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earlgreydream · 4 years ago

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haunted.

| bucky x reader | fluff |

Bucky is new to town and feeling lonely when the townies are unfriendly. Until you show up at his door. soft, sweet bucky fluff to make you feel good! 🥺 🥰

cw: vague mentions of murder. because there’s a haunted house. but it’s not scary!

a/n: I love “we have always lived in the castle” and this is loosely inspired by that film

Bucky felt like everyone stared at him. He didn’t anticipate moving to the small town and being the object of attention for it. He definitely didn’t expect some people to be overtly rude to him, or stare at him like he was a creature when he walked by.

He could’ve sworn he heard the word “haunted” whispered by a group of people when he was buying paint at the small hardware store in town. Bucky turned to stare back, but they quickly hurried away under his confused silver gaze.

His opportunities to make friends seemed grim, and he found himself spending most of his time renovating the old fixer-upper he bought. He was beginning to wonder if moving here, away from his home was a good decision. It was lonely, and he felt like he’d made a mistake.

About a week after he moved in, the weather was particularly nice, and he decided to start tackling the garden while the weather permitted. He was working outside when he saw you.

“Hello!” You called, walking up to the gate of the fence he was painting.

“Hi,” Bucky grinned, setting down his paintbrush and greeting you.

“I’m Y/N. I live next door, I’m sorry I haven’t been over to introduce myself yet.”

“I’m James Buchanan Barnes, but everyone just calls me Bucky. You’re actually the first person to properly speak to me. People in town... don’t seem fond of my arrival.” He struggled with the right way to phrase it, but you just smiled, shaking your head.

“It’s because of the house.” You explained.

“The house?” Bucky turned to the beautiful old victorian house he had moved into.

“Yeah. People in town are convinced it’s haunted. There was a murder here, a decade or so ago. The murderer is in jail now, and the house is completely fine, and safe. But the old people here are paranoid and superstitious. I’m sorry they’ve been unfriendly. They all claim it’s haunted,” you frowned, feeling sympathetic toward your new neighbor.

He was sweet and friendly, and also incredibly handsome. You had come over to invite him for dinner, but had gotten distracted by his confusion about the unwelcoming town. Then, you found yourself staring at him. He wore a bright yellow shirt, standing out against the lush green of the garden.

“It’s alright. I suppose I’ll have to prove I’m not a ghost,” he laughed.

“I believe you. You are too kind to be a ghost. I came over actually to invite you for dinner. I thought you might be lonely.”

His bright smile made warmth spread in your chest, and butterflies flutter in your tummy.

“I’d love to, Y/N.”

He watched you blush, giggling with excitement. You rattled off a time before running off, the breeze ruffling your hair and skirt as you crossed the yard back to your house. You waved at him and he smiled, waving back.

Bucky looked forward to spending time with you later. The sound of your laugh and the sweetness of your smile echoed in his mind as he continued with the fence.

He cleaned up as the sun started to set, and he gathered daisies from the garden, wanting to make a good impression on you, and thank you for your hospitality.

Bucky knocked on your door, and you swung it open with a smile. The scent of coffee and the food you were cooking filled his sense.

“I brought these for you!” Bucky held up the flowers. You bit your lip with a blush, taking them from his hands.

“Thank you, come in.”

You stepped aside, letting him into your bright kitchen, putting the flowers into a jar on the table.

“Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee or tea while I finish?”

“Coffee, please. I can help you,” Bucky offered, and you shook your head.

“I’ve got it. I’m almost done,” you said as you poured him a cup of coffee.

“What brings you here, Bucky?”

“I was just looking to get out of New York City, to something more quiet. I wanted to renovate a house, too. This seemed perfect.”

“I’m glad. It’ll be good to see the house alive again. You’re not so bad either,” you teased lightly, making him grin.

You set down dishes of food before taking a seat beside him, chattering long into the evening. You learned that he was from Brooklyn, and that he loved New York style pizza. He was also fond of classic novels and big band music, and loved the color yellow.

You took coffee to your back porch swing, sitting with him and gently rocking in the dusk, continuing your conversation until the stars were glittering in the sky.

The doorbells chimed in the shop you worked at. You stepped out from the back, smiling at Bucky.

“Hi!” You grinned, happy to see him.

“Y/N. I didn’t know you worked here.”

“What can I get for you?”

“Knobs for a dresser. There was one in the house, I’m refurbishing it.”

“Certainly. What color have you painted it?”

“Just white, I didn’t know what else to do. It needs something.”

“If... If you wanted, I could give it some detailing. I paint.” You offered shyly.

“I’d love that.”

“They’re on the house.” You smiled, handing him the knobs he asked for.

You were kneeling in the sunroom of Bucky’s home. A record was softly spinning in the corner, and a gentle breeze blew through the open windows. Bucky brought a cup of tea to you, setting it down beside you.

“Thanks,” you smiled, reaching up and gently squeezing his hand before going back to painting delicate flowers on the dresser. He hummed along to the old song scratching on the record, and you smiled as he sipped on his tea, taking a break from painting the walls of the sunroom a pale sage green.

Your hand stilled as you watched him. You stared at Bucky, he was too perfect for you not to.

Despite the rumors of the house being haunted, and a curse placed over those who resided there, you found yourself at peace with Bucky in his home. It was bright and inviting, just like him.

Every hour spent with him had you falling more hopelessly in love with him.

You kept Bucky awake at night. He would stare up at the ceiling, thoughts of you filling his mind and his heart. You were so tender and warm, your presence alone was a comfort to him. You made him laugh, and you made joy flood his life.

Bucky was catastrophically in love with you.

“I’ve brought you a book. It’s my favorite, and I didn’t see it in your library,” you said, walking into his home that you’d been spending weeks helping him paint and redecorate.

He walked around the corner of the hall, taking the well-loved copy from your hand. A soft smile crossed his face when he saw your little notes in the margins of passages you loved.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, and yours found their way around his neck. You breathed him in, feeling safe and warm in his hug. You were sad when the long hug finally broke, Bucky looking up at the clock on the wall.

“Can you stay for tea?” Bucky asked, fiddling with the hem of his yellow shirt you loved.

“Of course.”

The two of you curled up on the porch swing with your tea, enjoying the warm weather.

“I was thinking about planting pumpkins in the garden for autumn.”

“You should. I have a pumpkin soup recipe, I can teach you,” you suggested, and he smiled softly.

“I’d love that.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, settling as his arm wrapped around your body. You watched the housecat run across the grass before hopping on the porch below you. His hand gently rubbed small circles where it rested on your leg, and the two of you rocked gently.

Music played faintly from inside as always. Bucky always had a record spinning or a playlist drifting out through hidden speakers. You found the habit endearing, like most little things about him.

He had what seemed to be hundreds of tea bags, always having tea and offering it to you. You noticed that teas you mentioned you enjoyed started showing up in his collection for you when you were over. Books were stacked on nearly every surface, and filled shelves throughout the house.

You giggled, getting some flour on Bucky’s nose while the two of you were baking cookies in his kitchen. You gasped and squealed when he knocked flour all over your shirt, covering you in the white powder.

“Bucky!” You giggled at the mess.

“It wasn’t me, it was the ghost,” he teased with an adorable grin. You shook your head at him and he got one of his clean t-shirts for you to change into, tossing your ruined one in with his laundry.

The fabric of his was soft and smelled like him. You hugged it to your body, smiling as your heart raced. You went back downstairs to finish baking, Bucky promising you he was going to behave.

“Taste this, tell me if it’s good,” he laughed, holding out a spoon of the melted chocolate to you. You opened your mouth so he could feed it to you, and chocolate smeared over your lips as he pulled the spoon out.

You nodded in delight, and an amused smile crossed his face.

“You’ve got a little on your face, doll,” he laughed and you blushed.

Your breath caught as he leaned forward and kissed you, tasting the chocolate on your lips. You smiled into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, your heart bursting.

“Was that the ghost too?” you giggled shyly.

“No, that was all me,” Bucky promised before kissing you again.

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sambvcks · 4 years ago

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crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter three // didn’t care much how long i lived

summary: bucky receives a lesson on modern music over cheap beers and freshly baked scones.

warnings: mentions of abuse, food, alcohol consumption, character death (sorry)

word count: 1.6k

author’s note: besties...how we feeling about today’s episode??? using this as a coping mechanism :)

[ read on ao3 | series masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

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Your record collection was extensive and collecting an unhealthy layer of dust since you had inherited them from your grandmother. It didn’t take long to fish out a Best Of album from the vast shelves, handing over the sleeve to Bucky, who sat patiently on your forest green couch, as you fiddled with the turntable’s needle.

To busy himself, he read over the repertoire of songs listed on the back.

“Let’s Get It On?”

“Usually, a guy buys a girl dinner first, Bucky.” You took a cheeky swig of your beer with an eyebrow raise as he flushed at the insinuation. “We’ll start easy. If I Could Build My Whole World Around You. A criminally under-appreciated love song.”

A bouncy beat crackled through from the speakers as you settled into the couch beside him, tucking your legs beneath you. Today’s choice of pajama bottoms displayed little snowflakes across a navy background, despite the heat outside that still lingered into nighttime.

“I like it.” Bucky decided.

“Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell have so many amazing songs together. She might not sound like it on record, but she had a hard life. Abusive, cheating partners. Brain cancer that killed her young. Hard to know what anyone’s going through behind closed doors.”

I’d put so much love where there is sorrow, I’d put joy where there’s never been before.

“I really like it.”

Your apron still hung from your waist, the gentle tick of the kitchen timer in the shape of a grey cat sat by your side. A reminder of the scones you were whipping up when Bucky unexpectedly appeared on your doorstep. You didn’t question him or bring up the late hour. Simply ushered him in with a smile and a beer shoved into his gloved hand.

Bucky feels comfortable for the first time in a long time. Eyes focused, mind stagnant. Your perfume, woodsy and natural, lingers in the air and he has to take a long gulp of his drink just to occupy himself for just a second.

“I’m glad you like it. Though, I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone who doesn’t like Marvin Gaye. It’s like not liking Queen.”

“Queen?”

The timer rattled on the coffee table and the smell of vanilla and blueberries nipped at Bucky’s nose.

“Saved by the bell! I don’t have the time to berate you on not knowing about Queen.”

You bustled your way back into the kitchen, sliding oven mitts onto your hands as you inspected the oven with a professional certainty. The record out and into the next track as Bucky watched on, your shoulders swaying to the slow tempo. You were light on your feet as you plucked one tray from the heat and replaced it with another.

It was so easy for Bucky to imagine this world as his, with the soft swing of Motown as the soundtrack to your shared afternoons. In a different life, he would come home to your baking, ask how studying went as you swayed in the kitchen together. You would wash dishes next to one another, hips pressed close, and giggle when he would press his sudsy hands onto your cheeks. You would smear remnants of cake batter on his and he would let you feed him dessert from your fingers.

It wasn’t possible, he knew. Probably ever. You would be graduating school soon, off to be an important attorney and he would still just be your across the hallway neighbor who you sometimes shared desserts and pleasantries with. You would find out who he was eventually. Everyone did. You would leave. Everyone did.

You would simply be another in a long line of failed attempts by James Buchanan Barnes.

Still, he thought, we can have this one simple night. Where you don’t know who he is, and he can imagine that it lasts long after he retreats back to his apartment.

‘Heaven must have sent you from above.’ Crooned the lovesick singers on your record player.

As you returned to the living room with another beer and the promise of scones as soon as they cooled, Bucky could only think one thing.

He was definitely starting to like Marvin Gaye.

He was starting to like you, too.

When he returned back to his apartment, hours later with a pile of records you insisted he borrow in his arms and a belly full of blueberry scones, he fell into bed without a care in his mind. It was his first full night of sleep in ninety years.

Bucky started appearing on your doorstep more often.

Your number was now saved in his phone and was his most frequently used contact. You were his secret, though, something he didn’t even share with Dr. Raynor. No matter how many times she tried to get him to speak about his troubling lack of acquaintances.

You were the one thing in the world untouched by all the destruction waging a war between his ears, you were easy and simple and God, it had been a long time since anything had been simple. You didn’t mind that he was brooding and a little bit clueless, or his cheesy jokes and complaints about technology these days.

His record collection was quickly growing, though it was still nowhere near yours.

Most of all, he liked sitting in your apartment, at your kitchen counter or on that forest green sofa of yours. Sometimes, you would let him pick a record and tell him everything you could remember about it. Other times, you would read from your heavy law books and he’d pretend to understand the cases and terminology, head resting against the back of your couch, admiring how your brows would furrow in concentration. He’d tell you not to hunch over your book, but you’d insist you were fine, only to be complaining about your neck the next time he saw you.

“I wish I read more actual books, you know? It seems like all I know these days are case studies.”

The next visit he’d have a worn copy of one of his favorite books tucked under his arm. He’d read to you until you’d doze off to the stories of Bilbo Baggins and his team of dwarves, a blanket tucked up to your neck.

Every visit cemented yourself further and further into his identity, until his trips to the used bookstore down the block became weekly and his morning runs became longer as you pushed more and more baked goods his way. You’d kiss his cheek as you said your goodbyes, leaning against your doorframe as he disappeared into his apartment.

He was happy. Positively, unbelievably happy.

Two days before Bucky’s next scheduled visit, Steve died in his sleep.

Pneumonia, or something, Bucky didn’t really comprehend any of the newscast beyond the headline ‘CAPTAIN AMERICA DEAD’ flashing in bold letters across his television screen.

Sam called early that morning and Bucky just knew. He knew what was waiting for him on the other end of that call, so he shut his phone off and laid back on the hardwood floor of his living room, dead to the world.

He didn’t speak to anyone for a few days, not even bothering with his daily runs or grocery store trips. Your knocks at his door went unanswered, with no trace that you had even stood in the hallway waiting for him other than a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies on his doormat. The only appointment he kept was his therapy, where he stared out the window and counted down the minutes until he could leave. Each attempt on Dr. Raynor’s part to bring up Steve was shut down as quickly as it was brought up.

Finally, a week later, a pounding at the door woke him from a restless afternoon nap.

“Buck, I know you’re in there.”

Sam. Of course.

“These boxes are heavy, come on!”

Sam Wilson took up Bucky’s entire doorway with his broad shoulders, the boxes stacked in his arms taking up the rest. Bucky was quick to usher him in the door, eyeing yours across the hall. He knew one look at an Avenger on his stoop would finally connect the dots for you, and you’d never speak to the Winter Soldier again.

“Keep your voice down.” Bucky shoved the final box through the doorway before securing the lock in place.

Sam surveyed his barren living room, eyes flicking to the crumpled bedsheets gathered on the floor next to his sofa but didn’t linger for long.

“I was worried about you, man.”

It used to be ‘we’, but now it’s just Sam.

“Nothing to worry about.” Bucky pushed past him to his kitchen, collecting stray dishes he hadn’t bothered to move to the sink before then. He felt Sam’s careful gaze on him the entire time. He hated that. He hated how much Sam cared.

He mostly hated how much it reminded him of Steve.

“Found these boxes in Steve’s attic. Had your name on them so I thought you might want ‘em.”

Bucky swallowed hard, focused on scrubbing the dishes under water so hot it was turning the skin on his flesh hand a violent red.

“I know this is hard, Buck-”

The glass he had been rinsing shattered between his fingers and Sam took a step back as Bucky heaved in uneven breaths. There was a long silence between the two grieving men, neither able to fully understand the other. Sam would never feel Bucky’s ninety-year heartache, the abandonment and fear of the life ahead of him. Bucky would never understand the weight on Sam’s shoulders or his unease at the shield tucked under his bed at home.

“I just want to be alone.”

Sam could do nothing but respect his wish.

“Call if you need anything.” Were his departing words as he showed himself out.

Bucky got to work cleaning up the broken glass.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #marvel imagine #tfatws imagine #tfatws

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here4theheartbreak · 3 years ago

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Sweet Cream Nights (jjk + ksj + myg)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Jungkook x Seokjin x Yoongi Genre: smut, fluff Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~8.4k

Tags: smut, fluff, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, bakery au, coffee shop au, arcade au, getting together, polyamory, food play, oral sex, come eating, dirty talk, humping

Summary: The local video game arcade owner is in love with the local barista who is also in love with the local baker. What could go wrong?

A/N: Third Kinktober fic, day 5: foodplay

Friendly competition was healthy, normal, and expected from successful business owners with shops near to one another. It only made sense that the two best coffee shops on the same street would have a friendly rivalry, or that the local bakery would compete with the nearby diner serving fresh cakes. What wasn’t normal, and not expected, was the local bakery in such a cutthroat competition with the local arcade.

It wasn’t even really about the products, of course. Individuals routinely purchased snacks or lunch from Seokjin, the owner and baker at History in the Baking – the best bakery in town by any local’s standards, then stopped in two doors down to play a few video games, often with Jungkook, the owner of the Golden Closet; a newer, but booming arcade. There was no loss in business and nothing forcing the rivalry.

Nothing, that was, except Deja Brew, the small café and coffee shop nestled directly between the two businesses. Really, it was because of the owner of the shop, one Min Yoongi.

Yoongi was everyone’s favorite. He liked to put on a grumpy front, often standing out in front of his rather adorable little shop as it opened at 6:37am sharp (he said, because 6:30 is too damn early, and what person wants coffee as late as 7:00am, really?) But it wasn’t real. No, the short, sweet faced grump was really as gentle as could be. He gave the bleary-eyed children of busy moms small sweets and volunteered with local charities. He often worked with Seokjin to make sure no product went to waste; every few days he and Jin would gather up near expiry products – Jin’s baked goods and breads and coffee beans that hadn’t sold, and Yoongi would drive them over to the nearby homeless shelter for breakfasts for the needy.

This was where Jin first realized that he’d fallen truly head over heels for the barista. The only problem he had was that he wasn’t sure if Yoongi liked him back, or if he was even into men. And the idea of ruining the both friendship and business cooperation they had was more terrifying than keeping silent.

Jungkook, on the other hand, knew almost immediately that he wanted to ask Yoongi on a date. The first week he’d moved into the empty space next to Yoongi’s shop, he’d wandered in, exhausted from an all nighter getting things up and running and just needing a quick pick me up. He’d expected something like a fancy Starbucks – in and out and perhaps a misspelled name on the cup to boot. What he’d gotten instead was a very concerned Yoongi herding him to a booth and a warm breakfast; the most delicious oatmeal he’d ever tasted, along with a rich, sweet coffee that made his toes curl and his heart skip. Though, maybe the heart skipping was more Yoongi’s doing than the coffee. Yes, Jungkook knew he’d been swept off his feet. His problem however was that despite being told he was handsome and being quite boisterous and loud in regards to his friends… Once someone he fancied came near, he clammed up; closing himself off and barely speaking more than a few words to the person. Which was what happened with Yoongi.

And Yoongi – for all his attention paid to customers, bills, and the local news – had no idea that he was being courted after by his two neighbors. When their rivalry picked up, Jungkook had blocked Jin’s back door for nearly three hours with a large truck first off; then Jin had had a whole pallet of flour ‘misdelivered’ to Jungkook’s door – he assumed they were old friends, or old enemies. Perhaps exes that were out to get one another. It wasn’t his problem, and he had no care about how they handled their rivalry – just as long as he wasn’t dragged into it.

Seven months, it went on. Seven entire months of petty pranks and murmured name-calling and generally annoyed glares between Jungkook and Jin. And then it happened.

Jungkook was early in to the arcade. It was nearly 6:15, but the sun was shining and he was feeling particularly good. He’d spent the evening out with an old friend who had encouraged him to ask Yoongi out before someone (Jin) did.

He walked past Jin’s shop, glancing in. He could see a few lights on in the back; Jin was always in early, working on his day to day treats. Despite his annoyance with Jin, he had to admit, the man was an excellent baker. And what was more, he was frankly stunning. Tall and broad, slender, with the face of a God – if Jungkook wasn’t so taken with Yoongi he may have gone after Jin. His custom pastries and cakes were stunning and elaborate, and his simple day to day cookies and pastries were always a hit. Rivalry or not, Jungkook knew good sweets, and that man’s were to die for.

He passed the bakery without lingering too long and glanced into the front window of the café. Much to his surprise, the main lights were on; Yoongi normally kept them off until opening time. He looked a little closer, and his stomach did a tight little flip. Yoongi was sitting at one of the tables, sipping coffee… With Seokjin.

They were laughing, and Jin reached over, brushing the tips of his fingers over Yoongi’s cheek. Jungkook saw red. It wasn’t fair. He reached up, ready to tap on the glass, draw Yoongi’s attention, anything. He froze though. What right did he have? He hadn’t made his move on Yoongi fast enough – that was on him. He sighed softly and shook his head, hurrying past the café before one of them caught him peering in like a pervert.

Jungkook tried to ignore the ache he felt as he worked, but every time his mind drifted, it went to what he saw that morning. Was it what he had assumed? Were they just friends? He had to find out. He slipped out under the guise of an early lunch break, entering Deja Brew.

Yoongi was behind the counter, looking stunning as always. He looked up and grinned. “Afternoon, Kook. What can I get you?”

“Whatever you think is good,” Jungkook said, settling in one of the tables. “You know I trust your opinion here.”

“Coming up.”

The shop was empty; Jungkook knew it wouldn’t start getting busy again until about noon. It was nice; he could watch Yoongi working without others wondering what was wrong with him. Yoongi circled around to the table with a tray, setting a sandwich in front of Jungkook along with a coffee.

“Mind if I join you? Grab my own lunch before the real lunch rush.”

“Of course not,” Jungkook grinned, trying not to sound too excited at the prospect.

Yoongi set a similar meal down on the other side and hurried the tray back to the counter before sliding in across from Jungkook.

Jungkook took a bite, groaning happily. “This is amazing.”

“Apple sausage with fresh veggies. I managed to get some really great products at the farmer’s market this weekend, and Jin gave me a deal on the bread. Nobody does these little sandwich loaves like he does.”

The smile slid from Jungkook’s face. He tried to replace it, ignoring the twist in his gut. Well, this was what he came for; might as well rip the bandage off. “You and Jin are pretty close, huh?”

“I think so,” Yoongi said casually, taking a bite of his sandwich.

“How long have you two been…” He drifted off. Yoongi’s brows furrowed for a moment. He swallowed the bite in his mouth.

“Been friends? About a year. We met a few months before you joined our little shop front.”

“No… Dating,” Jungkook clarified.

Yoongi coughed, laughing after taking a swig of coffee. “Dating? No, no. Jin and I aren’t dating. I’d love to but… He’s not into me that way.”

“Are you kidding? He’s obsessed with you,” Jungkook said without thinking, wanting immediately to kick himself. “I saw you two this morning when I was walking to my arcade. I figured… You know… It was a date.”

Yoongi chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll take your word for it, but no… We were just having breakfast.” He hesitated. “Do you really think he likes me?”

Jungkook snorted. “He adores you. I mean, why wouldn’t he? You’re funny and smart and one of the most caring guys in this town. Plus you make amazing coffee, you’re independent. And you’re handsome as hell and I—” He froze, realizing Yoongi was staring at him, eyes wide.

“I—I just mean you two are a good match,” he mumbled.

“I appreciate the plethora of compliments, but no we aren’t.” Yoongi chuckled. “Jin’s damn near a model.”

“He really is. I’ve never seen someone with such broad shoulders that doesn’t look weird. And his smile…” Jungkook shook his head, smiling a little. “He’s stunning. But you are too.”

“Well, maybe I’ll ask him out. But… I don’t think he’d be into my lifestyle.”

Jungkook’s brows raised. He twitched his head to the side, mouth pursing. When Yoongi didn’t continue, he nudged him with his foot under the table.

“Lifestyle?”

“It’s… Very hard to explain.”

“If it’s not comfortable, I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s not that. I am comfortable with it. I just wish others were,” Yoongi mumbled.

“It sounds intriguing… I’ll listen without judging, you know me.”

Yoongi smiled softly. “You do have a knack for that, don’t you?” He sighed. “I’m not… Comfortable in traditional relationships. I never have been.”

“Like sexually?”

“Oh no, no. I’ve always been very sexual being. No, I mean traditional monogamy. I believe in faithfulness and I abhor cheaters… But for me the traditional two-person relationship is dull and unfulfilling. It’s like… I feel like I have so much love to give and no matter how much I give to the other person there’s this space missing.” He sighed again. “It’s very hard to explain to folks.”

“You feel like the true way to be happy in a relationship is to have more than one partner?” Jungkook clarified.

“For me, yes. I’m not disparaging traditional relationships, I just… When I date someone, I feel like there’s still this gap there, waiting to be filled by a third party. And it doesn’t matter to me whether that third is dating my first partner, or if they’re just dating me, or even if they’re dating someone else that I’m not dating, I’m okay with any combination, I just… I need to have more than what traditional monogamy can give me.”

“I get it,” Jungkook said, nodding. He sipped his coffee as he thought, processing the information. “I don’t see anything wrong with what you feel. You still love and believe in being faithful; I’m guessing seeking a third partner, or a fourth or however many would be something that you’d discuss with your partner originally.”

“Oh of course, but therein lies the problem. The majority of people don’t understand this mindset. They hear something about wanting another partner and insecurity crops up. Are they not good enough, do they not satisfy, am I falling out of love with them and there’s really no way to explain to a person who sees things in the traditional way.”

Jungkook nodded. He scowled at the remnants of his sandwich in thought, trying to put himself in Yoongi’s shoes, or in the shoes of someone Yoongi might be dating.

“It’s gonna catch fire if you laser focus any more on that bread,” Yoongi joked, his voice a little tense. Jungkook looked up. “Oh, sorry.” He laughed. Yoongi looked as tense as he sounded, and Jungkook wondered if he was waiting for a sort of negativity about what he’d just confessed.

“I was thinking about the type of relationship you described.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, trying to put myself in that place – the mind of someone you might be dating who you told this to.”

“What’s the verdict? Would you dump me?” Yoongi laughed as he spoke, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Jungkook shook his head no.

“When I think about it, I don’t deny my initial thought would be to ask if you were happy – I feel like that’s everyone’s gut response. We were raised in a monogamy preferred society, so it’s just… Natural to think that way. Not right, of course… We were also raised in a heterosexual society and I think it’s pretty clear that’s bullshit.”

Yoongi and Jungkook both chuckled at that. Jungkook continued.

“But I think if you explained that you were, and how you just told me about it, I think I’d get it. I would want to be with you in the process though. I don’t think I’d be comfortable with my partner seeking out another person without me. That would feel too much like hiding or cheating. But I think if we went together and met folks, or even had a person in mind that you wanted to ask, I’d want to like them too. Maybe not as much as I liked you, but some sort of friendship or agreement that you’d be good together, if that makes sense.”

Yoongi was silent for a long time after Jungkook spoke. He couldn’t figure out his expression. There were subtle shifts in it, and sometimes Yoongi looked close to tears, other times happy, and blank. Jungkook wanted to ask what he was thinking, or if he’d said something wrong, but didn’t want to push Yoongi into answering if he was still processing.

So he went back to eating, finishing the last of his sandwich and sipping the sweet coffee while he waited. He looked outside, watching the traffic pass through the window. Some familiar faces passed by, likely heading into his arcade next door. He should head back at some point soon, he’d left Taehyung in charge, which was fine in the short term, but Taehyung had a way of getting too up in his head or too hyperfocused on one thing – so it was best to have a second person there to bring him back to reality.

Jungkook was just about to clear his throat and call it a meeting when Yoongi looked up suddenly, meeting his gaze.

“Jungkook…”

“What?” Jungkook laughed a little, the intensity of Yoongi’s gaze startling. Not to mention, arousing; he’d never been looked at like that before. At least… Not by anyone he liked back.

“I’m in my late twenties,” Yoongi began, finally breaking the gaze to gather their plates. “And I’ve known this about myself since I was very young… Thirteen, fourteen maybe?” He rose, holding the plates and his empty cup. “In all that time I’ve never had someone respond how you just did. Taking the time to process and try to understand and… Get it. Maybe not think the same way as me but… Be able to offer me an answer that wasn’t going to break my heart. That would let me and them be happy.”

“I—”

Yoongi shook his head, his mouth curling up into a bright, gummy smile. “You asked about Jin because you’re jealous, didn’t you?”

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He lowered his gaze, nodding softly. “That’s weird, huh?” He mumbled.

“I think it’s cute.” Yoongi leaned down, his breath warm on Jungkook’s ear. “And I think you’re cute Jeon Jungkook.” He shifted, pressing a quick kiss to Jungkook’s cheek before standing upright.

Jungkook’s head snapped up when Yoongi rose. “What?”

Yoongi smirked. “I don’t mince my words. You heard me.” Yoongi glanced at the door, nodding to a customer approaching that he must have recognized. “My lunch rush is about to start,” Yoongi said as the bell dinged, signaling the customer’s entrance. “Come by when I close. I want to talk to you more.”

Jungkook grinned brightly, his nose crinkling up. He rose quickly and nodded even as Yoongi walked away. “I will,” he said, not wanting to turn his back as he watched Yoongi walk behind the counter. “I’ll see you—” He winced when his hip bumped the corner of a table hard enough to sting. He moved out of the way, nearly running into the customer.

“Sorry!” He cried, bowing low. He glanced up, his cheeks warm as he spotted Yoongi watching him, an amused smirk on his face.

Jungkook made it out of the café and over to his arcade without any further accidents. His mind was whirring over what had just happened. Yoongi had said he was cute. Yoongi had kissed his cheek. And asked him to come over. Was this happening? Was he going to win the guy?

The other information Yoongi provided him also crept back in. Now that Yoongi dating him might be reality, rather than theory, would Jungkook really be okay with sharing him with another partner? The more he thought about it, the more he realized he would. The idea of sharing Yoongi with someone else was intriguing. He wondered how date nights might look, if Yoongi would call them both boyfriends – if the other partner would even be a boy. What if he fell for that one too? It was something he’d never considered before; being in love with two men at the same time, but it was something that he was very interested in exploring. What was Yoongi’s type too? Would it be someone else similar to Jungkook? Or totally opposite? His mind wandered through all the possibilities, making the day pass easily.

Shortly before closing time, the front door opened. Jungkook glanced up from where he was sanitizing one of the game systems. His brows rose, disappearing into his shaggy hair when he saw none other than Jin standing in his doorway.

“Good afternoon,” he said politely, bowing. “You looking for something specific? We have some open computers at the internet bar, and some other game systems. I just cleaned this one, so—”

“I’m looking for you,” Jin said bluntly. His jaw was set, giving him a stern look, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. “Can we chat?”

“Of course.” Jungkook nodded, heading behind the small counter that housed a few mini fridges worth of snacks and books filled with codes and game information. He tucked the sanitizing supplies on the bottom shelf and waved Taehyung over. “Keep an eye on the front for me, okay?”

Taehyung glanced at Jin before nodding to Jungkook. Jungkook motioned for Jin to follow him, unlocking a nondescript door that led into an “office” – really it was a gutted storage closet, but it worked to keep the fancy and important stuff out of sight of customers… And for private meetings. Jungkook leaned on the small desk.

“What do you need to talk about?”

“When did you start dating Yoongi?”

Jungkook blinked. “Who said I was dating him?”

“I saw you two this afternoon. He kissed you.”

“He kissed my cheek,” Jungkook corrected. “And you’re a snoop.”

“The shop’s windows aren’t exactly hidden away. I was walking past and saw.”

Jungkook nodded. He sighed and went around, slumping into the folding chair he’d set up to sit in while dealing with bills and other business things. “Well, we aren’t dating. I assumed he was dating you… I saw you two awful cozy this morning.”

“Oh, now who’s the snoop?” Jin grumbled, leaning on the door.

The two remained silent for a long time, staring each other down across the small space. Jungkook couldn’t help but notice how the fabric of Jin’s shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. Though it was a well fitted, button up shirt, it still seemed tight with his body. His belt was cinched around his waist, making his slender hips all the more obvious as well. Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to hold onto those slender hips, or wrap his arms around the broad shoulder span. And the more he looked, the more he noticed Jin’s mouth and neck. The curve of his throat, ridged with muscle, his full, pink lips that looked just a little chapped – but still oh so soft. The gentle curve of his nose and the smooth, shiny glow to his skin. Despite working in a bakery all day, not a hair was out of place, bangs parted just so to show a broad, smooth forehead that was begging to be kissed.

It was Jungkook who broke first, laughing in the silent room. He shook his head. “This is so stupid,” he said through bursts of laughter. Jin tried to remain stoic but broke as well, laughing along with Jungkook.

When their laughter faded, Jungkook shook his head, wiping his cheeks. “Look, I do like Yoongi. That’s no secret. And yeah, he did kiss my cheek – he was flirting. So, if you like him… I encourage you to tell him.”

“You just said he likes you.”

“And he likes you too. He told me today.” Jungkook hesitated. He didn’t want to say too much about what Yoongi told him; it wasn’t his place to tell. “You should talk to him. His answer might surprise you. But either way – we’ve been fighting over him for months, when in reality this is his choice. He deserves to know the truth so he can make that choice.”

Jin’s shoulders sagged just a little. He nodded. “I know you’re right. But I don’t want to make it harder for him if he has decided to date you.”

“I know you don’t, but you won’t know what he decides until you tell him. He’s a big boy – I’m sure he can handle it.”

Jin chuckled. “True… Thanks, Jungkook.” He turned to go, then turned back. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick these past few months.”

Jungkook grinned. “I’m not. It’s been fun. I’ve kinda enjoyed our pranking.”

“Is that so?” Jin smirked. “Well, maybe I won’t stop then.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Jin turned and walked out, leaving Jungkook to wrestle with far more internal questions than he had answers for.

That night, Jungkook headed over to Deja Brew as soon as he closed things up. The lights were mostly off, save for a few near the back and behind the counter. Assuming it was locked, Jungkook knocked gently. He saw movement from the back, and Yoongi came rushing out. Even in the fading sunlight, Jungkook could see he looked a little flushed and surprised. He opened the door, smiling brightly. “You came.”

“Of course I did… You okay?” Jungkook could see his cheeks were mottled and his hair was a little mussed.

“Yes. But… I have to tell you something.”

Jungkook stepped into the café, letting Yoongi close and lock the door behind him. He shouldered his bag a little higher onto his shoulder. “What do you have to tell me?”

“There’s been… A bit of a development. That I didn’t expect… When I told you to come by.”

“Oh?”

“Evening, Jungkook.” The voice came from the back room, where Yoongi had rushed from. Jungkook looked over Yoongi’s shoulder, his eyes widening. Jin was leaning against the doorframe. He was wearing the same shirt as he had been when he met Jungkook, but now it was hanging open save for two bottom buttons, his firm, broad chest exposed. It was damp with sweat and flushed red, as was Jin’s face and ears. His hair was a little mussed and his mouth – if anyone could believe it – was just a little plumper.

“Oh!” Jungkook backed up. “I am so sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“Don’t go,” Yoongi whispered.

“But you and Jin—”

“He came over,” Yoongi nodded. “But I want to talk to you still. I don’t want you to go, please.”

Jungkook nodded. He met Jin’s gaze, a little surprised to see a gentleness there. He’d won – he expected Jin to look smug. He followed Yoongi back into the back room, and Jin followed as well, leaning against a nearby wall.

“Jin came over earlier,” Yoongi began. “He said you encouraged him to.”

“I did. He came to me and I said it was only fair to you. To tell you how he felt and let you choose. I guess he did and… You did.”

“How do you mean?” Yoongi asked.

“Well, you two…” Jungkook motioned to Jin’s open shirt.

“Oh, yeah. We did. I mean, we are… But… I told you earlier today. How I felt,” Yoongi said. “You said… A lot. About how you’d feel about it. Was that true?”

“About the… More than one person thing?”

Yoongi nodded.

“Yeah, I meant it all. I wouldn’t mind. If I knew you cared and were happy, I’d try.”

“Well I told Jin too.”

“And I said the same thing,” Jin added.

Jungkook smiled softly. “I’m glad. It’s good to find similarly minded people.”

“Jungkook,” Jin stepped forward. “You’re kinda dumb, aren’t you?”

Jungkook pouted. “No,” he mumbled. “I was just trying to be fair, I didn’t—”

“Jungkook, you and me and Yoongi all say the same thing. We’d be happy to try a relationship with more than one person.”

“Yeah, I got that…” Jungkook said, glancing between the two.

“Right… And we both like Yoongi,” Jin continued. “And… Considering the way you were eye fucking me in the office earlier…”

Jungkook’s eyes bulged. He opened his mouth to argue, but Jin shook his head. “I know when someone is giving me that look. I would’ve told you to stop if I didn’t like it.”

“You…”

“Think you’re kinda… Annoying.” Jin laughed at Jungkook’s expression. “And really attractive. Plus you’re competitive and stubborn and loyal…”

“You didn’t lose anything, Jungkook,” Yoongi said. “If you don’t want to lose, that is. If you want… You can both have me.”

Jungkook’s eyes bulged. Comically, if the laughter of Yoongi and Jin meant anything. “You mean—I—I could be with you both?” Jungkook stumbled over his words, wanting to kick himself.

Yoongi nodded. “Why should I choose between you when you both want me and I… Want both of you. And since you’re both okay with sharing me, then… It only seems fair to do so.”

“I was simply getting started a little early,” Jin teased, pulling Yoongi back to him. He kissed him hard.

Jungkook wasn’t sure what to do. He’d just been given the okay – he could date Yoongi – and Jin. He stepped forward, setting his backpack on the ground. Cautiously, he reached out, touching Yoongi’s wrist.

Jin broke the kiss. “Don’t be shy,” he murmured, nuzzling Yoongi’s neck even as he looked up at Jungkook.

Jungkook took a deep breath. He stepped forward, pulling Yoongi to him and kissing him. The reality of what was happening seemed to hit him suddenly when their lips met. He grabbed his cheeks, holding him close even as Yoongi laughed into his mouth. Jungkook felt a warmth behind him and hands on his hips. Jin.

“Can I share you too, Jungkook?” Jin whispered in his ear. Jungkook broke the kiss with Yoongi, looking over to meet Jin’s gaze.

“I—I guess so.”

Jin smiled softly. He stepped to the side, wrapping one arm around Jungkook and pulling him into a deep, needy kiss. His mouth tasted of warm, sweet vanilla and a hint of spice, while Yoongi’s had tasted like coffee beans and chai. It was the perfect blend.

Yoongi’s mouth landed on his neck, his hand sliding Jungkook’s front as he and Jin kissed. He felt hands on his jeans and gasped, breaking the kiss. He glanced down. Jin was undoing Jungkook’s jeans.

“You can stop me,” Jin said softly.

“And me,” Yoongi added.

“No,” Jungkook leaned back, sliding his hand up Yoongi’s neck and through his hair. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He reached forward, touching Jin’s bare chest before sliding lower, his fingers tracing the firm muscle of his abdomen. He undid the other two buttons of his shirt and pulled it open just as Jin opened his jeans. The slid down a little, and Yoongi helped, pushing them the rest of the way down to his ankles. Jungkook toed his sneakers off and kicked the jeans off. He let go of Jin’s chest to turn, grabbing Yoongi’s belt. “I’m not gonna be the only one with no pants,” he said.

Yoongi laughed. “I’ve already had my pants off. I put them on when you came in.”

“Oh, is that so?” Jungkook undid his belt and unzipped his jeans. “What were you two doing in here?” He looked back at Jin, who smirked.

“I was showing him just how… Versatile my food can be.”

“Is that so?”

Jin nodded. Jungkook pushed Yoongi’s jeans down and turned. “Well now I’m envious… Can I get a lesson in that diversity too?” He pouted.

Jin smirked. “I’m sure that can be arranged. He circled around the two and opened a small fridge under Yoongi’s desk. He pulled out a small cheesecake and a can of spray whipped cream. “Mind if I get some things from up front, Yoongi?”

Yoongi shook his head no, busying himself kissing along Jungkook’s neck. “Bet this isn’t at all what you expected tonight,” he murmured.

“Not at all,” Jungkook leaned into his touch. “But I’m not complaining.”

He turned, pulling Yoongi’s shirt off over his head. He took a moment to stroke his hands over Yoongi’s soft skin, tweaking his nipples just a bit and giggling when Yoongi hissed. Yoongi moved forward, forcing Jungkook to walk backwards until his back hit the wall. He moaned openly, grabbing Yoongi’s hips.

“Don’t come in your shorts now, I have some fun for you two,” Jin teased when he re-entered, holding a cup of coffee and a bowl of what looked like ice. He set them on the table next to the food and beckoned the two over.

“Yoongi… He smirked. He scraped a small chunk off the cheesecake and brought the fork toward Yoongi. Yoongi opened his mouth for it, but Jin moved the fork at the last second, smearing the cheesecake over Yoongi’s bare collarbone. He looked at Jungkook. “Go on.”

Jungkook grinned. He moved forward, gently licking and sucking the cheesecake from Yoongi’s collarbone. He let his teeth graze over the area, enjoying the squeeze of Yoongi’s hands on his waist.

“Take your shirt off now,” Jin whispered when Jungkook had cleaned Yoongi’s skin, and left an array of delightful red marks in his wake. Jungkook obeyed, stripping his shirt off and tossing it to the side. Jin did the same, and stripped his jeans off as well, leaving all three in their boxers. Jin grabbed the can of whipped cream, looking between the two. “Who wants a treat?”

“Yoongi,” Jungkook said. “I stole his cheesecake after all.”

Jin stepped forward and reached out, palming Jungkook through his boxers. Jungkook gasped, his eyelids fluttering shut.

“Lets get these off then,” Jin whispered, pressing a kiss to Jungkook’s jaw. Yoongi stepped forward, sliding them down his hips. Jin made a low noise of appreciation when his cock sprang free. He shook the can once more.

“It’ll be cold,” he warned before tipping it upside down. He pressed Jungkook’s cock down a little further so it was more parallel to the ground and sprayed a few lines of the creamy dessert whip over his shaft.

Jungkook forced his eyes open as Yoongi sank to the ground, licking his lips. He grasped Jungkook’s cock gently behind the tip, careful not to disturb the whipped cream, and looked up at him. Slow and steady, he began to lap to Jungkook’s cock, catching the cream with his tongue. Each inch slipped into his mouth, hot and warm and slick, Jungkook gasped, reaching out for anything to brace himself. Jin caught him, holding his hips to keep him upright as Yoongi sucked his cock.

“That’s it, feels nice, doesn’t it?” Jin murmured in his ear, reaching up to pinch Jungkook’s nipples gently. Jungkook moaned, stroking his fingers through Yoongi’s hair.

“Wanna repay the favor?” He asked softly when Yoongi had sucked all the cream from Jungkook’s cock.

Jungkook nodded. “But—What about you?” He asked, sliding his hand down to palm Jin’s cock.

Jin smirked. “Oh, wanna see what I have too?” He teased. Jungkook nodded.

“Only fair,” Yoongi said as he stood. He slid his own boxers off and they turned to Jin, shedding the final article of clothing he wore as well.

Jin handed Jungkook a piece of ice. “Put it in your mouth… And suck my cock,” he instructed. He took a mouthful of coffee and knelt in front of Yoongi. Glancing up, he winked. He grabbed Yoongi’s cock and gave it a few strokes before slowly sliding it past his closed lips. Yoongi groaned and jerked. A bit of the warm coffee dribbled out, down Jin’s chin and chest. He began to bob his head, and Jungkook could hear the slosh of the coffee in his mouth as he sucked Yoongi.

Jungkook dropped to his hands and knees and placed the ice chip in his mouth. He grabbed Jin’s cock and gave it a few strokes, blowing first gently on it. Jin shuddered and grabbed the back of Jungkook’s neck, squeezing just enough to be known. Jungkook watched goosebumps appear on his thick thighs. He leaned down further and sucked Jin’s cock into his mouth. He flicked the slowly melting ice chip over and around it, using Jin’s grip on the back of his neck to guide what felt the best. Yoongi’s moans were filling the air, as well as the heavy breathing of all three and the wet noises of the two sucking. Jin pulled back and swallowed, gasping and moaning Jungkook’s name. Yoongi sank to the ground and grabbed another ice chip, tapping Jungkook on the shoulder. He moved back, allowing Yoongi to take over.

Jungkook stood and grabbed a forkful of the cheesecake. He slowly streaked it down his belly and over his cock, leaving a little bite on the tip of his cock. Jin smirked, his mouth open already. Jungkook guided him to his cock, moaning when Jin took his tip into his mouth. He sucked hard, flicking his tongue over the top of the head to get the remnants of cheesecake. He moved up then, shifting as much as he could with his cock in Yoongi’s mouth, and licked and nibbled at Jungkook’s belly. Down, over his cock, firm licks and daring grazes of his teeth that had Jungkook tensing in preparation for pain – and moaning in disbelieving arousal when it didn’t come. He was dribbling precoma freely, and knew he wouldn’t last long. Jin pulled back and moaned, tugging on Yoongi’s hair gently.

“Stop, stop—I’m gonna come,” he whined.

Yoongi pulled back, looking up at him. “Isn’t that the point?” He teased.

Jin chuckled. “I suppose. But it wouldn’t be fair of you to hoard it to yourself, what if Jungkook wanted a taste?”

Jungkook smirked. “He could share with me after it’s already in his mouth, I suppose.”

Jin’s breathing caught, just a bit, and he nodded. “I suppose he could.” He and Yoongi rose and Jin grabbed a small bowl from the fridge. “My homemade frosting,” he explained when Jungkook twitched his head at it. He uncovered the bowl and took a spoon, stirring it. “Yoongi. Come here.”

When Yoongi approached, he slathered the frosting over the length of Yoongi’s thick cock, adding a playful swirl to the dollop at the tip. He looked to Jungkook. “He’s the only one you’ve not tasted yet. Go for it.”

Jungkook sank down and took him into his mouth quickly, moaning around his length. The rich, sweet vanilla cream blended perfectly with Yoongi’s salty precome, dribbling in and teasing him with the promise of more. Jungkook bobbed his head quickly, eager to swallow down both the frosting and Yoongi’s unique taste. Yoongi held back no sounds, tugging softly at Jungkook’s hair as he moaned happily.

Jin dropped down next to Jungkook, shifting to suck and lick at the part of Yoongi’s cock not in Jungkook’s mouth. They switched, taking turns lavishing attention over Yoongi’s cock. Their mouths often met in wet kisses, his cock slotted between their lips. He whined, his hips bucking.

“Please—” He panted. “It’s okay, you can come,” Jin purred, swallowing his cock down. He backed up, letting Jungkook do the same. They kept at it until Yoongi’s cock began to throb. As it did, Jungkook pulled back, holding it towards them and stroking quickly. The ropes of come erupted from his cock, hitting both on the cheeks and open mouths. Jungkook whined softly, feeling a rope shoot over his tongue. As his orgasm faded, Jin grabbed Jungkook’s face, kissing him hard. They cleaned Yoongi’s release from one another with kisses, sharing the salty treat between them.

Yoongi sank down, his legs shaking visibly. He grabbed for Jungkook and Jin’s cocks, stroking one in each hand as they made out. Jungkook pulled back in time to see Yoongi leaning forward, swallowing Jin’s cock down as he stroked Jungkook’s. He switched after a few moments, wrapping his perfect lips around Jungkook’s cock and stroking Jin’s.

“God, I’m already close,” Jungkook whined, holding onto Jin as Yoongi bobbed his head along his shaft.

“Come in his mouth,” Jin murmured. “You can see how much he wants it.”

Yoongi whined in agreement, his breath hot around Jungkook’s cock. He began to bob his head a little faster, reaching up to play with Jungkook’s balls as he did.

“That’s it,” Jin praised, stroking the back of Yoongi’s neck. Jungkook let his head fall onto Jin’s shoulder, his fingers biting into his side as Yoongi’s mouth dragged him closer to orgasm. He grunted, biting his lip. Jin slid his hand down, squeezing Jungkook’s ass. He brushed his finger teasingly over Jungkook’s hole, smirking when he jumped.

“Sensitive,” teased.

Jungkook moaned, pushing his hips forward, pumping into Yoongi’s mouth, and back toward Jin’s hand. The hand disappeared from his ass for a moment. He heard Jin spit and it was back, one finger slipping into his hole. Jungkook shouted in surprise. His hips jerked forward and back, gagging Yoongi.

“Sorry,” he panted, laughing breathlessly as Jin began to finger him. Yoongi gave a thumbs up, shifting to adjust his movements.

Jin found Jungkook’s prostate easily and began to rub and press it, murmuring soft praises in his ear.

Jungkook whimpered. He tugged Yoongi’s hair gently. “I can’t hold back,” he gasped in warning. Yoongi nodded as well as he could and pulled back, focusing his oral work on Jungkook’s tip. He rubbed and pressed his balls gently at the same time Jin pushed a second finger up his ass, scissoring them and rubbing against his spot. Jungkook swore, his legs beginning to shake. His cock jerked as his orgasm hit, spilling ropes of come into Yoongi’s mouth.

Jin slowed his fingers but kept them buried inside Jungkook, rubbing just enough to keep a low level orgasmic buzz running through Jungkook as he milked him dry.

Yoongi rose, his mouth open to show the come in it. He winked at Jungkook before pulling Jin into a deep kiss. Jungkook struggled to stay upright, watching them share his come.

When Yoongi pulled away, Jin withdrew his fingers momentarily.

“Can I keep fingering you while I come?” He asked.

Jungkook smirked tiredly. “Of course.” He bent over the desk, wiggling his ass playfully.

“Wanna finger mine too?” Yoongi teased.

“Well, I’d like to do more than that,” Jin murmured, kissing Yoongi once more. “But I’ll settle for rubbing off on it… If you’ll let me.”

Yoongi immediately bent over the desk next to Jungkook, kissing him softly. Jin added more spit to Jungkook’s hole, going back to fingering him lazily. Jungkook whined, his soft cock still dribbling weak ropes of come at the right pressure on his spot. He glanced over, watching Jin spit on his other hand to slick his cock. He slid it up, along Yoongi’s perky ass, and moaned, immediately beginning to hump against it.

After a while, Jin pulled his fingers free from Jungkook’s hole and squeezed Yoongi’s ass, swearing softly.

“Spread it,” he panted. Yoongi obeyed, spreading his ass open for Jin.

Jin spat against his hole, and Jungkook watched him slide a finger in gently. Yoongi moaned, deep in his chest as he did. Jin removed his finger and lined his cock up, poking the tip gently against Yoongi’s tight hole. He paused, jerking his cock quickly.

He moved over to Jungkook, squeezing his ass.

“Spread,” he panted. Jungkook obeyed, blushing darkly when he heard Jin spit and felt a glob land on his hole. Jin went immediately with his cock, spreading it with the tip and nudging Jungkook’s hole. Slightly more relaxed from the earlier fingering, Jungkook felt his hole give a little, and he moaned.

“Goddamnit,” Jin panted. Jungkook could hear him stroking his cock, the nudges against his hole becoming more persistent. “I wish I could fuck you both,” he grunted.

“Next time I’ll have lube,” Yoongi murmured. “I’d particularly like to see you take Jungkook and pound him against the wall… Looks like you make such pretty sounds with a cock up your ass, Jungkook.”

Jungkook laughed breathlessly, moaning softly. “I think I do… I love begging for it,” he admitted.

Both Jin and Yoongi made appreciative noises.

“I’d like to fuck him after,” Yoongi continued. “Lay him on his his belly right over there… And fuck him after you gape his ass. You could fuck me while I was doing it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jin swore. He moved between them and grabbed the plate of cheesecake, setting it on the table. With a soft groan and a series of rhythmic grunts, Jin came, thick ropes spilling from his cock over the dessert.

Jungkook met Yoongi’s gaze and smirked, understanding the intention. They both grabbed forks and began to cut into the cake, feeding one another the come covered bites over Jin’s cock. He moaned softly, seeming to shudder and relax as they ate. Jungkook scooped up the last bite and stood straight, holding it out for Jin, he took it gladly, meeting Jungkook’s gaze as he chewed and swallowed. He leaned forward, kissing Yoongi and then Jungkook. Jungkook returned the kiss, pulling back to kiss Yoongi as well.

The three redressed and cleaned up the office in relative silence, each seeming to be going over what had happened.

“So… That was… Admittedly a little unexpected,” Yoongi said finally, settling into his chair behind the desk. Jin, for all his gusto, looked a little shy, and Jungkook was worried.

“Was it too much?” Jungkook asked.

“I don’t think so. Not for me, at least… What about you two?”

“I liked it,” Jin said. “I had fun and it was a good way to… Try out this dynamic, of all three of us. I’ve never… I’ve never dated more than one person at a time, but I like Jungkook, and I want to try it. And I know it’s where you feel comfortable. So for me, it was nice to sort of… See where we all stood and get close in a new way.”

Jungkook nodded. “I agree. I had said earlier today that I’d be fine with my partner dating someone else, and I kept thinking about that during the day. My mind did wander to Jin a few times, I won’t lie. I think he’s the best match for both of us. He and I have always had our…”

“Rivalry,” Jin filled in, laughing a little, and Jungkook nodded.

“Yes, rivalry. That I have enjoyed. And I obviously care a lot for you, Yoongi… I’m happy with tonight and… I hope we can move forward as a … Well, not really a couple, are we?”

Yoongi laughed. “Not exactly. There’s a lot of words that people have come up with for folks in our dynamic, we can figure it out later. For now I’m content just knowing that there’s no regrets. And that we all want to move forward into… Dating.”

Jungkook and Jin both nodded eagerly.

“How will dating work?” Jungkook asked. “Do the three of us go together? Two at a time? I mean… Since Jin and I, I figured… You are okay with… Wanting to date me too?”

“I’d like to try it,” Jin said, nodding in agreement.

“I’ve never actually had this kind of relationship,” Yoongi admitted, “despite wanting it for so long. I think we’ll have to sit down together and really hash out what each of us need in a relationship, and how the other two can best provide it. I do know that for this sort of thing… We need to be open with each other.”

Yoongi rose as he spoke, going over to Jin and Jungkook. He took each of their hands in his own. “Communicating is the only way this can work, okay? No more secrets, no more unspoken words and passive aggressive pranking.”

Thy all shared a chuckle at that. Jungkook shook his head. “I think pranking has really become Jin and I’s love language… You’re not gonna stop the pranks, Yoongi.”

Yoongi sighed dramatically, grinning. “And here I was hoping I’d get to avoid Jin shouting at seven in the morning when you’ve stolen his mixer yet again.”

Jungkook grinned brightly as Jin laughed.

“Look, that was a good prank!” Jungkook defended.

“Yeah, only because I returned it shutting down your fuse box the next day.”

Jungkook glared, but grinned as he was doing it. “We’ll keep you out of the pranks,” he promised, looking back to Yoongi.

“I don’t mind. Just don’t prank me.”

“It’s late,” Jin said. “Why don’t we all have a light dinner together tomorrow after closing? We can meet here, I’ll bring some stuff from the bakery too, and we can have some of the leftover sandwiches from your café. We can all sit together and really talk about what we need and what we’d like from this sort of relationship.”

Jungkook and Yoongi nodded. “I like that idea. I’d like to think more about it anyways,” Jungkook admitted. “I know I want this, but I’ve not been in a lot of relationships, so… When someone asks me what I want from even a traditional two person… I don’t think I could answer. I need to really think and figure it out.”

“I feel like that’s a fair assessment,” Yoongi said. “I’m in a similar boat. The idea that you’re both… Mine… It’s a lot. I’m happy. I’m just overwhelmed.”

“You never thought you could have this,” Jin said. Yoongi nodded.

“Well you do,” Jungkook stepped forward and hugged Yoongi tightly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “And we might have to figure out the fine-tuning stuff, but you have us. It’s not a dream.”

Yoongi hugged him back, nuzzling his neck. “Thank you.”

“We care a lot about you, Yoongi. No matter what. I think I can speak for Jungkook too when I say that this is a good move for us all. We’re happy, and we’ll be happy like this,” Jin said. He wrapped his arms around them both, enveloping them in a tight hug.

They separated after a moment and Jungkook grabbed his bag. “Come on, we should get going. Do you have any last-minute things to do?”

“No, I’m all closed up here, just have to shut off lights.” Yoongi headed to the back of the office and grabbed his jacket, flicking off the lights and basking them in darkness.

The trio walked to the doors and stepped out into the cool night air, letting Yoongi lock his door. They stood for a moment, all looking at one another in the streetlights. “Well, I go this way,” Jungkook said, jutting his finger in the direction of his bus stop.

“I’m that way too,” Yoongi said.

“I go the other way,” Jin said. He glanced around then stepped forward and kissed Yoongi long and hard. Jungkook chuckled a little at it. It was cute, if he was being honest. Jin glared playfully at him. “What’re you laughing at, punk?” He joked. He grabbed Jungkook’s shirt and pulled him into a kiss as well.

He stood straight and fixed his shirt. “I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“Get home safely,” Yoongi said. They watched Jin walk down the street before turning and walking up it.

“How far up do you go?” Yoongi asked.

“My bus stop is about two blocks away.”

“Do you live very far?”

Jungkook shook his head no. “Only a few miles. Just a little too far to walk or ride a bike in, so I have to do the bus.”

Yoongi nodded. “I only live about half a mile up, so I usually walk it. Do you have a car, for the winter?”

“No, but the bus stop is right outside my apartment so it’s not so bad. The city keeps these streets shoveled well.”

“Hm… Well, we’ll see when winter comes. I have a car, I just don’t bother using it except winter with how close I live. I wonder how far down Jin lives.” He glanced back.

“We can ask him tomorrow.”

They reached Jungkook’s bus stop. Yoongi sighed softly. “I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“The conversation we had this afternoon gave me so much joy and confidence… Just hearing someone support me and give me hope that I could be truly happy… And then I know you sent Jin to me. Even though you knew it might mean losing me if I didn’t want you as a third, I… Your care means so much.”

Jungkook smiled softly. “I fell for you the minute I saw you, Yoongi. I want you to be happy, no matter what. And getting to be with you… And with Jin… It’s perfect. For as much as he and I argue, he’s an amazing man.”

“He is… And so are you.” Yoongi took Jungkook’s hands and squeezed gently. “I’m so happy that this happened.”

Jungkook grinned, his heart skipping a beat. He leaned forward and kissed Yoongi gently. “My bus will be here soon,” he said, not stepping away from Yoongi. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you.” Yoongi kissed him once more before letting his hands go and heading down the street.

Jungkook sighed heavily, a grin on his face as he did. Though he’d been hoping for a good result from finally confronting his feelings, this was a better one that he’d ever imagined. He knew that their future would be a sweet as the coffee and pastries his new boyfriends created.

#thebtswritersclub #jungkook x seokjin x yoongi #jungkook fanfic #seokjin fanfic #yoongi fanfic #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #seokjin smut #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #min yoongi #mywriting

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uno-writing · 3 years ago

Note

Sorry for the "minor interactions" earlier , it's just that I consider Rei a secondary character even tho he kinda started the story in a lot of ways 😭

Also, I was in the train and my brain decided to hurt me even more.

Would you be able to write about Remi's mother learning her daughter ended up in the hospital (thanks to john) like, what... one month after the loss of her son ? I dunno, I just wanna cry today I suppose. Poor mom...

(Kudos if there's a bonus scene of the squad meeting remi's mom/parents in general and she just... glares at john 👀)

Also since all the cool kids are doing it, could I pls become baguette anon if that's not already taken ? 🥖 👀

Welcome Baguette Anon!!! Don’t be sorry!! I’d classify it as minor interactions too since we don’t see them interact a lot!! I just said it was sad bc Rei died and that’s why they’re considered minor interactions. And yeah, poor Mama Lighting. She seems like such a good mom too😭😭🍿🥤🍭🍬🍫🧋🥨🥬🍦🍧🧊🐇🍩🥖

*Mama Lighting was in the middle of baking a tray of cookies for the new neighbors when she got the call from Vaughn telling her that Remi went to the hospital

*She only turns off the oven and the mixer before leaving everything how it was, not caring enough about the eggs or milk sitting out

*On her way to the train she calls Arlo to try and figure out what happened (you can’t tell me with how close remi and rei are to arlo that they haven’t introduced him to mama lighting)

*So Arlo answers and he tries to explain but she just kinda overloads him with questions bc poor mama’s in full blown panic

*Arlo finally gets the story out and it’s the FULL story, start to finish

*Like he’s ballsy, but not lie to worried, mama bear ballsy

*Now Mama Lightning’s panicky and pissed

*Like some punk at school messed with her baby?? No, that’s not gonna fly

*So she finally gets to Wellston and visits Remi at the hospital and she asks her the same questions she asked Arlo, just to double check all of the information

*After Remi finishes, Mama Lighting goes off about how Vaughn’s gonna get an earful and then Remi just asks her not to

*Mama Lighting reluctantly agrees and then ends up staying in Wellston for a few days

*Fast forward!!

*Remi invites John and Sera (along with the others) to stay at her place/meet her mom since they’re the only two that haven’t met Mama Lighting

*They agree and so everyone goes to Remi’s house

*And Mama Lighting knows who John is as soon as he walks into her house

*She’s just staring John down and John knows that she’s pissed at him for what he did to Remi and he’s just really awkward and can’t really look at her

*”John.”

*Her voice is just super cold and John’s starting to be like ‘oh fu-’

*But he looks at her and she makes sure that he’s meeting her eyes

*”I can only assume you’re a better person know that my Remi is friends with you, but if you ever think of hurting her ever again I will fry every one of your nerves and ensure you spend the rest of your life in pain, do I make myself clear?” - Mama Lighting

*”yes ma’am” - John (he kinda squeaks it out to bc he’s honestly terrified) *Mama Lighting relaxes and she smiles at him and the others

*”I just got muffins out of the oven if anyone’s hungry!” - Mama Lighting

*And John’s just suffering from whiplash and Sera finds it so amusing

#unordinary #unordinary seraphina #unordinary john #unordinary arlo #unordinary remi #unordinary mama lighting #berriwords #baguetteanon

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kindahoping4forever · 4 years ago

Text

Under The Christmas Lights // Ashton Irwin

Cass and I are having a blast so we hope everyone has been enjoying Hoe For The Hoe-lidays as much as we are. Her Cal blurb for the day, Baby Please Come Home, is up at @cal-puddies and it is one of my favorites from her, so you should definitely check it out if you haven’t already. (And as always, links to all of this week’s blurbs are in the event masterlist below!) Stay tuned tomorrow for our last set of blurbs and our grand finale on Monday: a galaxybrain co-write I guarantee you do not want to miss.

Extra thanks to Cass for helping me figure out what this story wanted to be. The overall concept remained but the structure, character details and tone of it took on a life of its own and morphed drastically as I was writing it.

Warnings: Established slow burn with Neighbor!Ash, mentions of quarantine, a healthy helping of thirst and sexual tension, implied consensual voyeurism and exhibitionism, mutual masturbation

Word Count: 4048

Hoe For The Hoe-lidays Masterlist

Masterlist // Taglist and Ko-Fi linked above

Let me know what you think!

"Quite the festive display you have there."

He stops at the end of his driveway, popping an earbud out as he turns towards your voice. Your next door neighbor, Ashton, stands in his yard, looking at you expectantly as you sit on your front porch, gesturing towards the freshly hung Christmas decorations all along his house.

"Oh thanks! I'm actually not even done. Waiting on a few more pieces to be delivered, really trying to merry things up, you know?" He answers, turning to collect today’s mail.

"Oh really? Everything's already so bright and eye-catching… up so early too," you punctuate your evaluation with a sip of coffee.

He smiles at you and you’re almost embarrassed to say you feel your heart skip a beat. You admit you had a bit of a crush on him when you moved in last year and for a while it seemed plausible you could’ve ended up more than just friendly neighbors. But that hope was yet another thing 2020 took from you.

Even though you were home more because of quarantine, you understandably had to interact with him less and less; gone were the days of “accidentally” baking too many cookies and walking over to offer him a plate or hoping your mail gets misdelivered so he’ll have an excuse to come visit you. These days, your visits were relegated to socially distanced greetings over the backyard fence and happenstance meetings like this.

“Yeah… I know it’s early in the season but I thought after the year we’ve all had, a little extra Christmas cheer couldn’t hurt,” he shrugs. He looks like he’s about to elaborate but then he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket; he apologetically but sincerely says, “Have a good night” and then scurries back to his house before you can get another word in.

It’s another couple of weeks before your next encounter, one night when you’re bringing the garbage can back up the drive and you hear Ash’s voice greeting you from his side of the fence.

“Those decorations certainly escalated, didn’t they?” You ask, amusedly peering up at his colorful house; the flickering icicle lights on the trim were a new addition, along with a big glowing snowflake and star sitting on his balcony.

“Does that mean you like it?” He laughs delightedly, walking up his own driveway. Your brain involuntarily appreciates how he looks with the lights reflecting off the dark wool trench coat he’s wearing; his hair is a lot longer than the last time you saw him, beard much darker and fuller. He looks good. You try not to think about it.

“Very pretty… not anything I would put up, but it suits you,” you comment, hoping your tone landed on the right side of the line between flirty and rude; you’re so out of practice at this, you’re not quite sure.

He takes it in stride. “That’s fair,” he chuckles. “No decorations for you this year?”

“Oh, I’ve got a wreath on my door,” you gesture. “May or may not get a tree. Little touches like that, things just for me; that feels appropriate but full on decorating this year… it just doesn’t feel right, doesn’t feel true to what we’re all experiencing.”

He furrows his brow. “Do you think my decorations are dishonest?” He asks, looking interested in your perspective.

“Not yours specifically, lots of people in the neighborhood are doing the same thing, some started even earlier than you did,” you carefully try to explain. “It just feels like surrounding ourselves with these crazy festive decorations… it’s like we’re working very hard to convince each other, maybe even ourselves, that this year isn’t any different when that couldn’t be farther from the truth… it is different and it feels weird not to acknowledge that.”

You look up, hoping you haven’t offended him, that you don’t see like too much of a grinch; you find yourself surprised at how relieved you feel when he nods thoughtfully as he considers your point of view.

“I actually agree, people are definitely using the decorations as a bit of a coping mechanism,” Ashton states, leaning on the fence as he ponders. “But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I know for me, after spending so much time being upset that I was trapped in my house this year, I figured I should do what I can to make my house feel happy for once. Especially if I’m gonna spend Christmas alone in it.”

You marvel at how despite the heavy turn the conversation has taken, his face never darkens, his warm and cheerful aura never falters. “Oh. I actually hadn’t thought of it like that,” you admit, playing with the drawstring of your hoodie, wondering why you care that you’re feeling vulnerable around him. “I’ll be alone this year too. I guess it just doesn’t feel like Christmas to me so I don’t like reminding myself that it is that time of year. If that makes sense.’

He gives you a sad but empathetic look. “I totally get it. I felt like that for most of the year… birthdays, seasons changing… I didn’t want to admit any of it was happening,” he shares. “But I don’t know… not to seem like I have it all figured out, but if we can’t change how we react to the environment we’re in, I think there’s something to be said for changing the environment itself. It’s important to acknowledge what you feel but also letting in even a little positivity can do wonders.”

You offer him a soft smile, letting him know you appreciate his encouragement. “Even just seeing the wreath on my door every morning is a nice moment,” you confess.

Ash smiles back and you feel warmer than if you’d gone inside and cozied up in front of your fireplace. “See? A couple strings of lights, a little tree. Maybe break out with that big yellow Minion you put out on your lawn when you moved in last Christmas,” he teases, lightening the mood.

“OK, first of all, it’s not a Minion, it’s Woodstock from the Peanuts, thank you,” you laugh, shaking your head. “I’m surprised you remember that.”

“Well, it was quite the first impression,” he shrugs and you can’t help but notice how broad his shoulders look in that coat.

You lay in bed that night, the night’s events on a loop in your mind; you ended up standing outside and chatting over the fence for more than an hour. It was nice and stirred a sense of normalcy in you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. It stirred other feelings in you as well but you knew there wasn’t any sense in dwelling on that since it’d be a long time before either of you would be able to do anything about that.

A few days later, you hear a muffled murmur that sounds a lot like your name while you’re washing dishes; you look out the kitchen window to see Ashton waving at you from his patio. He’s shirtless and sweaty, having clearly just finished his afternoon yoga session. Not that you had taken to timing your kitchen chores to coincide with his workouts.

You signal to him to give you a minute and then you head out the backdoor to chat. “What’s up?” You say as casually as possible, willing yourself to keep your eyes trained on his face and not the sweat dripping over his defined muscles or how low his athletic shorts are hanging.

“Your house is looking nice,” he gestures at the colored lights you recently hung around your window frames. “Little touches, just for you, like you said. I like it.”

You beam at him, impressed that he remembered your words from the other night. “You were right, I do feel a bit brighter having put those up,” you share, stuffing your hands in your hoodie pocket to keep from fidgeting, thinking about how much you’d like to brush the curls out of his eyes.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he replies jovially. “I actually have something for you.” He gestures for you to back up as he ducks inside his backdoor, retrieving the package off his kitchen table; he walks back out and smiles when he sees you’ve also turned around so he can surprise you. He sets the box over the fence and returns to his patio; he waits a beat longer than necessary to give you the all clear, he had to give himself a second to appreciate your ass in those leggings.

You spin around and see a box containing an inflatable light up Minion wearing a Santa hat. “Are you kidding me?!” You burst out laughing, picking up the gift to inspect.

“Figured Woodstock could use a buddy,” he laughs, shrugging. “Ordered it when I came inside after our talk the other night, just in case you changed your mind about decorating.”

You feel yourself blush. “Wish I could offer you more than a smile and a thank you,” you blurt, before realizing how forward that sounded. “I mean, like a hug or dinner or something…” You laugh nervously and look to see him trying and failing to hold back a devilish smirk.

“Well. When the time is right, I’d love to take you up on that offer… for the hug or the something,” he flirts.

The next day, you make Christmas cookies and leave some in his mailbox when he goes for his morning run. When he comes to tape a thank you note to your front door, he catches a glimpse of you through the window, decorating the tabletop Christmas tree you bought for yourself and you share a nice moment.

You gave him your phone number that time pre-lockdown when he went out of town and you watered his lemon tree; he finally starts using it, texting you on and off throughout the day and it’s nice to feel like you finally have someone to share with.

It’s when you’re in bed at night, texting away, that you always wish you could share even more with him. Your phone says he’s typing a response and you turn over to stare across the room at your bedroom window, the one facing his bedroom window. His curtains are drawn but you can see the soft glow of a bedside table lamp illuminating the room; you wonder what color the lamp is. Wonder if he sleeps on the left or right side of his bed. Wonder what he’s wearing while he’s typing his messages to you. If he’s wearing anything at all. Wonder if he wants to ask you the same thing. You lay there, wondering, until your phone buzzes again and the cycle continues.

You carry on like this for the next couple of weeks, collecting feelings and building tension. A few days before Christmas, you hurry outside to collect the packages that were just delivered by the mailbox, rushing to bring them in before the holiday Zoom party you have planned with friends.

You stop to text your pals you’ll be a few minutes late when you hear a sharp gasp behind you. You turn and see Ashton at the end of his driveway, eyes poring over you in the fitted green velvet wrap dress you’re wearing.

“You sure cleaned up for the mail delivery?” He jokes, trying to recover how clearly affected he is by the sight in front of him. You realize it’s the first time in months he’s seen you in anything besides hoodies and lounge pants.

You laugh, walking to the fence. “I have a Zoom party to attend but I didn’t want these boxes sitting out here all night,” you explain, instinctively starting to touch your face out of nervousness before stopping yourself for the sake of the dark red lipstick you have on; you’re not used to wearing makeup these days.

“Well… you look fuckin’ incredible,” he breathes, making no attempt to disguise the way his gaze is travelling up and down your body. He runs his hand through his hair and clears his throat, willing himself to move on. “I won’t keep you, then. I just wanted to ask you something.”

You lock eyes with him and feel your heart speed up; usually you’d have a quippy reply to shoot back to him but today, all you can think of is the heat you feel between the two of you. Instead, you nod attentively, trying your best to act like your mind isn’t distracting you with daydreams of walking around to his side of the fence and leaping into his arms.

“I know we’re both alone for the holidays… wish I’d thought of this sooner, so we could’ve done something about Christmas, actually… but say if we were to properly quarantine - you know, like, no outside contact at all quarantine - would you want to spend New Year’s together?” He’s speaking quickly, rushing it out as if he’s afraid he’ll lose his nerve and yet he presents his proposal with an assurance that almost hypnotizes you.

You can’t keep from grinning ear to ear but you still try to play it cool. “That could be fun,” you answer, grateful. You joke, “God, I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t at a party for New Year’s, what do people even do to celebrate at home?”

Without missing a beat, he suggestively replies, “I’m sure we can think of something.”

You have fun with your friends on Zoom but in the back of your mind you can’t stop thinking about the way that Ash looked at you, the honest hunger in his eyes. You keep your curtains open much later than usual, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, wondering if the lights around the window will catch his eye and he’ll stop to try and catch a glimpse of you.

New Year’s can’t get here fast enough as far as you’re concerned but time feels like it’s moving slower than ever. Christmas finally arrives and you wake up bright and early to Zoom your family to open the presents they sent you. Afterwards, you decide to give yourself the gift of going back to sleep; when you wake up a few hours later, you tidy up the living room, gathering the trash bags of torn wrapping paper and ribbons to take out to the garbage.

You step outside and note Ashton isn’t on his patio like he is most mornings; you’re just about to head back inside when you hear a warm “Merry Christmas” from over the fence.

You turn to see him wearing a smile brighter than his extravagant Christmas lights display and yours combined. “How’s your morning?” He asks earnestly.

You smile back. “It’s good! Slept in a little, Zoomed with the fam. Lowkey but nice.”

“Ohhh. That’s why you weren’t at the window this morning,” he muses. You look at him quizzically and a sheepish look washes over his face. “I’ve maybe noticed that you seem to like tidying up the kitchen around the same time every morning… maybe sometimes when I’m ready to start my stretches, I’ll check to see if you’re at the window yet. Maybe sometimes if you aren’t there yet, I’ll wait.”

You feel yourself flush, flattered. “Here I thought I was being voyeuristic when all along you’re just an exhibitionist,” you smirk.

He chuckles knowingly. "And you're leaving your curtains open all hours of the night for aesthetic reasons?"

You're surprised you don't feel embarrassment, just a sense of pride and overwhelming desire. "You're welcome," you say coyly.

Completely devoid of self-consciousness or hesitation, Ash says seriously, "I'd give anything to come over there and kiss you right now. Touch you. Just feel you."

Your breath catches but you manage to get out, "Six days. Just gotta get through this week. Somehow."

The interaction plays over and over in your mind throughout the course of the day: the confident way he told you he wanted you, the way his gaze seemed to devour you entirely, the simultaneous relief and ache you felt knowing that the yearning that’s been threatening to overtake you has him floundering too.

Six days is a long time, especially when you’ve not so much as grazed another person since the beginning of the year, not to mention you’ve been waiting to get to this place with Ash for over a year.

The idea enters your mind while you’re cleaning up your dinner dishes, peering out the kitchen window he’d freely admitted to using to perform for you. You slip out to the garage, finding the box with your usual Christmas decorations much more easily than you expected. You glance at his living room window, ensuring he’s occupied before heading up to your bedroom to set your plan in motion.

You add as many strings of lights to your bedroom window as you can fit: colored ones, white ones, blinking ones, the ones that get slowly brighter and then dim back down. You stand back and nod to yourself, pleased with your work. You’d certainly call this eye-catching.

You feel more excited than nervous when you see it’s already around the time that Ashton usually heads upstairs for the night. You see the light in his room go on and you wait impatiently, just long enough for you to wonder if you didn’t go far enough with your display. You jump as your phone buzzes on your nightstand with a text message.

“Feeling extra festive tonight?”

You chew your lip, weighing how to play this. “Wanted to be sure I had your attention.”

He types for what feels like a lifetime but all he ends up responding with is: “Oh?”

You push yourself off your bed and go stand in front of your window, responding, “I think I’ve figured out how we get through the next week.”

You see him through his window, shirtless and in his boxers, laying on the bed with his phone. He reads your message and runs his hand over his beard, lost in thought; his head turns towards the direction of your house, pondering, when he notices your illuminated figure. You see him sit straight up and stare in disbelief as it dawns on him that you’re standing at the window, dressed in a lace lingerie set that has him almost feeling dizzy from how fast the blood is rushing to his cock.

He walks over to his own window, needing a closer look; he groans as he takes in every detail: how the red color of the bra and panties contrasts against your skin, how the black lace trim accentuates your curves, how the strappy detailing of the underwear present you as a Christmas gift meant just for him to unwrap. The lights around your window cast a glow around you, making you look like even more of a holiday fever dream come to life.

His eyes meet yours and you hold his gaze as you run your hands slowly down your body; you start by trailing down your neck to the straps of your bra, tracing along the lace outline with your fingers. You give your breasts a firm squeeze as you run your palms over the cups, stopping to use your thumbnail to tease your nipples until they poke through the thin material. Your fingers dance down your torso, swirling around the lines of your belly, pulling at the waistband of your bottoms. You tauntingly skip over your hips entirely, moving to caress your thighs.

Your phone buzzes again and you pause your show to reach for it. “Wish it were me,” Ash’s confession reads.

“In my mind, it is,” you reply, sitting your phone aside to dip into your panties. You lick your lips, in awe of how aroused you are, how aroused you’ve been since you decided to create this situation.

Ashton gulps and if he wasn’t so blinded by lust, he would’ve laughed at how audible the sound was in his ears. He wants to text you back, wants you to know how he’s dying for this week to pass so he can ravish you with the attention you deserve, the attention he should’ve given you a long time ago. But he also doesn’t want your hand to stop moving inside your underwear, so he waits.

You spread your wetness around, teasing yourself slowly. You considered bringing your bullet vibe to the window with you but you figured you were going to be overwhelmed enough and you weren’t going to need any help getting off. You close your eyes as you trace around your clit, not allowing yourself to put much pressure on it just yet, not willing to risk having this be over too soon.

He sees you throw your head back in pleasure, eyes fluttering shut, lips swollen from sucking them between your teeth and he can’t take it anymore. He pulls his cock out through the hole in his boxers and starts stroking, exhaling in relief at how instantly good it feels; he spits in his hand to ease the friction at first but it only takes a few tugs for precum to start trickling from his tip. He groans and pumps faster, knowing this won’t take long.

You press a fingertip inside yourself and moan a lot louder than you expected; you open your eyes and notice his stare remains unwaveringly focused on you, only now his hand is working his cock. He moves rapidly up and down his shaft, seemingly unconcerned with taking it slow. Part of you wishes his movements would slow down so you could get a better look at his dick but you also love that he’s seemingly so turned on by the thought of having you that he needs immediate gratification.

He tries to keep up with you, matching you stroke for stroke as you continue working yourself up, hand speeding up inside your panties, hand pawing at your clothed breast. His rough grip catches on one of the veins running down his cock and he chokes out a strained curse; he notices your mouth keeps forming a perfect O shape as you react to your self pleasure and he lets out his own whimper as he imagines how heavenly your sounds must be.

“I can’t wait to hear you when I make you cum for me.” You softly whine as you read his latest text. You’re nearly there and your head is spinning at the deliberate nature of his words: “When” he makes you cum “for him.” You rub hard at your clit and feel that familiar burning ache building in your core. You swear your wetness increases tenfold as you feel the pulsing begin.

Ashton’s cock leaps in his hand as he witnesses your body tense and shake as your orgasm washes over you; he notices your lips murmuring something and the thought enters his mind that you could be saying his name. He hopes you are.

You’re still waiting for your heart rate to settle, realizing there’s no way it will as long as you’re watching Ash pull at his cock like that. One hand flies over his length, the other firmly clutching his balls; his hips start to move, fucking into his hand as he nears the edge. You’re captivated watching his abs tense, fluttering with intensity until suddenly they’re being coated with cum. The ropes streak his skin and you decide it’s too soon to text him to share how badly you want a taste.

He hangs his head in exhaustion, briefly ducking away from the window to grab a tissue off the dresser; he cleans himself off, tucks his cock back in his boxers and finally looks back up at you. You smile softly at each other, though you’re not sure of the tone; it’s not exactly shy and it’s not entirely wistful. Whatever it is, it’s nice. Hopeful? Satisfied. For now.

You text him, “It’s after midnight now. 5 days.”

You see him shaking his head, smiling as he types. “Still too far away. Same time tomorrow?”

You grin, shooting off your response before blowing him a kiss goodnight. “Still too far away. Meet you here after yoga tomorrow.”

————-

Taglist issues again so my apologies if you get notif’d more than once (or not at all)

@mymindwide @suchalonelysunflower @pxrxmoore @loveroflrh @ghostofmashton @sexgodashton @feliznavidaddycal

@castaway-cashton @ashtonlftv @cashtonasfuck @megz1985 @ashdork-irwin @angelicfluffs @findingliam-o @youngbloodchild @irwinsbetch @everyscarisahealingplace

@wiildflower-xxx @metalandboybands @realisticnotes @makeamovehemmings @golden166 @burstintocolor

@mfartzzz @babyoria @petunias-pet @youngblood199456 @notinthesameguey @seanna313 @zhangyixingxing1 @stardust-galaxies @zackoid

@lovelybonesetc @xsongxbirdx @justhereforcalum @ashtonangst

@laura66sos @calumrose @karajaynetoday @pilunb @jazzyangel242 @babylon-corgis @heyheyhaleyd @calmsweetcreature

@spicycal @talkfastromance4 @holystxne

@meetmedowntown @myloverboyash

@irwindoll @cheekysos @carrielfisher @lukedorkyhemmings @creampiecashton @lovelywordsblog

@trix-arent-for-kids @uh-huhh-honey @tobefalling @aladyofalbion @likehuhdude

@curlycalums @cxddlyash @reddesert-healourblues

@fedorable-killjoys @iamcalumswhore @i-like-5sos @Too-et-moi215

@photochic18 @kouska901 @Indermeow @dantord

#5sos smut #5 seconds of summer smut #Ashton irwin smut #Ashton irwin fic #holiday smut #Ashton smut #smut #kh4f fic #Under The Christmas Lights #Kindahoping4forever #cass and crystal present: hoe hours #cass and crystal present: hoe for the hoelidays #i literally just finished writing this and read it for the first time while formatting #hahahahaha what the fuck this fine #i have been EXHAUSTED the past couple days so i legit do not remember writing the last third of this and I am shocked maybe even scandalized #so that happened lmao #Feedback is appreciated #see you for more hoe-ing tomorrow clowns!

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Note

62. you set off the fire alarm and I have a test tomorrow, and I might strangle you

Sternclay, sfw, please!

Why do fire alarms only go off in March? The one time Stern set one off (he fell asleep studying and the dinner he was reheating started smoking) it was in that endless stretch of time where the snow is no longer festive but will keep falling for at least two more months.

More importantly, who is responsible for interrupting his carefully planned out six hours of sleep before his midterm at eight this morning?

He stands in the freezing cold with the building’s other three occupants; the single man who looks like he stars in lumberjack porn and the girlfriends who live on the ground floor.

“Sorry” The other man mumbles, “I was making doughnuts and the oil I was using got too hot without me noticing.”

Stern runs a hand through his hair and keeps his voice low, “Why were you cooking with hot oil at three in the morning?”

“When I can’t sleep, I bake.”

“Can I suggest a less flammable hobby in the future?”

“Hey man, it was an accident. And it’s not my fault they stuck the fire alarm too high up for me to get to it before it called the fire department.”

“Too high? You’re taller than I am and I can reach mine.”

“My ceilings are higher and it was tucked between the cabinets and the roof.”

“Oh yeah, ours is in a super-weird place too.” Aubrey, one of the ground-floor neighbors, pats the offenders arm, “it’s okay Barclay, it’s just a little smoke.”

“That may be the case for you three, but I have an exam that’s worth thirty percent of my grade in six hours and I need my goddamn sleep.”

“Yeesh, man, chill out. They’re already waving us back in.” Aubrey points to the door of the three story house.

“I timed everything to optimize my sleep schedule so it actually is a big deal.”

Barclay glowers at him, “Look, I said sorry. But maybe get used to the fact the world doesn’t run on your schedule, mr. control freak, and fucking get over it.”

Stern keeps a smile flat as he bites out, “go to hell” and heads upstairs to salvage what’s left of his schedule.

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

The crash from downstairs comes at nine p.m; he has a huge day at his internship tomorrow, but Stern doesn’t hear any sounds after it, and he is not about to let a neighbor die on his watch.

“Barclay? Are you okay?” He puts his ear to the door, the heater drowning out all ambient noise.

“Nope, not really, agh, fuck, the doors locked, lemme try to stand-”

“Stay put.” He runs upstairs, grabs his wallet, and uses his debit card to trick the lock, “Shit, what happened?”

Barclay is clutching his forehead, blood between his fingers, and his ankle is swelling. “I got really dizzy, caught my foot on the couch and then my forehead on the table on the way down. Ow, fuck, it better not be broken” he growls as Stern kneels to look at his foot, “I’ve got a shift in six hours.”

“I can’t tell. You should get to a hospital; if it’s injured and you try to work on it, you might have an even worse fall.”

“Fuck, I’m not even sure I can afford the ambulance, let alone the fucking E.R.”

He knows Dani and Aubrey are out, “Any family in town, or a boyfriend?”

“No, if there I woulda called them.” He snaps, then tries for a slow inhale, “sorry, it just, it hurts-”

“I can take you in my car, that’ll be one less worry.” Stern helps Barclay up, gets him to his sedan, then tells him to hold tight while he gets something for his head. He ends up grabbing the first clean fabris he finds, which is how Barclay ends up in the E.R while holding a “Roswell, NM” tank-top to his forehead.

“Sorry to ruin your, uh, souvenir?” He mumbles as they wait for the doctor.

“It’s for a good cause. Besides, I know how to get bloodstains out of fabric.”

“That...that makes you sound like a serial killer.”

“If I were a serial killer I would wear things that could stain.” Stern winces, “sorry, I read too many true crime books.”

“I just don’t have the stomach for them. I like fictional mysteries but real ones?” he shivers, “makes me think an axe murderer is gonna break into my place. I mean, you did it with a credit card.”

“If you’d had the chain thrown it might have been another story. “

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Barclay shifts in the plastic seat, “you, uh, you don’t have to hang around. Know you got a rigid schedule.”

Joseph runs a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry for being so annoyed last week when you set off the alarm. I’m not always great at handling changes.”

“To be fair, doughnuts probably weren’t the best stress baking choice.”

“Did they turn out?”

“Nah. I’ll have to try ‘em another time. Did, uh, did your test go okay?”

“Yes. I, um, I got a perfect score.”

Barclay laughs, the sound like warm honey, and Stern blushes at looking so deeply nerdy in front of someone with a smile like that.

“Mr. Cobb? We’re ready to see you.”

The bearded man gives an slightly awkward wave as he follows the nurse through the double doors. Stern returns the gesture, pulls up the chess app on his phone, and settles in to wait until his neighbor is done.

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

Barclay comes out his nap the scrchh of a brush on tile. His first thought is that he’s so late for work he’s unavoidably fucked. His second one is who the fuck is in his bathroom?

His ankle twinges, jogging his memory; he got back from the hospital at 11:30, no stitches needed on his head but bedrest required for his ankle. He’d been contemplating how to convince his manager to let him shift from the warehouse to somewhere he could sit. Joseph raised an eyebrow and asked for his phone while telling him to go get into bed. All Barclay overheard was a polite, steely voice mentioning the labor laws in Dane County and how it’d be a shame if someone were to arrange an OSHA spot check. The last thing he recalls before falling asleep was Joseph telling him he had the next day off.

That doesn’t explain the cleaning sounds, though.

“Oh, you’re up.” Joseph pokes his head in from the hall. His hair is coming loose from his usual slicked-down style and he’s in a V-neck and sweatpants instead of the suit Barclay sees him in most days, “I hope I didn’t wake you; since you gave me the spare key I thought I’d check on you when I got back from my internship and leave you some take-out from the Thai place around the corner--you said the green curry was your favorite--but then I thought I should wait until you got up to see if you needed anything, so I, um, I cleaned your tub while I waited for you to wake up.”

Barclay isn’t sure what part of that is the most baffling. Or the most touching.

“Why the tub?” He eases his legs over so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

“It’s satisfying. And I, um, I clean when I’m stressed.” He wipes his hands on the rag in his front pocket, “I was worried about you, and my internship was murder today. They’re mounting a case against one of the biggest employers in the state and everyone’s on edge.”

“Heh, kinda makes me glad I work at WalMart.” Barclay takes the crutch Joseph offers him and hobbles into the kitchen, “oh, uh, if you want to try some cake, there’s leftover cinnamon spice cake in the fridge.”

“I think I will, thank you.” He bends into the fridge and wow has his ass always been that nice, “can I grab you a drink from in here?”

“One of those pre-bottled Kahlua things in the door; have ‘em for a friend but one sounds good right now.” He watches Joseph open it for him, setting it down before he pulls out Barclay’s chair for him. Normally, the kind of fussing and light ordering around Joseph has directed at him makes him bristle. This last day, it just made him feel safe and cared about.

He could get used to this.

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

“Good lord, we’ve even got a flood warning.” Joseph sets down his phone as rain attempts to pummel the house to dust, “Some days I wish we lived closer to one of the lakes but this is not one of them. Should we check to see if Dani and Aubrey need any emergency supplies for if we have to shelter here? I always keep more than I need.”

“Nah, Dani’s got a strong self-sufficiency streak; got her a bucket emergency kit for Christmas last year.” Barclay pops the cork on the Pinot Grigio they got for dinner, “and I don’t think they forgot your semi-drunk promise that if they ever had to run from a flood they had full permission to break open your front door to be safe on the third floor.”

“I meant it, drunk or no.” Joseph takes down the plates and portions out the carbonara; he’s been trying to cook when he has time, both because he likes it and because it gives him and Barclay something to talk about. Not that they need the help.

Things changed after the trip to the E.R; Barclay would bring Joseph fresh cookies or pie. Joseph would offer Barclay rides when their schedules overlapped. Barclay introduced him to his favorite trivia night spot. Joseph took some of his cookies to a worker-owned bakery where a former co-student worked, which led to Barclay getting a new job.

Now they see each other almost every day, whether that’s watching movies on Barclay’s cramped couch or joining Dani and Aubrey for board game night.

He’s pleased with how the pasta turned out, even more so with the fact that when their legs bump together beneath the table, Barclay doesn’t pull away.

They’re on the couch, chatting about the recurring themes in ghost movies, when the storm starts in earnest. The sky is so dark it may as well be nine at night, the lighting and thunder performing a cacophonous two-man show across it. The closer the thunder gets, the more Barclay tenses.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah” a thunderclap makes him jump, “I know it’s silly but I fucking hate thunderstorms, I have since I was a kid.” He chuckles, “my mom would always end up making a pillow fort for me to hide in.”

“We could do that now.” He offers, tapping his foot against Barclay’s own.

“Know this might be hard to believe, but I wasn’t always six-two.” The other man teases.

“Don’t count me out just yet. Wait here.”

It takes some precarity and most of his thumb-tacks, but soon he’s waving Barclay to come join him.

“Holy shit” Barclay laughs as he sees the bed and part of the floor in Joseph’s tiny bedroom are curtained in blankets, “do you ever half-ass stuff?”

“No one can ever prove I haven’t.”

“Uh huh.” Barclay climbs into the fort, “that’s Joseph speak for ‘no.’”

Joseph plugs in his UFO lights and follows him in, “I’ve failed plenty of times.”

“Not on this. Man, this is gr-” A thunderclap makes him jump, nearly knocking one blanket down, “uh, maybe if I…” He lays on the bed, Joseph deciding it’s the least awkward option to join him in that position.

“You really didn’t have to do this.” The green of the lights add a charming tint to Barclay’s eyes.

“I wanted to.”

His friend looks away, keeps his gaze on his feet as he murmurs, “How come you’re always so nice to me?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“It’s, uh, it’s not because you want something from me?”

“Of course not. Barclay,” he touches the cooks arm, “anything you’re thinking is a favor with an ulterior motive....well, it isn’t. It’s something I did to look out for you.”

“What if I, uh, I didn’t think it was favor hunting and was, uh, a different word that started with “F’?”

This time, when the thunder sounds, Barclay nestles closer to him.

“Oh, Barclay” he drapes a protective arm over his waists, “I didn’t mean it to be. At least, most of the time. There were, um, sometimes when I was more flirtatious than I’d have been if it were anybody else.”

“Do you...want to flirt more?” Barclay mumbles into his shoulder.

Joseph tips Barclay’s chin with his hand, brings their lips together as lightning flashes through the window. When he pulls back, Barclay’s eyes are wide. He kisses him once more just to see if he can make them entirely pupil, then whispers, “I hope we can do more than just flirt.”

“Joseph” strong arms slip below and across him, “fuck, babe, if it’s not flooded tomorrow, promise you’ll let me take you out tomorrow?”

“I’d like nothing better, big guy. In the meantime..” he rolls so Barclay is atop him, “I have some thoughts on how to keep your mind off the storm.”

#sternclay #agent stern/ barclay #meet ugly #taz amnesty

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jeonsjiddies · 5 years ago

Text

Certain Things (m) | myg

original photo by snowmari on picsart

summary- you were in love with min yoongi, because he was a good person. You never thought he’d feel the same. F2l

rating- explicit 18+

word count- 5869

pairing- yoongi x reader

genre- fluff, smut

Warnings - oral (male and female receiving), penetrative sex, daddy kink, slight rough sex

Title inspired by Certain Things by James Arthur. <3

You did not fall in love with Min Yoongi because he was the dreamiest man you’d ever laid eyes on.

You did not fall in love with Min Yoongi because he was skilled in just about everything

You did not fall in love with him because of the way his body moved when he danced, almost like telling a story.

It wasn’t the way he remembered your coffee order or the way he stuck his tongue out when he was concentrating. It wasn’t the look of concern in his eyes when you had a rough day. It wasn’t the way he could (almost) always tell what you were thinking.

No.

You fell in love with Min Yoongi because he was a genuinely good person. The kind of person who made you want to be better too.

The way he’d do good things, the way he’d help people, especially when he thought no one was watching. You couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes how many times you’d sat at your window and watched Min Yoongi help an elderly woman carry her groceries up the stairs, or insisted on taking the single mother's trash to the dumpster as she wrangled her child in the other arm. The times he’d fix things the apartment complex neglected to get around to, not even leaving a note. He never asked for any glory.

The only time Yoongi sought out recognition was with his music.. His kind words and actions often went unnoticed or unappreciated by others. Yoongi didn’t mind that no one noticed, except you did. You noticed everything he did.

The day Yoongi moved in next door a year ago, you noticed his minty green hair and his contagious, gummy smile. You’d smiled back and welcomed him to the neighborhood, offering to help if he needed it. Yoongi had politely refused your offer, telling you he did not wish to bother you. Hours later when you showed up with freshly baked cookies, he did not refuse those. That was the beginning of your friendship with Yoongi.

After that, you two were almost inseparable, you were in his apartment or he was in yours. You talked and laughed and watched movies and got to know each other. The few moments you didn’t spend at each other’s side, you found yourself watching Yoongi every chance you got.

Just last week, you had perched yourself at your window and watched with a fond smile as your neighbor and now best friend comforted a little girl who’d approached him with tearful eyes and scuffed up knees.

Yoongi looked around for her mother, the single mom with too much on her plate, and when he didn’t find her he scooped the small girl into his arms, and gently distracted her with stories of a princess he once knew who fell off her bike too. The little girl snuggled into Yoongi’s chest as he walked around looking for her mother, telling her how the princess got a special band aid that made her booboo stop hurting immediately, like magic.

The mother darted over to Yoongi, spewing out apologies and thank you’s. She’d only turned her back for a moment and her toddler had disappeared. Yoongi shook his head, telling her it was nothing to apologize about and that he always enjoyed the young girls company. Min Yoongi was, in your opinion, a literal angel.

You smiled fondly, walking away from the window and stirring the soup you'd begun cooking earlier in the evening. You often shared your food with Yoongi, knowing that if you didn't, the stubborn idiot would exist on nothing but instant noodles and americano coffee. As you stirred the pot, you let your mind drift off with thoughts of Yoongi. He had texted you late the night before while he was struggling to compose lyrics for his new song.

He sent you voice clips of him rapping verses and asked your opinion on lines for the chorus, and you'd helped him get through his little slump until he was so in the zone he forgot to reply. You'd woken up this morning to an apology text and hugged your phone to your chest, reveling in how sweet he was and thinking it was just as good as a good morning text. You knew it was stupid to pretend these interactions with Yoongi were more than friendly, but sometimes you couldnt help yourself from getting lost in the idea of being his.

You wanted so badly to wake up to good morning texts from him. You wanted the hugs to last longer. You wanted him to hold you. You wanted to kiss those shiny, plump lips. Feel those veiny hands on your skin. You wanted to stay with him always, every time you parted from him a part of you seemed to dim. It was as if Yoongi was the sun and you were the moon, his warmth and energy reflected off of you and fueled your own.

Your entire life didn't revolve around Yoongi, not in the least. You had other interests and friends and hobbies. But it seemed like lately, he had wiggled his way into your heart so deeply, like a budding rose, the roots of your love for him were ingrained inside of you. Lately he had taken up more and more room in your heart, occupied more and more of your thoughts. You sighed, shaking off the empty feeling inside your chest and scooped the soup into two bowls.

You made your way over to Yoongi's apartment and balanced the soup so that you could knock. Yoongi opened the door a few moments later, wearing only grey sweatpants. Your mouth went dry and your grip on the soup wobbled as you stared at his exposed chest. Yoongi reached out to steady your hands and took the bowls from you, setting them down on the coffee table by the couch.

''Sorry I just got out of the shower. Let me go put a shirt on.'' Yoongi blushed, scurrying down the hallway and leaving you speechless at the entry.

You collected yourself, slowly shutting the door behind you and grabbing two spoons from his kitchen before sitting down on the sofa. Yoongi reappeared, fully clothed. You weren't sure if you were thankful or disappointed.

''This smells amazing!'' he praised. ''I was just about to make some instant noodles but this is so much better. Thank you!''

''How many times do I have to tell you that you can't survive on instant noodles and coffee?'' you rolled your eyes.

''I don't know how to cook.'' he shrugged.

''I have offered to teach you a million times.'' you threw back at him.

''But if I learned how to cook you wouldn't cook for me anymore.'' he pouted playfully , knocking his shoulder into yours.

''Big baby.'' you muttered, not bothering to hide the smile on your face. ''What would you do without me?''

''Probably die.'' he laughed. ''You're my best friend, I kind of need you.''

''Awww, Yoongi!'' you hugged him.

''Yeah yeah.'' he laughed, wrapping an arm around you in return. ''Just don't go anywhere, okay?''

''I won't, I promise.'' you grinned. ''Who else is going to feed you?''

''My point exactly.'' he winked, spooning more soup into his mouth and closing his eyes happily. “Ugh. Marry me.” He joked.

“You wish.” You laughed, trying to hide the heat rising in your cheeks.

You wished.

You chucked your coat off and threw it haphazardly on the coat rack then flopped onto the couch with a loud groan. You should have called in. You'd woken up late, your alarm didn't go off. You didn't have time to do your makeup if you wanted to shower, which you really needed to. So you'd gone to work looking like a troll, and things only spiraled downhill from there.

Your boss had called you out in front of everyone at the staff meeting for being late to work, using you as an example for the new attendance point system. Snide remarks were tossed your way from various grumpy people which you attempted to take in stride. Then, in the breakroom you'd spilled coffee all down the front of your peach colored dress.

You had texted Yoongi about your less than stellar morning and asked if he was having a better day. He talked you through your meltdown, trying to convince you that the universe wasn't out to get you and the world wasn't cruel and unjust. He'd been the reason you made it through the work day, albeit by the skin of your teeth. Your whole body dragged on the way home and all you wanted was to see Yoongi's smile but he had promised a friend he'd go drinking with them.

You flung yourself off the couch and changed into a baggy t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts. You put on your favorite avocado face mask and relaxed with a lavender candle burning on the coffee table. You'd taken about two deep breaths when you heard soft tapping on your front door. You whined out loud and got up, padding over to the door and flinging it open.

The poor teenager standing at your door jumped in surprise, almost dropping the pizza he was holding. Eyes wide, he stepped back a bit. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Sorry. Can I help you?” you asked as sweetly as you could, guilt flooding your chest.

“Large pizza for Y/N Y/L/N? ” he questioned nervously.

“But I didn't order any-” you began to explain before you were cut off.

“Sorry! Sorry I thought I'd be back in time!” Yoongi huffed, jogging up to you and the poor delivery kid.

Yoongi took some cash out of his wallet and paid the young man before thanking him as he took the pizza and turned to you with a smile. He was also holding a white paper sack you couldn't identify and you shot him a quizzical look.

“Hey there Shrek.” he laughed at your bright green face mask which you had honestly forgotten about.

You were thankful it hid your blush as you swatted at his arm in protest.

“I thought you had plans.” you stated, ignoring his comment.

“I cancelled them.” he shrugged, moving past you to enter your apartment and set the pizza down on the coffee table.

“Why?” you asked, shutting the door and following him in.

“Sounded like you needed some cheering up.” Yoongi smiled, opening the paper bag and pulling out your favorite wine.

“Ugh, a man after my own heart.” you joked.

Yoongi just chuckled and uncorked the bottle, walking into your kitchen and pulling two wine glasses from the cabinet like he lived there. He poured you both a glass and sat next to you on the couch.

“I am fully aware that I am going to regret this decision, but I have decided that to cheer you up, we can watch whatever movie you want.” he told you.

Your eyes widened in excitement.

“Any movie I want?” you confirmed, “you won't complain?”

“One time only offer. Whatever movie you want.” he grinned at the childlike response.

“Harvard here we come!” you giggled, snatching up the remote and selecting Legally Blonde.

You glanced over at Yoongi, waiting for a snarky comment. He only gave you a pained smile. You snuggled into the couch with your wine in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other, feeling content and happy. Yoongi had turned the worst day into one of the best, simply by being who he was: kind and thoughtful.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” you said softly.

“No need to thank me. That's what friends are for.” he smiled, throwing an arm around your shoulders and leaning in for a quick squeeze.

Yoongi left his arm around your shoulder while you two watched the movie, and you had never been more comfortable than you were snuggled into Yoongi's side with your wine and pizza and strong leading female character centered movie. With Min Yoongi by your side, maybe the world wasn't so bad after all.

Today was Yoongi’s birthday. He’d gone to lunch with his family the day before and had planned to spend the day with you once he got off work. You looked over at your coffee table, grinning at his gift that you’d wrapped perfectly, even put a pretty bow on top. You’d baked him a cake, which was iced and ready for candles. You opened the drawer, but did not find candles.

Cursing under your breath, you checked the time before rushing out the door and running over to the small shopping center across the street from your apartment complex. You gave a friendly wave to the cashier, a college aged girl who worked there three days a week. You grabbed candles and a lighter then made your way over, making small talk with her and asking about classes.

“Thank god finals are almost over. They’re killing me.” She whined as you swiped your card.

“Hang in there, it’s almost over!” You encouraged her and she groaned but laughed.

You made your way back to your apartment complex, thinking about Yoongi and his face when he inevitably saw what you’d bought him. You didn’t notice the clouds turning an angry gray. You did notice however, when the rain immediately started pelting down, drenching you in seconds. You squealed, holding your shopping bag above your head and jogging towards your apartment.

Suddenly, the rain stopped assaulting you, and you looked up to find Min Yoongi laughing as he held an umbrella over both of your heads. Despite his eyes being the darkest color you’d ever seen, they shone with kindness.

“Yoongi.” You grinned in surprise, “you’re home early!”

“Yeah, they let me go early for my birthday.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

“Well let’s party!” You beamed up at him.

The two of you ascended the staircase and made your way into your apartment. You shrugged off your soaked jacket and hung it up. Yoongi cleared his throat uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at you.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“I-uh... your shirt.” He mumbled, apples of his cheeks dusted with a light pink flush.

You looked down, cheeks burning as you realized your white t shirt was soaked through, revealing your lacy pink bra. You squeaked, arms darting out to cover your chest. You disappeared into your room, embarrassment flooding your face as you changed. Reappearing in front of Yoongi fully covered, you couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed.” He comforted you with a hand on your shoulder.

The skin there burned. When you didn’t say anything, Yoongi pulled you into a hug, strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into his warm chest. You let the warmth of his embrace comfort you for a moment before pulling away and putting the candles in his cake and lighting them before walking it over to him.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Yoongi! Happy birthday to you!”

Yoongi’s gummy smile graced his lips before he closed his eyes and blew out the candles.

“What did you wish for?” You asked, leaning in and wiggling your eyebrows.

“If I tell you it won’t come true!” He chuckled.

You sighed dramatically with a smile and cut the cake into slices, handing him the biggest one. Yoongi took one bite and threw his head back with a groan.

“This is delicious, Y/N. Thank you so much.” He praised.

Your heart skipped a beat and you grabbed the neatly wrapped present from beside the couch, holding it out to him.

“I told you not to buy me anything.” He glared jokingly at you.

“Just open it.” You giggled.

Yoongi took his time opening the gift, carefully peeling back the paper in an attempt to keep it whole and make less of a mess for you, thoughtful man that he was. He froze when he saw the box.

“You didn’t.” He gasped.

Your giddy laughter was your only response.

“These are... they... theyre too much, Y/N. I can’t accept them.” He sighed regretfully.

“You can and you will. You deserve something special on your special day! It’s about time someone pays you back for everything you do.” You smiled encouragingly.

“The cake was more than enough.” He argued, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the box in his lap.

They were the wireless noise cancelling headphones he’d been drooling over for months, ever since the promo came out on Instagram. He’d been salivating when he showed you the ad for them, and you started picking up a few extra shifts here and there to put back money for them. They were a couple hundred dollars but you would’ve saved up thousands just to see the look that adorned Yoongi’s face in that moment.

“Thank you... so much. I’ll pay you back for these. I’ll take you to dinner. I’ll-“ he began but you cut him off.

“Don’t even think about it. Just take them. If you really wanna pay me back, write me a song.” You grinned.

“I will.” Yoongi promised, engulfing you in a tight hug. “Thank you.” Left his lips in a whisper over and over. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

He pulled back and held you at arms length, eyes trained on your face. His gaze roamed over your features, drinking you in. His eyes searched yours for a moment before his gaze flicked to your lips. You waited with bated breath.

“Y/N?” Yoongi's voice was barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?”

“Can I kiss you?” He questioned quietly, carefully.

“Please.”

His hand came up to gently cup your cheek. He angled his head and closed the distance between you. The moment his lips pressed against yours, it felt like coming home. He held you close, and you’d never felt so safe. Your heart hammered in your chest as your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers gently threading through his hair. Yoongi’s arms found purchase on your hips and he pressed himself closer to you, his tongue sneaking out and gliding along your lips. You parted them, and he deepened the kiss. You weren’t aware that your grip on his hair had tightened until Yoongi pulled back, resting his forehead against your own with labored breathing.

“I’m trying really hard to be respectful and not to push you, but you’re making it kinda hard pulling on my hair like that.” he admitted breathlessly. You could feel the thickness of him pressing into you.

“What if I want you to?” you asked quietly, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

Yoongi sucked in a surprised breath, his eyes searching yours almost frantically for a sign of doubt. When he found none, he interlaced his fingers into yours.

“Are you sure?” he pondered.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything or anyone.” you admitted, biting down on your lip nervously.

“Is this- Are you- I don’t think I can do this if it’s just a one time thing.” Yoongi sighed remorsefully.

“I don’t want it to be.” you reply, gently running a hand up and down his arm comfortingly. “Yoongi I want you. In every possible way. You’re my best friend. I love you. I’m in love with you. I have been for a while.”

“I’m in love with you too.” he whispered, like a secret he’d been dying to tell you. “Be mine?”

“Oh Yoongi baby, I’ve always been yours.” you giggled, pulling him in for a tender kiss.

Yoongi kissed you back, slowly. He took his time, exploring your mouth, relishing in the taste of you. You tasted a bit like the cake you’d both consumed not long ago, but also just distinctively...you. Yoongi loved the way you tasted, and he wondered idly if other areas of your body tasted just as sweet.

Gripping you by the hips, Yoongi pulled you up against him and you wrapped your legs around his torso as he carried you towards your bedroom. Your hands gripped his biceps and he barely had to look where he was going, so familiar with your apartment since he practically lived there. He hoped to become as familiar with your body and how you ticked as he was with everything else about you. You could feel him pressing up against your core as he carried you, the friction causing arousal to pool.

Yoongi placed you on the mattress gently, his body moving to hover over yours. He gazed down at you with longing in his onyx eyes, but it wasn’t just longing. He yearned for you, needed you, you knew this because you felt it too. The way he looked into your eyes mirrored your own expression. You were so desperately in love with Min Yoongi, and by some miracle, he felt the same way.

“I have dreamt about this moment for so long.” he admitted sheepishly, “I almost can’t believe this is real.”

“Me either. I can’t believe you’re here.” you giggled, letting a hand come up to softly caress his face, then push his hair out of his eyes.

“I’m not going to lie, I thought I was going to have to leave when your shirt was wet and I saw your bra. I didn’t want you to see my hard-on.” he laughed.

You covered your face and giggled in embarrassment, but Yoongi’s hands covered yours and pulled them away from your face, holding them on either side of your head.

“Don’t hide from me. Don’t ever hide any part of yourself from me. You are so beautiful, Y/N. I adore everything about you.” Yoongi cooed, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Did you know…” he ghosted his lips to the other cheek. “That…” his tender assault moved to your forehead as he placed a kiss to it. “I…” his lips brushed the tip of your nose. “love you.” he smiled, kissing your lips.

“I love you too, so much.” you giggled, kissing him back and moving closer to him, his warm embrace cradling you.

Something shifted, and Yoongi’s kisses got deeper, needier. His body lowered to lay flush against yours, but he was careful not to squish you. His erection pressed firmly into your core as he slowly rutted his hips into yours. A quiet moan left your lips at the swivel of his hips against yours and Yoongi’s kisses began to descend, his lips now working against the skin of your neck, sucking and nipping at the flesh.

His fingers crept up to the hem of your dress, and he tugged gently on it. You lifted yourself, tugging it off and tossing it across the room. Yoongi had seen you in bathing suits that had covered the same amount of skin, but this was different and it had heat flooding your cheeks. You took a deep breath and willed all of your courage and unhooked your bra, letting it slip down your shoulders before tossing it aside as well, leaving you only in your panties.

Yoongi’s jaw went slack as he stared at your breasts. You wanted to cover them, wanted to hide, but this was Yoongi. You trusted him with every part of you.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.” he stated in awe.

His head dipped down and his mouth wrapped around your nipple, his tongue flicking over the nub. Your back arched and your whimpers got louder when he began to suck. His large hand reached up to knead and tweak the other breast. Your body responded immediately, hips bucking up into Yoongi’s. You gripped his shirt and tugged, mumbling “off.” Yoongi obliged, tearing the fabric off and tossing it away in one fluid motion.

Your mouth watered, eyes roaming his ivory skin, the smooth planes of his flat stomach, poofing out just a little. He was perfect. Yoongi’s cheeks were dusted pink again and you leaned up, placing soft kisses to his tummy. Yoongi wound his hands gently in your hair, watery eyes watching you as you worshipped his body the way he deserved. Your lips ghosted over his chest and you could feel his heart racing beneath your touch.

“You’re so perfect.” you cooed.

Yoongi covered his mouth to stifle a laugh, and you grinned up at him. His hands came down to cup your face gently, and you leaned into his touch before urging him backwards until he was lying on his back. You made quick work of his belt and zipper, pulling his slacks down and tossing them haphazardly away. You watched his face for a reaction, and he bit his lip to conceal a nervous smile. Your heart fluttered in your chest at how adorable he was.

Despite the fondness filling your chest, you couldn’t help but feel warmth farther down when your eyes roamed over the tent in Yoongi’s boxers. You reached out and cupped your hand over his hardened member, palming him over his boxers. Yoongi let out a low groan at your actions, his hand gripping at the duvet cover. You slowly pulled the boxers off his body,

Yoongi’s length sprung free once his boxers were removed and it rested against his stomach, thick, hard, and leaking. You peppered soft kisses along the vein, bringing a groan out of Yoongi. Your tongue snuck out and cautiously slid across the tip of his penis, and his breath stuttered. You smiled to yourself, then took him in your mouth. Yoongi couldn't tear his eyes away from you, mesmerized by the sight of your lips wrapped around his cock. He'd had a million dreams about this very moment, but none of them compared to the way it felt to have his cock in your mouth.

It was almost too much for Yoongi, the way you were bobbing your head along his length, twirling your tongue around, massaging his balls with the perfect amount of pressure. It wasn't all sensual, he could see the adoration in your eyes. It made his heart swell with joy. Other parts of him were swelling as well as he neared his high. His hips involuntarily jerked, apologies tumbling from his reddened lips but you didn't slow down. You wanted to make him feel good, reward him for all the things he did for everyone else.

“Y/N, I..I'm gonna-” Yoongi warned.

You took the opportunity to take him deeper down your throat, swallowing around him. That sent Yoongi over the edge, echoes of your name falling from his lips, his body twitching as he spilled his seed down your throat. Yoongi took a shaky breath and gazed down at you in awe as you licked your lips clean after swallowing his load.

“Your turn.” He smiled, guiding you to lay on your back while he settled himself between your thighs, placing teasing kisses along the skin there.

He pulled your panties down your legs and licked his lips at the sight of your soaking cunt presented to him. Yoongi didn’t waste any time, bringing his lips to your folds and letting his tongue dart out to lick at your clit. You gasped, spreading your legs further apart, inviting him in. He slowly slipped one finger in your heat, working it and curling to hit that sweet spot that had you drooling.

His lips wrapped around your clit and he sucked before using his tongue to attack the sensitive bundle of nerves. You knew Yoongi could move his tongue quickly based on every rap you’d heard him recite and you’d daydreamed about how that would translate to eating you out but his skills surpassed your imagination and he had you close to cumming in under a minute. He slowly worked more fingers in, stretching your tight hole while he seemed to recite spells on your clit with his tongue.

No sooner than Yoongi added a third finger, you were careening off the edge, pleasure washing over you and Yoongi worked you through it, drinking up all of your juices and leaving a soft peck on your clit as you came down, which had your body jolting. He reached down to his jeans and pulled out a condom.

“Are you still sure about this?” He asked tentatively.

“Yes, I’m sure.” You said with absolute certainty.

Yoongi crawled up your body, leaving sweet kisses as he made his way to hover over you until you were face to face. He bit his plush lip, looking into your eyes with so much longing it almost hurt to return his gaze. He reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, leaving his large hands on your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth. You leaned up and captured his lips with your own, and he melted into the kiss, immediately deepening it. His hands travelled down your neck, his fingertips tenderly brushing against the skin of your arms until he found your hands, resting beside your head. He interlaced your fingers together as he finally, finally entered you.

You gasped into his mouth, squeezing his hand while you focused on the feeling of finally being filled by the man of your dreams. Yoongi felt perfect inside of you, filling you up perfectly as if he was made for you and you were made for him. He stretched you in all the right ways and feeling him pressed up against your walls had your head spinning.

'' You okay?'' Yoongi asked, stilling inside of you.

''Yes.'' you whispered breathlessly. ''You feel so good, Yoongi. Please.''

Yoongi began to slowly move inside you, taking his time and making sure not to hurt you. His hips met yours as he bottomed out and he let out a shaky breath, watching your eyes for any sign of discomfort. You smiled up at him, pecking his lips quickly. Yoongi was amazed at how brightly your eyes shined when you looked at him. His thrusts started picking up pace, your soft noises spurring him on.

The two of you shared sweet kisses as he thrust in and out of your aching heat. Your noises gradually got louder, the faster his thrusts got. The louder you got, the harder it was for Yoongi to keep his composure. While he'd been picking up the pace, he’d remained fairly gentle, but something in him snapped when you groaned his name, sounding particularly needy as you begged ''more.''

His hips snapped into yours in a harsh thrust , knocking the air from your lungs. Gone was the sweet love making from moments ago, instead Yoongi was plowing into you with everything he had within him. Everything he'd held back this past year seemed to be pouring out, driving him to fuck you harder, faster. If you thought Yoongi's slow passionate strokes were maddening, you were absolutely ruined by his relentless, unforgiving thrusts.

Your soft cries of his name were now loud moans, he had you writhing and screaming as he drove you closer to the edge with every brush of your sweet spot.

''Fuck, you take my cock so well baby. I have dreamed about fucking you like this for so long.'' he growled in your ear, leaving hot, wet kisses along the skin below it.

''Me...me too.'' you whined at a particularly good thrust.

''Hmmm, I bet you have.” he smirked, bringing his hand between your bodies to rub lazy circles on your clit.

“Did you touch yourself here?” he asked, applying more pressure to your sensitive bud. “Did you play with this pretty pussy thinking about my cock?”

You nodded, overwhelmed with pleasure while Yoongi played your body like an instrument he'd practiced all his life. He knew exactly where to touch, how to rub, how to bring you to the brink of oblivion with a single stroke of his thumb. He was a damn sex wizard.

“You're cute, baby girl. But I need you to tell me. Tell me how desperate you were to feel me inside you. How you thought of me while you fingered yourself.” Yoongi coaxed, bringing one nipple into his mouth and making it impossible for you to think as his tongue rolled over it.

“Cat got your tongue?” Yoongi purred, licking a bold stripe across your hardened nipple, then the other. “Who makes you feel this good?”

“You.” you moaned, walls clenching around his cock as you got closer to release. This response did not seem to satisfy Yoongi and he shook his head.

“What's my name?” he prodded.

“Yo...Yoongi!” you cried out as he rolled his hips harshly against your own.

“Close... but you can do better, baby girl. ” his words were muffled by the hickeys he was sucking along your skin.

“Fuck… daddy.” you whimpered.

“What was that princess? Louder.” he commanded.

“Daddy!” you groaned.

“Cum for daddy.” Yoongi demanded.

And you did. Your orgasm crashed over you, the most intense you had ever experienced before. You body arched off the bed into Yoongis and you let out the most pornographic sound Yoongi had ever heard. Your vision went spotty and your head felt light and your face contorted in pleasure. The combined feeling of your pussy clenching around him and the sounds you were making threw Yoongi over the edge and he came shortly after you, spurts of hot cum filling the condom. Yoongi didn't think he had ever cum this much in his life. He tied the condom and threw it in your trash can.

His savage streak gone, the energy drained out of Yoongi and he fell beside you panting. You looked over to meet his gaze and you both burst into giggles. His arms came to wrap around you to pull you into his chest. You sighed contently and nuzzled into his warmth. He stroked your hair softly, leaving soft kisses anywhere he could reach. You pressed chaste kisses to the skin of his chest, too exhausted to aim for anywhere else.

“I can't believe it took us this long to get here. We're pathetic.” you giggled.

“Better late than never, I suppose.” he grinned.

“Always a bright side, that's one of the things I love about you.” you admitted with a shy smile.

“Oh?” Yoongi smiled, kissing your blush filled cheeks.

“There's certain things that I adore about you.” you explained. “Like how kind you are, and how determined and focused. How you always treat people with respect. How you scrunch your nose up. God its adorable.”

Yoongi covered his mouth to stifle a laugh, his own cheeks now turning a shade of red.

“I love you too, baby. I love how you take care of me. How your eyes light up when you smile. I love how passionate you are. You’re perfect to me.” Yoongi's voice was low and soft while he confessed.

You hid your face in his chest, willing your racing heart to calm down, but Yoongi always made your heart race, it seemed to beat only for him. Soon, exhaustion got the better of both of you. You drifted to sleep in Yoongi's warm embrace, listening to your favorite sound in the world, his heart. And it beat only for you.

#min yoongi #yoongi #suga #bts #bts smut #smut #agust d #bts suga #friends to lovers #bts au #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #neighbor au #neighbor!yoongi

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Boys are raised to be men. Part 1 - Two broken people

Series Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Summary: Things are different outside the city. When Bucky moves out of the city to live closer to his father’s best friend, Steve, he meets a peculiar girl from a strange family. She’s loved by everyone in the village and like him, she’s missing a limb. And, to Bucky’s surprise, she’s determined to make him part of her life.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2377

Author’s note: I am not disabled and I couldn’t ever imagine what it’s like. If you have anything to not about that aspect of the story, please send me a message so I can fix possible mistakes or misunderstandings in upcoming chapters. Also, let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates.

‘Good morning mister and misses Rogers.’ You smile and wave at your next-door neighbors who are enjoying the warm spring sun on their porch. In your hand is a plate of cookies. You have always liked baking and often bring a plate to your neighbors on Sunday so they have something to enjoy with their tea after attending church. You would join them at church but you are simply not religious and you can’t stand the pastor in this town. He’s a dick and after his son spent the night in your bed once, you can’t look him in the eye.

‘Morning Y/n,’ Steve replies with a smile. His wife, Peggy, gets up from her seat and shuffles inside to get another cup. She does this every Sunday. Well, she’s been doing this every Sunday ever since a few months. It seems her memory is declining quite rapidly but Steve doesn’t mind reminding her to do mundane tasks. He’s as happy as can be. From what he’s told you, their love story hasn’t been sunshine and butterflies at all. He was nearly killed in the war and just barely survived. When he came back, Peggy was engaged to another but they still found each other in the end. It’s beautiful. You could only hope to marry a man as kind as Steve, who will look at you like he still has a crush on you. Because damn, Steve looks at Peggy like he’s a schoolboy with a crush, like she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, like she’s the only woman in the world. It’s wonderful. You’ve seen that look on Tony’s face when he looked at your mother and you’ve been seeing it more and more from him when Pepper comes around. ‘How have you been Y/n,’ Steve asks, patting the chair next to him to gesture you to sit down on the straw chair. You put the plate on the table and take a seat. The chair barely budges under you even though the thing looks ancient. Good craftsmanship. ‘I’m doing well,’ you say with a smile, ‘I might not be a Christina but I do think the Lord has put an angel on my shoulder.’ ‘Well, you know we pray for you and Peter,’ Steve tells you with a gentle smile, ‘you deserve happiness after everything.’ Peggy steps back outside and shuffles her way over to you two. And of course, in true Peggy fashion, she’s heard everything. ‘I agree,’ she says as she puts the third teacup down on the table with shaky hands, ‘you two are wonderful children.’ Steve smiles at his wife and holds her hand to help her sit down comfortably, only turning back to you when he’s made sure she’s properly seated. ‘Say, how’s that man of yours? Ehm, Samuel, was it not?’ Steve nudges you like you’re two teenagers gossiping. You chuckle and shake your head. ‘Sam and I are still friends,’ you tell him, ‘nothing is ever going to happen between the two of us.’ ‘Maybe you should try living in the city if you’re not interested in the men here,’ Peggy suggests as she does every Sunday but you are perfectly content here. You’ve always liked the little life you’re living. You don’t need and don’t like the big fancy cars, busy streets, and small apartments. ‘I’d rather stay here,’ you shrug, ‘and there are enough people to choose from here.’ ‘Let’s go down the list of potential suitors for a second,’ Steve suggests but he’s not really interested in your opinion. He just wants to know who is with who and what the drama is. He just wants to know about the “youngsters.” Youngsters being people in their mid to late twenties. ‘First up, Thor Odison.’ ‘Lovely guy but he’s in love with Jane. You know, the farmer’s daughter.’ ‘Oh, those two are never going to work out,’ Peggy chimes in, ‘she’s way too much of an individual for him.’ ‘Agreed,’ Steve nods, ‘Loki Laufeyson?’ ‘No way,’ you laugh, ‘that man is a trickster. He’s a great friend but I could never date him.’ Peggy shrugs at Steve’s confused look. ‘Okay, that’s fair,’ Steve agrees with a sigh, ‘Natasha Romanoff?’ ‘She’s dating Bruce Banner. Besides, you do remember she’s my ex, right?’ ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Steve says with a sultry look and pats you on the shoulder for a second. ‘Don’t you work at her flower shop?’ Peggy looks quite confused as she asks you about it. ‘Yes, we’re still friends. We just came to the conclusion that we weren’t going anywhere. She’s great but just not for me,’ you explain. ‘How about the Maximoff twins? They seem like something you’d be interested in,’ Peggy asks. ‘They’re fine but Wanda is already dating Vision and Pietro, well, he’s cute but not quite my type,’ you explain but there’s a blush pulling up on your cheeks. Steve picks up on it right away. ‘Is that so? Didn’t I see Pietro sneak out of your house a few weeks ago?’ He grins, sipping on his tea. Gosh, for being elderly the two are awfully gossipy. ‘We’re not talking about those kinds of endeavors on the day of the Lord,’ you say to try and laugh it off while simultaneously admitting to Steve’s indication. Steve seems satisfied with this answer but Peggy seems lost in thoughts. ‘What about Bucky?’

‘Dad! Did you know we have a new neighbor,’ you yell into the house from the hallway while kicking off your shoes and hanging your jacket most hastily. You walk into the living room to see Tony sitting on the couch with a rugged-looking man. The man only has one arm, which has her surprised for a second but she isn’t one to stare as she is also missing part of a limb. Besides, there’s enough else to stare at. This man is a gift. His hair is a tad bit long and he has a bit of scruffy facial hair. And his lips. There’s something about his lips. The corners look upturned at any given moment. It makes him look friendly and approachable. You are certain he either is or used to be quite the ladies’ man. For a short second, you get lost in his icy blue eyes. Wow. Just wow. This man is beautiful. ‘I do know,’ Tony says a bit annoyed at your loud entrance, ‘Y/n, this is James Barnes. James, this is my daughter, Y/n Parker.’ James looks a bit confused at the introduction as his eyes flicker from you to Tony until you shake hands. He doesn’t ask about the difference between the names though. ‘So you’re Bucky?’ He nods at your question. ‘Would you prefer I call you Bucky or James?’ ‘Bucky. Thanks for asking.’ A faint smile appears on his face. ‘He’s already met Peter,’ Tony tells you to explain the confusion on his face earlier. ‘Ah,’ you chuckle, ‘I understand. We aren’t the most usual bunch.’ ‘James- I’m sorry, Bucky here is from the city.’ Tony completely brushes away the whole conversation and hops right into a new topic as you take a seat next to Bucky. ‘Why’d you decide to move somewhere so boring?’ Bucky seems hesitant in answering but something tells you it has a lot to do with his missing limb. You can tell by the way he’s slowly retreating into his jacket. ‘You don’t have to tell me,’ you assure him, ‘I don’t mind.’ ‘Thank you,’ he smiles gratefully and sits up a little straighter again like bricks have been lifted off his shoulders. You can’t help but wonder if your dad was interrogating him up until now. The poor man must’ve been stressed out of his mind. ‘So what do you do, Bucky?’ Tony asks it while he gets up from the couch, making his way over to the kitchen to get the grocery list you put on the fridge whenever you need something. After all, you made a deal yesterday. You cook, he gets groceries. ‘Not much these days,’ Bucky admits, ‘I used to be in the army.’ Ah, that answers a lot of questions. ‘Sow hat do you do to pass the time,’ you ask as you hear the front door close. Of course Tony wouldn’t tell you he was leaving. He’s just glad you took the unexpected guest off his hands. ‘I paint,’ he tells you, looking slightly more at ease now that Tony left, ‘I’m not great but it’s a nice way to pass the time and get some emotions out.’ ‘You’ll have to show me sometime,’ you say with a wink. It catches Bucky off guard. Did you just flirt with him? ‘Would you like some more tea?’ ‘Oh, no, I’m good,’ Bucky says and quickly gets up, ‘I only came by to introduce myself.’ You nod and get up to show him out. You notice he’s still wearing his shoes even though you never wear shoes inside the house. Tony probably felt bad about asking him to take them off so he didn’t. You watch him step outside but you just can’t let him walk away. He’s just too… Wow, he’s too beautiful for you to let him walk away. ‘If you don’t have anything to do tonight. Most of us hang out at the pub downtown every Sunday around seven pm.’ Bucky isn’t sure what to say and you feel obligated to keep talking. ‘It’s just a bunch of stupid people getting drunk but it’s fun’ And now you’re oversharing but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind. He shows a friendly smile but doesn’t look too sure of what to say. ‘You don’t have to but if you want to, I’ll leave here at seven,’ you tell him, ‘so I guess I’ll see you around?’ He smiles and nods to you. You close the door as he walks down to the house next door. Old man Steve’s house. ‘Ah, Bucky, how do you like the Parkers?’ Steve calls out to him before he can make it down their driveway. Bucky and Steve go back a long way. Bucky’s father was good friends with Steve and the man had always been like a backup dad to him. So when his father passed and he got overwhelmed in the city, the next best option was to go look for Steve. ‘They’re a strange bunch,’ Bucky admits, ‘but the girl, Y/n, she’s really sweet. She invited me to the pub.’ ‘You better go punk,’ Steve says in a tone that’s close to warning, ‘you won’t get a better offer to meet the youngsters in town.’ ‘Youngsters? From what you told me, they’re all nearing their thirties.’ ‘You know what I mean,’ Steve argues and waves it off. Bucky takes a seat with Steve on the porch, the chair creaking under his mass. ‘So what’s up with that family? I mean, I know of Stark industries but I never expected to find Tony Stark in a small town like this.’ ‘It’s not my place to tell you.’ Steve looks pained as he says it and it surprises Bucky. Sure, three people living in a house that don’t all share the same last name, there’s a story there. But Steve’s reaction makes him think it’s more than that. ‘Those three have been through a lot. They aren’t related by blood but they’re more of a family than most others down here.’ Bucky gazes over his shoulder at the house next door and watches as the door to the Parker residence opens and the two siblings come running out. The two are like spitfire as Y/n chases Peter for something that doesn’t seem to matter much to them judging by the smiles on their face. ‘I can see that.’ Then, suddenly, they hear Y/n yelp and she falls in the grass in front of their house. She lets a string of muffled curses fall from her mouth as her brother runs up to her. The two seem to be concerned about her leg. Steve tries to call Bucky back but he’s already running up to them. Peter sees him coming and tells him they’re fine but Bucky doesn’t want to go back to Steve. Instead, he kneels down next to Y/n. ‘Hey, are you okay?’ She doesn’t look at him. His eyes fall to the strange picture in front of him. It looks like her leg has been snapped in half at the knee but last time Bucky checked, ankles aren’t made from metal. ‘Yeah, fine,’ she grumbles as she pulls her flared jeans up to her mid-thigh to reveal the prosthetic that came off, ‘it just got stuck and I tripped.’ She grabs the metal leg and pushes it back into place like it’s nothing. Something stirs inside Bucky. “She’s like me,” he thinks, “she’s broken too.” But he doesn’t speak. He understands now why Steve tried to call him back and why Peter tried to tell him it was fine. He wouldn’t want help either. Because when you’re broken, people feel the need to treat you like a child, like you can’t do anything on your own, like you’re not a grown adult with a brain. You lost a limb, not your brain. ‘I’m sorry, I was worried you hurt yourself,’ he says softly and offers his hand to help her up but she politely declines and gets up herself. ‘It’s fine,’ she huffs and pushes her smile back on her face, ‘did you make up your mind about tonight?’ He smiles back at her. ‘Yeah, I’d love to join you. Steve wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I declined.’ ‘You know him well, right?’ ‘Yeah, he used to be friends with my dad.’ ‘Explains the pictures on the fireplace,’ she teases, ‘and all the stories.’ ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ Bucky groans, letting his arm drop to his side, ‘please tell me these friends of yours aren’t close to Steve.’ ‘Just Sam but I think you’ll like him,’ she tells him, ‘he’s the same kind of chaotic as you.’ She pats his shoulder and walks back to her house, Peter following her closely behind. ‘Great, just great,’ Bucky sighs.

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hogwartsfirebolt · 5 years ago

Note

For "the way I said I love you", no. 14 please :) thanks!

I - this ran away from me. All I know is I was watching Tangled and this happened and it ran away from me. Thank you for the prompt! ❤️

The way you said “I love you”, 14: A whisper in the ear.

The first time Draco saw the thief, he thought perhaps he’d imagined it. It was the middle of the day, the middle of town, and he looked out the window of his big big house and saw a thief slipping out the window of the house across the street.

No respectable thief would dare steal at noon, he thought, and definitely not from the home of one of the wealthiest men in town, it was simply too odd. He convinced himself that he’d imagined it. It wouldn’t be the first time, what with it being the twelfth consecutive year he spent locked in his house with no company other than Bernoulli, his cat, the weekly visit of the man who brought him groceries and the biweekly visit of his adoptive father. He wasn’t the sanest person in the world, he knew.

Having decided that, he put the incident out of his mind.

The second time he saw the thief, it was a much more reasonable hour for thieving activities - the small hand on the clock just about grazed six, the sun barely peeking over the horizon - and as Draco looked out the window he saw him again, knew it was the same man because of his messy black hair. The thief went into another of his neighbor’s houses. Draco rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t making it up. The thief came back out with a bag full of things and left swiftly, silently, unseen by everyone but him.

The third time he saw the thief, looking out the same window, he found him walking on top of the roof of the house across the street as if it was nothing. It was the middle of the night and Draco couldn’t sleep, so he was looking out the window and he saw the thief, caught him with a bag in each hand and one foot in front of the other, keeping his balance. Draco must have made a sound, because the thief froze and looked right at him. Their eyes met.

Not knowing what to do, not even seeing him properly because of the meters separating them, Draco raised a hand and waved. The thief stared for a moment, two, then left.

That encounter set the tone for the next handful of months of Draco’s life. Any sane person would have tried to alert someone - anyone, really - to the continuous presence of a thief, but given that Draco was both locked up and not the sanest person around, he didn’t do anything. He would sit in his tiny balcony right outside the window and wait and wait until he saw the thief, and when he did, he waved.

And the thief waved back. Startled, at first, a hesitant jerk of a hand before scurrying away. That was the first few times, but after a few weeks, the thief would wave with more vigor, give Draco a big, toothy smile that made his stomach twist.

One day, Draco looked at his window and found the thief standing on his balcony, leaning casually against the glass. With his heart pounding, he opened and let him in.

Introductions happened. His name was Harry, Draco discovered, his eyes were green, his skin brown, his voice rough, low, and when asked why he had decided to dedicate his life to crime, he threw his head back and laughed heartily and uninhibited.

It was a Sunday night. Earlier, Draco had baked chicken pie, and he offered the thief two slices.

“Why are you locked up?” The thief, Harry, asked, shoveling his pie into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

“My father says it’s to keep me safe,” Draco replied. “It’s dangerous outside. I don’t know what he means, but I trust him.” Harry hummed. Then he asked, very politely for a thief, Draco noticed, if he could please have some more pie.

After that, Harry would visit him often. Twice a week, at the very least. Some weeks Draco saw him everyday, would wait for him with dinner served on the small table of his room, and Harry would come and they would sit there for hours, eating and chatting about what Harry had done that day.

If his adoptive father, Mr Riddle, noticed anything different in the two hours he visited Draco every two weeks, he didn’t say, and so Draco didn’t see fit to tell him. He didn’t think he’d like it.

So he and Harry talked. It quickly became apparent that Draco hungered for details, wanted to know exactly what the bakers’ street smelled like that morning, the color of the sunrise, because the sun rose behind his home and he could never see it.

Harry would indulge him, he’d say, “I’m pretty sure it was chocolate cookies, this morning,” and he would say, “the sun was a big red ball behind the clouds, and the sky looked half pink, half orange.”

“What kind of orange?” Draco would urge.

“Like — pff , I don’t know, Draco. Like peaches.”

“Peaches…”

And then when Harry left, he’d smile over his shoulder and say, “see you tomorrow, blondie,” and Draco’s heart would pound inside his chest and he felt it didn’t stop until the next evening rolled around and he saw him again.

He wasn’t blind. Harry was very attractive - almost too attractive, an assault on the eyes - with his broad shoulders and slim waist, the crooked nose, those thick eyebrows and lashes and his green eyes that made Draco lose his mind when he was alone at night in bed.

He was 20 years old, had been locked in since he was 8 and hence had never been kissed, never been touched in any way other than a fatherly pat on the head. But he was 20, and he knew the things that happened in bedrooms, had read about them and couldn’t stop himself from thinking them when he saw Harry in his tight white shirt.

Not being the sanest person around, but certainly one of the cleverest, Draco knew Harry looked at him too, thought those things about him too, and every time he caught Harry staring at him silently, chest rising with shallow breaths, goosebumps broke all over his skin. This went on for months, a tension tight like a string tying them together.

A year after the visits started, it became unbearable. Draco felt half out of his mind with it, his palms sweating when Harry leaned close, when he whispered and brushed Draco’s hair back.

One of those nights, right before slipping out of Draco’s window, Harry hesitated.

“I’m leaving town. I won’t see you in a couple weeks.”

It wouldn’t be the first time it happened, so Draco nodded. He started to say he would find a way to entertain himself, but found he couldn’t, because Harry was kissing him.

Startled, Draco couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, and it lasted all of two seconds before Harry pulled back with a smile warmer, shyer than the usual.

“Think of me, blondie.” And he disappeared into the night.

Draco almost passed out, and think of him he did.

When Harry came back, two weeks later, Draco gave him his virginity. Three times in one night.

It was glory.

Things didn’t change much after that. Harry visited, they ate Draco’s food, talked about what Harry had done, but now there were kisses in between, touching, more than touching. Now, sometimes, they didn’t go straight for the food, they stumbled into bed, slow, rushed, young and ancient. Their sex was the most honest thing Draco had ever known, sometimes they’d laugh in the middle of their kisses, sometimes they’d be silent the whole time, clutching the sheets, clutching at each other, overcome.

Draco was over the moon. He’d never known what it felt like to be someone else’s favorite human, have someone bring him sweet, warm bread and flowers because they’d reminded them of him, had never gone days with butterflies inside his chest whenever he so much as thought about someone.

“You stole my heart,” he’d tell Harry, smiling into his lips.

“You already knew I’m a thief.”

And it was true, but in Harry’s hands, Draco knew he was safe. He told him as much once, when they were lying together naked and breathless, still a bit sticky. He leaned close to him, kissed the corner of his mouth and whispered it, right into his ear, he said, “I love you.”

“Do you?”

“I do.”

“Then I’m one lucky, lucky thief.”

Harry said it too, in different moments. Like when he walked in and found Draco had made his favorite tart, hugged him tight, lifted him up and said it, “God, I love you.” Right before leaving, with a kiss to Draco’s forehead, “Love you. Sleep well.” With a smile, whenever Draco blushed. “Damn, I love you.”

He was liberal and open with his love, demanded the same back with a hunger. Would say, “hmm, you love me” whenever Draco rolled his eyes at him, would ask “how much?” after Draco said he did.

“How much?” Draco would repeat, trailing his fingers over Harry’s naked chest. “Green eyes, I’d run away with you. That’s how much.”

It was true. He’d never considered it before, Riddle said Draco was safe inside, and he had never wanted to go out into the world that had destroyed his parents, but for Harry, he knew he would try.

One day, Harry came in nervous and twitchy, refused to sit, refused to eat.

Draco sighed. “Okay, out with it.”

Harry looked right at him, swallowed and said, “Do you want to go somewhere with me?”

Draco froze.

But the answer was always going to be yes. With Harry, always yes.

“Yes.”

He sneaked out. For the first time in twelve years, he slipped out his window and set foot on the street and ran.

Harry took him to the woods, and they ran along the trees and over the grass, Draco almost crying with how much he was laughing. They had a picnic under the shade of an oak, orange and cheese that gave flavor to their kisses after. Almost like magic.

When Harry took him home that night, Draco said what had been on his mind all day. He said, “Let’s do it.”

Harry didn’t even need to ask what he meant, only asked, “are you sure?”

Draco nodded.

The following week, the day after Riddle’s biweekly visit, Harry showed up with two bags, one full and one empty, and Draco knew it was time. He packed clothes, food, all the money he had into the empty bag Harry gave him, took his cat and its food and they did it.

They ran. They walked and ran and were out of town in three hours, had crossed another one in five. They had two weeks until Riddle found out, but Draco wanted to put as much distance as he could between them, as soon as possible.

So, for a week they walked. It could have been awful, and Draco’s feet were certainly killing him, but it was also the happiest week of his life. They would wake up with the sun, eat fresh fruit and start walking, fingers laced between them. At night, they would find an inn and cuddle up in a tiny cot, have uncomfortable sex that made them laugh, made them cover each other’s mouths with frantic “shhh”s, because the inns were full that time of the year and they didn’t want to get caught.

By the time the second week rolled around, there were seventeen towns between them and Riddle, and Draco woke up feeling light. Harry stirred next to him, threw an arm around him and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“Mornin’”

Draco turned his face, angled for a kiss. “Morning, thief.”

Harry smiled. The previous night, the owner of the inn had offered them both a position in the kitchen in exchange for the room and food, they were even offered a few coins a month, and they had said yes. They had made calculations and, if they worked hard, they might be able to move into a small place of their own in a little under a year. Their present, that possible future, it was everything.

There was so much they didn’t know. They didn’t know, for example, that the following week there would be a town fair celebrating the lost prince’s birthday. They didn’t know that they would feel like dancing, they didn’t know that, in the middle of their dance, a palace guard would see them and recognize his queen’s features in Draco’s face. They didn’t know that they’d be called in to the palace. They didn’t know that what Riddle had told Draco when he’d kidnapped him all those years ago was a lie, that his parents were alive. They didn’t know Draco had a family. They didn’t know they were rich, that they would stay together for years, and live a happy, happy life.

But they knew they had each other, had their present and a future full of hope. And it was enough. It was enough.

#prompt #mine #drarry #drarry fic #harry potter #draco malfoy #anon #ilyprompts #mywriting

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winifredsandersonsbitch · 5 years ago

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Everybody Needs a Hobby

Spike x Summers! Reader

Warnings: some colorful language, implied smut, S5 spoilers mentioned

Description: You’re frustrated with the crude reality of life in Sunnydale. You want something you can love that won’t go up in flames. One night, you pick up a poetry book from the library and Spike stops by to give you a vivid reading.

You need something to take you out of the violence of your everyday life.

You try painting. Relaxing watercolors aided by books you pick up at the library, bright acrylics splashed across canvases. Soon your room is filled with artwork that ranges from clumsy to talented. You start giving paintings away to make space. Birthday presents for your friends, surprises for elderly neighbors, just-because gifts for Spike to make his crypt more colorful (he laughs at them, hurts your feelings a little, but the next time you’re in his bed you see them peeking out from behind a curtain). It works, for awhile, but you crave something less solitary. Plus your artwork takes a darker turn when you wake up from nightmares, which is frequently.

You turn to yoga classes at the YMCA. Twisting your body into poses is a different kind of hell after a night out with Buffy, but the stretches take so much of your focus that they force you to stop overthinking. Then your instructor turns out to be a former genie with a sinister agenda and you have to drop the class. It was getting expensive anyway.

You join a intermural volleyball team, but after a gruesome loss one of your teammates takes up the dark arts. You start baking and almost burn the house down. Even community service gets dangerous when the blood bank is ambushed by vampires.

“I’m just so frustrated,” you explain to Dawn one morning at breakfast. “I mean, I love all of these things and I want them to work out, but Sunnydale poisons everything. It’s like I can’t even have a hobby on the Hellmouth.”

She peels a banana with manicured fingers. You dropped her and her friend off at the salon last week and now it’s like every motion has to be fit for a hand commercial. “Fighting vampires is a hobby.”

“No, it’s a full-time job,” Buffy says, swiping an apple off the counter. “And (Y/n) already has two of those.”

“Well, there you go.” Dawn shrugs on her backpack. “You don’t need a hobby.”

You do, though. Spike insists on supplementing your income with his, so you’ve cut down your hours at the office and you’re only taking weekends at the diner. For the first time in years, you have time to relax. You don’t want to waste it.

Buffy spots the sour look on your face and nudges your arm. She drops the core in the trash and washes her hands under the sink.

“Maybe it’s time to go back to school,” Buffy suggests. “I know it’s the middle of the semester, but you could apply for next year.”

You don’t want to make her feel bad, especially since she’s in the same situation as you, but school doesn’t feel urgent when you’ve got the apocalypse going on every other year. Plus you don’t even know what you’d major in. There’s no degree for monster fighting.

“Yeah, maybe.” You finish your yogurt, check the time on your watch. “Come on, Dawn, I’ll drive you to school.”

After you drop her off, you head into the office. It’s slow today. The coffee machine gurgles to life every thirty minutes to keep the employees awake and the copier sits silent in disuse. Barbara and Anne giggle together in the annex over a tin of buttered cookies. The phone rings at the reception desk only twice in the morning. When you answer, no one’s there.

You spend most of the day looking up courses that you might be interested in. There are a few that catch your eye, but you can’t fathom how you’d put them together into a degree.

One of them, creative writing, jumps out at you. You used to write when you were in your early teens. Mostly angstsy poetry about how no one understood you and how invisible you felt. It’s embarrassing to look back on now, but then it had felt like a statement to the world.

Writing made you feel known. You gave it up when you went to college, mostly because it seemed impossible that it would ever amount to anything and partly because you didn’t have the time or energy to focus on it. College seems silly now, all that effort for a paper degree when you know what’s really out there, but if you went back you wouldn’t be going just for the degree. You’d be going because you love to learn.

It’s not so important that you get published and famous anymore. You don’t need the spotlight when you’ve already got the most important job in the world: taking care of your sisters. It’s fine to work in the office and at the diner where you’re nothing more to people than another employee. You know you’re making a difference, even if they never will.

But your heart aches a little for what you might’ve had if life hadn’t gotten in the way.

That night, you stop by the library to pick up some books. Just to see if you still have a passion for them the way you used to. Sunnydale’s library is open until ten p.m. and you stay curled up in an armchair in the fiction section until close. You check out four books to take with you: a poetry anthology, Little Women, a collection of short stories from around the world, and a YA novel. You figure that if you try all different genres, maybe you’ll land on something you love.

Your walk back to the house is uneventful, thankfully (having just renewed your library card, you don’t want to have it revoked if something sinister takes a bite out of your books). You have a late night snack with Dawn since Buffy is still out hunting and then take your books up to your room.

You leave the window open so you won’t have to get up if Spike drops by and curl up in bed with the anthology, a notebook on your bedside table in case of inspiration. You’re not totally sure when he comes in; it feels like hours and seconds since you opened the book. The words are swirling around in the soft light of the room, bouncing off the bed frame and the dresser, colliding with your closet door and knocking the paintings askew in their frames.

“Shouldn’t leave your window open like that, love. Something wicked might find its way in.”

His shirt is off already, you register, as he peels the book from your fingers and kisses you deeply. You make a noise of protest against his mouth and he pulls back, eyebrows raised.

“What the hell book is that, to have you so absorbed you don’t even notice me come in?” He picks it up, dangles it in front of you. “Can’t be porn. Because, obviously, what you’ve got in front of you is better than porn. You Summers. All repressed and self-righteous. If it’s the bloody Bible or The Guide to Enlightenment or some—”

“Don’t make fun of me, William,” you retort, snatching it out of his grasp. “It’s a good book.”

“Must be,” he scoffs. Then he reads the cover. His features flicker through three different emotions in the span of five seconds. “Poetry?”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not— Here, give me that.”

Grudgingly, you hand it over, and he settles in between your legs, his head resting on your breasts. He picks out the filthiest, most sexual poem he can find (which is still incredibly tame by his usual standards) and recites:

“‘I want a red dress. I want it flimsy and cheap, I want it too tight, I want to wear it until someone tears it off me. I want it sleeveless and backless, this dress, so no one has to guess what’s underneath. I want to walk down the street—’”

His voice is low, soft, like he’s switched into someone else in the moments between his choosing the poem and his reading it. It makes you shiver. His hand slides up your thigh, at odds with his careful, thoughtful voice.

“‘I want to walk like I’m the only woman on earth and I can have my pick. I want that red dress bad. I want it to confirm your worst fears about me—’” At this, he shifts position, moves the underwear beneath your pajama shorts aside and slides a finger up. You bite your lip. “‘—To show how little I care about you or anything except what I want.’ I like that one, what about you? ‘Confirm your worst fears?’ ‘How little I care about you or anything except what I want?’ Sound like someone you know?”

You hardly realize he’s switched from the poem to conversation until he pauses his ministrations beneath the bedsheet. He’s angled toward you now, one hand twisted under the sheets and his back against your inner thigh, a toothy grin on his face as he repays you for earlier.

“You’re such an ass.”

He ignores this instead of cutting in with his typical I’m evil, duh speech, nuzzles your neck. “I’d like to get you into a dress like that, love. Have you walk down the street in it, showing off—” He sucks at the skin, hard. You cry out. “But then we have to have a way of letting everyone know you’re mine, don’t we?”

“Spike.” His name comes out a moan, a quiet prayer.

“You want another poem? I’m liking this book.”

He returns to his regularly upright seated position, pretends to adjust his reading glasses, then flips through the pages, leaving you wanting. He lands on a sonnet, airing the words out to the open room as you squirm. Finally, you decide to take matters into your own hands, but he stops you, bursting into a new stanza.

“Here in the electric dusk your naked lover tips the glass high and the ice cubes fall against her teeth...”

He replaces your fingers with his own, guiding you through the poem with a small circles. When you beg, he undresses for you, sets the book down.

“You’re just an erotic hallucination,” he breathes, touching everything as if to make sure that the line isn’t true.

He’s teasing, but a part of him clings to these words in a sad, sweet way. When he’s finished and you’re spent, he rolls over onto the other side of the mattress and his mood shifts again.

“I loved a girl once,” he says, and it stings, even though he talked about Dru often when you first started up and even before, like he wished to hurt you into wanting him. “I wrote her this poem. I used to write a lot, before. I was hopeless that way.”

His voice isn’t soft now. It’s almost angry, like he has been during sex at some points. Passionate and raw and mad at someone that wasn’t you. Flickering back and forth between past and present.

“You probably would’ve liked William,” Spike says. He barks a strangled laugh. “He was just your type. A scrawny mama’s boy who lived through his books.”

He was almost gentle earlier. You can’t understand why he switches like this, between acting like he can’t go on without you and twisting the knife. You roll onto your side.

“Might’ve been, once,” you murmur. This pillow talk is almost worse than the nights when he leaves right after to get his fix, claiming you’ve made him hungry. “Boys like that wouldn’t look twice at me now.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, love.”

You can hear the smile in his voice though. He likes that your self-esteem is low. It feeds his ego, that he can hurt you even though he can’t drain you dry. He’s soulless, after all. On some level, he probably does need you like he says, but it’s not pure. It never will be. He can try to help you when it suits him, restrain himself from severing ties because he craves closeness, but he’s still Spike.

“They’re scared of me now.” Your arms cross under your breasts. You’re not self-flagellating tonight, not really. You’re in the mood for the truth. “They know.”

“Know what?”

“They know, on some level—” It sounds silly, only it isn’t, not to you. “—what I’ve done. And no amount of watercolors or yoga classes is going to change that.”

You didn’t realize it until you said it out loud, how much you were trying to be the girl you were before your mother’s death. How much you missed her and the almost casual slayage that was common before Glory. Sure, the world almost ended a couple times, but you knew how it would turn out in your heart. This— with Buffy, with Dawn— you have no idea.

You lapse into silence, purposefully even your breathing out so it seems you’ve fallen asleep. He gets up not long after, rustles around your room for a moment in a way that makes you nervous, and then pulls the window shut behind him as he exits onto the roof. You fall asleep at some point, drifting in and out of a dream featuring you at the office in a nightmare distortion of your boss’s birthday party until your alarm goes off.

You sit up and smack the button off, sending a piece of paper cascading to the floor. It isn’t until after you’ve brushed your teeth and fully woken up that you retrieve it. It takes you a full thirty seconds to process the first line of the pretentious and somewhat offensive poem Spike left you.

It’s disgusting. It’s explicit. It’s replete with words that you have to look up.

You love it.

When you go down to breakfast, Dawn cracks jokes about the dazed smile on your face until Buffy shushes her and sends her off to finish getting ready for school.

“Seriously, are you okay though?” she asks when the two of you are left to yourselves. You could ask her the same question, with the already scabbing gash on her forehead, but you settle for a quick shake of the head. You feel like you’re burning up, like she can see through you to all the things you did last night.

“No— I mean, I didn’t sleep well.” You pour yourself a cup of juice and take a seat at the table, trying to suffocate your grin. “But I think I found my new hobby.”

#fanfiction #spike x reader #spike #btvs season 5 #btvs #btvs x reader #buffy the vampire slayer

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asmileyoucouldbottle · 5 years ago

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Happily Ever After

I wrote a little JestxCath fluff for @lex656565 ‘s birthday! It’s a little late, but I hope you enjoy! I’m sorry I wasn’t able to celebrate with you in person, but I love you and we’ll be together soon <3 (Btw everyone go check out her blog, her art is amazing!) Happily Ever After- An impossible AU where Cath has her dream bakery in Hearts and is happily married to Jest. It’s their son’s 4th birthday, so they have a little celebration! Basically straight-up fluff and me pretending the ending of Heartless never happened.

Word Count- 1,468

Ding, ding, ding.

The bakery’s bell had been going off almost incessantly, and the bakery was full to bursting. Cath smiled proudly at her bustling shop. There were children laughing and eating cookies, couples picking out wedding cakes, and people just enjoying themselves. It was more than she’d ever imagined and wished for.

She jumped a bit as arms wrapped around her waist unexpectedly. Looking up, she smiled into the glowing face of her husband. His eyes twinkled as she spun around to give him a quick kiss. “How’s Hatta?” She asked, since he’d just returned from visiting their friend.

“Sane as ever, not for lack of worrying on his part. In fact…” He was cut off by another ding of the bell.

“Hatta!” Cath came out from behind the counter, going to give him a quick embrace. “I didn’t think you could make it!”

He shrugged, “I had business to do, but it could wait. Now! Where is my godson?”

“Uncle Hatta!!!” Lewis burst from behind the counter, running to hug his godfather’s leg. Hatta, never really good at displaying affection, just managed to pat Lewis’ head, though his expression was fond.

Jest reached forward and picked his son up, swinging him onto his shoulders. Lewis hooted, and Jest laughed, hopping up to sit on the counter. Cath tsked him, though she knew it was no use. He always sat on the counter, despite her protests. Besides, it was Lewis’ birthday, so she was opposed to a little craziness. Bending the rules once in a while never hurt anybody.

Raven cawed and came to settle on the young boy’s head. The three of them looked all together ridiculous, and Cath told them just that.

Jest grinned at her, and held out a hand. “Join us, fair lady!” Sighing in overexaggerated bother, she grasped his hand and walked over. He pulled her up beside him, and Cath cast the glass counter beneath her with an anxious glance. Jest wrapped an arm around her waist, and she decided that the counter was insignificant.

“Mama look!” Cath looked up to see her son waving his arms around. She wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing, but she clapped nonetheless. “Please be careful!”

Hatta frowned, obviously disappointed in the lot of them. The group was getting many curious looks, but the regulars were used to such behavior. Mary Anne had been appalled when she had co-owned the shop, but she’d since left to work managing the sums of the King. Cath couldn’t say she missed her.

Lewis had proceeded to wave at every single customer, and they all commented on how darling he was. Taking advantage of her distaction, Jest tickled Cath’s side, and she shrieked, batting at his hands. Hopping off the counter, she whacked him lightly with a pamphlet she picked up. He pulled off his hat, and held it in front of her. A bouquet of flowers materialized over the hem. “Forgive me?” He pleaded, not sounding very sorry.

“Not to break up this lover’s quarrel, but I’m growing impatient. Let’s go in the back.” Hatta’s words dripped with disdain. Jest waved him away, but got to his feet.

“To the party!” Lewis called. Cath shhed him. “It’s not a party,” she corrected.

“To the cake!” He amended. Jest chuckled, and the group went behind the counter and through the swinging doors to the back. Cath had asked two of their employees, Alfred and Alice, to mind the counter for the day. Either way, It was almost six o’clock, and the two would be closing up shop soon. Cath had forgiven Jest, and walked with his arm around her waist, his flowers in hand.

In the back, they took the stairs up to their apartment above the shop. Cath had dinner all ready for them, and off to the side a little lemon cake was set up, and balloons for Lewis’s fourth birthday.

The boy squealed and tried to eat it immediately, but Cath held him back. “Dinner first!”

The group ate in a rather quick manner, as Lewis had eyes only for the cake. The conversation was about Hatta’s recent sales, Lewis and Jest’s adventures in baking, and so on. The conversation only continued a short time after they’d all finished their meal. Lewis soon got antsy, and began to reach for the cake.

“Okay okay, we’ll get ready.” Jest pushed his hand away, laughing slightly. He began to cut the cake, but Cath interrupted him.

“We have to sing first!” she chastised. And so they did. Well, Cath and Jest sang. Even Raven sang, since the lyrics rhymed. Hatta did not, not that anyone expected him to.

Jest sat with his son on his lap, and Cath couldn’t help but smile at the picture. Both of her boys, with curly hair, lemon eyes, and frosting on their face. She kissed both of their cheeks. Jest brushed her cheek with his thumb. “You had some flour on your face.” He said devilishly, before leaning forward to peck the spot. Lewis was too busy stuffing his face to notice.

“Oh can’t it wait until I’m home.” Hatta moped. “Anyways, I have a gift for you Lewis!”

Lewis perked up. “Presents!” He cheered. Hatta reached behind him, and materialised a yellow hat with what appeared to be a mini lemon tree growing a top it. Cath and Jest shared a knowing look and smile. “I’ve heard from your father that you quite like sweet lemon candies, so I thought I’d make you a hat. Now whenever you want a sweet lemon, just reach up and take one. They grow back by themselves.”

Awestruck, Lewis took the hat. “Thank you Uncle Hatta.” He said, reverently placing it on his head. Hatta smiled, his violet eyes warm.

“Alright, I’m next.” Jest took his hat off of his head, dramatically, twirled it up and down his arms, flicked it into the air, and caught it. Lewis ooh-ed, ahh-ed, and giggled.

Turning the hat out invitingly, Jest told his son to close his eyes and reach into the hat. He did so, and pulled out a deck of magic cards. “It’s time I taught you sleight of hand.” Jest declared. Lewis didn’t hear him, too entranced by the moving pictures on the cards.

“Hey! Isn’t that Mr. Mockturtle?” Lewis asked. Jest nodded. “The cards have little images of all our neighbors and friends.”

“Oooh!!” Lewis bounced up and down, eating a sweet lemon and looking at all the cards.

Cath was up. Reaching down, she pulled up a holed box and handed it to her son. He opened it, and shrieked with joy. Inside was a little purple and pink kitten. Cheshire refused to ever reveal the details of how he’d come about to have three kittens, but said that Cath was more than welcome to take her pick since he was a “free spirit” and didn’t want to be “burdened with three kittens.”

“Kitty!!!” Lewis squealed, picking it up and hugging it none too gently. Jest carefully loosened his arms and took the cat, cradling it safely.

Raven gave Lewis his gift, “of poetry.” It didn’t go over very well. Lewis gave Raven a blank stare, before yawning. Jest picked him up so Lewis’ chin rested on his shoulder. “Off to bed with you.” He declared. Cath picked up the cat.

“Say goodbye to Hatta.” Jest said as they passed him by. Lewis waved tiredly.

“Goodnight, dear boy. I’d best be going as well.” Hatta made sure his own cake themed hat was secure on his head. Cath patted his shoulder. “Thank you for your generous gift, and for coming tonight. It was a pleasure to see you.”

Hatta gave her a half-smile, one that left her wondering if he ever liked her or not. “Thank you for the cake and for having me. Send Jest my regards.”

Hatta left, and Cath followed Jest up the stairs with the cat in her hands. Jest was tucking Lewis in bed, and Cath put the little purring hairball next to him. “Until we get a cat bed, he can sleep with you.”

“Kitty..” Lewis yawned, and snuggled with the kitten. It wiggled out of his arms with a squeak. The boy was only momentarily sad, before the kitten turned and settled in a cozy little bundle against his stomach.

“Goodnihgtmomyanddad-” he broke off, sound asleep and smiling.

Cath rested her head on Jest’s shoulder as they watched their child. Finally, she leaned down to tuck him in and kiss him goodnight. When she stood up, Jest brushed back her hair and kissed her as well.

“Not only children deserve a goodnight kiss.” He stated, yellow eyes shining. Smiling, she pressed her lips against his again, before starting towards their room to get ready for sleep.

#I hope you like it Lex!#heartless #heartless marissa meyer #jestcath #jest x cath #cath x jest #heartless fanfic #marissa meyer #the lunar chronicles #my fic #my heartless fic #idk if there's a real shipname but oh well #cath pinkerton #jest heartless #heartless happy ending au

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moonlightoverthehorizon · 5 years ago

Text

compilation of my favorite otp prompts 9

tag

dumb otp AUs [x]

“You always said it looked like you were blushing when you talked to me because of the heat but I just saw you talking to someone else and your face looked fine so what is the truth” au

“I was goofing around with your phone while you were in the bathroom and why do you have heart emojis next to my contact name” au

WEREWOLF AU’S [x]

“you being part dog has its perks, mostly for me because whenever i toss something away your eyes follow it and you perk up like you want to chase it but restrict yourself and its honestly the cutest fucking thing ive ever seen”

“babe you know i love you and i would give up my life for yours but i sWEAR TO GOD IF YOU GIVE ME ONE MORE DOG TOY FOR MY BIRTHDAY IM GONNA PUNCH YOU SQUARE IN THE FACE”

a werewolf getting personally offended when someone says they’re not a dog person

“as a werewolf i can personally talk to dogs and boyohboy does ur little pug have some tea to spill…"

“alternatively, i find you to be really superduper adorable and whenever i come over your little dog goes off on rants to me about the cute embarrassing stuff that you do when your home alone and honestly I wake up every day for these chats”

“when I saw you climbing out of the stream I was fishing in dirty, wet, and naked, I assumed you had just survived some kind of intense mob hit or something but really you had just detransformed from a werewolf after you were playing in the water trying to catch a fish, and ultimately failing. nice ass, by the way.”

one cannot have enough of cute and random aus so here have some more [x]

“You’re my roommate who’s super cute and it’s the middle of the night and you’re cramming for your exams in your flannel pajamas and disheveled hair and it’s becoming increasingly hard for me not to kiss you” AU.

“It’s Valentine’s Day and I’m single and you want to cheer me up but you can’t cook nor bake to save your life so you make me hot chocolate instead and it is delicious and I think I love you???” AU.

“You’re the jerk-face customer that keeps on thumbing through their phone while ordering their drink so I exact revenge by spelling your name wrong on your cup and drawing phallic pictures on your coffee” AU.

“Our mutual friend invites us to go shopping with them and it’s kind of awkward and now you’re pushing them around the mall in a shopping cart and you’re both screaming like excited children and I’m paying the cashier and pretending I don’t know either of you” AU.

“You and I are both baristas at a coffee shop and one day I step out of the café to take a break and walk in on you gleefully drawing phallic pictures on the chalkboard outside that no one pays attention to so what are you doing?” AU.

“We’re both strangers sitting in the same booth at an eatery because all the other booths are full and you’re drawing smiley faces on your plate with ketchup and wow your concentrated frown is cute” AU.

“I’m sick so you make me chicken soup and I’m really grateful but I’ve also seen you read books on magical spells and potion-making so I’m not sure if I should drink your soup in case it turns me into a toad” AU.

“There’s a scrawny black cat in our neighborhood that hates everyone and everything but follows you around for some reason and I see you pet it and feed it fish fries are you a witch” AU

BAKING IDEAS [x]

Person A and Person B decorating cookies/cupcakes/etc. together and Person A’s turn out looking amazing while Person B’s look like a toddler did them.

Person A trying to show Person B how to perfectly crack an egg, but Person A messes up and makes a big mess.

Person A tipping a bowl of meringue mixture above Person B’s head to prove that it’s ready but it turns out that it’s not actually ready and spills all over Person B’s head.

Person A really struggling to open a jar but not letting Person B help them until they eventually give up and Person B gets it open on the first try.

AU prompts i wish i was talented enough to write part 2 [x]

it’s 2 am and i can’t sleep so i grab a book and go lay on my roof, but who knew i had a hot neighbor who does the same thing when he can’t sleep

omg please wake up i can’t lose you please don’t die... oh you’re not dying? this is awkward

we recently started sharing a flat but one of the showers are broken and we run out of hot water quickly... no we can’t shower together!

i moved to a new city about a month ago and my coworker sets me up on a blind date and it turns out my date is my ex... this is awkward

i show up late to the school assembly but there’s no seats and you offer up your lap to make fun of me with your friends but you didn’t think i’d actually sit on your lap and i think you might have a little problem down there ;)

we dated years ago and one day i’m going through my old stuff and i found some of your old stuff i kept and i found all the romantic old letters you used to write me but i remember i never read the last letter cus i didn’t want us to be over but i end up reading the letter now

#writing #writing prompts #prompt list #au prompts #otp prompts #compilation of writing prompts #otp aus #queue

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jaehyun-eclipsed · 5 years ago

Text

Contemplation Pt. 1 - Mark Lee

[3:00 PM] Ding! Ding! Ding!

The bell rings at three o'clock signaling the end of the school day. I gather my belongings and leave my math class, thinking about the weekend ahead. It’s the first weekend in over a month where I have no other obligations and will be able to relax and do nothing. I would finally get to read my favorite book and bake that new cookie recipe I found the other day.

I make my way to the neighboring building to go to my locker to grab several books before heading home. As I walk outside into the courtyard, what little warmth from the fall day radiates against my skin; I smile.

What a pleasing and satisfying Friday.

I open the door and walk into the first hall where my locker is located and turn the knob to input the combination. Remembering the light load for the weekend, I place the majority of my textbooks in my locker.

"Hey, Y/N!"

Recognizing the cheerful voice, I turn to see Mark walking towards me with several books in hand. He smiles and gives a small wave.

"Oh hey Mark!" I greet.

Mark was my best friend since freshmen year after being seated next to each other in geometry class. Now as seniors, we could be found in the same clubs, eating lunch together, and spending our free periods studying in the library.

"Are you going home? If you are, I was thinking we could go see a movie," he says with a smile.

"Hmm,” I hum, “that sounds nice. Sure, what movie?"

"I don't know. We can pick when we get there."

“Okay, sounds good,” I respond.

Awesome, I have relaxing plans with my best friend. What better way to start the weekend?

Feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket, I take it out to see that the message is from Taeyong, my biggest crush since sophomore year.

[15:05] Taeyong: Hey, if you're not doing anything after school, I was thinking we could go get frozen yogurt? :) I’ll be at my car

Ever since Taeyong and I were partners for a history project, he had been asking me to hang out pretty frequently. It was causing me to spend less time with Mark and though he was upset at times, he understood what it meant to me. He knew I’d still always make time for him.

While reading the message, I purse my lips, a bit regretful that I’d have to turn down Taeyong’s offer as I had just agreed to go see a movie with Mark. But I was a woman of my word and truly did want to spend time with him.

“It’s Taeyong, isn’t it?” he asks.

I look up and realize Mark’s smile had faded and was replaced with a stern look. When I bite my lower lip, I know he doesn’t need a verbal response to confirm his inquiry.

“Then go with him,” he says curtly.

My forehead creases, confused as to why Mark would tell me to go with Taeyong even though he knew I would’ve rejected the offer to accompany him to the movie.

“Why? I just said I would go to the movies with you.”

He looks down at the ground and furrows his brow; it was a habit of his when he didn’t want to tell the full truth.

“I know you want to hang out with him. So it’s fine,” he says, avoiding my gaze.

I scoff. “I just said I wanted to go to the movies with you. I’ll hang out with him later.”

Turning back to my locker, I throw the door shut and suddenly realize that Mark had started walking away from me.

“Where are you going?” I call, jogging over to him.

“I don’t want to go,” he says, continuing to make his way to door.

I pause and frown. “But I want to go.”

He stops in front of the door with one hand on the handle and looks over his shoulder, his gaze focused on the spot on the floor in front of me. “Oh come on, we both know you’d much rather go hang out with Taeyong,” he spits back.

He was right; I did want to hang out with Taeyong as we had finally been making progress. However, I had also been feeling a bit guilty that I hadn’t been spending as much time with my best friend. Perhaps this was the wrong way to do it. I should want to hang out with Mark on my own volition, not because I pitied him and wanted to feel the slightest bit better about myself.

“But I haven’t spent much time with you lately…”

He grits his teeth. “Look, I don’t want to sit at the movies with you knowing that you’d much rather be somewhere else…with someone else.”

What? This is ridiculous.

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this?!” I say angrily.

His hand drops from the door handle and he begins to chuckle.

“Seriously, y/n? Do you really not know?”

I blink several times, a perplexed look remaining on my face.

“Know what?!”

He scoffs and looks away while shaking his head. “Incredible,” he murmurs to himself.

“Who’s been there for you this whole time? Taeyong only started to acknowledge your existence a couple weeks ago!” he shouts.

Ouch.

“Who was there for you when you slipped in the parking lot last month and scraped your knee?! It sure as hell wasn’t Taeyong! He was too busy skateboarding with his friends to even notice you had fallen! Even Lucas came over to check on you!”

I stare at Mark, mouth slightly agape, startled at his sudden outburst.

“I’ve always been there, y/n. It’s always been me there to comfort you when you’ve been having a rough day and to make sure you’ve eaten if you end up skipping lunch! It’s always been me who listens and smiles when you talk about Taeyong even though everyone knows how he doesn’t care about anyone unless it’s convenient! After all this time, how could you not know how I feel?”

I look down at the ground and swallow hard, suddenly feeling guilty for being intentionally oblivious. Truthfully, I’ve always suspected Mark may have developed feelings for me after having noticed his behavior around me – when he would always pack an extra piece of chocolate for me in his lunch or give me his jacket without being prompted – I noticed.

He sighs and opens his mouth to speak again.

“Did you really not know?” he asks.

“I…I wasn’t sure…” I lie.

“But you don’t have feelings for me? At all?”

Before I can answer, he begins speaking again.

“Look, I have to go to the restroom. Going there and back should take about five minutes. If you’re not here when I get back, then I will take it that those are my feelings towards me.”

“Wait! Mark! I –

He walks over to me, grasping my hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I really hope you do stay…” he says as he releases my hand and quickly turns around to walk down the hall.

How did I feel about Mark? Everything he said was true; Taeyong really hadn’t started paying attention to me until we were forced to work together. Perhaps I should have been suspicious that the interest was so sudden. Mark really had been there for me for everything, but I couldn’t tell whether my head had been clouded by a superficial infatuation with Taeyong, preventing me from realizing my true feelings for my best friend.

Heads, Mark; tails, Taeyong. Which side of the coin do I want it to land on?

There was no denying that at the current moment, I wanted my imaginary coin to land on tails. But given the newly complicated situation, I wasn’t too keen on the possibility of losing my best friend either.

It was true, I was always happier around Mark, enjoying his company and laughing at his jokes even when they weren’t funny. We’d sit together and I’d rest my head on his shoulder, pondering about life. My favorite moments together mostly consisted of those discussions and I was reminded of them every time he let me borrow his jacket, the scent of his cologne lingering on them. It made me feel warm on the inside knowing he would always listen to me and try to understand what I was telling him even if he didn’t have the personal experience to truly empathize.

But did that mean I liked him? I had never really given it serious thought.

I squeeze my eyes shut, desperately wishing for clarity and sighing with the full awareness that it was a hopeless endeavor. Grabbing my things, I walk behind the next set of lockers and lean my back against them, hissing when I slam my head a bit too hard.

About a minute later, I hear soft, but quick footsteps. The pace suddenly slows and I take a peek from behind the lockers. Mark stands in the seemingly empty hallway, his shoulders hung low in despair as he lets out a big sigh.

I bite my lip and mentally curse to myself before relenting.

“Mark?”

His eyes widen and he quickly turns around, his sweet, angelic, smile brimming across his face.

I slowly walk up to him and his smile quickly fades when he sees the regret in my eyes.

“I don’t know how I feel, Mark,” I begin, a lump forming in my throat, “I care about you immensely, but I don’t know what that means right now.”

His eyes are glassy, but he manages to force a weak smile. My heart begins to ache.

What have I done?

He lifts his hand and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear before letting his hand fall to my shoulder.

“Please remember, I’ll always be here for you,” he manages to choke out.

Guilt overcomes my body, pressing my lips together in an effort to smile and barely nodding my head in acknowledgement.

“When you figure it out, would you let me know? I don’t want to lose my best friend…”

If I don’t choose you, I’m not sure we’ll ever be able to remain best friends, Mark.

Part Two

Masterlist

#nct #nct 127 #nct mark #mark lee #nct drabbles #nct imagines #nct angst #mark lee drabbles #mark lee angst #nct 127 mark #nct oneshot #nct x reader #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #nct scenarios #mark lee scenarios

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oddcoupler222 · 6 years ago

Note

I remember a while ago you had a prompt fill where Margaery ran a radio show and Sansa fell in love with her voice. Is it rude if I ask what happened to it? It was so good!

not rude! I took it down, to reshop it into a longer oneshot, perhaps, but i’m really preoccupied right now with editing TWW so… I’ll post it again!

——

It wasn’t like Sansa was… in love with… a woman she’d never met - because that would be crazy. And if anything, Sansa was more than cautious when it came to her heart these days.

Maybe that was why crushing someone from a talk show was easy.

It might have also had something to do with the fact that Margaery was kind of perfect. Of course, Sansa didn’t know Margaery personally; she wasn’t crazy.

But Margaery always seemed to know what to say; she was hilarious, she was frank, she seemed to have all of the knowledge in the world and when she didn’t, she sure as hell still sounded confident.

She’d first stumbled upon her show when she’d moved to King’s Landing two years, blindly following her heart and her boyfriend Joffrey across the country. They’d had a big fight, one of their first actual fights that had scared Sansa, and when she’d been walking downtown to calm herself (because, in retrospect, living with Joffrey like that had been such a terrible idea) - feeling a bit lost and a lot lonely - she’d ended up sitting on a bench across from the King’s Landing Chronicles.

And fatefully, really, staring up at the billboard that had the picture of a woman’s smirk emblazoned with the words The Margaery Monologues.

She’d started listening later that night, and had been drawn right in.

There were Thursday night politics - where the show had begun four years ago, when it had begun as a political talk show of sorts. Until, that is, when Margaery had absolutely gone off on one of the candidates running for Prime Minister -

(“I’m sorry,” heaving sigh, “You know I pride myself on thoroughly discussing all of the issues from every angle. But are we all just going to fucking pretend he is even a viable candidate? My gods, I feel like I’m taking insanity pills every time I hear someone say his name as if it should be said anywhere other than a prison roll call.”)

- and instead of getting her fired, her twenty minute rant had been what had gotten her personality recognized and the show catapulted into it’s seedlings of prominence.

There were Margaery Morning segments - the once a week broadcast that Margaery did Monday mornings at 8, where she functioned mostly as an acerbic news anchor while simultaneously peppering in amusing stories and diatribes about morning commutes and coffee shops -

(“and I never want to hear a word against that little place on the corner of Fifth and Vine at the base of Aegon’s High Hill again. Their chai latte is amazing - also, sorry to the very cute girl who had to work behind the counter with the jackass this morning.”)

There were Guest Star Tuesdays, where Margaery featured a whole number of people in a mix of both conversational/interview tone. It could be politicians, it could be authors, it could be a handful of actors who had appeared, business owners. Sometimes it was members of Margaery’s own family or her friends. Whoever it was, it was always fun. It always felt like somehow, Sansa was a part of their conversation.

(she suspected that was just a quality Margaery had.)

There were Listener’s Choice segments on Wednesday, and those were her absolute favorites. The topics ranged all over the spectrum. From requesting personal stories about Margaery - which they always got, but even more so on Wednesdays - to relationship advice and anecdotes, to book/movie/show reviews… the sky was the limit.

(“So, everyone, after tonight’s terrifying discussion about the state of mostly hetero relationships, I’m going to leave you with this: if someone treats you poorly, you can always do better. Don’t stay with someone just because you’re worried about being alone.” a beat, lighter, joking tone, “And - this one for the ladies out there - if men are disappointing you, there’s always women,” quiet chuckling, “Okay, okay, before I keep going on, remember to send in questions, comments, and stories to be addressed on next Wednesday’s show. Until next time, darlings.”)

She didn’t know if it was pathetic to admit that some of Margaery’s commentary and advice about relationships were the things that had given her the courage to walk away from Joff when things had gotten really bad. Actually, truly, scarily bad.

(“I know it’s not always easy to walk away from a bad situation – and yes, if we all recall from my many tales, I’m not one who often indulges in relationships. But for Scared Without Support, you wrote here that you need that extra step to walk away: I’ll be that extra step. Don’t walk - run - from this asshole. With police protection, if necessary. I’d offer my own services there, too, but I’m afraid my virtues lay with beauty and brains rather than brawn.”)

It may be pathetic, but it was true.

… and okay, it might have also had something to do with the segment that aired at midnights on Fridays - Margaery After Dark - where she talked about all matters pertaining to sex.

That was a relatively new segment; it had been added only two months ago, and the when time she’d listened to the first segment, Sansa had realized after laying in bed with her earbuds in, listening to Margaery’s voice as she’d talked about sex - (sex toys, positions, funny stories, seductive stories. Tales about her own sexuality and experiences but most specifically, Margaery ending her show by expanding on what being with a woman was and how it felt and her favorite parts of being with women, her voice a notch lower than it usually was)

It wasn’t until it had ended that Sansa realized she’d laid shock still for an entire hour, that her heart was beating fast, her cheeks were flushed, and that between her legs… well, she was more than a little aroused.

She was doing better now than she had in years -

After leaving Joffrey six months ago, she’d stayed with Shae, the older but protective woman who’d worked with her at the library, who had offered to maim Joff several times. But she finally had her feet steadily under her.

And her own apartment, that she was able to pay for with her part-time work in the evenings at the library (that she would hopefully be able to quit soon) and the fact that some more prominent people had started hiring her for her side job - baking cakes, pies, tarts, cookies… all sorts of goods, from home - thanks in particular to Shae’s fiance who worked at the capitol building.

The only thing that was messing her up, really, was her gods damn neighbor. Her next door neighbor who seemed to operate at a completely different schedule than she did. And Sansa knew that waking up at 4 or 5 (it was usually perfectly timed for her to listen… or re-listen to Margaery’s show from the previous night) in the morning to get through her current baking orders was not typical, and she always did her best to keep her noise level down.

(there had been a few instances where she’d certain things or, the first time she’d flambe’d and hadn’t realized exactly how sensitive the smoke alarm was, so - well, that had been a process that she was sure her neighbor didn’t appreciate. but she tried)

Her neighbor had no such qualms - he/she/they, who knows, as Sansa hadn’t run into them even after over a month. But whomever they were often came in late. Late enough that Sansa was often in bed. Sometimes with what sounded like friends? Groups of people laughing and chatting. Music being played. Sometimes bringing decidedly loud female company (that was how she’d realized that their bedrooms shared a wall).

In fact, the only interaction they’d had was somewhat passive aggressive (Sansa had left a tray of cookies outside of her door her second week in, with a note, “Hi! I’m Sansa, your new neighbor in 12B. Sorry you weren’t around when I knocked, it would have been nice to meet you. So, I’m sorry this might sound rude/weird, but is there a chance you could possibly try to keep it down at night? I have early mornings for work. Enjoy the cookies!”) -

and in return she’d received an empty plate back, with a prettily scrawled note (decidedly feminine but she wasn’t making any assumptions), “Hello neighbor, the cookies were delicious. And I would personally appreciate it if your alarm clock didn’t go off so early and if there were no more fire alarms before dawn. I keep late nights (sometimes) for work. I’m sure we’ll cope. 12A.”

So. She’d done her best to keep quieter in the mornings, and she thought she heard a bit of a difference in her neighbor’s guests coming over less frequently, and the female company seemed to also be happening a bit less frequently (though there was a burst of laughter from the other side of the wall and a lot of shushing, the night after she’d left the note, which had somewhat made her feel mocked, but. Oh well).

She didn’t meet her neighbor until almost two months after moving in. Running late to do a consult for a client who wanted Sansa to potentially make a cake for a bachelorette party, and after that she would have to essentially run to her shift at the library, she’d left her apartment, clutching a batch of tester cupcakes in a carrier.

And slammed right into the woman leaving the adjacent door, the cupcakes falling to the ground, hearing her own, “No!” leave her before she could stop it.

She was already bemoaning her cupcakes, because she definitely did not have enough time to redo those! Before she turned to her neighbor, and she could only stare in horror at the way the cup of what seemed to be steaming hot black coffee streamed down the woman’s white blouse as her exclamation, “Gods damn it!” seemed to echo down the hall.

Her cheeks burned at the realization that she was just - staring at her chest, her very ample chest, as her shirt stuck to her like a second skin, and her stomach flipped, even as apologies started rolling off of her lips, “I’m - I’m so sorry. I’m so -”

Everything died on her lips, though, the moment her gaze climbed higher and higher and…

No, she wasn’t in love with a woman she’d never met, but she’d certainly looked at the icon for her podcast to recognize the quirk of soft looking lips (though in the icon they were smirking rather than decidedly scowling) -

It was as though she was having an out of body experience, really. Because she could hear the blood rushing through her ears, as she slowly tracked her eyes higher than that recognizable mouth…

And took in Margaery’s face for the first time. Margaery’s absolutely stunningly gorgeous face, and Sansa was just - frozen.

Until that voice snapped her out of it, “Of fucking course today of all days,” Margaery murmured, tugging at her shirt in agitation, voice just as smooth and alluring - even pissed - as it was over airwaves, before golden eyes snapped at her, “Hello? Are you okay?”

Her voice was short, now, clearly a snap, because Sansa had been standing there for almost a full minute not saying anything.

Her heart was in her throat though, her stomach dipping low and, “I - y-eah?” she barely managed to squeak out.

Margaery quirked an eyebrow at her like she was a moron (she knew she sounded like one, though) before she sighed, and checked her watch, before she rolled her eyes and shook her head, “I don’t have time for this. I have to go. Seven hells,” was muttered under her breath, before she took off down the hallway.

Margaery - Margaery - disappeared down the hall with a flourish of glossy, curled light brown hair and the linger of intoxicating perfume.

And Sansa was left standing there, with her cupcakes mushed down at her feet, also running late, her cheeks flushed, heart pounding and -

Well if she wasn’t positive that she’d had an actual crush on Margaery before, there was just no doubt about it now.

And if she really wasn’t sure about it then? She would have been later that night.

When, after returning home and changing into her pajamas, still somewhat reeling from her day, there was a knock on her door.

Where Margaery stood, with a bottle of wine and a small smile on her face, “Hello. I’m your neighbor, 12A, Margaery. It’s nice to meet you.”

That smile was almost dizzying to see in person - the voice was even more so.

“Uh, hi? Hi. Hello,” her eyes widened at herself, “I’m -”

“Sansa, yes - I remember the cookies,” her smile turns wry, “I wanted to apologize for earlier today,” she gestures to the wine, “If you’d like to have a glass together.”

She clenched her hand around the doorknob, because her heart stopping and her mind screaming YES didn’t seem like the most conducive way to not scare her.

She had to clear her throat, “Um, I - you don’t owe me an apology,” is what came out. Really it was a loaded statement on her part - she owed a lot to Margaery, inadvertently. Not that the other woman knew it, but still, “I mean, I did ruin your shirt. And I’m sorry. Again.”

Margaery waved her hand, her eyes going warm in a way that Sansa - well she could have only imagined Margaery’s eyes looking like that for the last year, “Well, I also caused you to drop whatever creation you had in your carrier and I’m sure it was delicious. And unlike you, I didn’t have the good grace to apologize earlier because I was a bit of a bitch and in more than a bit of a hurry.” She quirked an eyebrow, “Besides, Thursday nights, I typically have my brother and best friend over for some drinks and a bit of catching up, but I was hoping you’d like to join me tonight?”

That was how Sansa found herself sitting with Margaery, on her own couch, pleasantly flushed from the wine, an hour later. They’d covered multiple topics from their original… issues (“I should also apologize while I’m here for my late nights. Though I stand by the fact that your early mornings can also be a killer,” she’d winked and Sansa was completely charmed, “But I think we’ve gotten a decent rhythm down in the last few weeks.” - and they had.),

to light conversation about how they’d found their respective apartments (and Margaery’s eyes were alight with sympathy when she’d tried to skate over the Joffrey topic), until they’d landed on jobs, and -

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re a baker; I truly ate all of your cookies myself within a few days,” Margaery sighed, almost dreamily. “I almost asked for more at one point when I was a bit stressed out, but I figured we didn’t have that rapport yet.”

“You can ask whenever you want,” slipped out, and she flushed, before she cleared her throat, “But I’m not a full time baker, yet. Just, a little home thing. One day, though.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she took another sip, before adding, “I host a little broadcast radio show of sorts, out of the Chronicle; I had a meeting with the executives earlier, which was why I was so - you know.”

This was where Sansa should have said, “Actually, sorry to be weird, but - I know. I listen to it,” or even, “Oh, that’s why you sound familiar, I’ve heard the show a couple of times.”

Instead, she blushed and gulped down her wine, before toying with the base of the glass, “Oh! Well, that’s, um, cool.”

Margaery gave her a smile and her stomach twisted so tightly she almost exploded.

Somehow, it became a thing.

Margaery started knocking on her door every Thursday - no longer ever really hosting her brother and friend, saying that they instituted a date night together - and she’d come in with a bottle of wine, and they’d talk. Way later than Sansa typically stayed awake, to be entirely honest. But it was like she couldn’t tear herself away.

… and sometimes she came over on Saturdays and sporadically throughout the week, too.

If she thought she’d liked Margaery just from hearing her on her show, her in person was so much more. Her smiles were bright and infectious, her laughter even more so. And it was so strange, because she was the same person she was in her podcast, but also - so much more.

She sometimes sat with her while she baked, or Sansa taught her how to make simple recipes, and Margaery looked incredibly adorable with a look of overt concentration as she got a bit of flour on her cheek.

Some nights, she would come over with her laptop and say she was doing “research” for work, and would murmur under her breath as she browsed the internet and made some notes for what Sansa could only presume was her next segment.

And they just… talked. About everything. Sansa told her about Joffrey for real and how she’d been in a terrible situation, stuck with him and terrified, and Margaery, with a fierce look in her eyes, wrapped her in a hug that Sansa could have melted into for probably her entire life. If anything, Sansa knows she’s truly, for real, in love with Margaery when Margaery’s next segment is an unplanned show on domestic abuse, complete with call-ins with a licensed therapist, and an impassioned, emotional speech.

Margaery told her about how close she’d been to her grandmother growing up and how she’d wanted to just make her proud, and that when she’d started her show it had been hard because it was really the first time she’d truly disappointed her -

(”I just don’t know if I want to fight to affect change if that means I’ll have to bite my tongue my entire life to do it,” she’d told her one night, voice softer than normal. And Sansa assured her probably too quickly, that her voice and opinions made her who she was and she desperately didn’t want her to change that).

The Margaery Monologues almost seemed like a double edged sword now. Because she felt guilty, almost, listening religiously - unable to stop herself - while Margaery had no idea.

(she felt very guilty, when, after a particularly in-depth and charged Margaery After Dark, she’d been unable to refrain to touching herself, listening to Margaery’s voice. She’d attempted to just sleep, but had tossed and turned, just hearing Margaery as she’d talked about what turned her on and - well, it had been a show based around female masturbation and Sansa ended up coming listening to Margaery talk about touching herself “Women are complicated, pleasing us takes practice. And most of that practice begins on ourselves.” And she’d paused after, heart pounding, when she’d realized that she was not quiet at all, and all she could do was hope that Margaery hadn’t yet gotten home and heard her)

But it was also almost better in a way, now that she knew Margaery as a person. Because Margaery as a person was so amazing and beautiful and even smarter, even funnier, even more witty, and charming and everything - that getting more of her through her show was just like an added bonus.

The worst part, really, worse than her guilt even was this -

“Yes, thank you for your nosy questions as we discuss relationship goals this Listener’s Choice Wednesday - I will end this segment by saying that I do indeed have my sights set on a very lovely woman.”

That comment came two months into their budding friendship. And it was almost like a punch in the stomach. The mentions of the mystery woman continued through the following weeks -

“She’s ridiculously gorgeous, like you would not even believe.”

“No, we aren’t together, but here I am like a pining fool. I’ve never been this kind of person before, and now - what the hell is wrong with me? Should I be asking you guys for advice now?” (that had actually lead to a great Listener’s Choice Wednesday in which Margaery had largely spoken to listeners comments and engaged with them through a life stream)

“For the first time in my life, I’m worried about making a move. Typically I would have no problem, even if she’s presumed straight. But there’s something about her that I just can’t stand the thought of scaring off.” (okay, and Margaery was just so - sweet? It hurt in good and bad ways).

Especially because Margaery never spoke about Dream Girl - the object of Margaery’s affection had developed a nickname last month - to her, to Sansa. She never brought home any women anymore, at least not that Sansa knew of. And she didn’t mention dates, but in fairness, Sansa didn’t really ask, either.

“For tonight’s After Dark segment, we’re going to discuss fantasies,” Margaery spoke smoothly, her voice sliding through Sansa even as her stomach seemed to tingle, and guilt guilt guilt but she couldn’t stop herself, especially when Margaery delved into aspects of her own fantasy -

“And when bringing up fantasies, personally? It’s impossible for me to not bring up voice. Ironically, I’ve actually never been something that overtly turned me on, but… Dream Girl,” a deep-throated sigh, “We all know she’s gorgeous - well I do, and you all know my thoughts - but it was her voice that just, pulled me in. A little deeper in tone, especially when she’s concentrating or being thoughtful, and it just clings to certain words in a way that can make me instantly wet.”

Desire and jealousy, and she couldn’t stop listening.

“Honestly, at this point, one of my fantasies is for her to tell me exactly what to do. I want to watch her and hear her tell me how to touch myself, for her to touch me and tell me exactly what she is thinking, feeling.”

Torture.

“And, gods, in such a twist of fate, I heard her while she was touching herself. It’s happened a few times. That voice, moaning and whimpering and - I guess that is the delicious torture of living next door and sharing a wall with the object of your affections.”

Everything stopped, her breathing was heavy, and - she could only stare at her ceiling. Hearing things, she must be -

“Truly, all I can say at this point is that my true fantasy is to go next door and make her make all of those sounds myself.”

Sansa yanked out her earbuds, breathing heavy.

And she did the only thing she could think to do -

She found herself outside of where it all began: Margaery recorded inside of the Chronicle building. She was lucky Margaery had brought her by there a few weeks ago after they’d had lunch, because the security guard had remembered her and let her inside.

She was in her pajamas, with her hair looking rumpled as hell, she was sure, and she could only hear in her head all of the doubts (maybe somehow she’d dozed off and thought Margaery referred to her as Dream Girl? What if she’d misunderstood somehow?) but she was ignoring them because she couldn’t stop herself -

Especially when she tapped on the glass with her shaking fingers, and she saw Margaery cut herself off, surprise taking over her features, before she said something into her mic, before she opened the door -

“I listened to you,” she confessed, her head buzzing and she couldn’t let Margaery get a word out first, “Your show. For months. I - I’d just moved here, and I was so lonely and you made me feel not alone. And I liked you, I just - I liked you the whole time? But I couldn’t tell you that, when I realized we were neighbors because I didn’t want you to think I was some sort of crazy person?” Even though now she was showing up like a crazy person…

“And so I listened in secret and never told you every time we hung out, but I just I liked you so much. Then you - tonight - you said… what you said… about sharing a wall,” gods she only just realized that meant Margaery had heard her touch herself - thinking about her, though she didn’t know that.

She didn’t know which one of them moaned when Margaery surged up, her hands sliding through Sansa’s hair to press their mouths together. All she knew was that it was the best she’d ever felt, and she didn’t know if her mouth would ever stop tingling like this.

Especially when Margaery pulled back just enough to whisper against her lips, “I’d say this ranks fairly high in the fantasy department, too.”

(when she listened to the show the next day, still dazed and amazed, and realized that Margaery hadn’t paused it when she’d appeared, she realized it was both of them who’d moaned)

#sansaery #sansa stark #margaery tyrell #sansaery fic #ficlet?#idk its short #game of thrones

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