant jealousy leaves you at a loss for words, so you simply shake your head in disappointment, walking away from Younghoon before one of you says something you’ll regret

Hyunjae

He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you laughing at the guys words… was he really that funny?

Jaehyun isn’t sure, after all, he’s not a part of the conversation

His bottom lip instantly juts out into a pout as he continues to watch your interaction. I mean, what did he do for you to treat him like this?

“What’s the sulky face for?” You chuckle as soon as you approach him, unaware of how upset you’ve made him

“Your friend seems like a funny guy.” He avoids your question, taking a sip of his drink to take away the sour taste left in his mouth

You raise your brows at your boyfriends words. It’s not your fault he’s jealous, but either way, you aren’t about to stir up an argument

“I mean, I’ve met funnier…” you trail off, failing to hide the teasing smirk that twinges at the corner of your lips

“Like who?” Hyunjae’s eyes go wide at your statement, he’d clearly missed what you were insinuating

“You’re so cute.” Is all you respond with, chuckling in amusement at how he’s being so endearingly obvious with his emotions

And it seems as though it does the trick, Hyunjae finally smiling once again as you enjoy each others company

Juyeon

Juyeon doesn’t want to make something out of nothing, but when you spend the morning rushing around getting ready instead of paying attention to him, it hurts him a little

Instead of verbalising his emotions, he decides to catch your attention in another way

Purposefully strolling out of your room and into the living space of your apartment in only his pants, Juyeon stretches his arms out and rolls his head back, sighing loudly to catch your attention

“Ju, have you seen my phone?” You whiz past him without a second glance

“It’s right here, on the table.” He calls out, lounging back onto the sofa as casually as he can (except it’s in no way casual)

“Thank y-” your words cut off as soon as you take him in, mouth agape as your mind goes empty of all thoughts, well except one…

“Have a nice time today and I’ll see you for dinner.” Juyeon beams at you.

However desperately he wants to make you decide to stay with him instead of meeting your guy friend, he would never admit it out loud

“Can I have a kiss goodbye?” You timidly ask, almost as if you haven’t asked him that before

Juyeon snickers as he stands up and pulls you into him, one hand falling delicately onto your waist and the other caressing your cheek

You complain when he only leaves a simple peck on your lips, eager for more

Juyeon’s just happy to know you are no longer in a rush to leave, and that’s enough to make him feel content for the rest of the day until you come back home to him

Kevin

Kevin wouldn’t really mind seeing you hanging out with guy friends, just as long as you are open with him about it

He’s not the type to get jealous often, and even then it’s only to tease you

“You know, we haven’t spend much time together lately.” He pouts after hearing that you’re heading out to see a male friend of yours

It’s the first day in a long time that Kevin has some time off and he was really hoping you would be around to share it with him

“Don’t make me feel worse about it, I’ve had this arranged for ages…” you sigh, accepting his hand as you take a moment to come up with a compromise

“You know you could just make it clear that you’re gonna hang out with your boyfriend.” Kevin softly suggests, his tone insinuating the slight bitterness he’s been trying to cover up

“Kevin…” you whine.

His laughter only makes you roll your eyes as you realise he’s been messing with you. So you playfully shove him away when he attempts to pull you into a hug

Chanhee

Is Chanhee bothered to see you spending so much time with another guy at the company party? On the outside it’s a firm no, but inside he’s not pleased

It’s not your fault that you’d made friends with the staff, and that the closest friend was a male staff

Honestly, every part of Chanhee wants to sassily stroll over to you and your friend and make it very clear that you have a boyfriend

But he’s hesitant, it’s really taken a blow to his confidence…

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” You perch on the chair beside your solemn looking boyfriend. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m… just feeling a little under the weather.” Chanhee fibs. He doesn’t like lying to you, but deep down he knows he’d feel much worst making you feel bad for spending time with friends

“Do you want to go home?” You offer, a soft smile on your face to reciprocate your boyfriends when he nods, accepting your hand and intertwining your fingers together as you make your way out of the party

Changmin

You feel an arm wrap around your waist, tugging you closer into the person beside you, a light gasp escaping your lips from the unexpected presence of your boyfriend

Changmin’s eyes are fiercely trained on the guy stood opposite you, baring his gritted teeth as he boldly interrupts your conversation

“…this is my boyfriend Changmin…” you hesitate, introducing him in a feeble attempt to break the tense silence

“And who are you?” Changmin spits, impatience radiating off of him as the stranger takes a second to comprehend the simple question

“Minnie-” Changmin’s head snaps to you, your sentence falling short just from his enraged stare

“I asked him. Who. Are. You.” His tone is sharp, making it evermore clear that he needs an answer instantly.

“I’m (Y/N)’s cousin.”

“Oh.” Changmin’s shoulders slump… he feels stupid

And that’s when you take the opportunity to apologise to your cousin on Changmin’s behalf, before excusing you both

“I’m so sorry-” Changmin’s doe eyes plead at you. “I just get too ahead of myself sometimes.”

“It’s ok, you didn’t mean any harm.” You comfort, accepting the fact that Changmin is just very territorial over you

And later on, Changmin makes the effort to make amends with your cousin himself

Haknyeon

One thing that Haknyeon absolutely adores is the way you look at him as though he’s the only person you see, your eyes glimmering with complete admiration at anything and everything he does

So when he thinks that you are giving another guy a very similar look, it makes him feel a way he’s never felt before

“Yeah, I know what I saw. Don’t be stupid.” Haknyeon continues to walk away from you, his tone cold as he refuses to even spare you a glance

“But I really don’t know what I’ve done?” You chase after him, finally catching up when he has to stop to unlock the front door

“Oh come on! You were practically undressing him with your eyes!” He finally turns to you, waiting for you to come back at him with a defensive comment

Except you don’t, you just gawk at him in disbelief

“If you really believe that I’d even flirt with the idea of having eyes for anyone other than you, then why are we together?” You break the silence, your voice barely audible but leaving an echo in Haknyeon’s mind as he speechlessly watches you walk away

Sunwoo

He acts on his emotions first, rationality coming in second

So when he sees you with a guy he’d never encountered before, he feels hurt and betrayed

“I don’t get it Sunwoo, why are you so mad at me?” You frustratedly brush your hand through your hair, repeating the question for the thousandth time that evening

Sunwoo simply continues to ignore you, choosing to focus all his attention onto the tv as he grabs the remote and it flicks onto some random channel

His frown deepens when you move to block his view of the tv, pleading at him as best as you can

“Instead of annoying me why don’t you go back to that guy you were falling all over earlier.” Sunwoo finally speaks, his harsh tone and bitter words making your mouth go dry, chest tight as you feel your heart sink to your stomach. Is this really what he thinks?

“Sorry what?” You question back, finding it hard to believe you’ve heard him correctly

Seeing the pure horror on your face from his accusation makes Sunwoo feel instant regret

“That was my best friends brother, you know the one I’ve known since I was a baby?” You defensively explain

You watch as Sunwoo’s eyes widen in realisation, his face morphing through multiple emotions before it finally fixes into one of shame

“I’m so sorry (Y/N). How could I have been so stupid.” He stands from the sofa, closing the distance that had been created between you during your disagreement

He watches cautiously as his hand reaches out to take yours, letting out a breath of relief when you don’t resist as he intertwines your fingers together

“It’s ok, it’s and easy misunderstanding.” You meekly smile at him. “Just ask me next time, instead of getting all jealous about it.”

“I promise.” You chuckle as Sunwoo rolls his eyes, before pulling you into his embrace

Eric

“(Y/N), there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Eric playfully scolds you through a wide smile, his heart filling with pride when you giggle at him

He’d wanted to seem casual in his approach to you, fully intending on making it known to your colleague that you are happily taken

“Nice to see you again Eric.” Your colleague nods, holding his hand out for Eric to shake, which Eric begrudgingly accepts

You don’t notice the forced smiles between the two, staying civil for the sake of appearances even though they both share the same distaste for one another

“You too.” Eric mumbles, turning his attention onto you, the sole reason for his endurance of being accommodating towards such an unpleasant guy (in his opinion anyway)

“We really should get going now, it’s already past when we agreed we should leave.” Eric affectionately reminds you, leaning down to press a light kiss to your forehead in the process

“You could stay with me if you don’t want to leave yet. I’ll take care of you.” Your colleague speaks up the second you let out a light “oh” in realisation of the time

This proposition, however, makes Eric tense instantly, which doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Actually I’m ready to go, just need to say goodbye to my boss.” You delicately place your hand on Eric’s arm as a way of comfort, before slipping away to say your goodbyes

Eric simply sends a taunting smirk towards your colleague, his look speaking a thousand words, before sauntering away

[luvdsc]

too hot! hot damn!

what do you get when you mix red and blue together?

pairing :: lee taeyong x reader genre :: fluff / boyfriend au word count :: 2,121 words warnings :: a tiny paragraph about making out playlist :: cherry kisses (chungha) ⋆ daft pretty boys (bad suns) ⋆ hands on me (taeyeon) ⋆ crash my car (coin) ⋆ shy (hunny) author’s note :: to the insanely talented goddess who wrote the first nct fic i ever read nearly 3 years ago and still love to this day!!! i didn’t think i’d ever get to be friends with one of my favoritest writers on here, but here we are :’) ily els @taeyongtime​ ♡ 

“It’s hot.”

You’re draped across the old, yet still very plush couch, the kitschy pattern spread across it now fondly regarded as one of the things that transforms this dingy little place from a shoebox apartment into home. The thin spaghetti strap of your faded tie-dyed tank top from your old sorority days hangs limply off of your shoulder, threatening to fall even more when you slump over to the left. The simple drawstring shorts you have on barely cover your legs, but you contemplate tossing them off still because it’s just. So. Damn. Hot.

“It’s hot!” you whine even louder, throwing your arms up in the air before letting them flop down onto the cushions dramatically. The nearby open window only blows in a measly little breeze that does nothing except dry the sweat on your skin for a few glorious seconds before it reappears like a stubborn stain. Your boyfriend only raises an eyebrow at you from his spot on the floor, sprawled out in front of said window and using one of his Nylon magazines as a makeshift fan.

Taeyong agrees, flapping the glossy pages in front of his face desperately. “It’s too hot.”

Two days consisting of barely surviving the power outage creeps into a third, the prospect of having AC again anytime soon becoming extremely bleak. The transformer had completely blown out, and the electric company finally sent out a crew to fix it earlier this morning. The estimated restoration was initially set to noon, but it was pushed back until 3 p.m., then 6 p.m., then 10 p.m., then 5 a.m., and now the big black bolded letters spelling out “undetermined” mocks you from the screen of your phone that's already set to the lowest brightness setting to conserve battery.

To make it worse, your city was suffering a heat wave, temperatures spiking to 105 degrees Fahrenheit every single day and simmering down to 80 during the night before climbing the thermostat again. The raging thunderstorm that plagued last night only resulted in unexpected humidity, making your clothes stick to you like a second skin.

“Make it less hot,” you moan, blowing air upwards towards your forehead in an attempt to cool down in the slightest way possible.

“I can’t control the weather, babe, but I can get you a popsicle?” Taeyong sluggishly pushes himself into a sitting position to face you. The shiny magazine in his hand still flounders around until he gives up on it and tosses it aside.

You turn your head, cheek pressing into the couch cushion, as you squint at him. “We don’t have any left. We took all our food from the fridge to Doyoung’s place. I can’t believe that bastard has a gigantic generator and is flourishing in his stupid air conditioned apartment and making frozen sangrias, while his best friends are about to die from heatstroke.”

You had sent back a rather crass Snapchat back to Doyoung after he sent one earlier of his perfect, Instagram story worthy, iced alcoholic beverage. It’s honestly a miracle that he didn’t toss your beloved brown sugar boba ice cream bars out onto his pristine balcony with picture perfect potted plants to perish. That man can still hold onto a grudge even after he’s on his deathbed and descending into the fiery pits.

Taeyong stands up and slowly ambles towards the refrigerator. “I saved two popsicles in the freezer. I figured it’d stay cold enough and not melt if we ate them soon.”

“Oh my god, that’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.” You struggle to push yourself up into a sitting position before finally being able to, watching your boyfriend open the freezer and pull out the last two saving graces.

“Do you want blue raspberry or cherry?”

He holds out the two icy sweets in front of you, one in each hand. You already know that he secretly wants the red one; it’s been his favorite ever since he was five and tried his very first one from the ice cream truck that still comes around his parents’ neighborhood. But you also know that he always lets you choose first and wouldn’t complain if you take that one.

You reach out and pluck the blue one from his grasp, and he smiles happily, eyes crinkling in the corners as he eagerly unwraps the cherry flavored one and shoves it in his mouth, tossing the wrapper into the nearby wicker trash basket.

He drops down onto the empty space next to you, reclining back and slouching in his seat. The two of you sit there peacefully, side by side and enjoying the cold snacks, until he wordlessly slides over, pressing the side of his arm and leg against yours.

“Move back,” you complain, shoving him over to his original position. “It’s hot, and you’re making it worse.”

“So are you calling me hot?” Taeyong wriggles his eyebrows at you before taking a bite of his popsicle, much to your horror. He moves closer to you again for the sole sake of annoying you.

“First off, I’m calling you sweaty. Secondly, did you just bite your ice cream?” You throw him a dirty look before moving over and turning to sit with your back against the arm rest, throwing your legs over his lap.

Taeyong slightly pouts at you, munching on yet another chunk of his popsicle and ignoring the way you wrinkle your nose in disdain. “What’s wrong with that? It’s melting, and I don’t want it to drip and get my hand all sticky.”

You can’t believe that you just discovered your boyfriend is a psychopath. He’s going to the same circle of hell as people who pour milk in before cereal and those who hate mint chocolate chip ice cream once he leaves this earth (He can even say hi to Doyoung as he descends to eternal damnation).

“Why didn’t you say anything about this before we started dating?” You are absolutely appalled. Horrified. Disgusted. This is the biggest relationship deal breaker you have ever come across.

“Next, you’re gonna say you hate me because I don’t like pineapple on pizza,” he says as his free hand settles on the top of your thigh, gently tapping rhythmically against it absentmindedly.

“Oh my god, you absolute heathen.” You really thought Taeyong was the perfect man of your dreams, but you unfortunately realize belatedly that even he has flaws. Some inexcusable ones, in fact. 

In the midst of your lamenting, you fail to notice melting sugar slowly trickling down until it leaves a sticky mess all over your hand. Desperately, you toss the empty popsicle stick into the nearby waste basket before licking off the remnants of your icy blue treat from your fingers.

“See? It melted all over you. I told you so,” Taeyong childishly sticks out his tongue as he waves his clean hand and empty popsicle stick around as if to emphasize his point.

“Your tongue’s red,” you say, chuckling slightly, and his eyes widen at this newfound revelation.

“Wait, stick out your tongue,” he demands as he throws away the wooden stick, and you comply with his request. He grins, delighted. “Yours is blue!”

He sticks out his tongue again, almost going cross eyed as he tries to catch a glimpse of his own. At that, your eyes zero in on his cherry stained lips, and an ingenious idea pops up in your mind as the sudden urge to kiss your boyfriend silly makes itself very known.

“Hey, wanna play a game, Yongie?” you ask slyly, and his attention immediately turns to you at the word “game,” interest piqued and eyes fixated on you.

“What kind of game?” he inquires cautiously, taking note of the mischievous glimmer in your eyes. You look like you’re up to no good, and your boyfriend wouldn’t be surprised if you have something up your metaphorical sleeve (Because nobody sane enough would be wearing something with sleeves in this weather from hell. In fact, you’re 66.6% percent certain that those fiery pits are probably cooler compared to here).

“Too hot.”

“Yes, it is,” he acknowledges, shaking his head in agreement, and you laugh, fanning yourself with your hands. “No, silly, I meant the game.” 

“It’s called ‘too hot’?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and you confirm, nodding your head. The expression of skepticism on his face says it all, so you throw in your bargaining chip.

“I hid a chocolate bar in the freezer’s ice chest. The winner can have it.”

His doe eyes immediately light up at the mention of his favorite sweet, and he grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly. “Okay, how do I play?”

“We kiss,” you start, and he’s already pulling you towards him enthusiastically, causing soft laughter to bubble up from your throat, before you swat his hands away. “Hey, hey, hey, I wasn’t done explaining it yet! There’s no touching allowed.”

“That’s no fun,” Taeyong whines, lips jutting out into a tiny pout that you want to kiss away already. “You said this is a game. Games are supposed to be fun.”

“But you’re getting kisses, and it’s already hot so it’s better this way,” you coax, and he relents with a drawn out sigh, and you quietly cheer. “Okay, ready?”

Taeyong gives you a tiny nod, and you grin before leaning in, eyes fluttering close. You gently place your lips against his, and he holds still. But then, a few seconds later, you feel his fingers barely grazing your cheek, and you immediately pull away with a frown.

“Baby, I told you that you can’t touch!”

“That rule is dumb,” he complains, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. You frown at him, pouting until he gives in again because it’s you and he’d cross oceans and climb mountains for you.

“Okay, let’s try again,” he grumbles, glowering as he absentmindedly cards his hand through his hair, and you positively beam at him, and the sulking expression on his face softens almost instantly.

“What if we do baby steps first?” You pull your legs up onto the couch, sitting up on your knees and facing him. He fully turns to look at you, head cocked to one side.

“What do you mean?”

You lean forward and peck his cheek before moving back to your original position. “Like that. Now your turn.”

A lightbulb goes off in his head, and Taeyong leans forward and gingerly places a kiss on your forehead with an endearing smile. You inch forward and kiss his other cheek. He plants a tiny kiss to the tip of your nose, and you lean in to delicately leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He presses a kiss to the corner of your lips, and you do the same to the opposite side, much to his utter frustration.

This time, Taeyong chases after you when you pull away. You let out a noise of surprise as he gently tugs you forward, crashing his lips against yours and muffling your laughter, and you find yourself straddling your boyfriend. Your hands wind up tangled in his hair, while his arms lock around your waist and hold you close, game be damned.

You can taste a faint trace of cherry, causing the corners of your mouth to curl into the minutest hint of a smile before you press your mouth against his more firmly as he kisses you back eagerly until you both run out of air, pulling away breathlessly with identical smiles.

“You lost,” you tease, poking his cheek with your finger as your other hand curls around his shirt. He makes a face at you, his hands still resting on your waist, and you find that you don’t mind the warmth of them against your skin even in this ruthlessly blazing weather.

“But you’ll share the chocolate, right?” he mumbles, face still flushed and lips redder than before. He traces soft patterns against your hip as you tilt your head to the side, faking your hesitation.

“Hmm, I don’t know, should I? I won fair and square.”

He sticks his tongue out at you. “Meanie.” 

You laugh, sliding off his lap and onto the empty seat next to him (albeit a little unwillingly, but it’s still hot as hell unfortunately, and conserving body heat together isn’t helping at all). Your boyfriend frowns, mostly because you’re no longer sitting in his lap, but partly because he doesn’t understand why you’re laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

Your grin widens, eyes sparkling like you know something he doesn’t (because you do). “Baby, your tongue’s purple.”

Taeyong turns a shade brighter than his favorite popsicle flavor.

[tigerdrop]

in lieu of doing more strenuous hand-based activities heres the Dogboy Gordon In Heat Megamix ive been talking about. i wrote this over the course of a couple months in an effort to feel okay about writing horny shit again and i only just realized there are nearly 6 thousand words here. and they only really fuck for like 10% of that

ta-dah

ive thought a lot about gordon being stuck back at gordonhouse after getting kicked out of barneyhouse. i think its ripe for a lot of pining. (and yes, he is pining over the guy hes actively banging. hes being a big mopey idiot over the fact that he doesnt get to have his fuckbuddy around 24/7.) absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever and gordons already at a baseline of "wheres benrey. wheres benrey"......and now i am about to turn it up to 11

so lets say......gordons starting to feel weirdly under the weather. sweaty and irritable and tired. hes holing himself up in his room a lot, wrapping himself up in blankets to fight off a chill and a sniffliness that wont go away. and hes gettin awfully moody, too. real fuckin testy. starting shit with freemind for no reason and snapping at og gordon like hes a teenager. and......hes nesting, almost, or at least, gathering up a whole bunch of blankets and pillows and anything that smells vaguely like benrey. (hes not really aware hes doing this last thing.)

basically, long story short, feetman is fucked up. hes pathetic. hes being a huge bitch. at least og gordon feels vaguely sorry for him, and expresses this by way of observing him and trying to treat it. for science. its better than freemind, who just loudly complains about him being a huge bitch and reeking up the place. theres something weird coming from vr gordons corner of the house.....a musky, heady, hormonal kind of thing that makes freemind act simultaneously territorial and irritable and more lascivious than normal. and that also piques og gordons attention, because having both of them be wound up little freaks at the same time is enough to make even the most resilient person pull their hair out

now gordon primes got his suspicions as to whats going on, but hes not gonna tell vr gordon that he suspects hes going into heat. that would compromise the experiment, and all that. so poor gordons just going thru all this shit not knowing what in the fuck is wrong with him and getting more worked up and irritable about it by the day. hes convinced that hes just got the flu, or something......except, uh, haha, jesus christ he is horny all the FUCKING TIME

he doesnt get it! he feels like shit all the time, so why is he constantly fighting off boners and having weird wet dreams and thinking about-- well. his fucking boyfriend, he guesses. (are they boyfriends?? he doesnt know. he gets a weird, sharp pang when he thinks about them not being boyfriends, at this point, but its not like theyve ever talked about it!) gordons half-convinced that hes just losing his mind from being stuck inside all the time and he really just wants to see benrey again. its, like, all he thinks about. (see? hes losing it. theres the proof.)

the sucks thing for everybody else is that gordon is also Extremely Vocal about how shitty he feels and how much he wishes he didnt feel shitty so he could go see benrey and how much he cant stand benrey for not being able to read his mind and come over when he feels bad. eventually freemind gets so sick of his shit that he decides to cut out the middleman and get benrey involved directly. "come take care of your fucking dog before i call the aspca! animal neglect is a crime, asshole!"

(if pressed, freemind would adamantly reject the idea that hes being nice to gordon. but on some level, hes kinda sympathetic. the guys clearly miserable, and he just keeps asking for the same fucking thing. might as well humor him to shut him up.)

vr gordon is completely unaware of these machinations, however. hes just holed up in his room trying to work out what makes him feel better because, uhh, powerade isnt helping

jacking off doesnt do a whole lot for him anymore. like, it feels good, but its not very satisfying. gordon just ends up feeling more restless than anything afterward. and hes always stupid horny. more blankets. a box fan. less blankets. sleeping with one of benreys shirts pressed up to his face. grinding into his pillow when he wakes up hard from yet another weird dream. theyre all a little helpful, and he feels like hes working towards the right thing, somehow, but its never really enough to take the edge off

and then.....he tries......jerking off more. especially when he realizes that its bizarrely soothing to do so while he can smell benrey up close and personal on that stupid shirt of his. better still when he rolls onto his side.....and then his stomach.......rocking his hips into the mattress until he gets the idea to lift his hips a little. and......oh. cool. something kind of......clicks. in his head. as he raises his hips higher while he keeps his arms wrapped around a pillow and benreys shirt jammed against his nose. hes got that lil moment of realization that this is good, actually. this feels like a good move. and its making some of that discomfort melt away

and gordon thinks about.....how it felt. earlier. when they were with barmey. and benrey had him just like this, ass up, face down, and was spreading him apart and licking him open and making him submit and he groans so fucking hard that embarassment just rips through him like lightning. but his tail starting to wag a little faster.....electricity shooting through his belly......and he cant help but wonder. what if benrey had kept going? pulled back and-- maybe, replaced his tongue with his fingers, one at a time, curling them inside him and telling him how well hes behaving and-- and his dick throbs, hard, and gordon realizes he wants fingers inside of himself right fucking now, thank you, hes not fully certain how to accomplish it be he is going to fucking try

(sigh) so my guy figures out about the old fingers in the ass trick. and i need you to understand that i am fully convinced that this is one of those guys who has an uproarious reaction to getting fingers in his ass. mr repressed and uptight over here doesnt really get what the big deal is until he gets braver and pushes a little deeper and hes rock hard in an instant, goodbye, just like everybodys favorite creative writing exercise

and this is what he decides to do for a solid day or two without leaving his room, because, honestly, this is awesome. and the longer he spends jerking off the less time he spends stressing about the fact that his imaginations getting really vivid, here. sure, like, hes no stranger to weird dreams even before this, but this is the first time hes really letting his mind run wild and this dude is nonstop thinking about being bred and gordon still has no fucking idea that hes in heat. doesnt even occur to him

unfortunately this also does not solve his problems but at least it feels baller and it keeps him occupied. also, unfortunately, the increased rate of jerking off is causing a serious uptick in Dog Smells, the effect of which is turning freemind into a nightmare. its just not good vibes in this house. enter: benrey

now i need you to understand that when these two meet up again i want gordon to get Emotional. think about how genuinely excited he gets to see some of his pals in canon. the like......excitement and disbelief when benrey shows up outside his window throwing rocks at it before noclipping in. he forgets to even act pissed off at first. i think it would be super fucking cute for him to drop the game for a moment just out of shock, basically. his tails waggin, his ears are perked up, and hed probably tackle benrey to the ground if he wasnt also a sweaty, trembling mess whos been holed up in his room for days.

and benrey has No Fucking Idea what he has walked in on here. as far as benrey knows, freemind just demanded he get over there and take care of his dog.

(INTERLUDE: here is the part where i gin up a freemind POV of this exact scene. b/c i am out of my fucking mind

so. i had the thought of a freemind POV chapter where hes spying on gordon and benrey.....because. gordons in heat. ive talked about that scenario before too (literally so many FUCKING times okay i just need this dude to have the uncontrollable urge to be bred like a little bitch! and for benrey to take pity on him and make him feel better by nutting in him literally as many times as is physically possible!!!)

but i wanna manifest it in this specific way: from an outside perspective. voyeurism is great and also i have a one track mind and basically the only time i traffic in Other Guys in this fandom anymore is as a participant in gordon and benreys horse shit. Im not apologizing for this

lets say.....vr gordons behavior has been getting worse and worse for "unknown reasons" and freeman prime just sees it as a key observational opportunity for his research. while freeminds getting really irritated at how much its cutting into his normal way of life. for one thing, vr gordons room reeks, and he cant even escape it in his own room! and its turning him into a feisty, aggressive, and loud son of a bitch. but he cant even resolve it in his usual fashion at this point (baiting vr gordon into another competition/fuckfest) b/c gordons being a little sadsack holed up in his room and doesnt wanna play

but also.....he kinda just feels bad for the guy at a certain point. hes clearly really miserable and looks downright ill and all hes asking for is to see his boytoy again. (gordons convinced that hes dying, and feels the need to dramatically speak to benrey one last time before he croaks.) so freemind decides, in all his benevolence, to go over gordon primes head and drag the guy over there anyway. (with machinations, not his literal bare hands. what is he, a caveman?) he reasons that itll be a good opportunity to twist gordons arm into groveling at his feet later

and he spies on the two of them in gordons room.....why? idk. possibly something to do with investigating this relationship between a gordon and a barney that he had yet to fully analyze. tl;dr he gets trapped in their closet for a remix of that one barmey voyeurism chapter b/c why the fuck not

i just.....i dont know.....i think theres something really charming about a 3rd party not being able to fully make out what theyre saying or doing but piecing things together anyway.....like benreys weirdly soft tone of voice when hes talking to a super agitated gordon. as far as any of them know, hes not really like that. he either sounds bored or smug, but either way, its usually straight-up antagonistic

it would make freemind bristle to hear it b/c its almost a mocking tone, but.....it makes gordons shoulders drop and gets him to let go of some of that tension and thats probably fascinating to watch. literally soothing him like a stressed out dog, huh. smoothing back his hair and murmuring things in a low, even tone that freeminds enhanced hearing still isnt good enough to make out. (the guy mumbles, okay? he needs a fucking toastmasters meetup.)

it would equal parts horrify and fascinate freemind, in my onion. watching a version of himself fall that hard into the loyal pet role.....its pathetic! for all that gordon goes on about not being a slave to his instinct or whatever, he sure is doing a bad job of acting like it! its like watching himself, but worse.

and benreys having to soothe him like a startled animal b/c he doesnt even know whats wrong with himself, but theres something thick enough on the air that even benrey can smell it, and hes taking some stabs at the dark. especially with how charged some of the shit gordons saying is......"i cant fucking take it anymore", "you smell so good", "i dont know whats wrong with me, man, my dick hasnt gone down for days and im pretty sure i need a doctor-- no, a real one, not the other gor-- NOT a vet, JESUS"

and the whole time.....freeminds peeking from behind a closet door. watching them devolve from outright hostility into "gordon climbing into benreys lap and shoving one of benreys hands up his shirt and demanding that he fucking touch him already"

normally i dont think freemind would be averse to a little bit of voyeurism, here. if it was anybody else, hed probably at least engage in a little heavy petting. but this is getting weird, man. he cant shake the uncanny feeling that this is something too intimate for him to be watching. for one thing, gordons whimpering like a goddamn dog just from a little necking, and for two, hes never really been the kind of guy to watch people make out for 15 minutes before they get to the good stuff

its just kind of unsettling how much these two clearly really, really like each other at this point. its not like watching gordon prime give vr gordon a handjob as part of a "test". freemind expected more of a hatefuck kind of deal out of these two, what with how often gordons normally going on about how much he hates the guy, what a pain in the ass benrey is, how he just wishes benrey would stop jerking him around.....etc. freemind could shit himself right now. that lying bitch!

i imagine its also kind of painful, on a personal level, for him to watch this borderline-sappy shit. he cant even fathom being on the receiving end of that behavior, let alone from......well. theyve all got their barneys, right? and gordon primes basically doomed himself to incel status b/c he wont nut up and do anything about it. freemind just assumed they were all in the same boat: cursed to casual sex with their roommates/clones, forever, and unable to achieve any kind of intimacy b/c all 3 gordons are fucked up in the exact same way. since theyre all just diff flavors of the same fucking guy, right?

well, theres the evidence that hes wrong. and that vr gordons better than him, somehow. thats gotta suck, bro

anyway then he watches vr gordon get railed in the ass a bunch and jerks off anyway b/c its still hot. see ya)

“take care of your dog”. huh. hes got no clue what that means but, yknow, he does kinda miss his dog. hasnt seen gordon in awhile. and he immediately comments "wow. you look fucked up" in as blunt and unsympathetic a way as possible. but gordons so far gone that he cant even work up a good anger about it. he is pretty fucked up, man. and benrey sits on the bed and slaps his forehead with a palm to take his temperature (and that gets gordon to bitch at him, finally, that thats not how you do it, asshole) and judges that, uh, he is hot. in his expert opinion

and thats when gordon kinda grabs his sleeve and tugs it and starts tryin to say something. hes really bad at it, because he is having to perform the mortifying task of Owning Up To It, but eventually he manages to grind out that he needs benrey to touch him, please. just pet him. something. he feels really bad and he just needs benrey to scratch his fucking ears. this is the most gordon can cop to in one go, and it is such a sad struggle to watch, but benreys caught off guard by it and he feels weirdly bad for gordon upon hearing it so  hes just like "whoa, okay" when gordon tugs his hand to his head

gordon groans the moment his fingernails start scratching behind the ears and digging into his scalp. even just that much feels really fucking good. its comforting, for one thing, and its benrey, for another, and the physical touch feels so fucking good right now that goosebumps are crawling down his neck. gordon cant help but lean against benrey and bury his head in the crook of his shoulder. he wants to hide his face from scrutiny and he wants to get closer but he doesnt know how to say what his fucking problem is

and benreys weirdly quiet. just kinda mumbling and shushing him intermittently, awkward and not sure what to do b/c this is a level of intimacy he was not expecting but gordons sure is responding nicely to a second hand in his hair

so having both of benreys hands scratching at his scalp is really getting to gordon. hes scritchin behind the ears and gordons tails wagging at a mile a minute. the feelings making goosebumps race down his neck and arms. he starts kind of mumbling something into benreys shoulder, how hes been feeling so fucked up lately, and he squirms a little closer. hes not really aiming for anywhere in particular but every neuron thats firing in him right now is telling him to get closer. make contact. he missed the fucking guy, what can he say.

and one of benreys hands......slips down to gordons face. his jaw. a thumb pushing into that soft little divot between his jaw and neck, like hes trying to push up into gordons fucking teeth. its weird and bizarrely intrusive, but benreys hand is broad and warm and gordon leans into it anyway, groaning with relief. its not like its not doing anything for him. kind of the opposite, actually. then he palms at gordons neck, and gordon starts breathing harder. he can feel his heartbeat rabbit-fast, pushing against benreys skin (and theres no way benrey isnt feeling that, too).

benrey eyes are lidded and his breaths starting to get heavier, too. naturally, yknow, since gordons practically draped over him right now, melting all the more the longer benrey keeps petting him. oxytocin is crazy, man, especially when a guys in the full throes of some kind of chemical meltdown of the glands. gordons eyes are screwed shut, tail thumping furiously against the bed, and hes panting at benreys neck like hes a fucking dog.  he just doesnt know how to articulate what the fuck his problem is

benrey smells insanely good to him right now, and gordon just blurts that out. benrey gives him some shit for it, but when gordon only makes a weird noise in response and fists his hands in benreys hoodie, it makes him shut up real quick. hes squeezing out words about feeling like he needs something, but its clearly a fucking effort. its almost pitiful

so. gordons crawled right into benreys lap, too impatient after days and days of feeling like this (you know, being in heat, in so many words). hes been pounding off like crazy, that brand new collar of his strapped to his neck nearly every time b/c hes that desperate to feel… well. *benrey*. he cant fucking jerk off to thoughts of anything else - porn doesnt do it for him, and his fantasies slip right back to the same thing every single time. its frustrating! hes bisexual, for gods sake! its not like hes normally immune to the wiles of the Phat Ass White Girl, but lately he just keeps ending up on his hands and knees and whining benreys name into his pillow and he couldnt focus on a girls rack if he tried

point being. hes being awfully fucking demanding. (and also, hes wearing the collar *right fucking now)*. he shoves benreys hand up his shirt and shivers the moment he makes contact with gordons burning-hot flesh. and hes demanding that benrey touch him already, jesus, hes losing his mind! and benreys just crooning at him, “bossy, huh,” but hes scritching gordons ears and palming at his side and nosing at gordons neck and gordon starts to feel like hes melting into it. his protests at being talked down to are perfunctory at best

benrey licks a stripe up gordons neck and starts muttering his stupid horseshit right in gordons ear and it makes gordon clutch his shoulders so tight, claws digging into the meat of him. benreys kind of into it, though, and it just makes him laugh, low and harsh and right in gordons ear. that just makes gordons problem worse. he lets out quiet, nasal whines on every exhale, like a literal fucking dog.

he starts teasing, like, “haha, you’re *gagging* for it, bro,” but gordon doesnt respond with the defensiveness he expects. instead, its like opening a floodgate - he is, hes fucking *desperate*, okay, his dick hasnt gone down in days and he wants benrey so bad he cant see straight and he cant stop thinking about him and all of this comes tumbling out of him at once. gordons trying to press himself as close to benrey as he can physically get, legs straddling benreys lap and arms clutched tight around his back. and when benrey prods a little more, tells gordon to say what hes been thinkin about, gordon starts to pant, squeezing his eyes shut. but he cant bring himself to do anything more than choke and stutter on the words

hes half-hard in his underwear already (and, lets be be clear, he was only in boxer briefs and a tank top to begin with. hes sweating buckets and its the least amount of clothing he could get away with wearing around the house) and his tails thumping a mile a minute and hes so far gone, just from benrey talking down to him and kissing his neck and scratching his ears. but hes not budging yet, so benrey slides that hand on his ears over to his ponytail and *yanks*. tells him, “speak.” gordons dick twitches rapidly, and he lets out a sharp sound, and he finally says it: he needs benrey to *fuck* him, jesus

benrey lets out a harsh breath at that. “yeah? thats what puppy wants?” and the nickname should blister him, make him feel to embarrassed to continue, but gordons too desperate to care. he just starts spewing a litany of “god yes”s and “please”s. hes getting harder and harder, pressed up against benreys belly, and benrey can *feel* it. “good boy,” he mutters, and those claws dig harder, that panting gets louder and harsher

he slips a hand around to gordons back, rubbing slowly for a moment as if to soothe him, and then slides it under the back of gordons boxers. and lower still. starts rubbing at gordons hole. that gets a quiet “oh god” out of gordon.

gordon cant help himself - he rocks forward against benrey, just a little, rubbing his bulge against what he realizes is benreys *extremely* hard dick in his sweatpants. hes not the only one whos got it bad. but he *is* the only one whispering, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” as benrey pushes a little further, makes as if hes about to breach gordon dry. the poor guys so needy that he probably wouldnt even argue!

but benrey just stares at him, wide eyed and flushed, mouth hanging open a little. gordons so hot for this that it surprises the both of them.

anyway after some boring position finagling benrey coaxes gordon onto his hands and knees, running a broad hand down gordons shaking back. and he pulls back gordons tail, exposing him. its so fucking humiliating - gordons got his face buried in a pillow, and his ass in the air, and hes never felt so *vulnerable* before. he wants to argue, he wants to lift his head and look back to make sure that everythings, like, okay back there - benreys staring at his entire asshole, okay, and he wasnt exactly anticipating benrey making a house call to fuck him in the ass - but every time he lifts his head, or starts to say something neurotic about it, benrey chides him about it. clicks his tongue. tells him, “hey. dogs dont talk” or “i said *bow*, bro”.

for all his insisting that hes a real guy, that hes not just a dog, gordons feeling less and less like a human and more like something in thrall to his instincts. the condescension rankles like it always does, but doing what benrey tells him to feels good. feels natural. presenting himself like this feels like what hes *supposed* to do. it doesnt stop him from running his mouth entirely, but it helps to mitigate some of the embarrassment.

and then… benrey *licks*. gordon tenses and gasps. he doesnt know how benrey can stand it, its gotta be, like, unhygienic! but that didnt scare him off the last time they tried this, and its not like gordon hasnt thought about it since. hes thought about it a lot, actually. but hes been too neurotic to ask for it. benreys not stupid, though. hes a good dog owner (at least, so he thinks) and hes gonna take care of his dog. so he licks again, and again, pressing a little harder against gordons hole on each pass with the broad side of his tongue until he dares to breach it with the tip.

gordons rock hard again in an instant. his dick hangs between his legs and drips onto the sheets. he digs his fingers into the pillow now, tearing holes in its surface with those sharp nails of his, and he makes embarrassingly high noises that he muffles into into the pillow, too. hes tense, hes so fucking tense, he should be clamping down and making benreys task really fucking hard, but theres bright pink sweet voice dripping from his hole and benreys rubbing the side of his thigh in an effort to soothe him and both of these things work in tandem to get him to relax. and benrey works his tongue in further, further than a human ought to.

the tip was one thing, but it gets wider as benrey pushes it in, and its just as good as it was before - better, even, because now its just the two of them, just a master and his dog, and benreys the only one he wants to see him like this. bent over and whimpering. he cant— he cant stomach the thought of anybody else doing this to him. hell, there was a point once where the idea of stomaching *benrey* doing this to him would have made him laugh. but here he is. benreys fucking him open with his tongue and pressing against something thats making him see stars and gordon just wants *more*. he says it so sweet, too, voice growing hoarse and raw as he begs benrey to just fucking do it already, he doesnt wanna come like this!

gordon gets so worked up and emotional about it that benrey takes the time to scratch behind his ears again, shushing him and telling him to chill. benreys got him. hes been a good dog, and good dogs get treats. hearing the words “good dog” makes gordons entire body flush. thats all he wants, really. he wants to be a good dog. he wants to be *told*. he blurts out, “oh my god— say it again,” and benreys like, “huh? say what? youre gonna have to be more specific,” clicking the last syllable. it makes all the hairs on gordons head rise and prickle with shame. the best he can do is mumble it into his pillow.

benrey hears it, though, and tugs at gordons collar from behind, just enough to raise his head. “whassat? you want me to call you a good boy?” gordon cant bring himself to answer that directly, but his stupid body betrays him by making him whine. jesus christ, yes, thats all he WANTS! he needs benrey to be good and nice to him for once in his fucking life and give him what he wants instead of taking, taking, taking! but benrey just tells him that hes gonna have to earn it. gonna have to be *real* good for him. gordon could fucking snarl at that, but benreys pulling back to rub his dick between gordons cheeks and against his hole and that shuts him up pretty fast because hes *so close* to getting what he wants and hes not about to fuck it up now by running his big dumb mouth

and then… he starts to push in. that sweet voice has loosened gordon up enough to take even benrey, who, uh, is definitely the bigger of the two, in that regard. he goes slow, uncharacteristically so, and gordons chest heaves with the force of how hard hes breathing. a quiet string of “oh god”s spills out of him as he tries to crane his neck back to watch. the head breaches him with a strange popping sensation, and benrey groans, loud, as the rest of him slides in with little resistance in comparison. “good,” he pants in turn, “youre takin it so good,” and—

and gordon comes, in weak, aborted spurts. it snuck up on him. he clenches so fucking tightly that it winds benrey a little. he breathes out, “whoa. did you—” but gordon just begs him to shut up, keep going, hes not— hes not done yet, its always like this, its not *enough*. his dick barely even flags afterward, it just hangs there, achingly hard and dripping with cum. benrey cant even find it in himself to make fun of him. he wants it so fucking bad, doesnt he? and he feels so good, so fucking tight and slick around benrey that the only thought running through his head is “gotta take care of my dog gotta fuck my best friend gotta nut in him and make him howl”. so he pushes himself alllll the way in until theyre pressed together, skin to skin.

then he starts to move. slow, careful thrusts, more for benreys benefit than gordons. if hes not careful, hes gonna blow his load, right then and there, and hes trying to make it good for gordon, too, okay? unlike *some* of them, hes not gonna bust in two minutes and then spend the next half hour crying and trauma-dumping to the guy hes still got his dick inside of.

once he thinks hes got a grip, though, benrey starts fucking him in earnest, and that changes gordons vocalizations from weak little whimpers into something louder. less restrained. hes given up any pretense of being quiet so that his other selves dont hear that hes snuck his boytoy into his room. just loud, wordless moans on each thrust, initially muffled into the pillow but soon spilling into the wider room when he turns his head to catch his breath. the only words hes managing are “oh god” and “please” and “benrey, benrey, *benrey*”, and benrey just responds to him like, “yeah? thats good? fuuuck, bro, so good for me,” all short of breath and barely able to speak himself

he wants to see gordons face. he *needs* to see gordons face. needs to see what hes doing to him, needs to see that cute fuckin blush of his. so he tugs on gordons collar again, bringing him to his hands and knees properly instead of that bowing position. and then further still - pulls him back so that benreys on his knees, and gordons on his knees in turn, on his lap, cock still buried inside of him and fucking him in short, hurried thrusts. “paws up,” benrey tells him, and gordon does it. instantly. no resistance. just folds them at his chest like a real dog would.

“whos a good boy?” benrey croons, right in his ear again. gordon gasps, “i-i am!”

“yeah? youre a good boy?” nod, wail. “whose— whose good boy are you?”

and gordon chokes on his response. he cant say it, he *cant*, he doesnt want to be benreys but he does, he *does*. he doesnt want to be benreys because its not fucking fair! he cares so fucking much! so much more than benrey does, it feels like, obsessing over the guy like hes wrapped thorny vines all around gordons heart and he cant so much as shift in his seat without feeling the tug and the ache and thinking of benrey again. and benrey doesnt care, he never fucking cares, except—

except he showed up at gordons house, in his room. without even being asked. like he knew something was wrong. and he— hes always talking to gordon, shooting him stupid texts just to make him laugh. scheduling *date nights* for them. date nights where, yeah, maybe they couldnt see each other in person, and maybe they always end in some kind of depraved sexual act, but its not like gordons not into it. hes frighteningly into it, actually. and hes *so* into hearing benreys voice, low and crooning, right in his ear, and seeing him lean on an elbow and smile at him afterward. its— its practically genuine. and benreys always making excuses to talk with him, do things with him, watch stupid fucking movies that only gordon cares about and stream with him on twitch to help boost his subscriber count and—

and—

oh god. maybe he *does* care. that might be more terrifying than the alternative.

then benrey yanks the collar again. presses the whole of gordons back against his front in one hot, unbroken line. and asks, “i said, whose good boy are you, bro? *speak.*”

“benrey,” he blurts out, a ragged moan, “d-dont make me sa-AY it, oh god—”

“no?” benrey stills suddenly. his hands keep gordon stuck in place, unable to move or bounce or feel benrey shift inside of him. “thats, uh… thats too bad, friend. this trains for good boys only. good dogs go to heaven 2. no bad dogs allowed. gonna have to, uhh, escort you off—”

“im not a bad dog!”

“i dunno, gordo. bein’ kind of, uh… disobedient.”

(sorry. thats all i got . byeeee)

[evak-fic-rec-turtleanon]

Evak Fics - Pining

I’m posting half of this list first because I started it a long time ago and it’s taking me a while to go through all the fics. So I will update with more later. 

*** Mutual Pining *** Pining - I might put mutual pining under pining if we don't see much of the other person pining. *** Bonus - The pining is not between Evak 

For the anon from this ask.

I will try my best to separate out the mutual pining fics but I think it will be tricky if it's not tagged as that. So bear with me and let me know of any mistakes or fics I missed out on.

. First Posting : 11 July 2021. Under 15k fics.  .

******* Mutual Pining *******

Even the Illustrator by eavk (SERIES, 3 fics) - An AU where Even’s an illustrator who draws what kids describe to him for YouTube, and Isak is the smitten father of a six year old with a wild imagination.

Postcards by HedwigsTalons (1k words) - Isak's wall is covered in postcards. Isak is supportive of Even's career and he cherishes every postcard but the long distance relationship hurts.

Feelings Come and Go, But Not With You by ultimatelawrence (1.9k words) - It was meant to just be a holiday romance. A fling. Nothing like love. But now it was six months later and Even was still pining over the angel he had met in Paris.

let's pretend into forever by Bellakitse (2.3k words) - “Let me get this straight,” Even starts. “You lied to your boss about having a boyfriend, told her it was me, and now you need me to go with you to your science nerd dinner?”

i will love you until the very, very end (and you were my best friend) by traumatic (2.4k words) - Isak and Even share something in the cool waters of a spring fed pool that no one, not even their fiancées, could ever understand.

Breathe Me by photographer_of_thoughts (4.5k words) - A high school reunion brings Isak and Even together after ten years, and neither of them can forget what happened when they were both seventeen.

Everything comes back to you by MermaidsandMermen (4.8k words) - Light pining. A dribble oneshot for Halloween, full of fluff and Even and Isak and a tiny pinch of angst. Because we need some Halloween fluff. That's all.

Fuck Tha Police by MacksDramaticShenanigans (5.2k words) - “This,” Eskild said, spinning the photograph around so everyone could see it, “is a picture of the latest piece of vandalism from our favorite little street punk.” he finished with a heavy sigh. They are both cops.

i tried to be strong but i lost it (i knew it was wrong, i’m beyond it) (6.3k words) - Even has a thing for his intern, Isak has a thing for his boss, they're both a bit clueless and their friends just want them to get their shit together.

all I see is you by littlemovie (Lejla) (7.4k words) - “Aren’t you gonna ask me why I’m a bad person?” Isak somehow whined and demanded at the same time. Jonas blew out a breath in amusement, which made the dark curls on his forehead move with his breath. “I’m guessing it has something to do with that guy, Even, from the coffeeshop?”

Addicted by endlessandinfinite (8k words) - They’re both completely, overwhelmingly, and incredibly...addicted. Best friends to lovers.

Calleth You, Cometh I by Kollakolan (8.4k words) - “Isak!” Mikaels pipes up. “Didn´t you two have a thing?” he turns to Even. A thing, Even thinks to himself. Yes, Isak and him definitely had a thing. They actually had a low-key thing going for years, but it never really turned into something more. The timing was never right.

In Vino Veritas by Sabeley (9.9k words) - After seven years apart, Isak wakes up to find Even in his bed and a wedding ring on his finger.

Let Me by GayaIsANerd (10.6k words) - Summer brings a lot of things. The smell of sunscreen. The sound of children playing in the shallow part of the lake. The taste of cold beer. The sweet tang of weed. But most importantly, summer brings Isak.

Something Borrowed, Something Blue by BluebeardsWife (10.8k words) - Fake dating AU, you know the drill. Even hires Isak to pretend to be his boyfriend at his ex's wedding. This Means Nothing to Me by cuteandtwisted (10.8k words) - Isak and Even are friends and roommates who don't believe in love anymore (after they both get dumped by other people) until they do. Aka the Friends/Roommates-To-Lovers Don't you let me go by solarpower21 (12.2k words) - In this universe, Isak and Even are roomates and nothing more. Except that there is something more between them and they both know that but are too stubborn to admit it. Too bad it takes a very unfortunate event for them to face the truth. Burn Down The Disco by TheGirlNoOneKnows5 (12.2k words) - A 'Black Mirror: Hang The DJ' AU in which Isak and Even decide to rebel against a futuristic dating system that pairs users up with various people in order to find their perfect match.

La Petite Mort by EvenbechNeiheim (13.4k words) - Even Bech Næsheim is one of those cool and very hot media students at Uni who might just got the task to make a film project. Eskild is the best wingman and things like accidently falling in love with an asshole media student happen. Based on the FIRST KISS YouTube video that gave the internet an entire meltdown. 

when your heart is bleeding, i'm coming to get you by orphan_account (13.5k words) - Isak doesn't exactly expect his hookup from last week to be the love advice columnist at the school newspaper he's working at. He also doesn't expect to fall even harder for him than he already has, which is a shame, really, since Even's crushing on someone else. 

Heal My Heart for Christmas by iwritetropesnottragedies (recklesslee) (13.5k words) - It’s been ten years since Isak left his small town for the big city of Oslo with his father. He hardly even thought of his time there anymore. Until he received a letter from his mother asking him to come home for Christmas for the first time since he had left. 

Love in the Time of COVID: Battlestar Edition by sweetasmaple (14k words) - Isak and Even find each other again during the COVID-19 lockdown, one Battlestar Galactica episode at a time. 

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******* Pining *******

never seemed so alive by retts (1k words) - Nothing special, just four letters strung together to spell out E V E N but they made Isak's heart race and his face blush and his hands tremble.

Hopeless by waitineedaname (1k words) - Light pining. There was no way in hell Isak would be able to talk to Even. He was tall and cool and handsome, and Isak was pretty sure talking to him would make him spontaneously combust.

i could probably just curl up in you. by milominderbinder (1.3k words) - Isak is away at a cabin with the guys when he gets a text from Even. 'hey, babe, did you take my favourite hoodie?' He is, of course, outraged that Even would accuse him of such treachery. The fact that Isak is wearing the hoodie at that very moment has nothing to do with it.

stuck on you (what did i do?) by itjustkindahappened (1.8k words) - It’s not that Even doesn’t try to be friendly with him—Isak just makes it so hard. Whenever Even approaches, Isak either makes up a fumbling excuse to leave, or just becomes really stiff and refuses to acknowledge Even’s existence.

now and forever (i will be your man) by thekardemomme (2.2k words) -Warning for pain. 3 times isak kisses even +1

i be up in the gym just working on my fitness by orphan_account (2.3k words) - Even knows that he's quite literally going to die when he finds his crush sweating on an elliptical, reading a book with his glasses slipping down his nose.

You know where I stay by nofeartina (2.4k words) - Warning for pain. Isak is so beautiful first thing in the morning. When he still has creases in his face from the pillow, when his face is red and puffy from sleep, his hair all messed up and curly. Even prefers this Isak. This is his Isak, this is only for him.

won't you be my livewire by itjustkindahappened (3.2k words) - "i've been tryin to grab your attention in class for over half an hour by poking you and throwing things onto your desk and you're refusing to acknowledge me and gdi all i wanted to do was tell you that you look cute and now it's gone too far and i can't go back"

Cookies and Cream by GayaIsANerd (3.5k words) - Isak has a crush on the barista. He's too scared to do anything about it, but luckily there's a blizzard coming up.

i can feel the weather in my bones by EvenbechNeiheim (3.7k words) - Isak and Even are childhood friends. There’s a boyfriend sweater and Isak is just desperate to wear it.

On the silver screen by Lokkanel (4k words) - Isak was really not in the mood for this. He had a long week at work, and all he wanted was to relax with his friend, drink a few beers, maybe even smoke some weed and just chill. But no. When Jonas called him to say that he won tickets to the coolest indie film festival in Oslo, Isak knew he could forget his plans for a quiet and simple weekend.

I want to love you (in my own language) by fauu_stine (4k words) - “Okay. Maybe I’m not happy,” he admits in a resigned whisper. “Do you need a shrink discussion or a best friend discussion?” "I think- I think it’s more of a friend with benefits kind of talk."

Don't be an ass by Julieseven (4.1k words) - Even really tried to forget about him. It started out as a harmless little crush, really. He saw him at the karaoke bar SYNG one night, singing "I don't want to miss a thing" at the top of his lungs, clearly drunk out of his mind, but looking like an angel with his messy dark blond locks and crooked smile.

Little Black Book by Laika (4.3k words) - Isak Valtersen is studying his third year at the University of Oslo and having the time of his life. Enter Evy Bech Næsheim, straight out of Nissen, in his stockings, mini skirts and bubblegum scented lip gloss.

cracks in our foundation by towonderland72 (4.8k words) - “You know, like a thousand years ago, men used to wear makeup?” Even asks, as Isak gapes at himself.

Safest With You (Green Curtains) by eavk (5.3k words) - Isak keeps staying up too late studying at the library, but luckily there's an escort service that gives students a buddy to walk with to keep safe at night.

the one with the prom video by thekardemomme (5.5k words) - Even has been in love with Isak since they were younger, but he never intended for Isak to find out this way.

Senses by Lokkanel (5.5k words) - Sight, hearing, smell, touch, taste… Or Even falling in love with Isak, one sense at a time.

you're the one i wanna grey with (5.6k words) - They've only been dating a month, so Isak shouldn't be pathetic enough to miss Even this much when he's only gone for a weekend.

Orion's Nebula by thekardemomme (5.6k words) - Light pining I think. Even Bech Næsheim was enrolled in an astronomy class for one reason and one reason only: the cute ass boy he saw standing in the registration line.

with the taste of a poison paradise by chasingflower (6k words) - It’s routine by now. Isak hangs out with his friends during the day and at night he kisses the Dream-Even that lives on the other side of the door in his living room, and basks in the warm fuzzy feelings he gets as a result of the attention. Coraline Au.

How to Get Your Man - A Plan By Even Bech Naesheim by Evakkk (6.1k words) - When Magnus drops a big secret in front of Even... Even comes up with a brilliant plan to get Isak to reveal his true feelings. All it takes is one little lie, and one crazy family reunion.

To Burn With Desire by photographer_of_thoughts (6.1k words) - AU in which Isak and Even are neighbours and Isak's father has a secret job that unintentionally helps Isak realize he's in love with his best friend.

Watermelon Sugar by MermaidsandMermen (6.6k words) - A little tribute to fruit and touching. To sex, and friendships and finding what you were looking for all along. And of course inspired by Harry Styles latest video offering, just because.

The Fake Boyfriend App by Crazyheart (7.2k words) - AU where Isak is desperately pining for his flatmate Even, and downloads a fake boyfriend app to get over him. When he discovers that the Fake boyfriend is a human, and not a bot, he is sceptical.

That look you give that guy by Lokkanel (7.4k words) - Isak and Even love each other in secret. It is almost thrilling at first, but when hiding and lying to their friends begin to take a toll on Even, Isak decides to end it all. He thinks he has taken the right decision, until Even eventually moves on with someone else.

my longing drives me crazy for you (7.7k words) - Isak's mum worries, Isak makes bad life decisions and Even loves Isak. It's a fake dating au.

I'm Always Here by nofeartina (9.3k words) - “Did you know that Even is working this summer? At that pool at the Plaza?” Jonas says. Isak actually sits up in excitement at this. “Fuck yeah!” Oh, a pool. Actual water they could go swimming in and cool down. And also, Even.

a garden for your love by eggsntoast (9.3k words) - He’s learning to breathe with them, even if he ends up with a floor full of violets by the end of it all. They remind Isak of him, and that’s all that matters. That’s what makes it worse. or: a Hanahaki au ft. Isak heavily pining after Even. Lots of angst.

I wrote an angry letter to the void, and the void responded (9.5k words) - Monday comes, and the book is still there. Isak looks around, content to find the floor practically empty, before giving the book the finger. Fuck that book. - a book finds it's way to Isak's sacred study spot. this proves to be a major distraction.

a constant state of closeness by chevythunder (9.7k words) - “What is it about this dude, anyway?” Elias asks. “You’ve barely even talked to him, right?” “I don’t know,” Even says. “I just got this feeling, you know? Just- I want to make sure he’s okay and safe and… stuff.” - It starts with a hug.

Is This Our Time? by Evakkk (9.9k words) - This is a world where everyone is born with an indistinguishable soulmate mark... it only changes into something recognizable, once you have physical contact with your soulmate, and it's always something meaningful to the relationship. Both partners will bear the same mark. Isak is about to turn 18... and he's the only one in his friend group who still hasn't found their soulmate. But what happens when he goes out one night, gets drunk... and wakes up with his soulmate mark?

Is This What You Wanted? by cuteandtwisted (9.9k words) - Isak is filthy rich and Even is a hardworking male model who just got signed to his father's agency. Even gets an awful offer from Isak: one night with him in exchange for money, and begins to despise him. Little does he know that everything he thinks he knows about Isak is wrong.

Just like in the movies by Lokkanel (10.5k words) - As he began taking in his surroundings, Isak realized he was in one of those small theaters that programmed independent and artsy movies, even old black and white films. He was ready to turn around and walk away when he heard a deep voice say, “Halla.”

my tiny heartbeat in his ear by riyku (11k words) - Now, about a week after the longest day of the year, the empty house across the street has stopped being empty. most beautiful things by scarletbluebird (12.7k words) - This fic is a whole ass journey. Warning for pain. This isn’t a fairytale, Isak tells himself. Even is standing at the bend in the road. He looks like a metaphor for immortal life: the youth a god would kill for. Ambrosia eyes, the universe trapped in the curve of his mouth. He looks like every warning from his mother about strangers you run into after dark. 

One week by Lokkanel (12.8k words) - This thing going on between Isak and Even, whatever they called it - fuckbuddies, friends with benefits - was simple, fun, nothing more. They were friends, they were both free to do whatever they wanted with other people. They’d just meet and have sex whenever they felt like it. Simple. Until what was bound to happen eventually did and Even fell for Isak. 

Plum by Jamz24 (13.2k words) - Femme!teacher!Even asks masculine! plumber!Isak to fix a broken shower on a scorching hot summer day...And if you think it sounds like the start of a porn film you're absolutely right! There's LOADS of smut but ... with LOTS of feelings 

Never be the same by nofeartina (14.2k words) - It starts with a bet - one of those really stupid ones: can they last an entire month without any kind of sex?It’s been 22 days – and Even is dying. 

Somewhere I’ve never been by MinilocIsland (14.6k words) - The first time Even meets Jonas' best friend, nothing goes according to plan. 

If I Should Fall Behind by MinilocIsland (14.7k words) - The plan for tonight had been crystal clear. Stay close to his best friend, and steal her away if needed. Hold her hand through the ordeal of meeting Noora again for the first time in years. Then Even shows up – and suddenly, nothing goes the way it was supposed to. 

All I Ever Wanted by MinilocIsland (14.8k words) - Isak is such a good friend. Probably the best there is. How else could he explain that he's agreed to join Magnus to this place deep in the woods for six full days of silence, meditation, and utter boredom? One thing, he knows. There's nothing exciting for him there. Right? Or: the silent retreat AU. 

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******* Bonus *******

Season 3: Jonas by Laika_the_husband (WIP, SBB 2021 fic) - There is a scene in the end of the script for season 1, where Jonas and Isak kiss each other on a dare. This story is a retelling of season 3 in a universe, where that kiss happened and completely changed the way Jonas sees Isak. Written in Jonas' POV, the story examines sexuality, love, friendship and coming to terms with never getting the boy you shouldn't have fallen for in the first place.

What the fuck is wrong with me? by notanugget (11.6k words) - The five times isak felt guilty for being in love and the one time he didn’t 

thanks for the weed, thanks for everything by evak1isak (13.1k words) - Jokael. Jonas' dealer has moved to Denmark, and Even recommends his friend's weed. What Jonas didn't expect, though, was to develop a crush on a boy, on Mikael. 

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******* WIP *******

Baby, why do you have to shine so bright? by Lilacpotter - Even knew he was radiant, and he was used to people always wanting to be around him, enchanted by his captivating words and glowing smiles, as if he was the tantalising sun. But then one day, he comes across someone who shines much brighter than the sun itself in Even’s eyes.

Lonely Hearts Club by EndingsNotTheStory - The Hearts Club. A show run by Isak and his 3 friends. He's kind of had enough with hearing about people's relationship issues and giving advice. Until the guy from his theatre class and Isak's totally not crush Even calls, dealing with relationship issues. pining

[sugako]

c+k: tendou

tendou x f!reader

cw: 18+ minors dni, nsfw, smut, fluff, morning sex, orgasm denial, oral (f!receiving), fingering, cumming on the reader, cum play, l-bombs, teasing, exhibition/semi-public (no one sees), car sex, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare, degradation

wc: 1.8k

a/n: hi again friends!! pls enjoy another c+k (almost done),, also idk why i forgot to post this when it's been done forever

“Good morning, love!” His excited tone roused you from the last bits of sleep you were clinging to. Tendou was such a morning person. You could wake up in the morning, but he just came alive, always telling you that it was because he got excited to wake up beside you each day.

“Morning, ‘tori.” You mumbled and stretched. The warmth from the sun glistening through the window was deceiving in comparison to the brisk chill outside.

“It’s Valentine’s Day.” He said brightly.

Having had to suffer through the past week or so of him working overtime, testing out new recipes and combinations and this and that, you knew it was Valentine’s Day. His arms, still snaked around you from last night tighten as he shifts to lay on top of you, nuzzling his face into your chest.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you try to match his energy, but to little avail, “I love you.” You crane your neck down just enough to kiss at the top of his head, his buzzed curls tickling under your nose.

“I love you too, y/n.” His demeanor calmed for a moment before almost immediately revamping. Long fingers snaked up your sides under the sweatshirt you stole from him, brushing and prodding exactly where he knew you were sensitive. Yelping and giggling, you thrashed under him, held down by his strong legs that were wrapped around yours.

“If you…” you gasped, “...if you loved me you wouldn’t torture me!”

He pushed the top up and over your head, leaving you completely bare. His lips quickly pressed one little, messy peck after another against your neck, cheeks, chest, anywhere he could.

“We both-” another kiss “-know that’s-” another “-not true.” He slowed enough to press a deep kiss against your mouth and pressed his hips between your legs. Against the thin fabric of his boxers, you could feel the complete outline of his hard cock. “Plus, you beg for me to torture you all the time, love.”

You pouted but kissed him back just as sweetly. “What do you want to do today?” You asked as he pulled away, pushing back the covers to kiss all the way down your stomach.

“Today? I don’t know. Right now? I want to eat my breakfast.” His muffled voice barely reached your ears while he busied his lips with nipping and kissing your hips and thighs.

The comment sent heat straight to your ears. He never ceased to make you feel giddy, especially when he lifted his deep maroon eyes to meet yours just before teased through your folds with a finger.

When he felt you couldn’t take much more of his gentle strokes he licked a thick stipe up your center. A shudder coarse through your body as the tip of his hot muscle landed squarely on your throbbing clit.

“Satori!” You whined, hips already aching to buck against his face. “Please, ah!”

“So sensitive, baby.” He groaned. “Still worked up from last night?” Your cries were not acknowledged as he looped his arms around your thighs and over the top of your stomach to keep you firmly planted in place. Overcome with sensation, you clawed out to grab anything, landing on one of his hands. He offered two fingers for you to grasp while he continued, unbothered.

“G-gonna… gonna,” you try to sputter out the words, feeling the sparks in your stomach coming to a head.

Tendou pulled away abruptly with a fake, quizzical look on his face. “You’re gonna what?” He settled his chin on his hands against your tummy, kissing lazily just against your skin. The slick from your now-aching cunt glistened on his lip under the hazy, morning sun.

“P-please?” You were nearly in tears, so close to release if he even shifted his abdomen the right way against your mound, you might come undone.

“Please what, baby?” He kept up the silly act well. “What do you need?” You, on the other hand, were heaving and panting under him.

“Such a tease, ‘tori.” You squeeze the words out eventually. “I wanna cum.”

“Hmm, that,” he disentangled one of his hands from under his head and traced it down your dripping core. One of his digits easily slipped past the slick and into your entrance. He curled it against the sweet, spongey spot inside of you, making you clamp around him. “I bet you do.”

“I do, I do!” You whine, not caring if you look desperate now. “Please, Satori, wanna cum so bad, please, I’ll do anything, please!”

Wrong answer.

He sat back on his heels, eyeing you down with a dark smirk that made you feel so small and helpless. “Okay, but remember you said ‘anything’.” The pretty red tip of his long cock peeked out from the band of his underwear, precum leaking wherever it could. He pulled his length out and brushed it up and down your slit. “I’m going to cum all over this pretty little cunt, then we’re going to go on a little trip, and if you can stop yourself from making a mess like a little slut, then you can cum all you want.”

It felt like a trap, but you knew he would stick to his word. Your head was nodding before he even finished speaking. As soon as he got your quick verbal confirmation, he lined himself up and slipped into your eager opening. The burn made you clench and quake under him, but he kept a steady, albeit slow, pace of entering you.

“You feel so good, baby.” He pulled your thighs off the bed so he could stay kneeling, and the new angle pushed him even deeper into you. On instinct, your legs wrapped around his hips as best they could. “If you keep squeezing me like that I won’t last very long.”

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t on purpose. Your cunt clamped around him on its own accord, sensitive from being stuffed so full. The words came out instead as just a garbled mess of moans. He smiled down at your form, already so ruined, before he started pistoning into you. His hold on your hips never waivered and he kept you exactly where he needed to.

The lewd sounds coming from between your legs bounced around in your head, making you slump back to let him take you. His eyes left yours when you relaxed into the bed. He was too focused on watching exactly how your cunt swallowed him whole, dragging him in and gushing around him. In no time, a creamy ring landed around the base of his cock, driving a blush into his cheeks. You even, wanton moans were beautiful music to his ears.

Unsure of how much time had passed, you only tensed when his thrusts became sloppier and his tip twitched against your walls. He shuddered out a sigh and let himself slip out of your dripping center, setting you back on the bed.

“Keep those legs open, baby.” He whined, pumping himself quickly before his hot cum shot in ropes against your open cunt. Without missing a beat, he pressed his cock against your cunt, rutting against you, his tip slipping just past your entrance until he was pumped dry. “Good girl...good girl.” He moaned.

...

Four hours later you had some regrets. Maybe more than some. Now you were standing at the top of the hill in Montmartre wishing you could take bake your words. You wore a skirt that was just a little too short for the weather and tight panties Tendou had picked out for you. When a cool wind bruised against the front of your thighs.

You tugged on his sleeve, “Satori.” You whispered.

“What is it, love?”

“Can’t take it anymore, please can we just… I don’t know, can we go home? Please?” Your lips brush against the shell of his ear.

“I can’t say no when you ask so nicely.” He grabbed your hand and rushed you away to the corner you had parked on. Your feet stumbled over the cobble as you tried to keep up with his long strides.

Before you realized you had even arrived at the corner, the back door of the car swung open and you were thrown in. Just as you sat up he was pushing you down again and flipping up your skirt.

"Soaked," he grinned. His fingers slid up the fabric, teasing the mess beneath. You could feel the mix of cum squishing between your legs, threatening to leak out the sides of the too-tight underwear as he pressed against it.

"Di-didn't make a mess." You sighed when he finally pulled them down your legs and tossed them into the front seat.

"I see, love." He traced up your cunt, collecting cum on his fingertips and bringing it to your lips. You took them into your mouth with a second thought. Your tongue swirled around his fingers, sucking tightly. "Good girl."

With his other hand, he reached down and hurriedly unzipped his pants. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in just as he took his fingers from your mouth. A trail of saliva connected your tongue to his fingertip that made his own mouth run dry.

"All clean." He complimented and untucked himself.

"Want you, please, wanna cum, 'tori, please." You gasped as his cock slapped against your slit, teasing your entrance.

"Mhmm, course… you deserve it."

Tendou groaned as he slipped right into you. With the amount of cum splashing between your legs and the dull ache of want, he easily molded himself to you. Not waiting more than a second, he started pumping into you fast and reached his thumb down to tweak your throbbing clit.

"Been hard since we left the apartment. Thinking about your fucking cries and moans, whining for my cock. So cute, baby." He shuddered when he hit a particularly deep spot within you and you clamped down around him.

Your head was empty, too focused on how his thumb was kneading just right against your clit. His hips started stuttering with your own and you hit the edge within moments of one another. It came over you in a rushing wave, one jolt after another.

More of his cum spattered inside of you, filling you to the brim. Your damp thighs shook around him in the cold car as they searched for any warmth now that both your bodies had stilled.

He slumped over you and sighed heavily into your ear. "Good girl, felt so good. You okay, baby?"

"Y-yeah, I'm good, just cold. Kinda thirsty." You sputter out. He reached for the discarded underwear and cleaned you up as best he could before he cleaned himself and tucked his softening cock back into his pants.

"We'll get some drinks on the way home," he kissed you sweetly on the tip of your nose. "Happy Valentine's Day."

[alpacaparkaseok]

Lost & Found - 12

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment, oc feels like she’s gonna puke which, honestly, same

Word Count: 4.5k

a/n: holy. crap.

anyways, enjoy! 

just remember that if it’s not ok then it’s not the end 

Chapter 12. Bittersweet

series masterlist

“You wanna grab some lunch?” I ask as soon as I get into the car after my appointment with Dr. Mo. She seemed pleased with my progress, and reassured me that I did the right thing in writing Jimin’s letter.

The only thing left to do is wait.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Sunmi begins to drive. “How’d your session go?”

“Good, I think. I couldn’t stop fidgeting the entire time.” I blow a strand of hair out of my face. “Mind if I invite a friend to lunch?”

Sunmi glances at me sidelong, arching a brow. “Does this friend know about your thread and that you’re currently being chauffeured by a Bighit employee?”

I chew on my lip. “Well, yes to the first question and no to the second. But she knows everything else.” I bring my phone up to my ear, listening to it ring. “She actually helped me cut the thread...but she’s a really cool person. I swear.”

Sunmi just waves me off, appearing to be indifferent to adding another person to our lunch party. At this rate, I’ll have to invite Chung-hei as well.

“I was just going to call you! What happened last night? You left in a rush.”

“Wanna come to lunch? I think we’ll just grab something and eat it back at my apartment.” I look at Sunmi, who gives me a thumbs-up.

“And then you’ll explain what happened last night?”

I laugh at her persistence. “Yeah, sure.”

We discuss her order before she promises to meet me at the apartment. “I feel like I should invite my other friend as well,” I admit, looking at Chung-hei’s contact on my phone. “She’s Namjoon’s soulmate.”

Shrugging, Sunmi pulls into a drive through. “Don’t ask me, I’m just the driver.” She pauses. “Oooh, should I get a milkshake?”

“Yes,” I gasp. “Get me one too-”

Chung-hei picks up on the third ring.

“I was just thinking about you!” She chirps. I can’t help but smile at the sound of her voice.

“How adorable,” I drawl. “Wanna meet up at my apartment for lunch? I’ve got a couple of friends coming over that I want you to meet.”

“Sure! I was just planning on taking a break, anyways.”

“Great. You want the usual from the diner on 6th?”

“Ooh, how sexy, you even remember my order.”

I snort, rolling my eyes. “Whatever. See you soon.”

✂

“How far are we going to run today?” Namjoon asks, not sounding entirely thrilled at the prospect of cardio at this hour. It’s an odd hour to be going out for a run, but the weather is warm enough for a jog around their closed off neighborhood.

“I have no idea,” Jimin admits, looking excited to just get to go outside. “Just...a ways?”

Namjoon snorts. “A ways?”

“You know what I mean.” Swinging the door opens, Jimin pauses before stepping out. “Oh, mail’s here.”

Namjoon doesn’t think much of the statement, the mail is always here around this time of day. That is, not until he looks down at the pile of mail and sees a familiar looking envelope poking out from behind another letter.

“Ah!” He shouts, crouching down and scooping up the mess. “Ah!” He shouts again for emphasis.

Jimin looks at him with a half-smirk. “Is there a reason that we’re shouting?”

Unfortunately, Namjoon is unable to do much else besides shout. He backtracks into the house, tossing aside the undesirable letters in an effort to get to the one that really matters. In his excitement, it slips to the ground.

Jimin leans down, grabbing the letter that Namjoon points at with yet another shout. “What?” His stomach drops. “Did we forget to pay this month?”

“No!” Namjoon exclaims. When Jimin shrugs and attempts to hand it over to him, he thrusts it back at him. “That’s yours!”

“What do you mean, ‘it’s mine’?” Jimin asks, frowning. “We split the cost-”

“Jolie. It’s from Jolie,” he pants, finally catching his breath and calming down. “Read it.”

Now, Jimin realizes, would be the perfect time to panic.

Reading the expression of confusion on his face, Namjoon takes a deep breath before leading Jimin to the couches in the living room. “Remember when I told you about going to visit Jolie right after she cut the thread and how I gave her-”

“You gave her this?” Jimin asks, looking down at the electric bill envelope with no shortage of disbelief. “Joon, this is probably just a bill-”

“No, we just got the electric bill three days ago!” Namjoon explains excitedly. “Just, read it.”

Jimin comes to stand before the couch, but he doesn’t sit down. Not yet. He’s too busy fighting the nerves that have manifested, the envelope shaking in his hands as he stares down at it.

“O-ok.”

He perches down on the edge of the coffee table, not even thinking to sit on the couch. Not as he tears the envelope open and slides out a piece of paper that looks suspiciously like notebook paper.

Namjoon is attempting to back out of the room to allow his friend a private moment, but stays just long enough to confirm that this is indeed the long-awaited letter.

When Jimin unfolds the paper enough to see the first line, addressed to him, he begins to greedily gulp down air.

She has beautiful handwriting.

Finding Namjoon’s eyes from across the room, Jimin wears his emotions on his sleeve. The hesitant hope and utter fear of what he’s about to read is apparent, and it’s with a quivering lip that he calls out for his friend.

“Can you stay with me?” He quietly requests. Namjoon nods, hastily coming to sit across from his friend on the couch.

In the silence, Jimin reads through the letter. Namjoon watches as his brows furrow. A hint of a smile touches his cheeks at the very beginning, and he mumbles something about Elle. Then his lips part in a pained, silent gasp.

He’s silent throughout, however as he gets to the final few sentences, he finds himself reading through them again and again. It’s almost as though his eyes deceive him, like something isn’t quite connecting.

I still want you.

I still want you.

I still want you.

I still-

His thoughts are interrupted when Joon reaches out to lightly nudge his knee. “You ok?”

Ok?

“Yes?” It’s a question more for himself than anything. His eyes drift back to the page, to Jolie’s swirling handwriting and the promising statement within.

It terrifies him to the bone, which only makes him frustrated. In his utter confusion, he reads through the letter again, assessing every word.

It’s a question that Jimin hadn’t thought to ask himself before. Now that his soulmate seems within reach, he hesitates. Why?

She still wants him. And while her reasoning is sound, albeit leading to rash and hurtful choices, Jimin finds himself feeling like he’s missing something as those four words echo through his mind.

When the answer comes to him, he gasps it out as though he’d been holding his breath.

“I want to believe her,” he says, looking like he’s just about ready to cry from the frustration. “But I- I-”

Namjoon just nods, an understanding look in his eyes. It’s that look that helps to calm Jimin down, his racing heart finding solace in the fact that it might be normal to find it difficult to trust so readily.

“I can’t,” he quietly confesses. “Not yet.”

“You don’t have to,” Namjoon reassures. “Just take it one step at a time.”

Finally setting the letter down, Jimin rubs at his face. “What step are we even on?”

Namjoon chuckles quietly at his question. “Who knows. This is uncharted territory. But the way I see it, you’re in control now. You decide if you want to move forward with her in whatever way you see fit, or if you’re ready to just leave it behind. Have a fresh start.”

While both thoughts seem to have their own terrifying aspects, Jimin knows that leaving Jolie in the past simply isn’t an option.

“She said she had an aunt here, but Joon, that’s it. I’m all she’s got left.” He doesn’t know why he brings that up now, but his heart aches to think of it. For nearly a year now, she’s been so alone. Going through her grief, hardly coping. “Which may sound a little pretentious, but...I don’t want her to be alone.”

Namjoon leans back against the cushions, and Jimin seems to realize for the first time that he’s sitting on a table. He makes no move to get off of it, simply leaning forward on his elbows with a creased brow.

“Then maybe that’s where you two start,” Namjoon muses. “Neither one of you is ready to just dive into a relationship - that should be the last thing on your mind. But for now...just don’t let her be alone. I mean, the best you can while keeping your distance until, you know, you’re ready.”

Namjoon’s advice soothes the gaping hole in Jimin’s chest, letting him breathe freely for a moment. Just one step at a time.

He realizes, for perhaps the first time in his life, that just because she’s his soulmate, Jimin doesn’t have to immediately hand over his heart. It’s in pieces at the moment as is, partly due to the severed thread hanging from his left hand and partly due to the tangible heartbreak in Jolie’s letter.

No, Jimin can first let it mend. Take his time to heal.

Perhaps they can heal together.

✂

“Ah, I’ve seen you in the news!” Christina snaps her finger as she makes the connection, grinning at Chung-hei who chuckles.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she sheepishly admits. “Please tell me I look even better in person.”

“Oh,” I chime in, “loads better. You looked hideous in those pictures they used.”

Taking a huge bite, Chung-hei vigorously nods. “I know, right?! I seriously almost called them up to ask them where I could send some better photos. If they’re going to be talking about me, they might as well have some good pictures to use.”

Sunmi nearly chokes on her milkshake, fanning her cheeks as she stifles a laugh. Christina smiles fondly at Chung-hei and I.

“Why didn’t you?” She asks, clearly invested in the story now.

Chung-hei takes her question in stride, setting her chopsticks down. It’s a clear sign that she’s going to become fully immersed in the storytelling now. I lean back, ready to watch the show.

“Namjoon’s a protective idiot, that’s why.”

Now I’m the one choking, Sunmi hitting my back even as she grins devilishly. “What?! Did I just hear you say something other than praise about Namjoon?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

Chung-hei levels me with a glare, scooting her chair back to get up. I immediately throw my hands up in surrender. “Ok! Ok! Just keep telling your story!”

The first few minutes between all of my friends had felt like seeing three different worlds collide. Of course, Christina was the odd one out among the other two: her profession made her a bit of an odd candidate. A part of me was dying to tell her story, to help Chung-hei and Sunmi see just how amazing she was. However, all it took were a few jokes at my expense (something that Hei and Christina both have an uncanny ability to do) before the three of them were picking at their food and chatting like the neighborhood gossips that they surely are.

“What was it like?” Sunmi asks, and suddenly I’m thrown back into reality and realizing that I just missed the entire story.

“It was…” judging from the faraway look in Chung-hei’s eyes, she’s talking about when she first met Namjoon. “I don’t know. I always expected sparks to fly or the world to stop spinning, but it wasn’t like that at all.”

I glance over at Christina, gauging to see if we’re veering into something that might make her uncomfortable. She catches my gaze, giving me a little nod that tells me she’s alright. Interested in the conversation, even.

“It just felt like coming home after a long day,” Chung-hei continues. “Like kicking off tight shoes and scrunching up your toes in the warm grass. Like the most common, simple things that life has to offer, that somehow make you believe that everything really will be alright in the end.”

My emotions get caught in my throat as I think about those little things and realize that it’s been far too long since I last drank in the beautiful normal.

“Wow.” I’m not sure who whispers it, but I grunt in agreement.

“That sounds so nice,” Sunmi says with wide eyes. Chung-hei smiles a radiant smile, one that isn’t too wide but reaches her eyes anyways.

“Yeah. It really is.”

The four of us get a little lost in our own thoughts, but eventually Christina clears her throat and shoots me a pointed look.

“So...what happened last night?”

Ah. Right.

Just like that, the reminder that my letter may very well be in Jimin’s hands right now has me fidgeting in my seat, just like I did all throughout my session with Dr. Mo.

With a tight smile, I explain the events of last night. How I essentially poured out my heart in the letter (this earns me a proud smile from Chung-hei), and how I confessed that he was all I wanted still.

The memory of him under those dazzling lights at the concert rush back to me. His white shirt loose on his body, hair swept back mainly because he kept running his hands through it. Full lips parting into a smile just as quickly as they would melt into a teasing pout. The crowd was wrapped around his finger, nearly as tightly as the bright red thread dangling from his left hand.

The thread that I stared and stared at while Chung-hei and I slipped backstage, growing ever nearer. Getting close enough that I swore I could hear his voice, his laugh like a waterfall.

I was drowning in that laugh, unable to come up for air until I found myself practically begging on my knees outside of Christina’s apartment.

“Hey,” Christina gently pulls me from my tormented state. “Are you nervous?”

Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly before answering. “Yes.”

Sunmi, who sits beside me on the couch, wraps an arm around my shoulder and gives me a tight squeeze. Chung-hei abandons her food, leaving it on the coffee table and coming to sit on the other side of me.

“You told the truth,” she quietly comforts. “And that’s all you could do.”

I clench my jaw, staring at a wooden knot in the coffee table before me. “I told him that I forgave myself. But I feel like there’s so much I’ve done wrong, I hurt him too much-”

It’s Christina that rises from her chair and pushes everyone’s food aside until she can sit on the edge of the coffee table and reach out to cup my chin. Once I raise my eyes to hers, I see a raging fire in them.

“You don’t look back.” Her voice is made of steel straight out of the fire. “You cannot punish yourself for what’s already happened any more than you already have. Move forward. The only way to heal is to move forward and be better.”

I wonder for a moment how many times she’s repeated that to herself on the days when the shadows seemed a little darker and her past loomed a little larger.

“What do you think he’ll do?” I ask, my voice small.

Chung-hei sighs softly. “He still wants you...but I don’t know. He might need some time, Jolie.”

It stings, but I force myself to nod. My only hope is that he’ll allow me to somehow be a part of the time he needs to take for himself.

Eventually I ease into a semi-comfortable state, my friends chatting it up while I try to focus. Try as I might, my mind wanders back again and again to the letter. Maybe it got lost in the mail. Or maybe it won’t be delivered until tomorrow.

Maybe they really thought it was a bill and won’t open it for days, forgetting about it. It’s probably laying on that stupid kitchen island that Taehyung wants me to use for rolling dough out, collecting dust-

When my phone vibrates, I nearly jump out of my skin. My jolt makes Sunmi and Chung-hei jump as well, giggling lightly.

“Sorry,” I mumble, fishing my phone out of my back pocket. “My phone just-”

Elle’s bf 🙀: Hey...can we talk? Like, call?

I’ve rarely been able to curse fluently, but today appears to be the exception as a string of curses flow under my breath. The sentiment is mirrored as Sunmi and Chung-hei peer over my shoulder.

Christina doesn’t need to see the text to know what just happened. “He texted?”

“I’m gonna die,” I breathe out in response, heart rate ratcheting up at an alarming rate. “Dead, I’m dead-”

“Ok, look at me,” Chung-hei grabs my shoulders and forces a warm smile onto her face. “This is good-”

“Good?!” I shriek, looking down at my phone and back up at her. “How is this good? I feel like I’m gonna puke-”

“Great, but save the puking for after the phone call,” Chung-hei butts back in, taking charge of the moment. “Because right now there’s a boy on the other side of that message trying to be brave, and he needs you. He’s probably freaking out, and he needs some answers and reassurance that his soulmate really actually meant every word she wrote in that letter. And you meant it, didn’t you?”

I find myself nodding along, wishing that I hadn’t just eaten a ridiculous amount of food. Not as my stomach churns at the thought of talking in real time with Jimin.

“Go ahead and text him back,” Sunmi coos, the calm to Hei’s invincible will. “And...you know what, nevermind. I’ll ask about the way you have him saved under your phone later.”

It takes me an embarrassing amount of time to formulate a response, and even longer to type it out without making any typos. Staring at the send button, I groan, unable to press it just yet.

“I really might throw up.”

“I’ll get you a glass of water.” Christina springs up from the couch as Chung-hei begins to rub soothing lines up and down my arms. Despite the warm temperature in the room, I can’t stop shivering.

“If you want us here, that’s fine...but I also think it might be good for it to just be the two of you. So you can talk freely” Hei gently advises, so different from the little pep talk mere moments before.

I stare at the wall, chewing ferociously on the inside of my lip. The thought of my friends not being here makes me feel even more vulnerable, but at the same time I know this is something I have to do alone.

“Will you come back after?”

“Of course,” Sunmi reassures. “We’ll just go on a ride or something while you two talk. Text us when you’re done, and we’ll be back before you know it.”

Christina sets the glass of water in my hand, urging me to drink. With a few swigs that help to clear my head and temporarily calm my stomach, I press send.

Me: Of course. I’m free right now, go ahead and call if you can.

I’m not sure if I want to cry or squeal.

Both. I want to do both.

My three friends get up (Christina taking her food with her, a detail I hardly notice) and file through the door, offering me warm smiles and words of encouragement. Try and I might, I can hardly register them amidst the swirling feelings of panic and doubt crawling through my veins.

The sound of the door closing is what makes the first tear slip out.

Grabbing my phone and staring at the couch before deciding that I’d rather the comfort of my blankets and pillows, I jump and stub my toe against the coffee table when Elle jumps through the kitchen window. She appears to be unbothered, but follows me into my room and leaps onto the bed. She circles my feet before brushing up against my calves, laying between my legs. Resting her chin on my shin, she looks up at me with those big eyes of hers.

Waiting, just like I am.

I’m not sure how long it takes, but it feels like an agonizing eternity before the phone finally rings.

When it does, I scoop it up and stare at if for a moment. I pinch myself for good measure, giving myself one last chance to wake up.

Of course, I don’t wake up. This isn’t a dream. I realize that when my shaky thumb swipes to accept the call and I bring the phone to my ear.

It’s quiet, but I can hear the soft, shaky breath on the other side of the phone. Almost like Jimin was holding his breath but couldn’t quite hold it any longer.

It takes me approximately four seconds to remember that I’m supposed to say hello.

Of course, I fail even at that. “Jimin?”

It’s not the most eloquent way to answer the phone, but I need to know.

“Jolie.”

✂

“Jimin?”

Jimin stands outside on the balcony, facing the large pines that obscure his view of the rest of the neighborhood. When he hears the breathy, slightly panicked voice on the other end of the phone, he realizes that he should definitely be sitting down for this conversation.

“Jolie.” It’s a statement that should have been a question, but he knows - knew, from the single syllable his soulmate had utter, his name, no less, that it had been her.

It had to be her. His name had never sounded so beautiful coming from any other mouth.

When the silence stretches on, Jimin sinks to the ground and sits facing those great pines. The railing obstructs his view a bit, but it isn’t like he’s actually watching them. No, his gaze is a little dazed as he scrambles for something to say.

“I- I got your letter.”

There’s a pause in which Jimin is absolutely positive he hears a sniffle - the pitiful sound making him reach out to grab the metal bars of the balcony railing for support.

“Oh.” And then, “I’m sorry, I’m such a mess right now-”

“No, I am too,” Jimin rushes to reassure her. “I think it’s safe to say that we’re both a bit of a mess.”

He hears a wry chuckle and suddenly he can’t help but smile slightly, basking in the short-lived sound. “Jimin, I…”

“What?” Eager to hear what comes next, Jimin can’t help but widen his eyes as if that will urge Jolie to continue.

“I...t-thank you for the flowers.”

Someone might as well have brought him back to life. Shoulders relaxing and lungs expanding, Jimin blinks and finally sees the trees.

“Thank you for the letter.”

✂

Jimin’s voice is deeper than I thought it would be. His soft, angelic singing voice acts as a good cover for the delicious timbre coming through the phone.

Of course, I may be biased.

“You’re welcome,” I manage to squeak out. “You deserved an explanation. I hope it didn’t leave you more confused than before.”

“No,” he responds, dragging the word out in a way that makes me feel warm. “It was beautiful. I’m so sorry, Jolie, about your parents. I wish I could do something- change it.”

The familiar pang of pain strikes true, but it fails to linger like it normally does. “It’s nobody’s fault, Jimin.” His name is delicious on my tongue, and I fight the urge to say it again. “But I really, just...I know saying I’m sorry doesn’t cut it, but for what it’s worth...I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”

It’s quiet except for the sound of a breeze and distant chirping, leading me to believe that he’s outside. If I close my eyes, I’m right there with him.

“Thank you. I...that means a lot. Thank you.” He takes a deep breath, and I can tell that he’s getting to the reason he called in the first place. “This might sound a little strange, but I need to say it.”

“Go on,” I urge.

“You mentioned - don’t hate me, because you said it was the cheesy part,” I can’t help but snort at his playful manner that peeks through. “But you sounded like you were willing to give this a try…? Give us a try?”

Blinking rapidly to dispel any lingering tears, I nod even though he can’t see me. “Yes. But only if you want to. I completely understand if you feel like you can’t after everything that’s happened-”

“I want to. I- I want you.”

My heart pounding in my ears, I bite down a gasp. “You do?”

“But just...can we take this slowly?”

Letting out a sigh of relief, a tentative smile makes its way to my lips. “Yes, please.”

Judging from Jimin’s little laugh, he’s more than happy with my response. “Good. I just don’t want to be alone anymore, you know? And hey, if I remember correctly, you thought I was funny-

“Woah, I thought Jaemin was funny, not you. You’re gonna have to start all over now.”

Jimin makes a sound of protest that I hope masks the schoolgirl-like giggle I let out at the sound. “Really? You’re ridiculous. Hey! Is Elle there?”

“Oh, she is! She’s sitting here eavesdropping, wanna say hello?”

“Yes, put me on speaker. I’ve missed my cat.”

“Your cat? Really?”

“Yah, put me on speaker already-”

His voice cuts off, and I strain to hear another person that speaks in the background. It’s muffled, but despite the poor quality I can hear the panic in their voice. A moment later Jimin returns, however his joking banter is gone. Indeed, he sounds deadly serious as he tries to calmly speak.

“Jolie,” he begins, and suddenly it’s cold. “You’re at home, right?”

“Yeah,” I answer. “What happened?”

“Stay inside,” Jimin instructs, not answering my question. “Do not leave, you understand me? And don’t let anyone inside. I don’t care who it is, do not let anyone in.”

My blood runs cold at that. “Jimin, you’re scaring me, what’s going-”

“Promise me.”

The pure desperation in his voice leaves me paralyzed, but I manage to speak. “I promise. But Jimin, what’s happening? Is everything ok?”

“I’ll call you tonight, ok? Just- don’t leave.”

With that, he bids me goodbye and the line clicks off. Scrambling to pull up the numer, I immediately call Chung-hei.

It rings and rings, eventually going to her voicemail. I end the call only to begin a new one to Christina.

Again, no answer.

Sunmi’s number is the last one I try, holding the phone up to my ear. “C’mon, pick up, pick up,” I chant, pulling my knees up to my chest.

But it just rings, over and over again.

“Hello, this is Kang Sunmi. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to take your call, please leave a message-”

Ending the call with a violent jab, I start the calls again from the top.

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[cptnbvcks]

Honestly ANY goofy prompt with Javier

dripping (javier peña x reader)

words: 5.5k

prompt: goofy — with food

summary: javi brings you something to take the edge off during one of colombia’s heatwaves

warnings: smut smut smut, sticky situations (literally)

a/n: this was too long for any kind of drabble and i hate myself for it and this was significantly prompted by my childish urge for snow cones mid-february. this is also half unedited filth lmao sorry

You always thought that Miami was hot during the summer, but Colombian summers felt like the devil himself had turned on the fucking broiler and left the entire goddamn city of Bogota to roast.

Every window of your apartment was pushed open, beckoning any hopeful gust of damp breeze to uselessly relieve the drowning humidity that was swelling within the cramped one bedroom home. If you could have stuck your head through the burglar-proof bars and hung half your body out onto the street, that’s probably how Javier would have found you when he slid the spare key into your front door and let himself in. 

Instead, Javi found you half-sprawled on the living room floor, dressed in nothing but a pair of cotton shorts and a thin tank top with your legs stretched out languidly across the cool tile. A half melted cup of ice lingered in a pool of condensation as you sat in front of a struggling electric fan while also clutching another hand-held woven fan that you had obtained as a wedding favour from some distant older cousin on your mother’s side of the family. 

You only opened one eye to peer up at him as he entered your field of view. 

Javi chuckled at the sight.

“News says the heatwave’s not supposed to let up until Monday,” Javi informed with a playful tease to his voice, as you closed your eyes to groan pathetically, “But, I brought something that might take the edge off.” 

When you opened your eyes again, Javi was lowering himself to a squat infront you. Your eyes drifted from his amused eyes to his out stretched hands, both of which held a small styrofoam cup filled to the brim with a sad looking dome of syrup covered and half-melted shaved ice.

“Snow cones?” You snort humorously, a smile quickly spreading across your face at the sweet gesture. You grabbed the cone doused in red syrup, swapping the cup from one hand to the other as you noticed the mess the melted ice was making around its container. Javi’s hands were covered in it. “I haven’t had these for years. Are they from—?”

“The vendor across from Maria’s, yeah. You should have seen the line of kids. I’ve seen smaller mobs at election campaigns,” he said, lifting his messy hand to his mouth to mindlessly clean off the sticky syrup residue. He let himself fall back heavily on the floor across from you, his back propped up by the island cabinets and legs splayed on either side of yours, “I was on my way over and I saw that he was out today — thought of you.” 

Your eyes followed his motion of his tongue, dragging thoughtless motions over the webbing of his fingers as he drew back to speak. A bead of sweat marked its way across the side of your temple, its path mimicked by the trickling ice running over the cup’s rim and collecting around your overheated hand. You blink back to attention as his throw-away words drag your heat-weighted brain to attention. 

A smile as lazy as the heat teased at your mouth as you brought the cup to your mouth, using your lips and tongue to scoop into the side of the dwindling dome of shaved ice. You hum around the treat, eyes glistening mischievously as you watched him sip at the edge of his cup. “You thinking about me, Javi?”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he grunted back, his brow furrowed with small focus as he looked from the snow cone to you. His eyes lowered to your mouth when you purposefully ran a pink-dyed tongue over your lips. 

You hummed an affirmation under your breath as you tapped your bare foot into the inner portion of his thigh to watch him jump at the contact. Javier circled his free hand around your ankle, squeezing in small warning to behave. 

A drop of watery syrup hit the top of your foot as the calloused pad of his thumb rubbed a broad circle against your skin. 

“Mmm, too late.”

There’s a moment of silence that passes between the two of you, eyes locked on one another from across the narrow space between the kitchen counter and the island. Javier’s fingers stroke mindless patterns around the prominent bone of your ankle as you watch him manoeuvre around the snow cone, quietly noticing the way his baby blue shirt clung damply to his chest in spite of the first few buttons being undone. 

Your eyes follow a small bead of sweat across the tendons of his neck, watching as it soaked into the collar of his shirt. 

The snow cones didn’t stand a chance in this heat. 

“You’re dripping,” Javier pointed out, the drag of his voice drawing your thoughts sluggishly back to attention. You raise a brow as he lifts his half-melted cup, raising a finger around it to point at your chest. 

Tipping your chin, you notice the raspberry syrup stains that sprawled in messy drips over the front of your camisole. You laugh, because you know where your attention had been, and it hadn’t been on the cup of melting ice and liquid sugar.

“Oops.” 

The word drops coyly from your lips, molasses thick and just as sweet. 

Javier’s fingers twitch on your foot and his eyes don’t move any higher than the swell of your breasts, or the sheer top that no longer escapes his attention. 

Your eyes are on him again when you tilt the styrofoam just a little more.

Another drop of syrup and ice falls. This time, it lands on skin. 

Javier grips you beneath your shin and inhales lowly as your nipples visibly harden at the cold trail the spill leaves behind on its path down your cleavage. It’s icy cold even at its melting point but it does nothing to quell the wet heat that clings to your skin.

“Mala,” Javier breathes, the word dragging through the haze of the room. Bad.

You tap your foot against his thigh again, but this time you twist the appendage out of his grip with a quick roll and hook your leg over his thigh. Javier’s eyes don’t miss the not-so-subtle parting of your thighs as you scoot forward, both legs spreading and coming to a bend on either side of his hips until you sat squarely between his thighs. Your head tilted forward, tempting to bridge the small gap that existed between your faces.

 At this distance you could see the speckling of sweat that peppered the length of his neck. You licked your lips and suppressed the urge to taste his skin. 

Not yet.

There was pleasure in the denial, in the oppressing swelter. So you told yourself — not yet. 

“Yeah?” You purred, watching the way he worked his jaw in small resistance. 

Javier could feel the warmth radiating from you — sauna hot and hotter still in that sinful space between your clothed cunt and his crotch. Trying not to smirk, you purposefully shift onto your knees, straddling him as you set one hand on his shoulder as stretch your torso up and set your cup onto the counter behind him. The movement centring your tits right up to his face, close enough that you feel his breaths fan out warmly across your sternum. 

“Maybe I’m just trying to cool down, Javi. You gonna blame a girl for trying not to overheat in this weather?” 

“Is this your idea of cooling down? Putting your tits in my face?” Javi asked, the words hushed as he followed the impulse to lean forward, his mouth opening and his tongue pressing a searing swipe along the remnant trail of syrup. 

Sweet and salty and so fucking soft when he drags his free hand up along the back of your thigh, squeezing for the sake of feeling the plush give of your flesh in his sticky hands. He goes for the straps of the camisole next, his manners non-existent when he yanks the thin strap down your arm and digs his fingers into the neckline of the stretchy polyester to expose your left breast to the humid air. 

You laughed at his impatience, one hand dropping to cup the back of his head and card through the damp strands that clung to the base of his neck. 

“Something like it,” you say, the words sighing on the edge of your laughter as you hold his head to your chest, a soft noise muffling itself behind your lips as he sucks a raspberry hued bruise into the top of your breast. 

His mouth is cold and it sends a deep shudder along the valley of your spine that clenches vice-tight between your thighs. You know that you could get off on this alone, with his mouth bruising your breasts in red and blue patches — hell, he’s made you do it before (much to your own surprise). 

“You taste so good, baby,” he murmurs, his teeth catching flesh and pulling a weak noise from your throat as he circles his free hand around your lower back, pressing your thighs harder into his torso while you remain poised taller on your knees. You don’t miss the way he sneaks a finger against the crotch of your shorts when he grabs your thigh from behind. “Come here.” 

You grunt a response as you sink your hips back down into his lap before he can finish his path to your nipple. The edge of the styrofoam cup bumps your thigh as Javier mindlessly grabs for your waist, having forgotten the melted treat entirely from the minute you parted your legs to taunt him. 

The cup tilts in his distracted grip, allowing the remainder of the dwindling ice hill to slosh out and land with a wet splat on your bare thigh. The shock of the temperature earns a startled shout that makes Javier laugh deep in his chest. 

“Javi!” 

“You’re making a mess, mina,” Javier taunts, mouth against your throat and a chiding pique to his voice that almost sounded like tutting. The spill runs berry pink streams over the flesh of your thigh, rivulets of its melt curving a slow descent to your inner thigh. 

“I’m making a mess?”

“Yes.” 

He punctuates the syllable with a soft growl as you begin to lean away from his prying mouth, forcing his lips to chase you as you arch out of his reach. You allow him the distraction of the chase, stealing the now half-empty cup from his hand before he eagerly uses his new found freedom to grip at your thigh. 

His hands smears across the mess he made, spreading it across your skin when he reaches for your half-exposed breasts to finish tearing down the other side of your shirt.

Javier cups his hands under your breasts, pressing into your ribcage as he squeezes them together and watches in rapture as they fall back into place. Your breath comes shaky when he drags his palm across your hardened nipple, the syrup slick on your skin and dying your flesh in streaks of sweet magenta. 

It’s cold and your skin burns and you’re thinking it has something more to do with the DEA agent fondling your tits and less so with the swimming heat that’s swirling through the apartment.

Javier brings his mouth to your nipple, tongue pressing flat and teeth scraping achingly over the swollen flesh as your hips instinctively roll into his. He groans into your chest when you repeat the motion, arching into his mouth as your fingers press into the back of his head to hold him tight. 

You can feel the sweat beading at the nape of his neck, the slickness of his skin that makes you wonder just how messy things can really get. 

“Javi,” you moan softly, your shoulders hunching slightly as a high note leaves your throat when he begins sucking another hard bruise into the side of your breast, just beneath your nipple, “Javi.” 

Javier doesn’t pull back until he knows your skin has bloomed the same shade of crimson as the syrup, the kind that turns violet in the hours after. Your exhale is already wrecked when he releases his grip on your left breast, guiding his clean fingers to the cusp of your shoulder and throat. 

Your skin is sweat and syrup and he uses his other hand to paint you to his liking. 

The next noise you make is the soft grunt of a constricted moan when he squeezes gently. It’s brief, but lingers long enough to make you rut your aching core against him like a bitch so far in heat that not even the melted ice running down your leg could sequester.

The air is heavy with more than humidity and every gulp feels like sucking down water, growing worse yet when Javier’s fingers move to the back of your neck, gripping tight into the muscle there. 

Your cheeks burn with flustered anticipation when he cups your jaw with his other palm, sticky fingers spreading a layer of coloured sugar over your cheeks and chin. His thumb coats your bottom lip with it, skin tugging at that tacky stick of drying sugar.

“Open your mouth, baby.” 

Your eyes are half lidded, heavy with the weight of your own desire, as you look down at the man. It’s not his order that gets your submission; it’s the demanding press of his thumb between slackened lips that jerks your mouth into motion. 

Javier watches as you tilt your head as best as you could, your neck and head held securely between both of his hands. Your jaw works with each suck as you taste the artificial raspberry flavour of his thumb. 

Javier helps you along, pressing his thumb into your tongue as you drag it over the sensitive pad of his calloused fingers. The act earns a tight squeeze to the back of your neck as he softly mumbles to himself more so than to you, “That’s it, mina. So good for me, aren’t you?” 

Tipping your chin in a weak nod, you pin him with those achingly soft eyes with blow out irises and droopy lids that makes his cock twitch between all the layers of clothes. His thumb disappears from your mouth and leaves you gasping for air. 

You grind into his jeans again and hear yourself moan his name. Fuck, at this point you weren’t even sure anymore if that dampness between your legs was from the melted snow cone. 

“I thought you were cooling down,” Javi smirks, the words rough and dragging slow on his tongue like his thoughts were moving just as sluggishly as everything did in this weather. He manipulates your head in his grasp, tilting your head down as he drags his spit-dampened thumb over the heel of your chin. 

“I am,” you hum, your body undulating slowly over the hard ridge pressing incessantly from within his jeans. Your fingers grip at the cup that you had forgotten was still sitting in your strained grasp, the styrofoam punctured in spots from your nails digging into the sides. Your lips curl with a mischievous smirk. “Spilling that snow cone all over me really helped.” 

You take him by surprise when you press your palm to his chest and shove him backwards, the movement demanding of his obedience and his shoulders hit the cabinet with a wooden clatter and a spare grunt. 

His eyes are starved and the way his lips pout on the remnants of his kisses make you want to sink further down and press your lips to his until you forget where your breaths become his.

Javier stares up at you as your index finger dips into the deep part of his button down, pulling until the button gives.

Slowly, you lower your head to ghost your sticky lips against his, your exhale warm over his chin. Your eyes watch as his flutter closed, his head tilting to slot his lips against yours with only the small hesitation to prolong the moment. His fingers twitch against the back of your neck and jaw, domineering but tenderly supportive as he kisses your berry lips until he tastes the salt of sweat that had gathered on your upper lip.

Javier doesn’t see when you pull his shirt away from his chest by the crook of your finger — doesn’t see when you tip the cup into the space and let the coldness of it jerk him out of his moments reverie. 

“Jesus Christ!” He hisses, jerking back as his hands release your head to pull his soaked shirt away from his skin. 

You laugh, loud enough that the sound might have floated through the open windows and down into the streets below. 

“See? Cooled you right down.” 

The laughter doesn’t linger long before he’s pushing you down onto the tiles, the temperature change that slaps against your lower back makes you arch uncomfortably as your thighs spread around his hips. 

Javier cages you in, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that’s more tongue and teeth and frantic urgency. Your lips part on the heel of a grin and he takes the opportunity to drag his tongue against the roof of your mouth. 

The humour turns foggy in your thoughts when his fingers tangle into the roots of your hair. 

“I’ll get you back for that,” Javi speaks against your chin and you shiver at the damning sound of his belt unbuckling. That’s your cue to set your hands into the part of his shirt and pull until the buttons pop free, shoving the ruined article over his shoulders as he leans up to aid its removal.

“You promise, Javi?” You purr back, dragging your nails over his stained and sticky chest and drawing a lazy circle over his left nipple with your index finger.

He shudders and grabs your wrist, his fingers circling easy around the thin bird-like bones when he pulls your hand to his sternum in a silent demand to touch him. His eyes are dark and set heavy when he pins you with a look that makes you painfully aware of the profound empty yearning growing between your thighs.

You let your eyes follow your fingertips down the expanse of his chest when he leans back on his knees to tug his belt out of its loops. His eyes wander — over your heaving, food-colouring stained breasts to the way your thighs part eagerly over his thighs. They hang loose enough that he can see the blush of your cunt through one of the leg holes. 

Javier growls deep in his chest at the sight. 

Mindlessly, his hand trails through the remnants of the spill he had made on your thigh and carries the mess up into the open leg of your cotton shorts. 

Your head falls back into the tile and your body coils achingly tight when he flattens his fingers across your pelvis and draws the coarse pad of his thumb over the seam of your pussy. Your knee jerks against his hip, your fist clenches in the hem of his jeans, and the noise that bubbles from your lips is just as heavy as the mid-heatwave air. 

“F-fuck, Javi, baby—” you whimper, lower lip quivering when he presses his thumb past your slick folds to find that little bundle of nerve endings that make your back arch high and your thighs threaten to snap closed. His fingers are coarse against your flesh and you pull hard on his jeans when he presses quick, purposeful circles into your clit just to watch you squeal eager nonsense beneath him.

“Right there, baby?” Javier tilts his chin and watches as you shiver in spite of the swelter, your muscles quickly losing their coordination when he drags your clit with a single rough sweep of his thumb. Your thigh jumps, threatening to shut tight in instinctive resistance, but he presses a broad palm over your inner thigh and holds you open. 

The noise you make, just like your laughter, reaches the taxi-lined streets below.

“Ye–yes— Javi, Javi! Please, baby!” 

Javier swears he might have cum right fucking there if you called his name like that again.

You sob into the humid apartment, gasping down a lungful of wet air when Javier pulls his hand out of the leg of your shorts. Your thoughts lag behind your reaction as he hooks his hands beneath your thighs, pushing them to your torso before hooking his fingers into the damp fabric, guiding it over your thighs and calves. He does not touch the camisole still wrapped around your hips when he lets your thighs limply fall open around him again.

You swear the room gets a few degrees hotter without your clothes on, and even more so when you catch the way his eyes fall to your exposed cunt, surely just as glistening and damp as the rest of your fucking body. 

“Please, Javi,” your voice is smaller now as your fingers find themselves back at the fly of his jeans, pulling until the button pops open. The sound of his zipper lowering and the soft drag of your voice is enough to get Javier just where you need him. You feel as much when you raise your shoulders to lower your hand into his jeans, biting back the teasing smirk at his convenient lack of underwear. Batting your eyes as innocently as you can, you draw him from the constraint of his pants to circle dainty fingers over the base of his cock. 

There’s a heaviness in his eyes as he stays on his knees between your thighs, watching your honey-warm eyes droop with lust when his hand wraps around yours, tightening your grip with a soft exhale. You begin to guide him, cock first, towards your core. 

For once, Javier’s speechless, swallowing thick in the heady air as he lets you guide him.

“Please, fuck me, Javi.” 

The laze breaks when you whimper his name like that, desperate and shameless, sweetly polite while saying the most impolite things. 

His fingers dig divots into the flesh of your thighs as he spreads you further, squeezing your palm beneath his, trapping it there as he drags the smooth head of his cock through your folds. 

He doesn’t catch the way your eyes flutter when strokes himself against your clit, but he feels the way your ankles squeeze against his thighs when he draws back, angles proper, and stretches you open on his length.

“Fuck, baby,” Javier curses and your refuse yourself the pleasure of shutting your eyes just so you can look up at the way his head lowers, the tips of his hair hanging heavy and damp into his forehead while his brow furrows deeply at the sight of your hand beneath his as your pussy clenches tight and eager around the first few inches of him. 

Even this wet, the stretch aches deep in your body with a small pinch of pain that you’ve grown to savour every time he comes home and loses himself between your thighs. 

“I’ll never get tired of this pussy,” he growls, hearing the soft effortful noises that swim through the air between your parted lips when he circles his arm beneath one bent knee and uses the leverage to yank you forward, forcing you to take him completely, “Never, mina. Never.” 

His head lifts then, catching the way your eyes wrench shut, the way your mouth purses together at the sharp strain and full pleasure that hits you too deep to completely fathom. 

Your coy one-liners die a brief death before resurrecting again the moment your hand, previously wrapped around his cock, to your aching clit.

“You— better not,” you grunt, the words jerking out of your throat in uneven gasps as Javier rocks his hips into yours with determinedly shallow thrusts, working you open. He pushes your thigh further into your chest and you swear the air leaves your lungs when he hits that familiar spot that knocks the vocabulary straight out of your head.

Your walls squeeze around him and the heat he feels inside of you is blinding; fevered from the inside out and it brings sweat beading across his forehead when he slumps his body down against yours to bury his face against your shoulder. You whine, high and loud, when he pins your knee against your chest, trapping your fingers between his pelvis and yours when he circles his hips and grinds deep. 

It’s sweaty and sticky and your skin clings to his when your tits push into his chest. Your free hand curves up the muscles of his back, feeling the way his shoulder blades shift under the press of your fingers when he sets his forearm on the ground beside your head and lays into you. Your nerves light white-hot and you squeeze him with every fucking muscle in your pelvic floor with each press of his hips that sends your fingers harder against your clit.

“Tightest little— thing I’ve ever fucked, sweetheart,” Javier groans, his mouth at your ear and his fist clenching around the spill of hair beneath your head, his words jagged and rasping with every steady thrust. His nose brushes against the patch of skin between your ear and jaw, his lips trailing down to the beating pulse of your throat and sucking another hard bruise right there.

You moan like a whore for him, his words coiling something deep and fucking feral in the pit of your stomach. You think you’re babbling, something along the lines of harder, Javi, please, please. 

“Christ, baby, you’re a fucking mess.” 

The closeness burns you up, even more so when he draws his hips back, dragging heavily through your soaked walls. You try to chase his movement, aching and squeezing around nothing until he’s inside of you again with a thrust so hard it tears the cry from your lips and sends your back skidding sweatily against the kitchen tile. 

Javier tightens his grip around the underside of your thigh, and it hurts but you can’t process anything but the way he’s rutting into you like he means to fuck you straight through the floor and into your downstairs neighbour’s apartment. 

Your eyes feel damp and you can’t tell if its tears or sweat or a little of both, much less if it’s your sweat or his.

“I’m close,” Javier’s voice echoes somewhere in the haze, gravelly and tight as every syllable vibrates across his chest, “Do you want me to—?” 

“No!” A particularly solid thrust jerks the word abruptly from your chest and Javier almost laughs when you drop your hand from the back of his shoulder to the base of his hip, squeezing hard to urge him forward, “No, please, Javi. Cum inside, fuck— cum inside me.” 

The demand falls to unintelligible cries as his fingers sink beneath your head, pulling your head from the floor as he fucks into you with little regard for the heat or the sweat or the layer of sticky sweet syrup that’s only getting stickier with each thrust of his body into yours. 

You bury your head into his shoulder and cling to him as tight as you can, your fingers working quick circles over your clit until your muscles strain and shake before everything uncoils, slick and hot and all at once like someone just pulled the proverbial fucking rug out from under your body. 

You gasp for air but the humidity of the apartment renders you breathless, even with a lung full of oxygen. 

The reaction is far too familiar to Javier. He’s fucked you enough times to memorize the way you hold onto him when you cum — like your arms were made for nothing more than squeezing him into your body while you sob his name over and over until your throat goes dry and hoarse. Just like you’re doing now. 

Javier tightens his grip in your hair as your cries hit their peak and your nails bite into the valley of his spine, your body going taught as you cum hard enough that he swears you manage to take him a few inches deeper into your fluttering cunt. He curses deep from his chest and swears he’s hit the limit of you when you gasp and threaten to instinctively draw your hips back and away from the pressure.

His hips stutter hard as your cunt gushes warm around him, muscles spasming rhythmically despite the stretch of him filling you to your limits. You choke on his name and your final gasp when he stiffens in your arms, his cock jerking into you once, twice — and then he groans something sinful and raw into the flesh of your shoulder that he has caught between his teeth. 

You feel the warmth of him when he cums inside of you, the sensation drawing your addled attention to the weight of him nestled deep at home in your body. 

Javier doesn’t move, only letting his forehead drop heavily against your shoulder as he kisses the marks his teeth had left in your glistening skin. 

Slowly, your hand manages its way out from between your bodies, fingers slick with your own cum when you reach for his jaw and force his face from your shoulder to press your lips shakily against his. 

He relaxes his grip on your compressed thigh, moving his hand to rest against the forgivingly cool tile as you let your leg slump boneless and open against his hip.

“Javi,” you sigh as he exhales softly against your mouth, the kiss stirring him just enough that he manages to push past his own overstimulation to give a lazy thrust. Your thigh trembles when he kisses you again, his tongue tasting that raspberry flavour still lingering in your mouth. He nudges his damp forehead against yours when he draws away to kiss your cheek, then your eyelid. 

He laughs when his lips meet your forehead, tasting the sweat of your skin and the radiating heat of you on his lips. Javier lowers his lips to kiss you between your brows when a sudden booming brap brap brap makes the both of you jump in each other’s arms and jerk your heads towards the front hallway door.

Javier’s response was immediate, trained and instinctual, covering you while also recoiling one hand to where he usually kept his gun in the belt of his jeans — only to realize his pants were around his knees and his gun had been safely discarded on the hallway table. 

“Oye!” A muffled voice, elderly and warbling, shouted from the other end of the front door. You felt Javier’s body slacken against yours, his brow furrowing as the woman rapped on the door again, “Mantenga sus ventanas cerradas, por el amor de Dios. Podemos escucharte desde el porche. ¿No sabes que hay niños aquí afuera?” 

Javier’s brow furrowed as the neighbour rapped on the door four more times, the sound clearly coming from a cane and not from her fist. 

You laughed, breathless as you raised your voice, “Lo siento, Miss Rosa!” you giggle out, sliding your fingers into Javier’s hair as he shakes his head with an amused look in his eyes. Your voice lowers as the woman’s muttering fades into the distance, “Lo siento.”  

Javier shakes his head as you card your fingers through his sweaty locks, pulling his head down to press your lips to his chin and the corner of his mouth.

“You’re pissing your neighbours off again,” he murmurs.

“You’re pissing them off, Javi—” you hum out, but his only response is to press himself into you again, watching the way your lips still part in a small gasp despite having already softened inside of you, “—because every time you come here, this always happens.”

He laughs and the sound is easy and you know that his walls are lowered, though never completely down. 

“What do you say we piss off Miss Rosa a little more, hm, mina?” 

“Javi,” you warn, but his lips are already pressing slow trail of kisses down the cusp of your throat and over your chest. You hiss softly as he draws out of your pussy, leaving you suddenly with the distinct overflow of his cum when your walls squeeze achingly around nothing. 

A sharp yelp of surprise bursts from your lips when the man grabs your sides and pushes you further up the kitchen tile, your hand flying up over your head to prevent the crown of your skull from colliding with the cabinets behind you, “Javi!”

He takes advantage of the new found space to lower his face to the apex of your thighs, drawing one hand under your leg as he presses a kiss to the side of your knee. Your cheeks redden when you catch him lowering his gaze to your pussy, all soft and pink and terribly fucked out. 

You swallow roughly when he presses his mouth further down your thigh, pausing at the patch of dried syrup. His fingers grip your flesh, holding your leg still as he drags his tongue over your skin, closing his lips around your skin and sucking an easy bruise right there. He doesn’t stop until he pulls a moan from your chest. Only then does he press another kiss to your thigh, inching lower and lower.

This time, your voice is low, tinted with laughter and flustered when you press your hands to his shoulders and half-heartedly push, “Javi, don’t—”

“Keep saying my name like that and I’ll fuck you right here until we both get heatstroke,” Javi warns, the amusement in his voice clear as he looks up at you to ensure his permission to continue despite your half-hearted protests.

He lowers his head again. This time, his gaze doesn’t deviate from your face until your eyes slowly slip closed, your brow furrowing as a bead of sweat slithers its way down the side of your temple.

You whimper. 

“Javi.”

—

Tag List

@sophiria @imspillingcoffee @plumbuck @romqnofff @sexygaypalpatine @elisaa-shelby @readermia @the-dream-catch3r @pinkmoontribe-blog @madkingcrowley @whenimaunicorn @petalduck @fairylightsandchai  @osejn @mandowhoreian @letdecemberburninflames @chickens-are-velociraptors @naiomiwinchester @peregrinestook  @space-helen @virtuousburden @daddehhmando @thechampmylove @kiame-sama @knightheartcd @lustriix @deviantloving-detective @headsindreams @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @sgtbookybarnes @celestiaalbliss @coonflix @thetrappednerd @brooklymw @the-omni-princess @sav-a-nna @actuallyanita @equalstrashflavoredtrash @claynarwale @pedrolovebot @mermaid-seachelle @sasha1005 @kausmic@otherthingsinhead @maia-hocane @thatoneemosithlord @whenimaunicorn @fictional-thoughts @lilli-chae @spottedlekkudancer @mijachula @djjarindin @murdermewithbooks @justagarbagecompactor @itzagoodthing @i-like-those-oddss @awhiskeywithawinchester 

[wintrcaptn]

It’s You | Chris Evans 🖤

Summary : moving to a new place, not knowing a single person, wasn’t what you had in mind. But wanting a fresh start was the main goal. Little did you know, you were now living next door to none other than Chris Evans.

A/N : I had this dream and thought it would be fun to write a little story off of it. It’s cheesy and I honestly don’t even know if he has neighbors where he lives but oh well. Hope this makes you somewhat happy during these crazy times! Please be safe and don’t forget, wash your hands! (:

The house next door to Chris had been vacant for quite some time and he honestly didn’t even know it had sold.

Until now.

“Dammit.” You groaned to yourself as your books broke through the bottom of the box, falling to the ground.

All you could do was look up and let out a sigh. From driving all night, you were exhausted, stressed and beyond annoyed.

Chris had just finished changing his shirt when he heard the loud ruckus that came from outside, quickly catching his attention.

He watched you for a quick moment before Dodger snapped him back to reality after he bumped into his leg.

“Hey buddy.” He muttered, glancing back at you through the window.

You were struggle to push the broken box to your door. To get it out of the way.

Chris couldn’t help but feel bad. Without a moment to process what he was about to do, he started toward the door, making his way over to you.

It didn’t take long for him to walk over due to being literal next door neighbors. But finally getting to see you clearer he was captivated. Drawn into you for a reason he wasn’t sure as to why.

“Um hey, need some extra hands?”

The voice came from behind you, startling you. “Shit!” You exclaimed, holding your chest with your hand. “You scared me!”

You cut the word short once your eyes met his, suddenly, you were at loss for words.

“I—I’m so sorry.” He muttered. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I was—“ he stopped when he noticed your expression, one he has seen too many times on fans faces.

He didn’t mind really, but sometimes he wished he wasn’t so recognizable.

“You seemed like you needed a hand.” He flashed a smirk.

Swallowing hard, toy forced yourself to snap out of whatever the hell you were lost in. Which was harder than you thought.

“T-Thank you. But I’m okay.” You managed to get out. “I’m Y/N by the way.”

Chris’ lips curved at the edges, forming a soft smile. “Chris. It’s nice to meet you.”

As if you didn’t know who he was.

You tried to collect yourself and return back to moving the box full of books. But unfortunately, it was useless. With it falling apart and the weight of it all, you were having a hard time.

“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” He asked, his hands deep in his front pockets. “It kind of looks like you’re struggling.”

“Struggle is my middle name.”

Immediately, you winced are how horrible that joke was, which only created Chris to chuckle.

You knew having help would make things a lot easier, but you didn’t want to come off as creepy, mainly because you knew you’d probably stare too much or say the wrong things. It’s not everyday you move next door to your celebrity crush.

This whole thing felt like a fan fiction. Which you read from time to time whenever you got tired of the real world.

So it was hard to look him in the eyes and pretend to be cool about the fact that he was your neighbor. Of all people.

“I really am ok—“ before you could finish your sentence, the books fell through the box once again, but this time, one of them landed on your foot.

“Shit!!” You grunted.

Chris strode over to you in an instant, and helped you set the box down.

His hand grazed against yours, and for a moment, you forgot about the pain. Until you shifted in your stance.

“Damn, that’s going to leave a bruise.” You hissed.

Chris couldn’t help but start to laugh. As hard as he tried to hold it in, he couldn’t control it. Before you knew it, you were both standing in your driveway, laughing.

“Great way to break the ice, right?” You cackled.

“Definitely. One hell of a way to meet your neighbor.” He said with a cheeky grin.

You let out a soft sigh, and finally caved. Nothing could be worse than that right? Besides, you’ll be too busy walking back and forth, there won’t be time to talk or embarrass yourself even more for that matter.

“So about that extra hand?”

He nodded and went straight for the box you unsuccessfully moved.

“Where would you like me to put these?” He asked.

“Um anywhere is fine. Thank you.”

He flashed yet another smile and made his way inside, and suddenly you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

‘Holy shit. Chris Evans is my fucking neighbor?!’ You thought you yourself. ‘Okay, be cool Y/N. Don’t be weird.’

As time went on, you were both going back and forth, transferring the boxes into the house. You shared a few glances here and there, and when you would catch each other’s eyes, you couldn’t help but grow bashful and quickly look away.

Feeling like a teenage girl all over again.

Chris on the other hand, he was amused by the way he made you fluster. It was something he was used to experiencing with some fans he encountered, but there was something different when you did it.

After a while, you had small conversations here and there. It started with talking about the weather, then turned into something a little more intimate.

He had asked you about your life, your hobbies, your dreams. And the way you talked about the thing a you loved, he was somehow drawn in even more.

You were funny, and not just in a typical way. It was the one where the laughter rolls up in your chest and bursts out without any restraint.

Talking to him, it almost felt effortless. The words kept slipping through and fell into place. You managed not to screw up.

“I had no idea people still liked the Backstreet Boys.” He chuckled, pointing to your shirt.

“Hey, dont hate on my boys. They have been with me through a lot of relationships and heart breaks.”

He chuckled once again, leaning against your truck, he arms crossed over his chest.

You couldn’t help but get lost in those damn beautiful blue eyes, that you didn’t realize you had unloaded all of the boxes.

“Oh damn, we did it.” You smiled, feeling relieved to have that part done with. “And now all that’s left to do is unpack those damn boxes.”

“But that’s the best part.” He said. “You get to set up everything the way you like and reminisce on all the random crap you find.”

“That’s true. But I’m too sober to get into that mess.” You chuckled.

He knew he should call it a day and let you be, but he wasn’t ready to say bye just yet. He wasn’t ready to walk away.

“Well, let’s crack open some beers and maybe order some pizza while we’re at it.”

You were taken aback by his words, you weren’t sure if you actually heard him right.

“Wait, what?”

“Come on, I’ve helped you this long. Might as well help you finish.”

You snorted and chuckled at the same time, shaking your head.

“What’s so funny?” He asked.

“I’m sorry, I just have a very dirty mind, and well—“

He paused for a moment before putting two and two together and laughing along with you. “I mean, you could at least take me out on a first date before hitting on me.” He winked.

In that moment, you swore you felt your knees wobble and your breath hitch to the back of your throat.

‘Did he just flirt with me?’

“Trust me, you’d know if I were hitting on you. I’d use some of my famous pick up lines.” You said, feeling a tad confident in that moment. “And besides, I don’t think you could handle me anyway.”

Things were intense between you two. Tension so thick, you could cut it with a knife. But after a long moment of locking his gaze on you, Chris cleared his throat and laughed it off.

“I have some beers at my place I can bring over, and I could order us some food.”

You shook your head no and pulled your phone out of your back pocket. “You literally saved my ass today, the least I could do is buy you food. Pay you for your service or whatever.”

A smirk formed on his lips, “are you calling me a hooker?”

“What? No! I wasn’t! I was just—no. I’m sorry if—“

Chris could see the panic in your eyes and stopped you before you rambled on. “Hey, it’s okay! I was kidding!” He cackled. “I know what you meant. Don’t worry.”

Letting out a sigh, you could feel heat begin to radiate off your body. This is what true embarrassment felt like. Something you were definitely used to since all you ever do is make a fool of yourself.

“I’ll be back. I’m gonna check up on my dog and grab some beer for us.” He said. “Then we can get started on unpacking all of your dark secrets.”

Before you could say anything, he turned on his heels and walked back to his house, leaving you to yourself.

“So much for focusing on myself. How the hell am I suppose to focus when he is my freakin neighbor?!” You mumbled to yourself. Walking back to your house.

Chris was immediately greeted by Dodger the second he opened the door, and his brother Scott who was staying with him for a bit.

“Who’s that?” He asked, pointing out the window. “Because she’s cute.”

“Her name is Y/N. She just moved in—obviously. And please don’t start.”

Scott presses his hands to his chest, pretending to be offended. “Start what? I’m just innocently asking who she is. That’s all.”

“Scott, there’s nothing innocent about you.”

His little brother chuckled and shrugged. “You have a point.”

“Well if you’re done, I am going to grab some drinks and head back to her place.”

“Oh? You two are drinking together already?! Christopher! At least take the girl out on a proper date.”

Chris rolled his eyes as he made his way over to his kitchen. This wasn’t something he wanted to get into at that moment. Especially with his brother.

But he knew he wouldn’t let it go. That wasn’t in his nature.

“She seems like she needs a friend, that’s it.” Chris muttered. “Now let’s drop this okay? Besides, I am in no rush to get into another relationship. I am doing just fine with the way things are.”

Scott pursed his lips, not believing a single word his brother said, but he wasn’t going to push it. “Whatever you say, bro. Just don’t run to me when you start catching feelings, okay?”

“I won’t. Don’t worry.” He chuckled, as he grabbed a six pack of beer from his fridge. “I’ll just be next door, if you need anything.”

“Mhmm.”

As he started back to your place, he kept mumbling to himself, that this was purely platonic. This can’t turn into anything, it just can’t.

And for the most part, he truly believed he had nothing to worry about. But as months come and gone, and you two grew closer each day....

He soon realized just how wrong he was.

——

Chapter Two

[honey-dewey]

Two

Frankie Morales/Reader

Word Count: 2,691

Warnings: Depressed Frankie, big angst with lots of hurt/comfort

Short A/N: Inspired by the ‘Sleeping at Last’ song titled “Two.” It is not necessary to listen to the song, but it does help. 

Frankie has a very bad day and somehow winds up at his best friend’s house. When he walks through the door, he’s met with their voice, singing something soft and comforting. Of course, when they see him in the state he’s in, they start to sing something else. Something that truly exposes every emotion in the room. 

Frankie rarely had very bad days. 

Sure, he had days where everything sucked and he just wanted to crawl under the covers and hide, but those were simple dime a dozen bad days. He had one of those every few weeks, and he knew how to deal with them. A cup of coffee and a phone call usually did the trick to shake away the brain fog. 

However, every so often, about once every five or six months, shit just went sideways for Frankie. His bad days were ten times worse than they should be. Everything broke until he wasn’t sure if anything would be okay ever again. 

Today was one of those days. 

In reality, he should’ve seen it coming. The past week had been absolute garbage. He’d gotten into trouble at his job on Monday and was now on permanent watch for a month, one of his best friends had broken their leg at midnight on Tuesday and he’d been in the hospital until three in the morning that night, he’d been getting less and less sleep until his nights were just as long as his days, and the boys were all busy this weekend and they’d have to skip movie night.

In retrospect, it was the perfect recipe for a very bad day. 

When he’d woken up to dismally grey weather and a raging migraine on Friday, he decided the universe was definitely out to get him. 

He just barely managed to drag himself through work, simply sitting there with his head low and his back bent as he did his repetitive job, the glare off the computer doing no favors for his pounding head. He didn’t even really react when his boss reprimanded him for mixing up the files. He just took the slap on the wrist with an increasingly heavy heart and headed silently out to his car. 

He ended up in a tailspin when he left work that night, going from place to place and just sitting in his truck upon arriving, numb until he managed to put his foot on the pedal and drive off. It wasn’t until he passed your townhouse three times that he actually managed to put the car in park in your driveway and slowly walk up to your front door. 

When you’d gotten your own house, Frankie was the first and only one to get a spare key. A spare key he now shoved into the lock and turned, hearing the door unlock. He stepped into the entryway, dropping his keys on their hook and shuffling out of his boots. He may be horribly depressed, but he wasn’t uncivilized.

“Frankie?” Your voice echoed from upstairs, soft music playing in the background that you’d been singing along to. He almost recognized the song, some cheery holiday tune you listened to all year long. “Frankie, is that you?” 

Frankie didn’t say anything. He simply stood in your tiny entryway, numb and quiet. He didn’t have the energy to respond, or to walk up the stairs to see you. He merely waited, watery eyes focused on the rapidly blurring carpet on your stairs. 

“Frankie?” You repeated, stopping in your singing when he remained silent. “You okay down there?” 

Your mismatched footsteps did little to break him out of his own head, the cast covered in signatures slowing you down as you came down the stairs and stood in front of Frankie. You were wearing old red pj pants with white polka dots and an oversized Fleetwood Mac shirt that you’d definitely stolen from him at one point. “Oh Frankie,” you murmured, slowly tracing your hands over his cheeks. “Bad day?” 

“Very,” Frankie choked out, leaning into your touch. He knew he looked awful, his face sunken and pale from lack of regular food and the significantly low amount of sleep he’d been getting. You made a small noise of sympathy, taking his hands. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” you said softly, pulling Frankie along as you headed into the kitchen. You knew, in this state, that Frankie was pliant, his brain shut off entirely as he lost himself in his own depression. It hurt your heart to see him focus so hard on walking up the stairs, his brows furrowed as he put everything he had into lifting his feet and slowly shuffling upwards. It was so unlike that active and cheery Frankie you knew so dearly. 

The music changed when you two reached the kitchen, and your eyes brightened as you got an idea. You grabbed your phone, keeping a firm hand wrapped around Frankie’s hand. As you scrolled, you kicked a chair out with your good foot and put your phone on the table so you could urge Frankie to sit down. Continuing to flick through your playlist, you finally found just the right song and hit play. 

“Sweetheart, you look a little tired, when did you last eat?” You sang softly along with the music, snapping Frankie out of his thoughts. You’d sang this to your cousins when they’d been sick and to Santi when he’d been panicking over a minor surgery he needed. It was a lullaby you sang to the boys when they couldn’t sleep after getting too drunk and it had slowly morphed into a genuine comfort. However, Frankie had never heard the first word be ‘sweetheart.’ You always said ‘Dear boys’ or ‘dear heart.’ 

“Come in and make yourself right at home, stay as long as you need.” You continued, handing Frankie a slice of pizza off a tray resting on the counter. It was still warm, but not hot, just the way he liked it. He looked down at it, a sudden horrible hunger consuming his stomach as he finally realized he’d been neglecting food all day. 

You sat at the table with him as he ate the pizza, slowly singing more of the song until Frankie was entirely relaxed into your kitchen chair. “Tell me, is something wrong? If something's wrong, you can count on me. You know I'll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat.” 

He felt something hit his hand, looking down and seeing a tear. Which was the moment he realized he was crying. Immediately, you stood, wrapping Frankie in a hug and allowing him to bury his head into your chest and finally, for the first time all day, let out every emotion he was feeling.

“It's okay if you can't find the words. Let me take your coat, and this weight off of your shoulders,” you sang gently, taking Frankie’s hat off and resting it on the table. You carded through his hair, swaying slightly as he cried into your shirt. 

Frankie pulled away, wiping his eyes and looking up at you. You smiled, scratching his scruff and putting your hands on his cheeks, the coolness of your fingertips positively burning his skin. 

“Like a force to be reckoned with, a mighty ocean or a gentle kiss. I will love you with every single thing I have,” you sang, moving your hands and pressing kisses into the patches in his facial hair. “Like a tidal wave, I'll make a mess. Or calm waters, if that serves you best. I will love you without any strings attached.” 

Frankie froze. He’d never heard this bit of the song before. “What?” 

You stopped, not bothering to pause the music that kept playing without you singing another line. “Oh Fish, darling, you’re a mess. Are you okay?” 

Frankie nodded, slowly putting a shaking hand on your shoulder. The return of the nickname caused a hole in his chest to open, keening softly until you asked what was wrong. 

“Fish,” he whispered out, beyond the lump of tears that seemed to be choking him. 

You nodded, understanding every word he managed to pack into that one trembling syllable. 

“Okay Frankie,” you said, pouring all the love you could muster into his name. “It’s okay. I hear you.” 

You smiled, poking his nose and gently urging him to his feet after a minute. “C’mon Frankie. You need sleep.” 

He was limp putty in your hands as you slowly tugged him up the stairs once more, going as slow as he needed to. You opened your bedroom door and guided him to the bed, gently kissing his hairline. 

“I’ll be right back,” you promised, pulling away. “Just gonna go set something up, okay?” 

Frankie nodded, watching you go with blurring vision. He desperately wanted to call you back, to feel your arms around his body and let himself sink into you, losing every aspect of himself.

The sound of running water and your mismatched footsteps snapped Frankie out of his immediate misery. He lifted his head and watched you return to him, holding out your hands. 

“I love you,” you said with a smile, pulling Frankie to his feet. “But you smell and you’re covered in sweat.” 

He followed you into the bathroom, where your bathtub was already filling, a layer of bubbles sitting on top of the rippling water. The entire bathroom smelled familiar, and Frankie realized, watching you crouch down to grab something from your bathroom cabinet, that you’d used your favorite lavender honey soap. The one you saved for special occasions. 

“Do you want help?” You asked, straightening and smoothing a hand over the edge of Frankie’s shirt sleeve. He nodded, a tiny bit of embarrassment pooling in his stomach. Not because he was nervous about you seeing him naked, because you’d already seen him naked multiple times and he’d stopped being ashamed a while ago. He just hated that he had to ask for help undressing, like he was a toddler unable to care for themself. 

You, however, simply took the bottom edge of his shirt and lifted it, carefully folding the shirt once it was off and placing it on the bathroom counter. His pants followed, then his underwear and socks, until you were holding his hands and keeping him balanced as he stepped into the tub. 

The water was perfectly warm, surrounding Frankie and giving him life as he sunk lower. You smiled, seeing his muscles finally relax somewhat. “Will you be okay if I go grab a cup of water for you?” 

Frankie nodded, watching you turn the water off and walk out of the bathroom, leaving the door open so he could hear you going down the stairs and filling a cup with water. You came back up as quickly as you could, soft music following you and growing louder as you got closer. 

You set the water down on the counter, next to the folded clothes. Along with the cup, you put your phone down, still playing that gentle music. 

“C’mere,” you murmured to Frankie, slowly dragging a stool over and sitting at the back of the tub. “C’mon honey, come here.” 

He moved without thinking, shifting in the water until he was in front of you, entirely vulnerable to your actions. 

Those actions being you lifting a worn out plastic cup and slowly pouring the warm water over Frankie’s head. One hand moved to his forehead, shielding his face from the water. He leaned backwards, head tipping towards you. His eyes closed as you continued, rhythmically soaking his hair until you deemed it okay for shampoo. 

Which was when Frankie really melted. 

You smiled, watching every tiny movement he made as you massaged shampoo into his hair. His entire body went limp, softly saying things that weren’t English as you kept going, if only to help relax him. 

After shampoo came the conditioner, which he didn’t fight you over. Usually, he just washed his hair and kept going, not bothering to do anything fancy to it. But under your firm fingers, he let you do whatever you wanted. 

Finally, you were done, leaving Frankie with a bar of his favorite soap and a small kiss on the forehead. 

“I’ll be back, okay?” You said softly, holding his face in your hands. 

Frankie hummed, still not ready for solid words in a language you’d understand yet. You smiled, kissing the tip of his nose and walking out, leaving him to wash his body on his own. 

It was a laborious task for him at the moment, but by the time you’d returned, he had done it, and you rewarded him with ample praise as you drained the tub and helped him out. 

“Think you can dry yourself off?” You asked, holding out a towel. 

Frankie shrugged, looking down at the old towel you were offering. “Ayudame?” 

You smiled. Over the years, Frankie and Santiago had been teaching you some Spanish, just in case, but mostly for fun. You knew the basics, and it was enough to know what Frankie needed right now. “Okay. Come closer honey.” 

Frankie grinned slightly at the nickname, and your heart swelled upon seeing his smile. “How do you say that in Spanish?” You asked, starting to towel him dry. 

“El cariño.” 

You nodded, tapping his shoulder and nudging Frankie lower so you could reach his hair. “El cariño,” you repeated softly, running your fingers through his hair and making it stick up. You smiled, handing him the towel. “Think you can do the rest?” 

Frankie nodded, so you left him alone to grab some spare clothes. Digging out an old ass shirt that no longer had a legible logo and a pair of sweatpants, you headed back into the bathroom, seeing Frankie already in his underwear. 

“Here we are,” you said, holding out the sweatpants. “Can you get it?” 

Again, Frankie nodded, slowly putting his pants on. When you held his shirt out, he looked at you with pleading eyes, and you helped him slide it on. 

“I think it’s time for bed,” you said, taking Frankie’s hand and guiding him to your bed. “Left or right?” 

Frankie got into the bed, immediately sliding to the left side. You crawled into the bed as well, turning the lights out and letting the moon filtering through the slats in your blinds illuminate Frankie’s exhausted form. 

He made a small noise, spurring you to scoot closer, until he was firmly cuddled up to your chest. You scratched through his damp hair, pressing kisses into his warm skin. You knew that tomorrow you’d have the usual Frankie back. Cheerful and goofy and simply a best friend. But tonight, right now, you got cuddly and broken Frankie. The Frankie who needed to be praised and held and slowly put back together again. The Frankie who needed a lover. 

“I love you Frankie,” you murmured, looking down at the top of his head. “I love you so much.” 

“Yo también te amo, cariño,” Frankie mumbled, his half asleep voice gliding over you and giving you chills. 

The next morning was nothing like you expected. 

You woke up to the warmth of Frankie’s arms around you, cuddled up to him, head resting on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat and feel his chest rising and falling with gentle, half-asleep breaths. Rolling over and sitting up with the intent to check the time, you squeaked as Frankie pulled you back into his chest. 

“Five more minutes, cariño,” he mumbled, eyes still closed as he chased another moment of sleep. 

You sighed. “You get another five Fish. I want coffee.” 

Frankie opened his eyes, showing heartbreaking betrayal. “Stay?” 

You were a sucker for that look, so you took a deep breath and hunkered down for another five minutes. 

Which turned into half an hour of mindless cuddling, but that was okay. 

“Hey Frankie,” you mumbled at one point, once the sun had fully risen and was painting your bedsheets with waves of golden light. “Did you mean it last night?” 

“Yeah.” Frankie propped himself up on his elbow, looking at you. “Did you?” 

You sat up, reaching out to grab his face and kiss him, morning breath and all. 

“Yeah. I did.” 

Needless to say, Frankie’s bad days may have been terrible and numbing and so desolate he thought he had no one to turn to. But he didn’t. He had you. He would always have you.

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Hey! May I please request one with the boys, separately, and a female reader where they react to her wearing their clothes? (Whether it be jewelry or jackets or whatever you want)

Oh, this has so much potential so I’m completely in love with this ask. Here you go! 

The Lost Boys x Fem!S/O Wearing Their Clothes

David

David wears two coats. His inner leather jacket is totally fair game, but the outer coat? Sorry, kitten, that’s his. It’s apart of his signature look and he’s not giving it up any time soon

You wear it once, trying it on while he went deeper into the cave to grab something. It flowed down and brushed the ground, and the boys snickered as you began strutting around in it. You had just started to mimic him when he came back, and he frowned when he saw that you were making fun of him. Let’s just say you couldn’t sit for nearly a couple of hours after that. You didn’t try to steal it again

David doesn’t wear any jewelry besides the earring in his left ear, so he can’t really give you any jewelry to wear. That doesn’t mean he won’t buy steal you some

If you say that you’re cold, he’s not exactly pulling his jackets off to give them to you. Instead, he’s pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around you. He’ll tuck you under his jackets instead, and make it so you have to hug him to stay under them

He doesn’t really give you anything to keep. In fact, he likes to take back whatever you give him at the end of the night and he’ll inhale the scent you left on them

Sometimes, on really chilly nights, David will give you his gloves. He thinks it’s cute how big they are on you, and he’ll rub your hands to warm them up even after he’s put them on you. 

Whether it’s his jacket or his gloves, he thinks they’re both adorable on you. A possessive part of him loves to see you wear them. There’s something about it that just tells everyone around them that you’re his. Officially. Not to mention, since he’s a vampire, it scent marks you. It makes sure that all the other vampires in the area, even those passing through, know that you’re his and by messing with you they’re messing with him

If you ask to wear his jacket just to wear it, he’ll say yes. He might even help you pick something out that goes with it, but it’s mostly because if you give David the potential to be in control of anything he’ll definitely say yes. He’ll dress you up like a little doll, and help you roll up the sleeves of his jacket so you can use your hands. Then, he’ll help you pull on his gloves. He’ll smile at how cute it makes you look, to wear such badass pieces of clothing on your small little frame

David will definitely give you one of his shirts to wear if you sleep at the cave. He likes to see you all curled up in your bed with his shirt hanging off you and you in a pair of sleep shorts. He might even think you’re cute enough to climb in and cuddle

Dwayne

Dwayne only wears one jacket and no shirt, so there’s not much he can offer you. He’s totally down to pass you his jacket for the night, but he may start to draw some unwanted attention from other women if he does (there is no ‘may’, he will)

He’ll completely ignore all the stares he gets from other women, and will instead just give you a rare smile as he looks you over. His jacket completely engulfs you and the fact that it goes past your hands? God, he couldn’t think of a cuter sight. He doesn’t want you to roll them up, and instead he likes how you hold onto the end of the sleeves

Dwayne does wear a necklace, but he’s a little hesitant to give it to you. He made it himself. He’s been collecting things and adding to it for years, and it’s why it looks like an arrangement of random trinkets. If you really want to try it on, he’ll put it over your head very carefully. If anything falls off of it, you’re never allowed to wear it again. Sorry, princess.

He’d much rather give you one of his many bracelets. Yes, give you. He’ll tie one around your wrist, and let you keep it. It makes him smile whenever he sees it, and sometimes when you two are holding hands he’ll lift your wrist to make sure it’s still there. If it happens to fall off, it’s no big deal. He has plenty, and he could always make you your own

Dwayne is the king of chivalry. You say that you’re cold? He doesn’t care that he’s not wearing a shirt, here. He’s not gonna let his princess freeze, even if you bring up the fact that he’s kind of outing himself by not being bothered by the weather. He’ll roll his eyes and sling it around your shoulders, and tell you to stop complaining

For Dwayne, it’s less of a possessive thing and more of a ‘you look really fricken cute in it’ thing. 

Like David, it’s a scent marker. It lets other vampires know that you’re taken and that making a meal out of you would be a big mistake. Paul makes a joke about having you wear his clothes instead once, and Dwayne puts him in a headlock as soon as you’re gone

If you ask to wear his jacket, he’ll definitely say yes. He has no problems with slinging it over your shoulders and half the time he’ll be the one that asks you if you want to wear it. By asks, he just puts it over your shoulders

When you’re back at the cave you find that there’s not much Dwayne owns in the top department when it comes to sleepwear. Instead, he offers you a pair of his sweatpants. He only wears them when the boys actually wash their clothes (either by you forcing them or the occasional stop at the laundromat they’ll make every month or so by themselves), and they’re super long on you. He has to roll up the bottoms for you (by ‘has’, he really just immediately leans down to do it for you) and he thinks it’s super cute whenever you walk around the cave in them and one of your own t-shirts

Marko

Marko doesn’t share his jacket. At least, that’s what he’s gonna tell you for the first few months of dating you. He’s had this jacket for decades, and he’s not willing to let anything happen to it. He loves this jacket more than he loves himself. More than he loves blood.

He’ll help you make your own jacket, and the two of you can geek over patches and pins, but he’s not gonna let you wear his jacket until he’s positive he can trust you

The first time you’re allowed to wear it, it’s a very Big Deal. You learned not to ask, because this boy isn’t afraid to say no. Just no. No excuses or anything. He’ll be the one that offers it, and you won’t even realize it at first. Then, you’ll do a double take, and quickly say yes. Doesn’t matter how warm it is outside, you’re not turning down that opportunity. It’s surprisingly heavy, and it’s pretty big on you. You have to make sure not to get a single stain on it the entire night or else you are very aware you may not be able to wear it ever again

After the first couple times of you wearing it and nothing happening to it, he’ll let you wear it as much as you want. Within reason. It’s still his jacket, y’know? He’d like to actually wear it sometimes

Before he’d let you wear his jacket, he’d sometimes let you wear his gloves. He loved how even though they were fingerless for him, they barely show your fingertips. He’d definitely hold your hand the entire night and kiss your fingertips whenever he could. Though, he’ll comment that it feels weird to be without them, and you’ll have to give them back by the end of the night

He would totally let you steal all of his shirts. Most of them are cropped, so he loves to see how it exposes your stomach. You might have to tell him, “Down boy.” Cause he gets excited the moment he sees skin

Like all the others, he likes to scent mark you and it’s definitely a possessive thing when it comes to him. He’s incredibly territorial, and he doesn’t want anybody trying to come after you. It’s why he lets you keep his shirts

If you say that you’re cold, he’ll genuinely think about whether or not he wants to give you his jacket for a second. It depends on how far you are into the relationship to see how he reacts. He’ll either pull a David and pull you close so you’re tucked against him and under it with him, or he’ll take it off and let you wear it for the rest of the night. If you say something about him being in just a crop-top, he’ll make a teasing comment like, “What, would you rather I was shirtless?”

Marko loves to see you in your sleep clothes. Your sleep clothes are a crop-top that he gave you and a pair of his boxers, and he’ll chase you around all night the minute you change into them. He’ll snap the waistband of his boxers against your hip and try to reach under your his shirt. Since you don’t wear a bra to bed, he’ll cling to you more than ever and comment about how you still have a few hours left of night-time

Paul

Paul is the most willing to give you all of his clothes. His jacket? Here you go, sugar. His bracelets? Why didn’t you ask sooner? His shirts? Uh, totally hotstuff. If you want, he’ll even pull out some of the really cool t-shirts he got at various rock concerts by the pier. “Wanna borrow my pants too?” He’ll say and wiggle his eyebrows at you suggestively. He’ll even give you some of the pins off his jackets if he thinks they would look good on you

While you can’t keep his jacket, pretty much everything else is fair game. He likes to scent mark just as much as the other boys, but he doesn’t even think about the warding off the other vampires aspect at first. He just wants you to smell like him. He wants to be able to walk up to you, lean down, and be able to smell his scent mixed with yours. If there’s not as much as he’d like, he’s giving you another bracelet

The only thing he’ll hesitate to give you is one of his rings. Not because he doesn’t want you to have them, but because of the implication behind such a gift. He’s not exactly a commitment type of guy, so he’s hyperaware of the meaning behind it. He’ll give them to you for an anniversary or a special occasion like your birthday. It’s one of the only times that Paul is a little bit more serious. He doesn’t expect them to fit your fingers, so he brings a chain for you to wear it around your neck. 

After dating him for a few months, half of your wardrobe is stuff that was originally his. He only really wears the same thing every night, so he’s not missing anything anyways! If his scent starts to fade off of it, he’ll ask for it back but only so he can sleep in it and make it smell like him again

If you say that you’re cold, his jacket is immediately around your shoulders. No thought about it, babe. He’s got a slightly heavier coat too, and it’s nice and long to keep off the chill. You make jokes about feeling like Dracula when you wear it, mainly because it goes down near your knees. He’ll smile and call you his little creature of the night, and then lean down to give you a kiss

Paul likes to see you wear his clothes, because he thinks you look good in them. Not just in the ‘innocent’ cute way either. He thinks it’s hot. Like he’s ready to start drooling hot. Every time he sees you walking around in his stuff, he gets just a little bit more grabby than usual. It’s hard to tell since he’s already pretty touchy, but when he’s tried to stick his tongue down your throat for the fifth time that night you’ll start to realize it has a certain effect on him

Paul likes to see you in one of his shirts when you go to sleep. Just one of his shirts. Okay, maybe he’ll let you wear panties, but not for long. He sees you in one of his Poison or Def Leppard t-shirts with your hair all tied up/pulled back and ready for bed? Sleep is for the weak! He just wants one last round, he promises, and then he’ll leave you be. You know that’s a flat out lie, but how can you resist that cute face?

[spicykoreantatertots]

With love, from J

Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Rating: G

Genres: College AU, Roommates to Lovers, Fluffy Fluffy Fluff

Summary:  A beautiful bouquet of peonies are left on your doorstep, the only problem is, you don’t know who they’re from.

Warnings: none! this is just sweet fluff. 

A/N: It’s finally here! This piece is a gift for Ashley aka: @taehyungforreal​! I was honestly stunned when I found out that you were my Secret Admiree! I’ve been such a huge fan of your work for a while now and it’s such an honor to write for you. This is currently a very G rated, but I am toying with the idea of doing a smutty one shot down the line. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Thank you to everyone who helped me with this fic and encouraged me along the way: @ho-baebae​ @lovely-literati​.

~~~~~~~

Trudging up the stairs to your third floor apartment, you can't help but wonder if the $50 a month discount is worth all the extra effort. Especially when your backpack is full of Thicc text books. But at least tonight you don't have to leave again. It's Roomie Night.

Roomie Night is a tradition started way back when you and Jungkook first started living together. The two of you had been in the same group of friends since Freshman year, but weren't very close. But when it was time to leave the dorm, and both of you needed a place, you ended up together. In an effort to get to know him better, you proposed Roomie Night. Once a week the two of you set aside time to eat dinner and hang out with each other.

The idea worked, because now Jungkook is one of your closest, if not best friend. Tonight, Jungkook is bringing home takeout from the Chinese place you love and you've rented some action thriller that he's been dying to see. Should be a really fun night if you can make it up these stairs.

When you do reach the landing, you spot something outside your front door. Peonies? A whole bouquet of them in a beautiful purple vase. They must be from your mom, it is almost Valentine's day after all.

You unlock the door and pick up the vase to bring inside. Peonies have been your favorite flower since you were a child. You had spent many afternoons with your Grandmother as she tended to her flower garden. She often told you what each flower represented and Peonies represent good fortune and a happy marriage. Two things your Grandmother had, and two things you desperately wanted.

After losing the heavy backpack, you pull the card out of the Peonies. It simply says, "With love, from J.”

"From J?" you muse out loud to yourself. Could it be... Could they be from Jungkook? You had never seriously entertained the idea of dating your roommate. Not because he isn't gorgeous. He is. Not because he isn't sweet and caring. He is. Not because he doesn't have a great sense of humor. He does. Wait a second, so why haven't you considered him an option??

But wait, these just say, "from J." Maybe it isn't Jungkook. You don't call him J, nobody does. So maybe it's from someone else? You snap a picture and send it to another friend of yours, Seokjin. 

You: any idea who these could be from??

Seokjin: are they from Jungkook?? how many times do i have to tell you to get on the Jungkook train Y/N???

Seokjin: theoretically they could be from Jimin, but i'm pretty sure he's got a thing for Taehyung...

Seokjin: wait what's that guy you were flirting with at work??

You: Jackson!! Omg... maybe it was him... he did ask if i had a valentine this year, but i thought he was just making small talk

Seokjin: only one way to find out

You: wait until someone comes forward so i don't have to awkwardly put myself out there :|

Seokjin: right...

~~~~~~~

Jungkook drags himself up the stairs, legs weak from his intense workout. His long dark hair is damp with sweat. Chinese food in hand, he walks through the door to see you texting away at the kitchen counter.

"Hey how's it going?" The soft smile blush on your face confuses him slightly, he wonders who you're texting.

"Oh it's going." Jungkook walks toward you, setting your dinner down on the counter. "Are you going to shower before we eat, I can smell you over the take out." You laugh and he knows you're kidding. He loves the sound of your laugh...

"I'll shower, you can go ahead and eat, I won't be long." Jungkook goes to the bathroom to start the shower before he walks off toward his bedroom down the hall. He's still thinking about who you're texting, who is making you smile like that. It should be him.

As he picks out some clean clothes he can't help but think about how badly he wants to be with you, but he can't bring himself to cross the boundary from friends and roommates to something more.

In the bathroom, the steam is rising from the shower and Jungkook is so ready to get into the hot shower. He opens the cabinet for a towel, but doesn't find any.

"Y/N! Where are all the towels?" Jungkook calls from the bathroom.

"In a basket in my room, I was gonna put them up later!" You call back to him, mouth full of noodles.

Jungkook slips out of the bathroom and moves quickly to your bedroom to grab a towel. He finds the full basket near your desk where he also notices a large bouquet of pink flowers. His heart stops for a second when he reads the card placed next to them.

From J? Who got you those flowers? Valentine's Day is around the corner and Jungkook realizes he might be too late. He may have already missed his chance to be with you.

~~~~~~~

Empty take out cartons litter the coffee table, the credits from the movie are rolling, but you can't move. You're afraid to move even an inch because Jungkook's head is in your lap. He fell asleep before the first explosion even happened. At first he was just resting his head on your shoulder, but in his sleepy state he eventually made it down to your lap.

You gently brush his hair out of his face and you can admire his beauty. God is he beautiful. The way his nose curves, the sharp edge of his jaw line, each of his cute little moles - all handcrafted by God himself.

Your fingers are still absentmindedly stroking through his locks. The motion of it slowly wakes him.

"Hello sleepy head." You smiled down at him. He quickly sits up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

"So how did it end?" He looks back at you. God how did things change so quickly? Because all you want to do right now is kiss him on his perfect mouth. "The movie? Did they vanquish the evil doers?"

"Oh! Yeah yeah, they all exploded and the hero got back in time for his wedding."

"So all was well." He hums to himself. He'll probably watch the movie again later. He can never stay awake when he eats that much food. "So listen... next week Roomie Night is on Valentine's Day..."

Your stomach twists. Is this it, is he about to ask you out? He looks around the room before looking back at you. All you can do is hope that the blush on your face isn't too obvious in the dim lighting.

"Are you planning to..." He starts, shakes his head, tries again. "Are you gonna have a Valentine this year?" Why would he ask that now if he already bought you flowers, they must not be from him.

~~~~~~~

He reads your face carefully for a reaction. He's put it all on the line, he's got to know who the flowers are from. He waits for you to answer, but the longer you wait the more he realizes you must be trying to find a way to break the news to him.

You must be seeing someone.

"I'm not... expecting anything. If that's what you mean." What do you mean by that? Where did the flowers come from? God he should just ask you. But he can't bring himself to do it.

"Okay, so Roomie Night is on just like always?" He grins, starting to clean up the mess from dinner.

"Just like always." You return his smile, but it doesn't quite meet your eyes. Jungkook is still so unsure about what's going on inside that beautiful mind of yours.

~~~~~~~

Both you and Jungkook have full time course loads and part time jobs, so you don't see each other everyday. You don't really get to see him again until four days after Roomie Night. The two of you are going to be meeting up with your friends for dinner and game night at Namjoon's apartment.

You're waiting, sitting on the couch while Jungkook is getting ready. You're scrolling through your twitter feed when you hear the door open.

Jungkook walks out, shirtless. H-has he always had abs like that? He's towel drying his hair as he walks down the hall to his bedroom. The lean muscles on his back lead down to his slim waist. You hope he didn't notice you staring.

~~~~~~~

Once he's fully dressed and his hair is mostly dry, Jungkook joins you in the living room. He's wearing black jeans and his favorite Nirvana shirt covered by his denim jacket.

"It's pretty nice out for February, wanna just walk?" Jungkook shows you the temperature from his weather app, clear skies and it's almost 60 degrees.

"Sounds good. Got the keys." You respond, getting up from the couch. He watches you grab your coat and open the door, turning the lock from the inside. 

"Let's go!"

The walk to Namjoon's apartment flies by. It's about five blocks away, but the time he spends with you always seems to move too quickly. He could honestly listen to you complain about customers from work all day long. And you listen intently as he talks about the latest album he's listening to. The way you giggle when he tells a dumb joke makes his heart soar.

Your cheeks are rosy from the cool wintery breeze that blows the hair out of your face. Jungkook is pretty sure God is playing a cruel joke on him, or maybe it's just a sign. A sign that you are meant to be his.

~~~~~~~

When you arrive at Namjoon's place, Seokjin is in the kitchen finishing up dinner with the help of Jimin. Taehyung is setting the table and Namjoon is in the living area looking through his extensive collection of board games.

Before too long, the six of you are around the dinner table, Jungkook by your side as always. His energy does feel a little bit different tonight though. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but it does feel like he's looking over at you a lot. And he's laughing at everything you say. And maybe he's sitting a little closer to you than he has to.

After dinner, you help Seokjin wash the dishes while the other boys set up Clue. A classic.

"Okay listen he's totally into you. The flowers have to be from him." Seokjin whispers so that no one can hear him over the sound of the faucet.

"Jin! You can't just say things like that!" You whisper back at him.

"I'm not just saying it! God Y/N! How did you not see the way he was looking at you during dinner?" You look over your shoulder and see Jungkook play fighting with Taehyung. He's smiling, he's happy, and suddenly he's looking back at you.

~~~~~~~

Were you just looking at him? Jungkook lets Taehyung out of his grasp and stares back at you until you turn back to the sink. Taehyung punches Jungkook's arm, regaining his attention.

"What was that all about?" Taehyung glances over at you.

"Nothing." Jungkook tries to shut down his friend's snooping. "I don't know what you're talking about.

"Okay so we're just gonna pretend like you weren't in your own little Y/N-loving world during dinner then?"

"He's right." Jimin chimes in from his seat at the table and that's when Jungkook notices Namjoon is listening too. "You two would be great together, you should just go for it." Jimin continues. Jungkook looks to Namjoon for his thoughts.

"Based on both of your body language, I think there might be something there." Namjoon states matter-of-factly. Jungkook gives one last longing look in your direction before he put Taehyung back in a chokehold.

~~~~~~~

"Alright the game is Clue and to make it a little more interesting we are going to be playing in teams. Me and Jimin, Taehyung and Jin, and Jungkook and Y/N." You look over at Namjoon, but he is busying himself with shuffling the cards.

Throughout the rest of the night, Jin kicks you under the table anytime Jungkook does something that could be even slightly flirtatious. Every laugh, every smile, every secretive whisper in your ear that sends a chill down your spine.

When the two of you decide it's time to Make the Accusation, Jungkook stands dramatically. He looks around the room before proclaiming that it was, in fact, Professor Plum with the Dagger in the Library.

After checking the envelope and announcing your team's victory, you jump up and wrap your arms around Jungkook. He doesn't hesitate to return the hug and judging by the smug look on Seokjin's face, the hug lasted a little too long.

"Good game everyone!" You shout, suddenly embarrassed. "I guess it's getting kind of late, we should get going since we walked." You're now speaking to just Jungkook and he nods in response.

~~~~~~~

The walk back to your shared apartment is a little bit more awkward than Jungkook would have hoped. The temperature has dropped significantly and he can hear your teeth chattering. But your hands are hanging by your side rather than in your pockets. Maybe you want him to grab your hand.

"Do you have work tomorrow night?" He asks you, thinking maybe he'll finally have the courage to ask you out.

"Nope I'm free!" You turn and look up at him slightly, your pace slowing down. Jungkook takes a deep breath.

"Do you maybe wanna..." He starts, but he second guesses himself. Why would a girl like you wanna go out with him when you've clearly already got an admirer. He lets out a frustrated sigh. "Maybe we could study together then?"

"Yeah sure sounds great."

~~~~~~~

You thought that was it, you thought he was going to ask you out, especially after the fun night the two of you had with your friends. The chill of the night is starting to really set in as the two of you approach your apartment. Trying your best to not sound out of breath, you wait for Jungkook to unlock the door.

"What are you waiting for?" Jungkook motions toward the door.

"Well you're the one with the keys." You retort, ready to be inside.

"No! When we left you said you had the keys." You look up at him, confused.

"No... I was asking if you got the keys! So neither of us have keys?" You groan, slapping the palm of your hand against your face. "It's COLD!"

~~~~~~~

Jungkook calls the emergency maintenance line for the apartment complex to have them bring a spare key.

"It'll be about fifteen minutes." He puts his phone back in his pocket. He can see you shivering in the dim lighting of the walkway. After some silence he adds, "I'm sorry."

"It's not totally your fault... I guess." You exhale with a chuckle, music to his ears. You close the distance between the two of you and Jungkook almost gasps when you nuzzle your nose in his jacket.

"It's so cold." Your voice is muffled and he almost can't make out what you said. He wraps his arms around you to try and help warm you up. And this feels so right. You belong in his arms, he's sure of it.

The two of you stand like this for a few minutes, really he wasn't counting, but he does feel you pull away after a while. Before he can be too disappointed, he hears people climbing up the stairs. Your neighbors, Yoongi and Hoseok are coming home from what looks like a shopping trip.

~~~~~~~

"Hey guys." You stuttered behind your chattering teeth. You're feeling the cold all over again after you peeled yourself off of Jungkook.

"What's up?" Yoongi asks, probably wondering what the two of you are doing standing outside in the cold. "Locked out?"

Both you and Jungkook nod in response. Hoseok offers to let the two of you in while you wait for the maintenance man, but you turn him down, he should be here any minute now. Before going into the apartment, Hoseok turns back.

"Have either of you seen a bouquet of Peonies anywhere?" Your stomach turns upside down. "I ordered some for Yoongi, they're his favorite. They were supposedly delivered, but they weren't here when we got home."

"Oh yeah, they were delivered to our door by mistake." You've never been so mortified, especially considering Jungkook is here watching this unfold. "They're my favorite flowers too, so I thought they must be from..." You pause, not wanting to keep that train of thought going.

"See Yoongi! I told you I ordered you flowers!" Hoseok calls into the apartment. Yoongi pokes his head back out.

"I'll bring them over when we get in. Oh but, the card said that they were "from J?" Hoseok blushes in response to your question.

"That's one of my nicknames for him..." Yoongi winks at you before they both retreat to the warmth of their apartment.

~~~~~~~

"So who did you think the flowers were from?" Jungkook teased. He was beyond relieved to know that the flowers weren't actually for you. Relieved that maybe he still had a chance with you. You roll your eyes at him, but Jungkook notices some sadness in them.

Before he gets the chance to say anything else, the maintenance worker comes to let the two of you in. Jungkook watches as you head straight to your room. He lingers in the kitchen, waiting for you to come out with the peonies. 

“So are peonies really your favorite?” Jungkook asks.

“Not another word Jeon.” You announce as you leave the apartment with the bouquet. The flowers are just beginning to wilt, hopefully Yoongi will still like them. In the silence of the apartment, Jungkook decides it’s time you get some peonies that are actually meant for you. 

~~~~~~~

When you come home from class the next day, your ascent to your apartment brings back all the embarrassment from the night before. At least this time you have your keys. 

You are surprised to see that Jungkook beat you home, he’s rummaging around in the pantry for something to eat. Usually he stays late to work out at the rec center after class. Jungkook stops when he hears you enter. 

“Hi.” He says shortly, wearing a big contagious grin. 

“Hi?” You repeat back to him, hanging up your coat and bag near the door. 

“Wait here.” Jungkook saunters off down the hall.

“Okay?” You reply, slightly confused. What is he up to?

From his bedroom, Jungkook emerges with a large bouquet of pale pink peonies. You cover your face with your hands and laugh to yourself. There is no way he went out and bought peonies for you. 

“These are for you.” You uncover your eyes and look up at Jungkook’s radiant smile one more time before looking at the flowers. The petals look so soft and you reach out to touch them. Then you notice a card sticking out. The card says, “With love, from J(ungkook).”

“They’re beautiful.” You try to speak through your laughter. Feeling emboldened by his gesture, you tilt your head up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“Listen... I was thinking. Maybe we should cancel Roomie Night.” Jungkook is blushing, his hand resting back behind his head. “We could call it Date Night instead?”

“Date night?” You smile. “I like the sound of that.”

~~~~~~~

Happy Bouquet Day sweetie! Sorry I posted a bit late in the day, but I hope you enjoyed it! @taehyungforreal​

[authortango]

“One day, the sun rose in the west and set in the east.” - Prompt #39

This is my first Reedsy Short Story! I’m going to try posting these here semi-regularly until I run out of short stories to post and I have to write new ones. I hope you enjoy them! I would love to hear what others think of my writing in this format!

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Paranormal

Word Count: 2,993 words

6:00 am, Lookout Mountain, Golden, Colorado.

One dark, dewy Colorado morning, a group of campers emerged early from their tents for their anticipated sunrise hike, organized by their group leader, Cathy. Cathy inhaled the  cool morning air with tingling satisfaction. To her, there was nothing better than this. The wet morning air was way better than the first cup of coffee. 

As her yawning crew of eight got itself all together, she smiled cheerily and quietly said to them all, 

“Good morning! I hope you all slept well last night. We’re going to hike to this cliff right here,” She pointed, everyone's eyes following to a cliff on the east face of the mountain. “And then we are going to watch the sunrise before we get to breakfast. Everyone ready?”

The group nodded collectively, some more enthusiastically than others, and soon they were on their way. They became more alert as they climbed the side of Lookout Mountain, wide-eyed as they experienced the gentle sounds of nature’s morning song. As they arrived with Cathy on her chosen cliff, she checked her watch and was satisfied to find that they had made it on time, and that the sun would rise in the next five minutes. Turning to her group, she whispered,

“Get comfortable! Sunrise starts in five minutes!” As everyone huddled together to keep warm until the sun arrived, Cathy found a nice spot a little aways from them and eagerly set her eyes on the horizon. She felt these moments to be meditative, and while her companions might prefer to sit together, she felt there was something special about feeling the chilly air turn warm in the rosy glow of Earth’s star. 

Five minutes passed. The area around them seemed to grow lighter, but the sun was not yet visible. Cathy looked up in the sky, a little confused. Could it be too cloudy to spot a sunrise? No, she had checked the weather in the area, and there definitely weren’t any clouds above them. Maybe the sunrise was later than the forecast had anticipated.

Fifteen minutes passed. Cathy felt the air around her start to get warm, and she was grateful for it. But she was a little unsatisfied. She still couldn’t see the sun on the horizon in front of her. Then, she heard a gasp from one of the women behind her.

“Look!” Turning around, she was shocked to see the sun right behind them, continuing to rise into the sky. She took out her phone and rechecked the compass. The cliff they were on was facing east, which meant, somehow, the sun was rising from the west.

9:00 am, Palo Alto, California

Enrique, two states away from Cathy and her hiking crew, did not wake up early enough to see the sunrise. In fact, he barely woke up early enough to be on time for his job. He spent the fifteen minutes he had in his morning trying to find clean clothes in his messy apartment, brushing his teeth, and stuffing a plain untoasted bagel into his mouth before longboarding his way to work. 

At work, his busy morning got busier, as everyone stopped by the barrio coffee shop on their daily commute to work, and it was tough to catch a break when orders needed to be filled. When the workflow finally trickled into a lull, he spent some time chatting with his coworker, Isla. 

Enrique really liked Isla. Mornings with her were more bearable than others, which was why he tried his best to schedule his shifts with her. She was pretty, her bow-and-arrow lips stretching from ear to ear as she excitedly told him about the newest thing she’d learned that day, her large, kitschy earrings flashing like her beautiful brown eyes. Today her earrings were turquoise painted with orange dots. Enrique loved the wrestler mask earrings she would wear during WWE season, or some of the pretty hand-beaded ones she bought at craft stalls. For special occasions, she would wear a pair of cherry earrings, and when Enrique thought about asking her out he would think about those earrings and blush. They were truly his favorite pair, and he often wondered if one day she would wear them for him.

Today, Isla’s face flushed with excitement as she told Enrique her news. 

“Did you hear? The sun rose in the west today! They’ve never seen anything like it!”

“What? No way. The sun’s been doing it’s thing in the east for millennia! It can’t just change it’s habits like that.” Enrique laughed.

“You would think, but NASA even confirmed it on the news! They had satellite footage and everything. They predict it’s only for today, but who knows? The way the world works may change because of this! And it’s only the first day! Isn’t that so special?” Isla exclaimed, beaming at him. Enrique beamed back at her, shrugging. 

“Y’know I guess it is very special. Does that mean it’s setting in the east today instead of rising in it?” He asked. Isla nodded.

“That’s what the weathermen are saying. Hey, a bunch of us are getting together after work to go to the Foothills and watch the sunset. You could join us! It’s gonna be a great big party to celebrate the world possibly changing and all that. You wanna come?” Enrique’s heart beat faster. Pretty Isla was asking him if he wanted to watch the sunset. With her! If the world was changing and Isla was the one asking him out, then today must be really special.

“Absolutely! I get off my shift at five, but I’ll be there! When does the sun set?”

“I think they predicted it to set around 7:30, so we’re gonna be at the park around 7. Don’t be too late!” Isla said before returning to the kitchen.

“I won’t!” Enrique called after her, hoping she didn’t see his ears burning with delight.

3:30 pm, a small adobe house in Palo Alto, California

Being one of the pastry cooks for the coffee shop meant that since Isla got to work early, she also got off of work early. Today, she was off early enough to fret about her party with Enrique that night. In her small childhood bedroom, Isla rummaged through her closet, barely glancing at the outfits as she muttered worriedly to herself.

“What was I thinking? What if he doesn’t like my friends? We don’t really know each other outside of work. What if we get there, and it’s all awkward, and we have nothing to talk about?” 

Her mom, walking past with a laundry basket and, noticing her daughter frantically throwing clothes, stopped, and said,

“Mija, you need me to do some laundry? I’ve got the basket right here.” Isla groaned in frustration.

“No, no laundry. I just can’t figure out what to wear.” 

“To what?”

“I’m going out with a group of friends to watch the sunset. Remember, it sets en el este today? And I invited Enrique, and I can’t figure out what to wear!” 

“Oh chica, you have some nice dresses you could wear! Or you could rummage through my closet if you wanted something más caliente.” her mother said, giving her a little wink.

“Ayy mamí noooooo!”  Isla wailed, flopping on her bed and burying her face in her pillow with embarrassment. Hearing her cry, Isla’s father appeared in the doorway, surveying the mess of outfits.

“What’s all this?”

“Isla’s invited su enamorado to her fiesta tonight, and she can’t figure out what to wear.” 

“Aaaaah. Is this about that Enrique? Kind of a pretty boy, isn’t he?” He asked.

“Very pretty.” Isla’s mom nodded. Isla made another sound of disgust and frustration at her mother. Her father returned his attention to her and smiled.

  “Mijita, su enamorado is going to love whatever you wear. Wear what you feel comfortable in, and don’t do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.” 

“Also red is a good color for meeting boys. It’s very lucky, and distracting. Especially on the night of your special sunset!” Isla’s mom added. Isla groaned again, and both parents finally left her alone. 

When the coast was clear, Isla lifted her head and stared vacantly at the mess around her room. Maybe her mom was right about the color red, but she didn’t want to wear too much. Then, she spied her yellow dress tossed next to a pair of red flats, and knew immediately what she wanted to do.

She only hoped her date would be as interesting as her look.

5:30 pm, Bodega Square in Palo Alto, California. 

Enrique had just exited a flower shop in a shopping center that Palo Alto called ‘Bodega Square’, with a bouquet of sunflowers, and was now strolling down the street. As he walked past the shops and corner-stalls, he window-shopped for something else Isla might like. Something that showed her that he cared about her, and would like to take their friendship further. 

As he was about to leave, he happened upon a very small shop, run by an ancient looking man. The shop stand was no higher than Enrique’s knee, and he couldn’t help but notice the flash of the gold jewelry, all made with the same enchanting orange stone. Immediately, Enrique knew he had to get something for Isla. 

“Excuse me,” he asked the man, squatting so as not to talk down to him. “What kind of stone is this?”

“Ah! This is called a sunstone! It is a very lucky gem, especially on days like these!” The man cried with enthusiasm, waving his arms to draw attention to the jewelry. His accent was unfamiliar to Enrique, but it all made for a very engaging conversation.

“Is there a piece you would recommend? I’m thinking about getting something for a girl I’m seeing tonight.” Enrique asked

“Ooooooh for a girl! Well you could do a necklace, but honestly, every girl gets a necklace, and eventually it becomes just another trinket. Here is something truly special.” The man said, turning around in his small shop for the item. He then showed Enrique a ring, fashioned to look like a small sun, with a beautifully cut sunstone set in the middle.

“This one is a very special piece, and especially in this, the day of our beautiful sun’s awakening!” Enrique looked thoughtfully at the ring. It was charming to be sure.

“Are you sure this will show her how I feel?” He asked.

“Absolutely! As clear as the sun speaks!” Enrique wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but as the man was so enthusiastic, and it was pretty, so he bought the ring. Once purchased, he strung it on the surfers necklace he wore to match his shark-print Hawaiian shirt. Bidding the man goodbye, he hopped aboard his longboard to make up for lost time, rolling through the busy streets of Palo Alto with ease.

The sun’s orange glow bathed the city in light as he rode along, and suddenly, he started to hear a whispering. The voice was far off, but it sounded like someone was trying to speak with him. He stopped his board for a moment, and listened, but there was not a sound around him. At least, not of talking. There were sounds of traffic, both cars and people walking, but not a voice like the one he had heard. Slowly, he began to board again, wondering if he had imagined it. 

When he emerged from the busy street and turned towards the Foothills park, he heard the voice again, this time a little louder. The sun was in its full glory, the golden hour settling on the town before sunset. Enrique could hear a woman speaking, just enough that he could make out her words, but not enough to make sense of them. Instinctively, he reached for the shark tooth necklace to help him think.

As soon as he touched the ring, he heard the woman’s voice loud and clear. It was as if he had put on noise cancelling headphones, and all he could hear was her. 

“Microorganisms are fascinating. It’s funny to see all the things they do when their routine changes. I mean, it wasn’t so drastic a routine, was it?” 

Immediately Enrique let go of the necklace, shocked and confused. The voice stopped, and he looked down at the ring resting on his chest momentarily, putting the pieces together as the sun glinted off of its likeness.

The man had said, ‘As clear as the sun speaks’. 

Quickly, Enrique fiddled with the clasp on his necklace, slipped the ring off of the string and onto his little finger. The voice came back again, in the same comforting, warm tones of what Enrique assumed had to be the sun. He stood there for a moment, listening to what she had to say.

“Are they ever warm enough? I can never tell. It takes so much energy to send them warmth. It’s why half the year I can only warm one side at a time. Thankfully they figured out fire.

“It seems we have a new listener. It’s so enchanting to know someone else can hear me for a change. Hello microorganism! Can you hear me? How was your day? I’m glad you found a stone to tune in with. Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Enrique, startled, felt as though she was speaking to him directly. And he did have somewhere to be. Cautiously, he started to longboard again, listening to the sun’s idle chatter as he did.

“It’s amazing, these microorganisms cover a planet so small and yet their lives end up being so huge. They’re not huge to everyone, but it’s hard not to become invested when you’ve been looming about ninety-three million miles away from them for so many millennia. I wonder if they feel the same, and that's why they get so excited over a routine change. I should stop startling them so, but it’s so funny to see how they react. I wonder how fast the earth would spin once one of those satellite people got their hands on a sunstone gem.” 

This is crazy! Enrique thought. I wonder if she can see me. How can she observe anything when we’re so small?

“Observance is nothing. It’s not hard when every other life form in space is either non-complex, non-existent, or inhabited by your brothers and sisters. When I observe microorganisms…how do I explain it? When microorganisms use that dish to look at something even smaller than them, the clear one? The one that sometimes sets things on fire? I use something like that, although much bigger. It’s nice to follow your followers. I’d been following the Mayans for centuries because it was so flattering that they noticed me. It’s a shame they died out.”

Enrique, fascinated but overstimulated, blocked the sun’s jabbering out of his mind. It was close to setting, and he had just reached the Foothills. He scanned them briefly, eager to find Isla and her group. He spotted a large group to his left, and, assuming it was them, headed in their direction. He was correct, and when he saw Isla almost stopped in his tracks. The sun crooned ,

“Ooooh, she is very lovely. I can see part of why this one likes her. I hope she likes the ring.” 

Isla caught Enrique’s gaze and smiled bashfully. She wore a yellow sundress that flared out around her knees, and was patterned with little white flowers. She wore a golden headband with little metal rays like the sun, and her red flats matched the cherry earrings that made Enrique blush. If the sun wasn’t setting above them, Enrique would have sworn it felt like high noon without a cloud in the sky. She was stunning to him. She approached him excitedly and exclaimed,

“I’m so glad you made it! And look at those lovely flowers! You really shouldn’t have. Come on, come join the party! I’ll introduce you to my friends.” Enrique remembered himself and smiled enthusiastically back at her. 

“That would be excellent! But first, I got you something else. Hold on.” Enrique pried the ring off his little finger and delicately handed it to her. But Isla did not take it. She blushed so hard, that for a moment he thought he had embarrassed her and that she did not like it.

“Oh Enrique, you didn’t have to get me anything.” She breathed, enchanted by the glint of sunbeams bouncing off the ring.

“Do you like it? I’m sorry if it’s too much. I thought because it was a special day, it might be fitting. You don’t have to take it if you don’t want it.” Enrique explained.

“No no, I love it! I- I just wasn’t expecting a gift, and I don’t have one for you.” Isla stammered. This was so awkward, just like she had feared! She was stumbling for words, flustered, but she did like the ring. Luckily, she didn’t have to think of anything to say..

“Isla, you want to know something special about the ring?”

“What’s that?” She asked. Enrique took a breath, trying to clear his head so the right words would come to him. At that moment, he thought of the old man, and smiled.

“It’s perfect for you, because you both shine as clear as the sun speaks.” Isla smiled, a feeling of relief settling in her chest. There was no awkwardness between them, just easiness. She allowed him to hold her hand, blushing at how gentle his touch was as he slid the sunstone ring on her finger. Then, her eyes widened with wonder as she heard the sun speak. Enrique beamed at her, relieved that they both shared this secret, this new bond between them. And as the sun set over them, Isla heard her say,

“Ah! Lovely. Perhaps I’ll do this again sometime. Goodnight Earth. Enjoy tomorrow.”

[animecinnamonroll99]

Yes 🥺🥺 Octane pls ❤️❤️

Here’s your Octane smut. Hope that it’s to your liking!

Translations:

Lo siento: I’m sorry

bebe: baby

Te amo: I love you

Mi amor: My love

Papi- dad/daddy

Princesa: princess

Tu eres perfecta: you are perfect

Conejo: bunny

Por favor: please

Carino: honey

Mierda: shit

Humedad: wet (In a moist stand point)

Mas: More

Necesito: need

Polla: cock

chica: girl

Yo necesito tu polla, papi: I need your cock, daddy

Mierda tu eres muy humedad: Shit you are very(so) wet

Getting a text during a random time of day or night wasn’t unusual since I started dating Octavio Silva. He wasn’t too big on the idea of dating until he realized that he enjoyed being with me and not having to find a girl every so often to go to his family’s galas or the legends parties and meet and greets with. Opening my phone I see his message light up the screen.

Mi Conejo: Oi, chica, I need you to come over, we need to talk about something. Come on over asap. 

Not taking another moment to reply back, I get off the floor where I was stretching and throw on a pair of flip flops. Checking the weather real quick I notice that it’s gonna be another wonderful day with the temperature already in the seventies. After locking the door I start walking to Tavi’s apartment. 

I pat down my leggings feeling in the pockets until I found the key to his apartment. Unlocking the door, I noticed that all the lights were off. “Tavi? Is everything ok?” I step further in and flick on the light. There’s no sign of him in the main space. “Tav?” I call out again. Walking further in after shutting the door. I walk over to the door that leads to his bedroom. It’s strange that he had shut it. I think to myself before pushing it open. My cheeks start to warm up at the sight in front of me.

Tavi was wearing only a pair of green boxers and water was dripping down his body. His head was covered by a towel as he dried his hair. I couldn’t take my eyes off of his back wishing to drag my fingers along the path the droplets left. I was so engrossed by my daydream that I didn’t realize that he had turned to face me, or that he was walking closer. “Lo siento bebe, I thought that I had more time until you arrived.”

His accent tore me from my thoughts and my blush worsened as he wiped some drool off my chin. “What were you thinking about chica?” the slight laugh in his voice as he leads me to his bed tipped off that he was just messing with me. 

Lowering ourselves onto his bed I decided it was probably best to get this talk over with. “So what did you need to tell me Tavi?” Watching the way his face changed had me worried. The happiness slowly gave way to a more serious look, a look that I knew meant that I had his undivided attention. “We’ve been dating for two years, right?” he inquired and I nodded back knowing that he didn’t want an answer. “You have a key to my place and I yours. Why not just move in with me. Look I know you’re a virgin and you want to take things slowly and I’ve been trying my best-” I throw myself forward and cut him off with a kiss.

As his lips started to move against mine, I muttered a yes between each kiss that was given. His lips met mine again in a fiery passion once my answer settled in his brain. His hands grabbed my hips tightly pulling my body against his. He let me settle myself on his lap as my hands moved up his chest with a mind of their own, one stopping to grip bicep while the other moved to the back of his neck. He licks my lips begging for entrance. I gently bite his tongue forcing it back into his mouth before shutting mine again. Giving a soft growl; he pressed into the kiss more, not only intensifying it but also making me more aware of how his rough stubble felt against my soft sensitive skin. 

He slides his hands down over my ass, giving it a quick squeeze, along the back of my thighs to my knees pulling me to straddle his hips and deepening the kiss further. I moan softly as he presses my back into the melding our bodies closer together. He gently forces his tongue past my parted teeth. 

His tongue starts sliding and mapping out my mouth until mine touches his. Then a battle for dominance begins. Within moments he has my tongue pinned under his claiming victory. He leaves my mouth soon after. Leaving me to pant for breath as he smirks down at me. With a soft squeeze of his hands against my thighs, he finally began to move. His lips feathered against my lips as his grip on me tightened. Painfully slow his lips moved across my cheek to my jaw then down to my neck, where his tongue decided to slip out and play with the skin trying to find my sweet spot. I tilt my head back to give him more access. After searching for a bit, he finally found it and I let out a deep moan of pleasure. I felt his smirk against my skin for a second before he started licking, sucking and biting the spot leaving a huge hickey there. I curse at him knowing that it’ll be hard to hide it at tomorrow’s game. As Tavi pulled away from my neck I saw the satisfied smirk on his face. He nuzzled into the mark he made while grinding his hips against mine. I gave a short moan before nipping his ear lobe roughly. In retaliation his hands gripped the edge of my shirt and ripped it off me. 

I gasped at the loss of the tank top the game masters had given to all of us and before I could complain Tavi gave me a soft kiss and muttered a soft “Te amo, mi amor” before nuzzling his face between my tits. He groaned as he felt the fabric of my bra on his chin. Nipping at the sides of my breast had me arching my back for him to remove my bra. “Princesa.” I looked up at him when he used the pet name. It wasn’t just any pet name, it was the one reserved for letting me know that he wanted more, more than just making out and I knew the best way to answer him. 

“Papi por favor.” no sooner the words left my mouth did he continue his assault on my body. His lips worked their way along my breast until it reached my nipple. The contrast of the heat his mouth gave off and the coolness that had settled on my skin had me moaning out for more. 

He lavished the right breast in attention with his mouth until he was satisfied before moving over to my left and muttering “Tu eres perfecta.” across the skin. From the little bit of his native language I knew, I could understand that it was a compliment and was meant to relax me and make me feel better about what was happening. 

After giving the left breast the same amount of treatment, he started moving down leaving marks along my stomach until he reached the hem of my leggings. Looking up at me through his lashes, I could see the question in his green eyes. By way of an answer I lifted my hips up to make it easier to remove them and he took the opportunity to take them off with my panties. I pressed my thighs together once my legs were freed from the fabric. 

He tossed the items away from us without a care as to where they went and gripped my thighs in his hands. Pulling my legs apart he pressed his hips forward to fill the gap and once he was settled between my thighs his hands moved to roam my body. “Don’t be so shy carino. I love all of you.” as he talked to me my body relaxed and he moved back slightly so that he could move a hand between. The rough pad of his index finger on my clit had me crying out his name before he stopped the ministrations. “Call me papi por favor pirincesa.” I whimpered out a yes, I would do anything to feel that good. He picked up the movement and kept an eye on me.

Swapping out his index for his thumb, he moved the finger that had previously been giving me pleasure down to my entrance. He slowly moved the digit around my entrance collecting the moisture to use as lube. “Mierda tu eres muy humedad.” he murmured against my ear. The dirty sounding Spanish caused me to clench around his finger as he tried to add a second one. He continued to slowly work me open as he whispered more dirty things in Spanish to me. 

“Papi mas.” at my words he slipped his fingers out of me and laughed when I winded at not getting pleasured. “What do you need princesa? You have to use your words and you have to tell me in Spanish or else you won’t get it.” He made it sound easier than it was. I wracked my brain trying to think of what I needed to say and all the while he rubbed his cock against my slick folds. “Yo necesito tu polla, papi.” he lined his tip up with my entrance again collecting my wetness as lube. “How bad?” he questioned me again. “Muy.” 

With the confirmation he slowly started to slide his thick dick into me. “Tell me if it hurts bebe.” he managed to grit out between his teeth. Going this slow must really be bothering him. I think to myself as he bottoms out. His body vibrates with his effort to stay still and to let me adjust to his size. “Move Tavi, please I need you.” I grip his shoulder blades as he slowly moved himself back and out of me, only to thrust back in just as slowly. There was no pain on this thrust and I whined at him to move faster. Moving faster he did, he went from sweet and gentle to moving like he was running away from Bloodhound in the arena. I scratched down his back moaning as my head tilted back. He groaned and bit my neck in retaliation. “God chica, you feel sooo good gripping my cock like that.” I whimpered at the praise and the smirk on my neck showed me that he knew what he was doing to me. Another praise left his lips right before he pulled me into a sloppy kiss. His grip on my hips was going to be enough to leave bruises in the morning, but I didn’t care. “I-I-I’m cl-clo-close” I squeak out between loud moans of his name and the nickname he wanted to be called. My body started to push up against his, my hands pulling him closer while scratching down his back. He slipped a hand between and pushed his thumb against my clit to roughly rub it. The pressure that had been building let go and I screamed his name as my vision went white. I almost didn’t feel the steady pulsing as he finished inside me because of how tightly my vagina was gripping him. 

As we came down from our highs Tavi slowly pulled out of me and walked off to his connecting bathroom and turned on the water. He comes out, picks me up and carries me off to the bath. He leaves me be after grabbing a washcloth to clean himself with and comes back to me after a little while. He helps me out of the bath and dries me off before carrying me out to the bed and laying me down. I notice that the sheets are warm and a different color then what they were when I got here. We stay naked as he climbs into the bed next to me and I cuddle into his side. “Good night Tavi.” I whisper before falling asleep.