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yourfangirlfriend · 4 years ago

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It’s Nothing Serious - Chapter Six

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Five and a Half

A/N: idk if this is good but I’ve been putting off writing it and perfect is the enemy of done so here you go, I had fun

It’s not not serious.

At least, this seems to be the mutual conclusion you have both silently reached after that weirdly intimate night you never talked about, either.

And yes, you’re aware of how childish that is.

For two people voluntarily living in one of the more dangerous cities on the continent, it turns out you’re both pretty cowardly. But why put yourselves through the agony of all that when you could both instead play a game of emotional chicken to test where the boundaries are?

You go first the morning the two of you wake up in your bed. You both woke up in a tangle of limbs and slid out of bed after the second snooze alarm went off. He had just pulled on his jeans when he reached for the shirt you had folded the night before.

“Wait,” you said. You walked to the closet and pulled a crisp black shirt off its hanger, continuing to brush your teeth and you walked up and deposited it in his hand. “I washed this after you let me wear it home.”

That night we made pasta and I spilled sauce on my shirt and you took it off and fucked me in your kitchen until the chicken burnt-

He looks up at you, his eyebrows raised.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head before pulling it over his shoulders. “Thank you.”

You give him a look before dipping into the bathroom to spit.

After a quick cup of coffee, you’re both striding towards your door when you stop short. He turns and looks at you, waiting for you to take another step and flick the deadbolt. Instead, you ask

“Are you going to be okay? Today, I mean. With...”

His face falls a little, like he was expecting to get out of this without you mentioning it. It makes your heart hurt.

“I’m fine,” he says, curtly. He drops his head to look at his shoes. You swallow.

“So...drinks tonight? Still?” You reach out and bop his hand with yours.

“Not if you don’t open the door.”

You roll your eyes, walking forward and flicking the bolt. You pull the door open and he catches it, holding it back for you as you take the first step out.

“...yeah. I’ll be back around 6,” he says as you finish locking the door. You drop the keys in your purse, straightening up as the two of you walk towards and out the doors.

“Bar or your place?”

“Mine.”

“You sure? It’s my turn to buy,” you say.

“No, it’s not,” he says as he opens the passenger door for you, gesturing that you climb in. You do and watch as he walks around the front to his side. “Besides, mines quieter.”

You nod, staring forward as he starts the car and pulls into the street. Like every morning, his hand falls to your knee and you feel content with his answer.

You can’t help yourself, though, when he pulls up in front of the school and parks, waiting for you to climb out. Usually, it’s a pretty quick, platonic affair- a quick “thanks, Javi” before you open the door and swing your legs out. This morning, though,

“You know,” he says when you reach for the handle. “You...you don’t have to take care of me.”

You drop your hand before turning back to face him. And maybe it’s the coffee you drank took quickly, or maybe it’s the way last night is still lingering in your head, but

“I like taking care of you.”

You reach out and pull his face to yours, letting the kiss linger before pulling away.

“See you tonight,” you said, flashing him a quick smile. If you’re not mistaken, you see the corner of his mouth twitch up before he remembers himself, and gives you a cool masculine nod. You climb out and watch as he drives away before you hear behind you:

“¿Es tu novio?”

You turn around and see three little girls from your class huddled together and giggling that they just caught the teacher doing something naughty. Despite yourself, you smile through your teacher's voice.

“Entrad, niñas. La clase está a punto de empezar.”

He makes the next move when he shows up outside the school, waiting against his car when you walk out that afternoon and he flags you down.

“Hey,” he says when you approach his car.

“Hey,” you say. “What’s up?”

“Was told to go home early,” he says. “Figured...” he waves his hand up, gesturing to you. “You got plans?”

“Was just going to swing by the liquor store. For tonight.”

“It’s not your turn to buy,” he says, moving out of the way so you can open the door. You send him a look.

“It’s the 90s. Let a girl buy you a drink, Javi.”

He smiles, and over his shoulder, you see one of the girls from this morning- Cara - sending you a shit-eating grin.

Despite yourself, you give her a little wave as Javi drives the two of you out of the parking lot.

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

It becomes a game after that. He picks you up from school. You ask him to stay the night again, and he does. The next morning, he kisses you goodbye in front of Steve, whose eyebrows you see pop up from the corner of your eye. That night, you stay over at his and leave the spare toothbrush you brought next to his in the bathroom. The next day, he comes to your house with take-out and a tape and the two of you fall asleep on the couch, drunk and full. Soon, you don’t remember a night where you aren’t sleeping in the same bed or whose turn it is to initiate a sleepover. You just meet at your smoking spot and then, inevitably, one of you will lead the other to their door for the night, and inevitably, the other one will stay.

The small reminders of each other begin to pile up in your respective apartments. A mystery toothbrush appears in your bathroom. Then there’s a jacket and two of his shirts hanging in your closet. A drawer in his bathroom slowly begins to fill with evidence of your presence- hair ties, bobby pins, the odd bit of makeup. During one of your drunk nights, when you are once again lamenting the lack of decoration, you draw a stick-figure portrait of the apartment - you, Javi, Steve, and the creepy silent man who you only ever see leave his place to buy fish - and tape it to his fridge. He tells you you hang around kids too much, but every time you come back, it’s still up.

Then the bigger things happen. You go to dinner with him and Steve. You bring him on a double date with Alessa and Frankie. He kisses you goodbye in front of the school every morning, and you reach out and hold his hand whenever the two of you walk outside- which you do now, by the way. You walk to the grocery store, you walk to the liquor store, you walk to the corner store to buy pre and post-coital smokes, and every time his hand finds yours. You’re still having sex, you still fuck, but now, sometimes, to what would once be your disgust, it’s slower. Softer. There’s eye contact and prolonged kisses and caressing and very little hair pulling.

And god. Now there’s cuddling.

You no longer sit across the sofa to hanger a drink. No, now your legs are in his lap or his arm is around your shoulder or some other horribly intimate design the two of you just naturally find yourself falling into whenever you’re in proximity. Now, after sex, he’s pulling you to him or you’re pulling him to you or you just both mutually descend towards each other. And when you’re all wrapped around each other, the worst thing of all happens. He talks.

It’s not like you hadn’t talked before. You were friends, after all. He already knew about your kids you taught, your parents, and some random, funny stories about your life. In turn, he had told you some stories about his mom, about the ranch, and about the people in his life. But now it’s different. Now, whenever you two are alone in the dark, bodies pressed against each other under the sheet with such softness it’s grotesque, the walls come down. He tells you about his mom's death, and how he didn’t cry for months. He tells you how afraid he is of himself, and how he worries she would hate the person he is. He tells you he doesn’t think he’s a good person, because of the women he’s hurt ( -“The DAY of?” “I’m not proud of it”-) and the people he failed (“-supposed to get her out, keep her safe, and I couldn’t-“) and how, though he won’t go into detail about it, he’s worried how numb he’s become to things, and that he’s only going to get number (“-you see so many people die, there’s got to be a point you just stop feeling that, like self-preservation, and that’s fucking scary-“). You listen. You think you may be the first person who has listened in a while. When he tries to apologize, that he shouldn’t have said that or that he’s a mopey sad sack or you don’t want to hear this, you kiss his hands.

“Javi,” you tell him. “I like listening to you. Anything you have to say.”

Looking back, you think the look he gives you the first time you said that was when you really knew. But now, you’re still playing dumb. You both are.

What’d he call it? Self-preservation?

To pay him back, you tell him about you. You try to match his scars, telling him about growing up in a loud, weird house you’d only learn at the age of fifteen was a commune. You tell him about all the times you caught your parents tripping out naked on drugs and having to drag them to bed, or how you had to watch your sister for days on end as a kid whenever they decided to go out on ‘spirit walks’, and how you eventually enrolled yourself in school after your mothers homeschooling attempts fell to the wayside. That one time when you were six and accidentally took a tab of acid your mother and father’s sometime lover, Sunshine, left on top of your peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You try and tell him the good things, too- how you speak five languages (“what?” “English, Spanish, German, Russian, and some Chinese.” “...what?” “My parents were communists!”), how you used to be really good at gymnastics (“is that why you can’t do a handstand?” “I can do a handstand-“ ), and the things in yourself that you’re afraid of- your denial, your anxiety, your bad habit of never calling your sister back and how that actually reveals you’re a sociopath. And in turn, he listens. He squeezes your hand. He asks you questions when you know he wants to and lets it be silent when you can’t bring yourself to answer.

About three months into this, you find yourself lying on your side one night, staring at his beautiful, stupid, snoring face as he drools against your pillow, and for the first time, you finally, finally, finally let yourself admit it.

It is serious.

---

“Well no shit.”

You scowl at Lisa over your glass.

“What? Like we all didn’t already know? For months?”

“Leave her alone,” Alessa elbows her. “I think it’s sweet.”

“You think everything’s sweet.” Lisa rolls her eyes. “You tell him yet?”

You bite the inside of your lip and look down at your drink. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Timing?”

“You spend all your time together.”

You shake your head, taking a swig.

“Coward.”

“What!”

“I said you’re a coward,” Lisa says as Maritza deposits the tray of shots between the two of you.

“Who’s a coward?” she asks sweetly.

“Eloise.”

“Yeah, I am,” you reach forward and take two of the shot glasses, snatching the one in front of Lisa before downing it.

“Hey!” She yelps.

You flip her off and down the second.

She huffs. “Bitch.”

You shake your head and march towards the bar to order another tray.

----------

To be fair, he knew it would be like this.

He had to. It’s you. It’s both of you. Two weirdly cagey people who don’t like having their guard down and never, ever want to be the one person who sticks themselves out for ridicule. The little dares over the past few months have been one thing, like you’re placing pebbles on a scale, seeing how long it takes until it collapses under the weight. Nightly sleepovers? Pebble. Toothbrushes? Pebbles. Sharing childhood trauma after a round of particularly kinky sex where you had your hands tied to the headboard and it inadvertently reminded you of the time you got your hands stuck in some old handcuffs your sister and you had found and you had to spend three hours with your hands looped around a bed frame because Tanya was seven and when she found your mom they were high on peyote and it turns out it takes five drugged-out hippies to find a tiny pair of keys to free a small girl in the woods after it’s already gotten dark and then he told you about the time his uncle had drunk too much shiner and tried to shoot an apple off his cousins head with a BB gun but missed and now the cousin has one eye kind of like Lorenzo and then you both chain-smoked cigarettes and wondered what a glass eye feels like - alright. Maybe five pebbles.

But...actually saying it?

Stones. Big, ugly stones. The kind that fall on cars.

No wonder you got shit-faced.

“Javvvvvvvi,” you sang through his door. You pounded out the melody that only made sense in your head. “Heyyyyy,”

You hear footsteps approaching from the other side and you stand up straight, ready to drunkenly seduce him with your pose when the door swings open and-

“Can I help you?” She asks, annoyed.

You take the woman in front of you in. She’s tall, with long honey blonde hair that falls across her shoulders. Her waist is bared under the halter top she wears, and you’re only a little jealous of the toned plane of her stomach and the long legs that stretch out from her short shorts.

“I...” you start.

“What are you doing? Get away from the door!” Javi appears from behind her, reaching out to take her arm and pull her back. His eyes fall on you, though, and he drops his hand.

“El- hey- I thought you were-?”

“I was...what uh,” you raise your hand to the woman. “What the fuck?”

“Who the fuck are you?” The woman hisses back. Javi reaches up and takes her arm, pulling her back gently.

“I told you not to answer the door-“

“No, I think I’ll leave-“ you toss your hands up. “Enjoy your night.”

“She’s not- it’s not like that-”

“OH PLEASE, I wasn’t born yester-“

The door behind you opens, and the two or you swivel you hear to see Steve enter holding two bags of food. He looks between you and Javier, then to the door.

“Hey,” he says finally.

You give him a pathetic wave. He waves back before turning to Javi.

“Is she-“

“Yeah,” Javier says. He points to his apartment “Could you actually-?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods a bit too quickly, moving behind him and disappearing into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

Javier turns back to you.

“She needs a place to stay before we move her. I was going to tell you when you got back.”

“Ohhhhhhh,” you draw out. You grimace, before looking back to him. “...Sorry.”

“You really think I’d do that?”

You open your mouth to answer before he cuts in again.

“Are you drunk?”

“I-“ you start before huffing. Fucking cop. “Yes! Of course I’m drunk! It’s tequila night! I even, kindly, I might add,” you reach in your bag and pull out the bottle you picked up on the way home. “Got some for you, too!”

“Who did you think she was?”

“Javi-“ you groan, squeezing your eyes shut. This wasn’t supposed to be your night. Tonight was supposed to be about getting drunk with your friends, then getting drunk with Javi, then having drunk sex on your couch loud enough the upstairs fish guy would have to bury his head in what you only assumed was a pile of rotting fish carcasses in his trash to drown out your moans.

Now it’s this.

You shake your head and nod to your door, beckoning him to follow. It’s tense, and he watches over your shoulder as your hands shake trying to pull the right key. Once you manage to unlock the door, you hurry inside and deposit your things on the table, before turning back and facing him.

You open your mouth to say something-

-and then shut it again. You sigh.

“You thought I was sleeping with her.”

You snap your head back up to see him, cross-armed in front of you. You shake your head.

“This isn’t fair, I’m drunk. You’re not.”

He walks over to the bag you threw on the couch and unscrews the bottle you brought home. He takes a swig, holding eye contact as he gulps a third of the small bottle down, all while you watch flabbergasted.

“Say it,” he says, screwing the cap back on.

“You’re going to be sick-“

“Eloise.”

“Well, it’s not like we’ve talked about it!” You snap. “We never- said! What we’re doing!” You drop your hands to your side and turn, walking to the kitchen and leaning forward onto the counter. Javi follows you up, eying you.

“You thought I was, though?”

“Yes! No? I don’t know!” You bring a hand to your face. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just got scared. I guess...I’ve been scared? Lisa thinks so, the bitch-“

“Scared of what? Me sleeping with someone else?”

“No! Not- necessarily-“

“You really think- Jesus, it’s like we never-“

“Hey, don’t!” You spin to face him. “Don’t turn this around on me. You never brought this up. We haven’t talked about this. We talked about everything else and are doing everything else like dinner dates and sweet sex and fucking movie nights but we haven’t...said anything! Saying things matters!”

He stares at you.

“I didn’t think it did! I thought I was fine with just...letting...ugh!” You bring the heels of your palms to your eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that last shot.”

“Eloise, what are you-“

“I’m not a coward!” You point at him. “I’m not! I’m just- it’s just-“

“No one said you were!”

“Lisa did!”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t...Ugh! They really make strong drinks at that bar! Because I haven’t said-“

“Jesus Christ, WHAT.”

Ooh, you wish you could just fall apart and have him see what’s running through your mind right now. You feel the anger in your stomach bubble. He’s really annoyed with you for thinking the worst of him, and maybe he has a right, but you two haven’t talked about it. You had just assumed- assumed he felt the same way, assumed the little intimacies have built up in such a way that you had something real and concrete, and especially that you both weren’t fucking other people. But the second she opened the door it felt like your worst fear had come true: you were the idiot who had let their guard down first and got hurt, because they were too stupid to realize what this was, and you couldn’t even be mad. Because you hadn’t talked about it. Because he never technically said he was with you.

But now he’s looking like he’s feeling the exact same way, only he’s the idiot. He’s the idiot for confiding in you and crying on your tits and telling you all those fears and worries and believing you when you kissed his hands and told him you thought he was a good man. He’s worried that you’ve always seen him this way- as the guy who would cut and run and betray you, and maybe if you think that, then it’s true. Maybe he was kidding himself into thinking someone like you could believe in his goodness, after all he’s done.

Fuck, you may be drunk but it does make you insightful.

It may be too late though. Because he’s dropped his hands from his hips, tired of waiting for an explanation. He’s making towards the door, murmuring something about having to work and it all just seems like it’s slipping out of your fingers like you can see he’s building up the wall again and this time you’re not going to be able to tear it down-

“Javi,” you say, your voice strained. He stops and turns to you, and you know you only have a few seconds to do it. You try and form the words, but your tongue isn’t working and maybe Lisa was right, maybe you are a coward, but you have to try.

“I like taking care of you.” You say, pathetically, dropping your hands to your sides.

A beat passes. He brings his hands to his hips, waiting for a further explanation. You sigh and walk down to stand in front of him. “I like having you take care of me...and...I haven’t wanted to tell you, because I don’t want to scare you but maybe that’s just me ‘projecting’ or whatever Alessa said. She’s really annoying now that she’s doing that psychology class-“

“El.” He says, not without softness. You feel his fingers come under your chin, gesturing for you to look up at him.

This wasn’t the plan. This was supposed to be a hookup. Then a friendship. You don’t want to lose that.

But now he’s staring down at you like that, and your drunk brain is turning over itself as you think maybe that train has already left. Maybe it left a long fucking time ago, and the two of you have just been hanging onto the back, waiting for the other person to let go first.

But you don’t want to let go. You never really did. You were just waiting for him to give you a sign so you could make it look like you were jumping off together instead of you pathetically holding on as he disappears behind you.

But from the way his thumb traces your jaw and his other hand reaches forward to take your hand in his, you think maybe he’s been utilizing the same strategy, and he’s been just as scared as you.

Well, now you can either let go or try to pull yourself up.

So.

Are you a coward or not?

He wets his lips before his eyes drop. He looks defeated. And at that moment you decide – fuck it.

Between the gymnastics and dragging your high parents to bed and all this fucking holding you’ve been doing inside of you, you’ve got strong enough arms.

So.

Fuck it.

“El, I don’t-“

“I love you,” you say without thinking. “And yes I’m tequila drunk, but I don’t think that takes away from-“

You’re stopped as he leans forward and presses his lips to yours, cutting you off. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer and deepening the kiss. You feel him pulling at your top and you shimmy it off and over your head, tossing it to the side before dipping your hands down and unbuckling his belt as he unbuttons his shirt before you. You drop your hand down the front of his pants, jerking him softly as he moans into your mouth. You feel him guiding you to the couch, and when the back of your knees hit the arm you drop down and begin to pull his pants down for him as he rids himself of his shirt. You’re about to take him in your mouth when he pushes you down, your back hitting the cheap leather as he crawls over you, pulling your skirt up to your hips. He pauses.

“You always skip the underwear in girls' night?”

“Only when I’m coming back to you.”

That gets him, because a second later he’s between your legs, thrusting inside of you. You let out a cry and drop your head back, exposing your neck to him as he continues to pump into, his hands reaching behind and you and grabbing a fistful of your hair.

“Say it again,” he says.

“I don’t wear underwear-“

“No,” he growls, dropping his hand down between your legs to play with you. You let out another little cry.

“I love you,” you say. “I-I’ve loved you for a long time- ahhh!” The next thrust hits a little too well. “Ah, fuck, Javi- right there-“

“Keep going-“

“YOU keep going- fuck, has your dick gotten bigger?”

“El-“ he lets out a moan. Taking advantage of the moment, you slip out from under him and switch positions, pressing him back onto the couch and climbing atop of him. His hands settle on your hips as you ride him, pulling sounds from him that echo around your living room. When you cum he’s not long after, and the two of you collapse onto each other, breathing heavily as you come down with his hand holding the back of your neck.

“Hey,” he says finally. You lift your head and sit up, looking down at him. His eyes are glassy, and the look on his face makes you giggle.

“Are you drunk?”

“Yes,” he says. “But a wise woman once said that doesn’t take away from what I have to say.”

“She sounds smart, you should fuck her,” you say, moving to stand. He catches your wrist, pulling you back down onto his lap with a bounce.

“Give a girl a few minutes before round two-“

He cuts you off with a kiss. It’s slow and soft and you melt into it. The way you always melt into him.

When he pulls away, you chase after his grinning lips. He brings a hand to the side of your face, tracing his fingers down the side of your cheek.

“I love you, too.” He says. “I don’t know what that’s worth…but I do.”

You lean in, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

"Baby," you say "It's worth everything."

In the morning, you’ll have to contend with the knowing look Steve gives the two of you before asking “Good night?”, a joke that earns him a look from Javi and a deep blush and muttered apology from you. You’ll have to put up with the squeals from Maritza, Lisa, and Alessa when you tell them in the staff room during lunch. You’ll even get a look from your upstairs neighbor when you pass him and his fresh fish that next afternoon. Most of all, you’ll have to consider what the fuck this means for you and Javi and this scary, exhilarating little life you’re leading.

But.

Right now, you’re naked and smoking a cigarette on the couch with the man you love who loves you back, and you’re both laughing, and that's more than enough.

taglist: @fuckoffbard

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier Peña x oc #narcos #it's nothing serious #fic

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dreadfutures · 3 years ago

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aight let‘s talk ao3 tags again

the very nice tag wrangler I’ll be quoting from has given me permission to share their kind and thorough responses (all bolding/emphasis is mine) without identifying information. and we very nicely go through some of my own tags from my long fic Dead Pasts, Dread Futures. Many, many thanks to this wrangler for explaining so much to me.

Anyway. I present these discussions as a peacable offer of: these are many writers’ concerns, and they are valuable, and worth considering. don’t dismiss concerns about the tag limit off hand, and don’t insist that edge cases don’t matter.

tldr; at the moment, after all this discussion and back and forths and bullying, I still believe that having 75 tags, period, as the limit across ALLCharacters/Relationships/Fandoms/Additional Tags penalizes longfics. Period. If it were even a limit of 100 tags, or broken down by Tag Type, it would be a little more forgiving. For advertising and for content filtering purposes, it only helps writers and fic visibilty to be specific and thorough in tags. A limit like this just so clearly has the potential to negatively affect large fandom/large ensemble/long fics.

It feels like this decision is being very broadly based on a "for the majority" mindset, which has never been what AO3 is about, without actually physically looking at the kinds of fics it will affect. The tag system on AO3 has been able to give fic filtering and reader-judgement a nuance that no other platform has accomplished, and longfics and large ensemble fics still, I think, depend on that as both a courtesy and necessity. I saw the rough math someone did and know that almost all fics currently on AO3 are <25k or something like that, and sure, for the average oneshot, or for even a fic <100k, a tag limit that's very strict across all tag categories probably won't be felt at all. But it's clearly something that people who write certain types of fics, and take them very seriously, will feel. Like I genuinely don't want to have a million tags. I want to tag relevant content that allows potential readers to filter & include & exclude my fic as they so choose, but also, if it does show up in their search, I want to give them the information they want to be able to decide if they want to read my fic or not. I don't want to have to put all my content warnings into a giant summary, or into a giant author's note that grows and grows. The tags have been a very helpful way of accomplishing those. Being able to cut down on parallel/synned tags is great, but it still seems like longfics that deal with multiple fandom entries, large casts, and require content warnings will butt up against that limit very quickly.

tag limit discussions:

- long fic writers adding tags as they go

- writers of franchises with many installments and ensemble casts

- writers with extensive content warnings

- use of tags to clarify a filtered tag

- use of tags to demonstrate how content is handled

off the bat - stop being jerks

look, I know objectively fics don’t need to be tagged at all. I lived in the wild west, too, when “lemon” meant anything from the merest mention of arousal to an explicit vanilla sex scene to all out dead dove craziness. a large part of me still is of the opinion that readers should just read shit, and if they decide they don’t like it, just dip. but that’s not what we’re about here. tagging is a kindness that we voluntarily undertake, and it’s also a form of advertising.

tags are useful for their specificity, for filtering and exclusion purposes

(that’s one of the cruxes of the arguments both pro-shippers and antis make: you can filter things! But you can only filter things if they’re tagged.)

I also understand that a few asshole writers have ruined this for all of us by purposefully adding so many tags it slows down the site and makes pages fail to load and hides other fics because the tags take up 10 pages. i also am frustrated with kinkmemers who just have prompt fill fic dumping grounds that span multiple unrelated fandoms and are impossible to navigate.

...the answer is not to suggest to writers that we put all our content warnings and pairings and etc. in our summaries, or our A/Ns, or to insert a first chapter that is a placeholder summary/tags page/world state. tags are useful for their specificity, for filtering and exclusion purposes.

I also have been dealing with people being murderously angry, and super self-righteous and targeting and mean about my own tags, and tags in general. people who are anti-tag are being giant fucking dicks about it. like get over yourselves and let’s just talk about a website function lol. tags are useful for their specificity, for filtering and exclusion purposes.

THE ANSWER IS NOT TO GET RID OF TAGS.

Alright, so now that we’ve gotten that flippin’ straw argument aside.

The next thing anyone has been doing is going to my page and critiquing my tags. Let’s address redundant tags.

(the wrangler has done this nicely! no ridicule necessary!)

using my fic as an example:

If you tag your fic Female Lavellan/Solas (only), it will show up in the following searches: Inqusitor/Solas, Female Inquisitor/Solas, Lavellan/Solas, Female Lavellan/Solas. If you tag your fic Inquisitor/Solas (only), it will show up only in the Inquisitor/Solas search and in none of the others. If you tag with the most specific version, it will show up in the more general versions, but not the other way around. So there's no real reason to tag with the more general tags.

Though I will point out that if you don't use the canonical tag and tag your character or relationship with a custom name it will be synned to the nongendered version, because at some point the DA wranglers decided that they didn't want to make gender assumptions. So "Annabelle Lavellan" will be synned to "Lavellan (Dragon Age)" rather than "Female Lavellan (Dragon Age)", and someone searching for works with specifically "Female Lavellan" won't see it.

Response: In the fanfic writers server I'm in, we've talked about how tags work and are supposed to work extensively in the past. There's just always been a lot of confusion, which I think has been added to when people go and try to double-check for themselves and find instances where this treeing/synning is broken. Someone put out this guide (also here) for AO3 meta text this year, which has been referred to by multiple people in the server, and it says:

What if you wrote a fic for something where there's a movie based on a book, but the movie's really different, and you've used both things that are only in the movie and things that are only in the book? In that case you either tag your fic as both the movie and the book, or see if the fandom has an “all media types” tag and use that instead of the separate tags. If the fandom doesn't have an “all media types” tag yet, you can make one! Just type it in.

“All media types” fandom tags are also useful for cases where there are lots of inter-related series, like Star Wars; there are several tellings of the story in different media but they're interchangeable or overlap significantly, like The Witcher; or the fandom has about a zillion different versions so it's very hard, even impossible, to say which ones your fic does and doesn't fit, like Batman. Use your best judgement as to whether you need to include a more specific fandom tag such as “Batman (Movies 1989-1997)” alongside the “all media types” fandom tag, but try to avoid including very many. The point of the “all media types” tag is to let you leave off the specific tags for every version.

Which I believe is in direct contradiction to guidance to use the most specific tags, so that's definitely one source of confusion. The most recent ao3 meta text guide (https://archiveofourown.org/wrangling_guidelines/2 I think this one) doesn't present itself in a way that makes this clear for writers tagging their own works. The way authors usually go about tagging things (and what's in the FAQ) is to start typing into one of the boxes and look for what populates the drop down, which doesn't lend itself to knowing that there are trees, or knowing what tags are interrelated (it seems like a whole grab bag of tags get suggested, some in-fandom and some outside of fandom, some canon/parent/meta and some children/random freeform, in just about any field you start typing in).

I'm not sure what can really be done about this. Many of us have turned to ao3-comment-of-the-day and their posts about using Tags, and various sources on google, and have clearly come up with a whole load of conflicting advice.

Fundamentally, finding parent/meta tags for a tag as you’re tagging a fic is NOT clear to writers. The fact that a nested and a meta tag can both be suggested one after the other when filling in tags largely contributes to redundant tags.

Writing for Multiple Fandom Entries

Here’s what a tag wrangler had to say about my fandoms:

As with the relationship tree, you can look at the fandom tree here: https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Dragon%20Age%20-%20All%20Media%20Types and see how the fandom tags are related. Going back to your story Rogasha'ghi'lan as an example, it's tagged with Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: The Last Court. But as I said, you only need to tag with the lowest relevant level(s) on the tree in order for your fic to show up under the higher levels. So if you tag with Dragon Age: Inquisition and Dragon Age: The Last Court, it will show up not just under those categories, but also under Dragon Age (Video Games) and Dragon Age - All Media Types. And of course because you've tagged with the specific, if someone searches under, say, Dragon Age (Video Games), but doesn't want Inquisition or Last Court fic, they can use the exclude filter to show only the earlier games.

(So that's two more tags you can remove with no effect on searchability!)

In my (but not only my) own case, I am indeed writing for Origins, DA2, Inquisition, and Last Court extensively within the same fic, so I should be tagging for all of those, specifically, still. In order to make sure my fic is seen by the correct fans, I need multiple specific tags.

Longfic Tag Bloat (adding tags as you write a fic)

And like many other longfic writers, even if I narrow down my character tags only to those with dedicated character arcs longer than 5 chapters, I still have Loads & Loads of Characters (including Dalish from the Chargers!).

A lot of longfic writers I know add characters, relationships, and content warnings as they go along.

At 170 chapters/580k words, Dead Pasts had a ton of important relationships (for example, like Vivienne & Lavellan), and as a story it's nowhere near done. I found myself planning an arc from 171 onward that would introduce a very important relationship (Felassan & Lavellan). This is how longfics end up with so many, many, many character tags and relationship tags, which is another major criticism people seem to have about "people who abuse tags."

A solution that people propose online is "split your fic." Which is actually what I ended up doing...but the old relationships and fandoms from DPDF still apply to Rogasha'ghi'lan, so Rogasha'ghi'lan will have the same number and more tags than DPDF.

If I hadn't split the fic, I would have just kept adding tags to Dead Pasts...and still had the same problem of continually adding tags. They're not superfluous tags: someone who wants to see a plot that is deeply influenced by Vivienne & Lavellan will find that in my fic; someone who is looking to see a major Felassan & Lavellan friendship grow and drive plot will also find that in my fic.

My fic is long; there are other fics that are longer, or are going to be longer, with casts that are just as large or larger, with many relationships, and that's not even talking about content warnings.

Polycule / Relationship Tags

"Tagging a polycule like Iron Bull/Dorian/Lavellan requires four tags: Bull/Dorian/Lavellan, Bull/Dorian, Bull/Lavellan, Lavellan/Dorian"

This assumes that people who like Lavellan/Dorian will want to read Iron Bull/Dorian/Lavellan, which is often not the case. If your story Is Iron Bull/Dorian/Lavellan, tag it that way! It doesn't make any sense to me to tag with the pairs as well unless the story would be of interest to people who read for that pair, or unless that pair relationship is a big step in the story (like, if you have established Lavellan/Dorian, and then they bring in Bull, you might tag for both that pair and the trio). I mean, you can tag how you like, there's no requirement that tags correspond to content. But for me, personally, if I search on Dagna/Lace Harding (I am weak for dwarf women!) I do not want to get a Dagna/Lace Harding/Sera fic.

My personal tastes don't include poly fics, but several writers I know who write poly fics are adamant that: tons of readers will not know of the possibility of the poly fic until it shows up in a search result, and the individual relationships often are significant to the fics, especially in fics that are not oneshots. For example, a great number of "fav fics" are stumbled-across! We aren't interested in the Sera/Dagna/Lace polycule ourselves, but someone might not have considered it, found it, and said, "Hey! That's my new favorite." But if polycules are segregated and only searchable by the polycule itself, alas, what's the option for visibility at all if not tagging it as Lace/Dagna in addition?

Additional Tags

Knowing when something is a "character" and when something is "additional"

Knowing that "Warrior Lavellan" (or the [Name] Mahariel) would be more useful in an Additional Tag vs. a Character Tag is also something I'm not sure how we're supposed to know? Like, I'm glad to know it now, but it's definitely not at all obvious without you telling me why it would be more useful in Additional vs in Character. Especially when to me: Warrior Lavellan is a character, and the fact that it populated the Character tag for me says that it's a Character. Because like I said, the guidance has been: start typing, and if it appears in the drop down, use it. Or, for example, my friend has the Well of Sorrows personified as a Character. Like an actual character. Does that have to go under Additional Tags, or as a Character? How do I know?

Additional tags as tone/content indicators

A lot of writers / readers have approached the Additional Tags as a surface-level overview of understanding how an author is approaching many topics concerned in the fic. Like, Vivienne is a character in my fic, but specifically I am Vivienne-positive, which I feel is important to denote because she's important to my fic, and she's a divisive character. Mood/tone/theme indicators like "Pro-Vivienne" or "we are Vivienne-positive in this house" (or like Male-Female Friendship, or "Expansive Lore" vs "Lore - Freeform" which denote different things to me) in tags (which in the comments section on the ao3 blog post get derided as "chatty tags") are still important to me, though they're useless or far less likely to be used for filtering. (I had the thesis of the conflict of my fic: “empathy is the enemy of free will” “but hope is a choice” as “chatty tags,” among some that were more mundane but important: “sera shows up late in fic”)

More seriously, there are fics that have content warning tags for filtering purposes but also clarify those content warnings to give context to readers and allow them to make a decision whether or not the content actually fits their preferences, ie, one that specifies domestic abuse as a tag (which would be in the Additional Tags) for filtering purposes but also specifies "domestic abuse not present in x relationship" (which would also be in the Additional Tags, but is useless for filtering purposes, but is immensely helpful and demonstrably used by readers to decide if they're going to even bother reading the author's note of that fic).

People are also nervous that not being able to thoroughly tag content warnings is going to end up with unhappy readers amid all the purity culture flaming that's going on lately.

Like, personally I err on the side of "suck it up, reader, and just read and find out," for a lot of things (not talking about content warnings, but talking about mood/tone additional tags), but also, given that there is already a venue here to let readers know what they're in for...taking that away sucks.

I hate a giant fic summary as much as people hate 10 pages of tags, but at least one can hide tags in their preferences, and likewise the thought of starting a fic up front with a giant author's note that gets continually updated with content warnings also isn't super appealing. Leading with a giant author's note that lays out: this is my world state and this is my character's spec and this is my character's background so you know how I'm going to approach this and these are all of the content warnings for the fic as a whole, just feels like getting into "My Immortal" territory. There's definitely a balance to be had between the art of writing a summary, what to include in an author's note, and what to include in tags, but this still seems like it's going to be fairly limiting for writers in these large franchises, especially for longfics that span a lot of topics.

Like I genuinely don't want to have a million tags. I want to tag relevant content that allows potential readers to filter & include & exclude my fic as they so choose, but also, if it does show up in their search, I want to give them the information they want to be able to decide if they want to read my fic or not. I don't want to have to put all my content warnings into a giant summary, or into a giant author's note that grows and grows. The tags have been a very helpful way of accomplishing those. Being able to cut down on parallel/synned tags is great, but it still seems like longfics that deal with multiple fandom entries, large casts, and require content warnings will butt up against that limit very quickly.

#ao3 #ao3 tags #long post #writing #look i really don't want to engage with anyone else but the amount of dimissive takes #and bullying #i see on my dash / have been targeted by / my friends have been targeted by #when we're trying to be conscientious?#is ridiculous #i'm just going to leave this here

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beatles-slash-fiction · 3 years ago

Note

Beatles ot5 in which two of the boys gets rewarded at the same time, maybe with a double sided dildo 😳😳

It’s not very often at all that John gets to share a reward with Ringo.

Usually he’ll either be rewarded on his own or with the other three lads, so it’s quite rare for him to share a reward with just one other person.

But John and Ringo voluntarily covered some interviews last week while Paul and George were sick with stomach flu, and it turns out that even though it was bloody exhausting, it was definitely worth it because Brian is keen to reward them.

When Brian invites the two of them up to his hotel suite, John knows it’s going to be a sexual reward. And that’s absolutely fine with John; anything involving Ringo and sex is bound to be lovely.

“Hello, boys,” Brian welcomes them and gives them each a kiss. “I think you’re going to enjoy what I have planned. Take off your clothes and have a seat. I’ll make you a drink.”

John raises an eyebrow at Ringo. Brian usually only gives them a drink just before he’s about to explain a punishment to them that he knows they’re going to feel uneasy about.

“Is there something we should be worried about?” Ringo asks as he shrugs off his jacket and reaches for his shirt buttons.

“Not at all,” Brian chuckles. “Look, I thought we’d try something a bit different tonight. The drinks are just to help you relax. I thought we’d try something special as the two of you have been such good boys.”

Such good boys.

John knows he should find praise like that patronising, but it still makes him feel warm and fuzzy every time Brian says something like that.

John takes a seat on the bed next to Ringo once they’re both naked, and gratefully accepts a glass of whiskey from Brian, which he downs in one go.

Ringo does the same, and Brian grabs an object from his luggage and plants it on the bed in front of the boys.

John frowns as he stares at it. It’s a sex toy of some kind, but he’s not quite sure what it is exactly. He’s no prude, but he finds himself blushing.

“What is it?” Ringo asks hesitantly. “It looks like a...dildo? But it doesn’t look like ones you’ve given us before.”

“It is indeed a dildo,” Brian chuckles. “But it’s a double-edged dildo.”

John turns even redder. The implication of this is clearly that Brian wants them to use this together.

“I thought this was supposed to be a reward?” John frowns. “And yet you’re expecting us to stick a fucking monster double-sided cock up our arses?”

“I’m not expecting you to do anything,” Brian says softly. “If you really don’t want to try it, then just say so. It’s no problem at all and this is your reward. But I am asking you to trust that I’ve picked something I think you’ll like. John, I know you don’t like to admit how much you enjoy penetration, but you seem to particularly enjoy it with Ringo and myself. The two of you seem to be particularly trusting of each other when it comes to acts like this. So I thought this might be something fun you could do together without worrying about the other two being around to watch you.”

John knows Brian has a point. If he doesn’t do this now, John knows he’s only going to go back to his own hotel room and wank while fantasising about buggering himself on this thing at the same time as Ringo.

Ringo squeezes John’s hand. “I’m up for giving it a go if you are? I think it will be hot. Especially with Brian watching.”

“Fuck it,” John says. “Let’s do it.”

“Stop anytime you want to,” Brian says, handing John a bottle of lube. “Just do whatever feels good.”

John looks at the bottle of lube awkwardly, then at the dildo, then at Ringo. He looks so beautiful.

“You know how to do this,” Ringo says softly, almost cheerfully, straddling John’s lap. “Foreplay first.”

John moans as their semi-hard cocks rub against each other, and he squeezes Ringo’s hips as the older man presses their lips together. It’s a slow kiss at first, but it quickly becomes heated, and John remembers why he loves sex with Ringo so much. Ringo is so easy to be around, and John never feels like he has to be on his guard.

Ringo’s fingers wrap around John’s cock and stroke firmly, and John squeezes Ringo’s rear gently, skimming his fingers over the smaller man’s entrance.

“We could just do this,” Ringo suggests, nuzzling John’s neck. “This is really nice.”

It is nice, but John knows it could be nicer.

They spend a few minutes pleasuring each other, and John is vaguely aware of Brian watching them from an armchair in the corner. The atmosphere is very safe and relaxed.

“You’re such a pretty lad,” John blurts out, caressing Ringo’s cheek. “So lucky to have you.”

Ringo smiles softly. “So are you. You’re so beautiful, John.”

John reaches for the bottle of lube with trembling fingers, his whole body burning with arousal. “This might be easier if you’re on your back.”

John gently tips them over so that Ringo is on his back, giving the smaller man’s thigh an appreciative pat as Ringo spreads his legs.

“Relax, Rich,” John says, just as he’s said so many times before. He coats his fingers generously with lube before slowly nudging one inside Ringo.

Ringo sighs and his eyes flutter closed. John leans down to lick his nipples, fingering Ringo slowly with one hand and stroking his cock with the other. John fingers Ringo slowly, adding more fingers as he opens his lover up gently. He’s eager to get to the main event, but at the same time he doesn’t want to hurt Ringo and he wants to make this as good as possible for him.

“I’m ready,” Ringo says in a trembling voice. He glances at Brian. “Should I prep John first or do we put the thing in me first?”

Brian smiles encouragingly at them. “Let me give you a hand. It might be easiest to get the toy inside you, Ringo, and then I can help John.”

John gently removes his fingers and grabs the dildo, coating one end in lube as Brian joins them on the bed.

“Nudge it inside him very slowly,” Brian instructs. He grabs a pillow and eases it beneath Ringo’s hips. “Let us know if it hurts, Ringo.”

John carefully positions the dildo at Ringo’s entrance, before pushing it in gently.

Ringo sighs and arches his back as the object slides into him. He sighs John’s name and squeezes his free hand as John works the toy inside him slowly. He looks absolutely fucking beautiful.

“Okay?” John asks gently.

“Yeah,” Ringo moans. “So good, John.”

“Good lad, Ringo,” Brian praises. “Now relax just a minute while I get John ready.” He coats his own fingers with lube and grabs another pillow. “Alright, John, now copy Ringo’s position. Lie opposite him.”

John does as he’s told, the nervousness from earlier returning. He takes deep breaths as Brian starts to finger him carefully.

Brian was right earlier. John doesn’t like people seeing him being vulnerable, but he enjoys being vulnerable. Or at least, he does with certain people. He likes being so intimate with someone that he doesn’t have to pretend or put on a show. That’s what he feels right now.

“Are you ready, John?” Brian asks softly.

“Yes,” John replies immediately.

He closes his eyes as Brian lubes up the other end of the dildo, and slowly pushes it inside John.

It’s always weird being penetrated by a toy instead of a person. It’s cold and lifeless and feels a bit awkward, but this is different because it’s an experience that he gets to share with Ringo.

It’s a bit awkward getting a rhythm going at first, but Brian instructs them to just do what feels natural. John and Ringo end up propping themselves up on their elbows so they can see each other, and then they just go for it.

They both slowly start working themselves up and down on the toy, maintaining eye contact as they build a rhythm. It’s clumsy and awkward and they end up laughing as they get used to the sensation, but eventually they manage to move in a way that works for them. John clutches the sheets as the pleasure burns in his belly.

He can see the pleasure on Ringo’s face too, and that makes the whole thing even more arousing. John tries to match the rhythm of his hips with Ringo’s, and the pace becomes so frenzied that the mattress is bouncing with their movements. Ringo is making little noises as he nears orgasm, and when he meets John’s eyes, it’s all over.

John cries out as he comes, his orgasm sending shockwaves through his body. He squeezes someone’s hand, and he’s not sure if it’s Ringo’s or Brian’s.

When he looks up, he can see Ringo has finished as well; spurts of cum lining his belly as he breathes heavily. Brian gently eases both of them off the toy, quietly praising them as they catch their breath.

“Such good boys,” Brian says as he wipes them both with a wet cloth. “Did you enjoy yourselves?”

“Christ yes,” Ringo says happily.

“Yeah,” John says shyly, surprising himself. “It was really good.”

“Well maybe I’ll keep this reward in mind for future then,” Brian chuckles. “Don’t go boasting to Paul and George though; you’ll make them jealous.”

Brian lets them spend the night in his room, and he even sleeps on the sofa so that John and Ringo can cuddle in the bed alone.

John thinks about the toy that Brian has safely put away in the nightstand, and wonders what other good behaviour might warrant another similar reward.

#beatles ot5

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supertransural · 4 years ago

Text

Dean and his “things, people and feelings” he’s already “experienced differently”.

So here’s a random 4am thought I had. You know how while in the confessional in 10x16, Dean talks about “things, people, feelings” he wants to “experience differently/for the first time”? That confession is literally incoherent if you take a perfectly heterosexual-non-castiel-point of view. It just is. Let me explain why I think that is, and prepare yourself, this is going to be long.

Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that we’re supposed to understand that conversation the way the priest understands it, that we’re supposed to see Dean the way the priest sees him: as someone who likes to have flings, who cheats, doesn’t commit, etc... basically the character that was introduced to us in the first few seasons/episodes (somewhat). I’m going to be calling that stance the “priest POV”.

The issue here, is that this is not in fact “the first few seasons/episodes”, this is season 10, Things have happened since then. People have happened. Feelings. Have. Happened. Wether it be in the form of flashbacks or present day events, we’ve seen character development. So let’s start with romantic ones.

1: The first one that comes to mind is Lisa (and Ben). He had a committed, long term, family oriented, white picket fence relationship. It wasn’t just a “I had no other place to go” kinda deal, because once he was somewhat back on his feet, he could’ve pulled a Dean WInchester and left. Except he didn’t. He could’ve cheated. Except he didn’t. He could’ve not opened up or not gotten vulnerable. Except he did. That should already debunk the “priest POV” but let me add on.

2: Cassie. Dean was insanely vulnerable with her, he loved her, opened up to her about the one big thing he never tells his one night stands, and incidentally was the one who was rejected this time around. He still has feelings about her when he meets her again.

3: Robin. His first, real girlfriend. With whom he was also in a committed relationship with, which probably would’ve kept on growing if John hadn’t been the usual assh*le that he is, and Dean had had a chance to go to that dance with her. I like to think of her as beta-version-Lisa, and also as the girl who set him on his blazing trail of leaving women after 1 day or 1 week. His dad was the one to rip him away from her, and we know he wanted his son to be the perfect masc, emotionless, order-following, womanizer. And that is exactly what Dean attempts to become, even though this obviously goes against every fiber of his being (see #4).

4: Amanda. Now you may be thinking “but hey! Dean does cheat on her! and it is a short relationship!”. Sure he does, and sure it is, as I said, ever since Robin, he’s trying to be the womanizer his dad wants him to be. But he still lets himself get quite attached to Amanda, as shown by his disdain of the school right after she dumps him in front of everyone. The only reason he liked or tolerated this school wasn’t just “the hot cheerleaders” or whatever, it was Amanda. He wants to put on this mask of “I don’t care about her, I’m a bad boy, I’m just in it for the sex”, but he’s genuinely hurt by what she tells him about his life and how she judges it, and saddened by the breakup. He lets himself get hurt by her. Bear with me, this is important, because we see it happen again with Cassie and then he never lets it get to that point again, simply because of fear and trauma (I think), for example he’s the one to start the conversation about breaking up with Lisa.

Now. What about the “he was just talking about platonic things and feelings and people” possibility. Spoiler alert, it still doesn’t work.

1: Jo. Otherwise known in my head as beta-version-Charlie, it’s true that Jo is part of those “early seasons” characters, but that only adds to the inconsistency of the “priest POV”. Dean cared intensely about her, some people think of their relationship as romantic, but I really like the “big brother/father/protective” figure idea. Whatever you believe their relationship was, it was profound, I mean he was positively shattered when she died. Again, deep feelings, longterm feelings.

2: Benny. Like seriously. Dean spent a year in Purgatory with him, saw him as a brother despite the fact he was a vampire, helped him as much as he could while he was having troubles adapting to life on Earth again, protected him through thick and thin, went against his brother for him, against other hunters, against his core beliefs as a hunter himself, just. for. him. If that doesn’t tick all the boxes of things, feelings, people he wants to experience differently for you, then I truly don’t know what to tell you. And then there’s the whole thing with the ship between them, which I somewhat agree with but it isn’t cannon enough for this.

3: Garth. Yeah, sure, Dean is condescending towards him at first, but he does care about him a lot, and probably doesn’t understand why and how Garth cares about him so quickly, or offers support voluntarily. Garth is a bit of a role model to him, that scrawny, somewhat cringy, little man is better at life than Dean is, and Dean sees that. He’s bothered by it at first, but learns to respect Garth later on, and care about him. He relies on him as a hunter, and kind of as a friend too and he lets him be the new Bobby (which proves a lot of trust grew here) (also, much later on, Dean makes sure he stays out of hunting so Garth can have a happy family life, he also accepts the fact that he’s a werewolf and that his whole family is too). That Also counts as people experienced differently and for the first time.

4: Kevin. Or as I like to call him, sort-of-beta-version-Jack. Dean feels responsible for him, he jumps into the role of a father figure more than Sam ever does, as much as Sam cares about Kevin too. He is also completely shattered when he dies, like with Jo (which is a bit of the reason why I see Jo and Dean’s relationship as a Big brother-Little sister relationship, the vibe is similar (but not identical) to Kevin and Dean’s).

5: Jody. Jody is like the mother he never really had growing up. He is vulnerable around her, opens up, she’s basically family. I’m not going to write in Bobby, because he doesn’t count as “new things”, he was effectively his father. Here, Dean lets Jody become a sort of mother to him even though his memory of his mom isn’t as tarnished as his dad’s is. He lets her step into his mom’s sacred shoes. He lets her take care of him in a way. He lets her enter his life and be here for him. New people, new feelings.

6: Charlie. Charlie is his little sister, no doubt about it. She’s his role model, he loves her deeply, he lets himself care about her and feel insanely protective of her. He lets her be Sam #2. He lets himself become a big brother to a new Jo. To a new human. He lets his nerdy side out around her, he learns from her openness about being gay. He is comfortable around her. He is constantly worried about her. New feelings, new people, new things, first time blah blah blah you know the drill by now.

7: Ash. Yes, yes, I know, another “early on” character. But as I said, it keeps on just proving my point. First of all, I firmly believe Dean had a massive crush on Ash but that’s just my interpretation. He respects Ash and looks up to him, he wants to be a bit like him, confident, comfortable in his own life and skin, happy, and he lives in a friggin’ bar for godsakes. He is the epitome of what Dean wants to be at that point in time. He wants to be carefree like Ash is. He thinks Ash is highly intelligent, and has it made. He sees what a happy man can be, one without burdens from “the life”. Ash is a bit like the cooler version of Garth (no offense to Garth of course). Does that count as a role model? I don’t know. But it sure as hell shaped Dean’s hope for what his life could one day be. And Dean cares about Ash deeply as well, he was devastated when he died (he was devastated about the whole Roadhouse burning of course, but it’s clear Ash’s death shakes him quite a bit) and is genuinely happy when he gets to see him again in Heaven, when he sees Ash content and at peace, and the fact that Ash tells him he’ll see him again one day makes him smile (btw thats something I would’ve wanted to see in the finale, but nooooo they simply had to give us a train wreck instead).

So now that we’ve established those relationships he’s already had before (and I use the term relationship broadly here, it also includes all his friends), I’d like to point something out. There are of course other people he met along the way, other people he saved who inspired him, like the gay couple LARPing as him and Sam, Ellen (beta-version-Jody), in a way Tessa, Layla Rourke, Eileen, to name a few. But I feel as though the ones I cited were the main ones that truly show how shallow the “priest POV” interpretation is.

So where exactly does all this leave us? Well, friends, exactly where I intended it to be. That scene can’t be about potential women being longterm or serious romantic partners because that’s already happened. It can’t be about friends or monsters, because that’s already happened. Canonically. Several times, in several different flavors.

TL;DR: There is no way this confession scene is heterosexual, and it’s probably about Cas, but not just him, it’s also simply about Dean himself and his comfy closet getting not so comfortable anymore.

#spn analysis #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #bidean #cas #deancas #destiel

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

Text

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 3

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it’s own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You’re Peter’s classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you’re lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Peter always unapologetically stealing all the uwus. It’s the MCU law, sorry, didn’t make it. Tony Stark can ✨rail me✨. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves THE WORLD! I’m not kidding. Please visit her and show her some love, my homegirl is stressed 💖✨

I didn’t see Bruce nor Tony for a week. The doctor was away on some science conference (he sent me one dorky selfie next to a whiteboard full of barely intelligible equations as proof), Tony was in California, having some sort of a board meeting. How do I know? Peter, out of lack of better things to do, constantly texted me updates on his science patron’s whereabouts and what-abouts.

In times like these, it took me for a loop - I was on a first name basis with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. In the beginning, I was intimidated - I avoided them both like the plague and tinkered in the lab with headphones on whenever I could, until Tony made a comment so snarky I couldn’t resist joking back. That’s not to say Bruce was a social butterfly, but even he gave into my tomfoolery after seeing me stand calmly throughout several of Tony’s hissy fits.

What amazed me even more so was that despite Tony being literally an insufferable little brat, I still longed after him. Sure, the man was hot as hell - but his physical traits were much less significant when it came to my feelings towards him than the amount of sheer drive and willpower he possessed. He was stubborn - that’s another trait we shared - and unapologetically himself in every damn situation.

I could write poetry about the million expressions in his face, about the shine in his eyes.

But I won’t. He’s a technical guru. Ever since I started hanging around the tower, I became much more conscious about what I posted online. Not to say I had a Stark fan blog or anything, but I’d stopped scrolling through the tag, even if I didn’t actually click on any articles. I dutifully reblogged pictures of Tom Ellis instead - while he was a very fine, distinguished man, he wasn’t Tony Stark. I enjoyed looking at the first and enjoyed being around the other. And even though my feed still had the occasional “I love arm” shitpost, I focused on aesthetic pictures and quotes instead - things I had an active internet presence for.

My personal life wasn’t very interesting. I didn’t have any close friends and any and all sex I’ve had was just a bunch of one night stands, fueled by alcohol, selfish lust and the occasional joint. Despite having a fair share of kind, generous lovers, the morning after left me feeling a little bit emptier every time. I thought about getting a boyfriend or something… But quickly became totally clueless as to where I could find one. Men under twenty-five could barely hold my interest long enough to have a casual chat and I wasn’t naive enough to think there were a lot of honest, well-intentioned thirty-somethings that wanted to date my high school ass.

Peter had a crush on me, I knew that. The boy developed one or another kind of feelings for anybody who showed him the tiniest bit of kindness and it alarmed me. In any other case I would have bailed on him, gently, of course, to spare him the disappointment but my selfishness got in the way. I regretted it every day. A wave of desperation rose in me every time I thought about moving on without seeing Tony or Bruce, without Peter shyly smiling at me as he explained how the things he created worked. A faint hope that one day, his schoolboy puppy love will grow into a brotherly kind of regard was the only thing that kept me afloat in my sea of guilt.

As the Fall rolled around, so did my gloomy mood. It was hard to be sad when the sun was shining and the birds were chirping outside, but with clouds hanging over the city like a lead curtain, the bottled up negativity rose to the surface uninvited. Mother had returned from her business trip, adding an uncomfortable, hollow sort of chill to the house wherever she stood. I don’t know what was worse - the hours we spent in one room ignoring each other or the immaculately structured questions she asked me about my studies and extra-curriculars. Mother didn’t ask me about my friends, or my feelings or any of the other things a mother was supposed to give a damn about.

I was an asset to her company and that was that. If you would have asked her, she would tell you I’m old enough for her to mind her own business - which was technically true. Yet according to her, I’ve been old enough since seventh grade. My dad answered his messages sporadically, sometimes with a two-word answer and sometimes with a cocaine and booze fueled rant eleven texts long. I felt sorry for him. I really did.

My phone was blowing up. Party invitations, likes from people I saw once or twice (“oh my god, you’re, like, so hot, what’s your Insta”), DMs from guys looking to score an easy piece of ass. I never answered. If I wanted to party, I just sort of showed up and everybody went along with it. I took care of my appearance and it showed - never once was I turned away from a party. Everyone wanted to dance, to share their drinks, to light up and get faded together and fade into the city, into the cold air and grey sky.

Skirt swaying and top clinging to my chest, I danced. The sweaty, heated bodies around me did the same. Not one of us cared, it was a Tuesday night and the place packed way too many people. An arm snaked around my waist, startling me. I had to begrudgingly crack open an eye to see the bastard in the dimly lit room.

“I saw you at the bar, you looked bored. Maybe you need something to cheer you up?”

So not a creepy rapist. Just your friendly neighborhood drug dealer. At house parties like these, there was always The Guy. He never danced, he sipped on the same drink all night yet always looked like he was having the time of his life. I was no stranger to the occasional joint, or even something more stimulating…

“I got the good stuff, sweetums, you’ll be fine and dandy in no time.”

Eh, what the hell. I inconspicuously danced with the guy to the middle of the crowd, exchanging a few crumpled dollar notes for a baggie of two pills. In no time, I chased one down with a hastily poured Jack.

The world did become better, as the drug dealer promised. People were nicer, friendlier and I almost didn’t believe mother was a useless, stone cold bitch. I almost didn’t care that I was deeply, madly in love with a man as unreachable as Olympus. If I squinted, the guy sitting at the bar looked kind of like Tony, tan, dark hair, worn jeans and a band tee.

So I danced. I danced and I stared right at him and then we danced some more. I closed my eyes, letting his arms grab me and pull me, I let his beard scratch my neck where he sucked a mark on me, I let his rough palms choke me against a wall in one of the bedrooms on the second floor of the house. It felt good to be wanted. It felt great to be needed as he rutted inside of me, hitting that sweet spot with every twitch of his hips.

It felt lonely when he left, pressing a kiss to my forehead and saying something dumb like “Be good, kid.”. I don’t remember what exactly it was, only that I had to turn my face away from his breath that reeked like weed and vodka.

To shake off the void that made home inside of my chest, I went to the roof to get some fresh air. The house had a nice patio on it - I actually knew the owner - that hosted more plants than I’d care to count. There was an ashtray and an abandoned pack of cigarettes. I greeted the faintly blooming sunrise surrounded by a cloud of smoke, shivering in the autumn mist.

Sounds of the party became less prominent with every passing minute as people geared up to go home and get a few winks of sleep before going to work. New Yorkers weren’t really thoughtful partying on a Tuesday, but then again, neither was I. The city always was busy - even then, at the crack of dawn, the dull throb of a bassline was rudely interrupted by a blaring car alarm followed by dogs barking in aggravation.

The more I sat there, the bleaker everything became. I had enough common sense to know I was just coming off the drug but for once, I had been happy and content for several hours without a care in the world. It had been too long since I felt that way and what’s a little low after a good high?

Mother left for her early conference at five AM sharp, I entered my house at five-thirty, making a beeline in the shower and immediately dumping my alcohol and cigarette soaked clothes into the wash with the smelliest detergent I could find. I gave similar treatment to my body and my hair, using the chemically-smelling products on my body and on my hair, brushing my teeth multiple times.

By the time I was leaving for school, only a faint smell lingered in the air where I’d previously entered, so I set the air freshener to automatically spray the obnoxious mist every ten minutes. Mother gets home at twelve for lunch, that should be more than enough time for any remnants of my partying to disappear into the lilac and lavender fumes.

The Valium I’d popped to deal with the aftermath of Molly made my brain sluggish. One look in the mirror and I hastily put my sunglasses on - the ashen colour of my face and the slightly crazed look wasn’t very complimentary to my complexion. The teacher didn’t give a damn. I stared blankly ahead of me for most part of first period.

“What happened to you? You look like hell!” Peter’s exclamation, while usually would’ve alarmed me, barely made a dent in my stupor.

“I feel like shit, too,” Admit what you can’t deny. Deny what you can’t admit. “I didn’t get any sleep. Like, at all.”

Peter frowned, the crease between his eyebrows growing deeper with every passing second. I flinched when his hand tentatively touched my forehead - the pounding in my temples slowed to a dull throbbing but it was still unpleasant when someone was all up in my space.

“Jesus, you’re as cold as a corpse. Maybe you should go see the nurse,” His worry bled into me too. Like hell I was going to the school nurse! They were specifically trained to recognize the signs of substance abuse.

“I’ll head home straight after school, I think we’ll have to skip our sciencing,” No way also I’d be letting Tony and Bruce see me like this. Oh my God, I was a mess. “Mother’s home.” I added. Even the emotional frostbite I’d get from being around her was more tolerable than being a downer for Peter and Tony.

Peter’s face immediately softened in sympathy. He knew almost everything about my relationship with my family, including him actually seeing my mother that one time. He told me she gave him the creeps and I don’t blame him at all. The stoicism that was required for her work made my mother an unbearable person to exist around outside of her fancy office on the top floor of a glass high-rise building.

“Okay, but promise to text me if it gets worse. You might have caught the autumn bug that’s been going around,” He obviously said the last part to calm himself down. Sweet little Peter, naïve child. I solemnly nodded nonetheless.

When I got home, I went straight to bed. Tony was being Tony, as usual, but in a strangely kind way. I suppose it should’ve made me feel better and it kind of did, but then it went downhill from there. I couldn’t explain why I started crying. I bawled my eyes out at how unfair this god-damned world was and when the doorbell rang… Let’s say, the delivery boy hightailed it out of there once the bag of takeout was deposited into my arms. I looked and felt ghastly.

I ate as much as I could and dropped into a restless nap, drifting in and out of sleep with exhausted exasperation. There had not been a time where I felt so low after popping a pill and I was equal parts alarmed and satisfied. For one, the drug dealer didn’t lie like they usually do - the stuff was good and I still had the other pill hidden away in a bottle of painkillers, inconspicuously mixed with other white pills but shape distinctive enough for me to recognize should I have need in taking it again.

The thought of well, taking it again, was fleeting. I had school tomorrow and a missed science bender to make up for. A few buzzes of my phone later, I felt happier. Better. Not so down anymore. I meant every word that I said - Bruce was very precious, kind and gentle. And so, warm and soft. And totally kissable.

Well, fuck. What do I do now?

#bun writes #party favours #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n #I've already got a room in Hell y'all welcome to book one nearby

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kookoosbunnynose · 5 years ago

Text

Pairing -> Officer!Reader x BadBoy!Jungkook (ft. Reader x Yoongi)

Genre -> Angst | Smut | Fluff

Rating -> Mature (18+)

Word Count -> 14.5k

Playlist -> Looks Red, Tastes Blue

Summary -> You meet an old friend under uncomfortable circumstances, he brings with him memories you’ve tried to forget for years. Your past becomes your future before you can catch your breath.

Excerpt -> “But where the paradox lies is, if you stop thinking, the smile you hold when you’re with him is the simplest thing you’ve ever done.”

—————

“We have a 10-51 at The Red Eye on Main.” Your radio suddenly booms in your otherwise quiet vehicle, snapping you out of your trance-like state caused by watching a mostly empty intersection run through light cycles for the better part of an hour.

“10-4, I’m 76.” You answered, pausing briefly to assess your location in relation to the hole-in-the-wall bar. “10-77, three minutes.” You finish, setting down your mic and flipping your lights on.

When you first started this job, getting a call for a drunk and disorderly would send your heart into overdrive, cause your breathing to shallow and your hands to shake. Mind filling with possibilities of having to contain a violent man twice your size. But after learning the patterns of the locals in town, and learning your own capabilities, you barely batted an eye. You’d probably just have to give the crotchety town drunk a ride back home and scold him for making you do this for the upteenth time. No biggie.

You sped down the empty street with ease, you could drive this town with your eyes closed since you were fourteen. The street lights around you against the night sky making everything appear untouched and serene, only amplifying your obnoxious siren.

Three minutes, nearly on the dot, when you pull up to Red Eye, and much to your surprise you see a young man sitting on the curb with his forearms resting lazily on his knees waiting for your arrival. The less than impressed security guard stops glaring at him in favor of filling you in on what happened.

“Hi y/n.” the guard greets, making the man pick his head up to confirm his suspicions.

“Well, fancy seeing you on that side of the law.” He says making you take in a stiff breath at the familiar voice, one you haven’t heard in years.

“I could say the same to you, Mr. Jeon.” you say with a steady breath, being very well versed in not appearing as shaken as you are. And you are. But you fight the way your throat wants to close because you’re wearing your badge, and you’re not here to dive nose first into your past. You’re here to take statements and do an assload of paperwork.

“The kid has been pretty cooperative,” the guard continues when you turn your attention back towards him. “didn’t put up a fight when I escorted him out. He’s had one too many drinks and threw a punch at a guy, who has decided not to press charges. But I got his information before he left to tend to his busted lip, if you need to contact him.” he informs, handing you a napkin with the bar’s logo and shaky ink etched into it.

“Thank you, I’ll take him off your hands.” you say glancing at the man in question, he’s still watching you with the kind of smirk only alcohol can provide. “I’ll take him to the station to sober up and get his story.” he nods, stepping back but staying close just in case.

“Are you gonna get in the car quietly or do I have to use these?” you question, holding your cuffs up with a hooked finger.

“Don’t make me any promises you won’t keep, sweetheart.” he winks lamely. You roll your eyes, and open the back door of your car.

“Get in Jeon, I won’t ask twice.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he says, raising his hands in defense and standing to climb in your backseat.

You shut the door behind him and make your way around the vehicle, giving the guard a wave goodbye. If he had been anyone else making a remark like that would’ve landed them a pair of cuffs, but in all your years of knowing him, Jungkook has never given you a reason to feel unsafe with him.

He was pretty quiet on your drive back to the station allowing your mind to wander to the time you two last spoke.

That day the air was heavy and unforgiving on your lungs, that no matter how hard you tried never felt full. You were both dressed in black, heads hung low in mourning. Before you departed you gave each other a long hug, whispering ‘I’m sorry’s and sniffling together. Giving each other as much comfort as you could muster even though neither one of you believed it would be okay yourselves. The hug was meant to be one of condolence but shortly after you would come to learn that, unbeknownst to either of you, it was a goodbye as well.

You don’t know if it was because you were pulling up to the station or if it was because he could sense your thoughts but he decided to break the silence.

“The asshole had it coming.” He spoke bluntly, as you opened his door and walked him inside.

“What did he do that warranted a busted lip?” you asked, slightly exasperated but mostly curious.

“He was making a girl at the bar uncomfortable, she asked him to stop and he didn’t. I stepped in, he swung, I dodged, I clocked him in the mouth, and he fell down.” He recounted simply, almost bored. He hasn’t changed, still ready to throw a punch for anyone in need. Just like-

Your stern look softens. “Why didn’t you tell security he threw the first punch?”

“Would he have believed me? I’m sure I haven’t been gone long enough for half the town to forget my reputation.” He says sitting in the chair next to your desk and crossing his tattooed arms across his chest. Those are new. Well, most of them.

“I suppose not, but at least I could have it on record that you tried.”

“I told you, didn’t I?” he raises his brows.

“Yes, you did.” you relent, grabbing a breathalyzer from your drawer. “Blow.”

He takes the device from you and does as instructed, presumably choosing to keep some sexual comment to himself.

“A .05?” You blink. “I thought he said you drank too much.”

“Probably assumed since I decked a guy in a bar.” He shrugs.

“I suppose, but how annoying.” you say slightly bothered by the fact that he had to tell you everything, and security didn’t even bother to ask people who started it. He chuckles at you.

You start typing away on your report, his story, his blood alcohol level, etc.

“Do you wanna press charges? He did try to assault you.” you question, pausing your fingers.

“No, but I think that woman should.” you smile.

“Okay, I have all the info I need. You have two options.” you turn to him. “I can drive you home now, or I could get you some coffee and you wait here until you blow a .02 then I’ll take you back to your car.”

“I take option B.” he says, tapping the corner of your desk as if to lock in his answer. “I don’t want to have to go get it tomorrow.”

“I’ll go get your coffee.” you go to get the two of you some much needed liquid energy. Normally, you wouldn’t just leave someone who was brought in for assault without cuffing them to your desk or asking someone to watch them, but you know him, and normally people wouldn’t voluntarily choose to hang out in a police station for any longer than they needed to. Tonight is full of many things outside the norm.

As you sit back down back down with your drinks, Taehyung returns from patrol duty, and beelines for Seokjin’s desk.

“Tag you’re it.” he says, patting Jin’s back, making him flinch.

“Officer Kim, don’t sneak up on me.” He says puffing out his chest.

“My apologies, Officer Kim.” they laugh.

You miss the way Tae looks over at you, and his smile drops when he sees who is at your desk.

You and Jungkook sip your coffee with a comfortable silence, neither of you wanting or needing to address his long absence yet, not while you’re filling out a report with his name on it.

A couple hours pass like this, with you doing various paperwork, and him scrolling on his phone or staring into space. Yep, definitely hasn’t changed.

“Alright Jeon, once more.” you say handing him the breathalyzer again.

He does.

.01, good.

“Let’s get you to your car.” you stand, and walk out into the crisp dawn air.

The ride back doesn’t leave your mind swimming as much as the first time. There’s still a sizable elephant in the room, but the tension isn’t as unbearable as you’d imagined it would be.

You pull your car next to his, allowing him to return home. “Thank you.” He half smiles, unsure if he should say ‘see ya later’ or not, but you had a feeling you would soon. — You awoke later that same day, when the peachy light of the sunset was flowing through your windows. Your shift at the station usually ran from midnight to ten in the morning, meaning you usually slept through most of the day. Though you didn’t mind, you’ve always been a night owl, nothing a little vitamin D supplements can’t fix.

Groaning as you roll over in your mess of blankets to check your phone, you find exactly what you were expecting.

Jimin (7:48pm): In need of stress relief, Doll? ;)

You (8:13pm): God, yes. When you couldn’t meet up last week I thought I was gonna implode :(

Jimin (8:15pm): Aw, you missed me? Cute

You (8:16pm): Don’t flatter yourself Park. I missed your dick

Jimin (8:17pm): I’m hurt :(

You (8:19pm): I’ll be over in 40. Be ready, handsome ;)

Jimin (8:19pm): :)

You toss your phone on your bed and get up to take a shower, a little hop in your step at the prospect of receiving an orgasm by someone else’s hand. And Jimin always delivered.

You wash your hair quickly, more concerned about shaving your legs for the first time in two weeks. After you’ve dried off, you lotion and perfume like normal. You slip on a tank top and leggings, knowing that he is a big fan of your ass. You take your uniform with you as well so you can head straight to work after your weekly dick transaction.

When you’re making your short drive to Jimin’s you find your mind wandering to Jungkook. How your heart skipped a beat when you saw him sitting on that curb. How he’s lost all the baby fat he used to hold in his cheeks, but his eyes still crinkle when he smiles. How having him stand in front of you for the first time in five years confirmed your adolescence wasn’t in fact a pipe dream your mind had fabricated after you decided to change everything you could. How though he’s jaded and may not know it himself, he’s the same boy you’ve always known. And how he still reminded you of-

But now wasn’t time to dwell, you’ve done enough of that. Tonight is supposed to be about the exact opposite. Free of stress. Free of thoughts. Only a couple hours of animalistic need. Then you could go back to reality.

“Hello y/n.” Jimin greets with a smile after your knuckles rap against his door. “Do you wanna talk? Before we…”

“Not really.” you answer a little too fast, crossing the threshold of his apartment.

“Works for me.” he says, noticing that you’re seeking more of the benefits than the friends side of this deal.

Without another word his hands are on your hips and his lips are on your neck, walking you backwards until your back is flush with the door. Noticing that you’re not in the mood for as much foreplay as normal, he immediately grazes his teeth against that spot on your neck that makes you sigh into his ear.

He’s always been very good at reading you, perhaps that’s why you agreed to this little arrangement. You’re not sure exactly how the two of you ended up fucking in the first place. Definitely had something to do with your collective blood alcohol level at the time. But when all was said and done that first time he told you he’d be more than willing to make it a regular thing. To make your shoulders relax every so often and it’s not as if he didn’t get anything out of it. Neither of you were in the headspace for a relationship, so the easy access to orgasms, with no strings attached was ideal for all parties involved.

Not that you weren’t friends outside his bedroom as well. You guys would hangout pretty often just as friends. You were fortunate that the line between your regular dose of stress relief and the platonic love you had for one another never blurred. Jimin was special in that regard.

Your hands find the hem of his shirt and he takes the hint quickly pulling it over his head. You do the same, and his hands eagerly cup your breasts. He reattaches his lips to the sweet spot on your neck biting down harder this time causing a small whine to fall from your lips. He smirks against your skin and runs his tongue along your reddened skin to sooth it.

Not wanting to waste anymore time than necessary you grab his hand and walk him to his bedroom. Once inside you put your hands on his chest and give him a firm push until his knees meet the edge of his mattress and he falls against it with a small bounce. When he falls back you remove your leggings and underwear, he does the same matching your urgency.

You climb over him planting your knees on either side of his hips, grinding your increasingly wet slit up his stiff length.

“You got hard pretty fast.” you say breath tickling his cheek and he slides his palms up your thighs to your ass, gently kneading the flesh in his hands.

“You said be ready.” he says smoothly, pushing his hips up to add to the friction on your clit. The extra contact catching you off guard making you place your hands on his shoulders for extra balance.

You feel his breath hitch beneath you when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock to guide him to your entrance. You sit down a little slower than you want to due you being a little less wet than usual.

It was your doing, he would’ve been glad to work you up properly, but you were seeking a quick release. Caught somewhere between wanting to take your time so your escape will last longer and needing to reach the cloudy peak as quickly as possible, putting as much distance as you can between you and the thoughts that lay in the valley of your metaphorical mountain. Though it seems your body was choosing the latter for you.

You rock your hips against his, enjoying the way his cock drags against your g-spot, sending heat from your core to your toes. You pick up your pace a little allowing yourself to let go as much as you can, jaw going slack and eyes closing tightly. Jimin groans at the sight, reaching up to toy with your pert nipples.

A light layer of sweat forms over both of your bodies, heating the room like a makeshift furnace. A furnace made of hot skin and moans instead of fire.

You increase the speed of your hips on his until your thighs start to burn, the dull ache in your limbs only adding to the fiery one in your pelvis. Your pants grow louder as your end is nearly in sight.

“Jimin,” you gasp with a mouth like cotton. “I need more.”

Your request straight to the point, he moves his hands to your hips, rubbing your clit one thumb and using his other hand to keep you in place while he thrusts up to meet yours roughly.

“Umph- fuck!” your voice cracks as you fall onto his chest, curling your fingers into his hair and pulling to keep you grounded as your orgasm rips through you.

Jimin groans deeply in your ear, you can tell how your fists in his hair and your walls clenching around him brought him to his end by how desperate his thrusts became. You can feel his cock pulsing as he coats your core with his cum.

You both lay like that for a few moments, his softening dick still tucked safely within you and labored breaths creating a fog around your heads.

“Can I use your shower? I don’t wanna go to work smelling of sex.” you ask and he chuckles against your shoulder.

“By all means.”

“Thank you.” you say, for both the shower and the sex.

He grabs your hand when you go to stand from the damp fabric of his bed. “Are you alright?” he decides to pry for the first time tonight. “You haven’t been that down to business since that fight with your mom a few months ago.” he says, concern laced in his features.

“Yeah.” you begin unsure. “Just, something happened last night that brought up some memories.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he treads lightly, knowing what that statement could mean.

“I’ll be okay. You let me turn off my brain for a minute.” you smile and kiss his cheek.

“Happy to help. I’m here if you need anything.” he says with a stupid wink. Though you know he doesn’t just mean sex. Jimin has been a shoulder for you to cry on as long as you’ve known each other. You’ve always been there for him as well. A mutual understanding that you can come to each other for anything.

“I know, thank you Minie.” — You take a deep breath and run your hands through your hair, cursing the clock above the captain’s doorway that ticks just too loud for you to think. You blink a few times, your eyes struggling to focus on the text on your computer screen. You’re relieved when the phone on your desk starts to ring.

“Hello this is Officer l/n.” you say putting the phone to your ear, unfortunately excited about someone being in distress, but you’re about five minutes of screen time away from getting a migraine.

“Hello Miss l/n, this is Mrs. Choi,” here we go again. “I was wondering if you could send an officer to the house across the street? I think I saw some hoodlums trespassing.” and there it is.

“Of course Mrs. Choi,” you hold back a lengthy exhale. “I’ll go check it out, myself. Did you happen to see anything that could provide a description?”

“I’m afraid not dear, I only saw some trees rustling.” ah yes, the wind. Nature’s trespasser.

“Okay, I’ll take a look. Anything to help you sleep better at night, ma’am.” you smile as sweetly as you can despite her not being able to see you.

“Thank you Miss l/n.” she says promptly ending the call.

You let your breath out fully for the first time since the interaction began. And try your best to ignore how tense it makes you when she always calls you ‘Miss’ but calls all your male coworkers ‘Officer.’ You once put Jin in a choke-hold over a granola bar, you’re more than capable of holding your own, but that’s neither here nor there. Really.

“Mrs. Choi again?” Tae asks peering around the filing cabinet between your desks.

“The one and only.” you state. “She ordered the usual; someone to check the old abandoned house across from hers.”

“Well maybe if someone didn’t break into that place all the time in high school.” he says looking anywhere but at you.

“And now I’m the one who has to get rid of them. The world goes round, balance is restored. Hooray.“ you say feigning awe, he chuckles.

“Hey, I know how you are about that old place, do you want me to check it out for you?” Tae asks his expression morphing into worry.

“I got it, I’m okay. I need to stretch my legs anyway. But thank you Tae, really.” for the first few months you were a cop, you couldn’t even take the patrol route the old house was on without crying. He was always really nice about taking care of it for you. Officer Kim, always ready to jump in at a sign of distress, perhaps why he’s so good at his job.

“Okay, just let me know if you change your mind.” you hum an affirmative as you exit the building.

Though the bubble of anxiety in your stomach grows as you approach the run down house, it doesn’t spill out as tears anymore. You’ve come to accept this is as healed as your wounds will get.

You unlock the chain on the gate and make your way to the front door, knocking harshly before opening it.

“Police! Come out now and I won’t tell your moms what you’ve been doing!” you shout into the empty house. You’re sure the house is empty because every time there has been a few teens in here you can hear them run before you can even shout ‘police!’ but, you still need to do a walk through just in case.

Your cautious steps make the floorboards creak below you, the smell alone flooding your mind with memories.

There’s a sliding glass door in the back, that’s long since been shattered, where you used to sit and get a perfect view of the stars for hours with your first, and thus far only, love.

Your mind wanders to when you used to play music off your phones and slow dance in the living room, skillfully avoiding the gaps in the old wood floor. It’s truly a wonder this place hasn’t been torn down yet, but you’re thankful, you don’t know if you could bear to see it go.

As you make your way down the dark hallway you get a small craving for a cigarette, having quit years ago now, but you can almost feel the dry paper on your lips as you make your way to the last bedroom in the house. You pause at the door.

Your eyes scan until they reach the corner of the room, pausing at the small carving in the wall. Your breath catches for the briefest of seconds when step close to it, tracing the heart with your fingers, careful to not get any splinters. Your fingers continue their journey, tracing the initials at its center with care.

Y/I + YG

“Babe! Angel! C’mere!” Yoongi’s smile beamed, gums and all.

“What?! What did you need to interrupt my sandwich eating to show me?” you follow his voice slightly annoyed, though you wondered why he disappeared for a few minutes, leaving you to munch in solitude. You had met here for a picnic, not uncommon for the two of you during the summer. He brought a blanket and you brought the burgers. You set up the picnic in the living room, with summer sun’s rays spilling through the old cracked windows, it’s a lot more beautiful than sitting in the middle of an abandoned house sounds.

“Look!” he says gesturing to the freshly carved wood on the wall, tucking his trusty knife back in his pocket.

“God, you’re so lame.” you smile and walk over to him. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in close to admire his handy work.

“If I’m lame it’s your fault.” me chuckles running his hand through your hair. “I suppose, loving you makes me this way.” he hums jokingly.

“I never said it was a bad thing.” you look up at him, admiring the way the sun makes his bleached hair glow.

“You know I do right?” his tone drops a bit and his eyes search yours. “I love you.”

“Of course I know.” he only tells you everyday, yet you never tire of hearing it. You study his face, the slope of his nose and the little mole right next to it. His pink petal lips, that despite his reputation, you don’t know how anyone could be weary of a man with such beautifully delicate features. And his dark eyes that lighten only when he looks at you.

His gums return. He tilts your chin up to gently connect your lips. He tastes of the chocolate milkshake he drank not long ago, and you hum against his mouth.

“I love you too.”

The memory shifts, to one five months later.

“I love you too, angel.” his chilled lips peck yours, as he starts to climb out your bedroom window. The winter air makes you shiver when a gust of wind blows against your skin, with only your pajamas to keep you warm. Sometimes you’d sneak him overnight but with the first day back to school being tomorrow, it was too risky. If your mom caught him here again she’d have some choice words for the two of you, but she is a heavy sleeper, so as long as he left at a decent hour, nothing to worry about.

He hops down, his boots packing the snow beneath them when he lands. His head now a bit below yours as you lean out your first story window.

“Text me when you get home!” you remind him as he starts the small trek back to his car.

“Always!” he whisper-shouts back before disappearing around the side of your house.

You gaze up at the moon and take in a deep breath, trying to decide if the frozen air is refreshing or sharp on your lungs. You don’t take the time to figure it out before your window is shut and the air in your room feels hot against your cheeks.

You curl up in bed, and decide to scroll your various socials until your eyes get heavy.

You blink to help your eyes focus on the text on your screen, and decide to call it a night. You flick your eyes over to check the time.

2:30 am? Yoongi left at 2:00 and still no text? He’s always really good about telling you he got home, though he has forgotten a few times, no one is perfect.

“I’ll wait til he texts, he probably stopped for gas.” you mumble to no one.

2:45 am. You decide to text him.

You (2:46am): Love, did you make it home alright?

You (3:15am): I’m sure you just fell asleep.

You hit send trying to convince the panic knotting your stomach.

“He’s forgotten before, why am I freaking out so much?” you mumble to yourself rubbing your eyes. “I’ll just call him.”

My Love missed your call (3:23am)

My Love missed your call (3:35am)

My Love missed your call (3:42am)

“It’s Yoongi, leave your message after the beep.”

“Hi, I know that you’re probably just sleeping, and you’re gonna tell me that you’re fine in the morning.” you push out a laugh trying not to cry. “But I just can’t shake this feeling, so please please call me as soon as you wake up. I love you.”

My Love missed your call (4:01am)

You sit there staring at your phone in your hands, for a few minutes watching the clock on your screen change. Still nothing.

“Alright, fuck it.” you huff and grab your boots, shoving your feet in them and throwing on your jacket. You grab your keys and get in your car, you dial his number again while you start the engine, the route to his house flashing through your mind.

The dial tone in your ear stops ringing. “Thank fuck Yoongi!” the tears you’ve been holding back start to spill in relief. “You scared the-”

“This is Officer Jung.” a deep voice rings in your ear and your blood runs cold.

“What’s going on? What happened?” you ask frantic, the panic in your lungs turning into fire, the air feeling too thick to swallow.

“Ma’am, Min Yoongi was involved in an incident.” he says attempting to make his voice resemble something close to comfort. “The snow caught his tire and hi-”

“Is he okay?” you try to yell but your throat is closing.

“His car was pulled into a ditch, he-.”

“Is he fucking okay?!” your voice cracks and so does the dam holding back your tears.

“He didn’t make it.”

Your heart skips in a way you didn’t know it could, your body instantly too weak to hold itself or anything else. Your phone falls to the floor and your body falls against your steering wheel. You think you’re screaming but who can be sure with the ringing in your ears echoing in your skull. Your vision is blurred and your cheeks are wet. You were shivering when you climbed in your car but your skin has gone numb.

You don’t know how long you were crying in your car but by the time you were able to collect yourself enough to walk back to your bed your phone had no charge, and the sun had begun to rise.

When you finally turned your phone back on, you were flooded with people asking if you were okay, most of them you didn’t even know. After scrolling through your list of unopened texts, you answered only the one from his little brother.

Gukkie (7:38am): You okay?

You (8:44am): No

Gukkie (8:45am): Yeah, me either.

Now the ache is dull and the memories are faded. The anger and hurt that used to filter them turns more rosy as time goes on. And as with most wounds, there are scars. Love runs deep and Min Yoongi was your deepest river and your deepest cut.

You finish tracing the divots in the wood and smile bittersweetly. You place a kiss on the tips of your first and second fingers, you touch them to his initials and take a deep breath.

You let that breath go slowly as you walk out of the house, careful not to step on any of the less stable floor panels. Your lungs finally empty when you reach the gate where you can not-so-metaphorically lock up your past. — “Did you really need to cuff me?” you hear a familiar voice huff from behind you.

“Yes I did.” Tae grunts, you turn to see him holding Jungkook by the elbow before he plops him down in the seat next to his desk.

“Alright, you’re the boss.” he says somewhere between sarcasm and defeat. He attempts to shift into a comfortable position, his cuffs against the metal chair hitting your ears in a less than pleasant way.

Jungkook glances your way and gives you a small nod when you catch eyes, and you do your best to pretend you meant to be staring at him. Though you’re sure he’s probably just as tense as you are. Police stations aren’t exactly the best place for a reunion. Especially twice.

“Name.” Taehyung states in a business-like tone.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“Date of birth.” September first, 1997.

“September first, 1997.”

“Address.” 5235 west- shit I’m eavesdropping.

You shift in your seat and refocus on what you were doing before they came in. You try to at least.

Seokjin returns from his patrol route, entering the room the same as he always does, as loud as possible. “Tag you’re it!” he says with a childlike smile as he pats Tae on the shoulder.

“I’m kinda busy.” he gestures to Jungkook and his computer screen.

“I can take care of the report for you.” you butt in before you can think about the fact that you’re speaking. Tae slides his chair to your desk to get out of the other’s ear shot. “Do you really wanna deal with him? I know you’re not a big fan.” you lower your voice.

“Yeah, you have a point.” He thinks for a second, looking over at the man in question and grimacing slightly. “You sure?”

“Of course, I took care of him last week.” you say matter of factly. “And years before that.” you add after a beat. He nods in agreement, and grabs his jacket. “Change in plans Guk,” he smiles at the nickname he hasn’t heard from you in a long time. “You’re with me, Officer Kim has other business he needs to attend to.”

“Oh does he?” Jungkook mutters under his breath and you hold back a chuckle. He gets up from Tae’s desk and shuffles over to yours, his shoulders releasing slightly.

Without saying anything you unlock his wrists and set the cuffs on your desk, he rubs his skin a little too dramatically and you smile when he sits back in the chair looking more relaxed.

“Thank you.” Jungkook smiles. You miss the way Tae scowls at your gesture as he walks out of the building.

You start filing out the basics without question, as you know all the answers. He sits there tracing the walls with his eyes, far less entertaining than last week having already memorized the lack luster wallpaper.

“Alright Guk, what happened this time?” you say after a couple minutes.

“I didn’t fucking do anything.” he says widening his eyes clearly frustrated but not at you.

“It appears you did.” you say accusing him playfully.

“Seriously.” he relaxes a little. “I went to Red Eye again, I was minding my own business.” he points his finger at you in preemptive defense. “The same guy from last week-”

“The one whose face you busted?” you quip.

He stops, mouth slightly agape. “Yes, that one.”

“Continue.” you smirk and he glares at you slightly.

“I was sitting at the bar, he came up and started saying he could kick my ass for what I did. I told him to forget about it cause I wasn’t gonna fight him. He said I may look tough now but I’m still the same sixteen year old I was before everything. I got in his face, no fists mind you, and told him to fuck off. The security saw us yelling and told us we needed to leave, and I refused because I had done nothing wrong. He told me he would call the cops and the other guy left, but I sat my ass back down, cause The Man has never stopped me before. And bingo bango, Officer Pretty Boy cuffs me and I’m here.”

“You just can’t get rid of that rep of yours, can you?” you soften.

“I’m used to it, and it’s nothing I didn’t do to myself.” he shrugs. “Besides, I’d rather be feared than pitied.” his voice lowers, and your heart twinges.

“I don’t fear or pity you.” he smiles, not one of those smiles that’s big and all teeth, but one that’s small and warm. Jungkook had this way of saying everything he needed without speaking a word.

Silence falls over you while you finish writing the report. He didn’t do anything other than disturb the peace for a moment, no need for punishment harsher than a slap on the wrist.

“Ow!” he rubs his arm. “What the fuck was that for?” he questions, his brows furrow.

“It was a slap on the wrist.” you shrug. “You didn’t do anything that requires a fine or jail time, so you get a warning.”

“Aren’t you taking that a tad too literal?” he chuckles.

“I don’t think so.” you fight a smile. “I don’t wanna see you with flashing lights near you again unless you catch fire. Am I understood?”

“Yes ma’am.” he playfully salutes, but he knows you’re serious.

“Would you like a ride back to your car?”

“I can walk, that’s not necessary.” he says standing up and waving you off.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, the air will do me good.” his feet stutter. “Would you maybe want to get coffee on Wednesday? I didn’t imagine our reunion going quite like this.” he lets out a breathy laugh.

“I’d love that.” your eagerness to accept surprises you, and given the way he lights up, you surprise him too. — You mindlessly push the noodles you’ve been eating around on your plate letting the sound of other tables’ utensils clinking and your mother ramble on about her book club’s latest ventures buzz lowly in your head as you hum vague responses.

“… Jeon Jungkook moved back to town.” the mention of the name snaps you back into reality.

“What about Jungkook?” you ask, now at full attention.

“Have you heard he moved back to town?” she looks at you expectantly.

“I- um. I thought I saw him in the grocery store the other day, but I assumed I was seeing things.” you say keeping your voice as steady as possible.

“His mother is absolutely over the moon about it.” she says, wholly missing your lie as she was too excited at the prospect of telling you the latest gossip. Small town doesn’t leave one with much else to do.

“I’m sure she is.” you say and your chest can’t help but warm at the thought of Mrs. Jeon being so excited to see her son after he’s been gone for three years.

“She’s so happy he finally gave up on that god awful garage band.” she says, relief filling her face, and you roll your eyes. You had nearly forgotten he went to the city to make it big, you hadn’t ever doubted them, his voice alone was label worthy. “What were they called again? Red appendix?”

You blink. “Crimson Heart?” you offer her, knowing full well you’re correct.

“Ah right! That’s the one.” she says laughing at the, admittedly edgy, name. “I’m so glad he’s cleaning up his act, I expected better of him.” she adds, shaking her head. Your shoulders tense at her statement.

“Did you hear Jeon Jungkook got busted for spray painting the movie theater?” your mom questions as she leans on your door frame. Your face buried in some book you didn’t know the name of, as long as it had words in it. Mind numbing words.

“Um, no mom. I didn’t.” you mumble clearly uncomfortable with the subject. It was summer now, about six months since that night. The cold unforgiving weather that changed your world in an instant long since melted away, and as free as summer used to make you feel, it just feels hot and bitter against your skin.

“It just makes me sad, I expected better for him.” her voice solemn, clearly not ready to let the topic go.

You couldn’t muster a response that wasn’t yelling or trying to reason with her, which would get you nowhere.

“I never understood why you couldn’t have chosen the good brother.”

Your fingers clench around your book wrinkling the pages. She’d said that for years but sting you felt this time was far deeper.

“He was so studious and stayed out of trouble, but it looks like I was wrong.” she says, appearing more upset that her judgment was off, rather than the obvious issue at hand.

“Can we please not talk about them.” you plead softly, fighting your closing throat and watering eyes.

“Honey, I know you miss him, but look how much better you’re doing now! You’re reading for pleasure.” I’m reading so I can’t think. “You raised your GPA up almost a whole point before the year ended.” My test scores are the same, I just did my homework. “And I haven’t found cigarettes under your bed in months!” She seems most excited about that one. I’ll give her the smoking, they don’t fill my lungs the same way they used to. How can they when I can’t catch my breath?

Her attempt at comfort doing nothing but reminding you that you can’t be who you want to be anymore. You’d become someone who does any trivial task they can as not to spend too much time alone with their thoughts. Instead of someone who didn’t give a shit, did what they wanted to do, and most importantly had their love by their side. “Yeah, I guess not smoking anymore is good.”

“You know I always rooted for you two.” your mom says, her smile mischievous.

“I know, you always told me he was the ‘good brother’.” you try to conceal your eye roll at the same conversation you’ve had with her a million times.

“Before you and Yoongi got together, too.” she adds.

“What?” now this surprised you.

“His mom and I used to talk about how cute you’d be when you were all in elementary.” she remembers fondly.

You try to respond but you’re too shocked that her infatuation with Jungkook went past him being ‘so close yet so far.’

“Anywho, I just hope he can find the boy he used to be.” she hums.

You agree, but for largely different reasons. Your chest blooms at the thought of a smiling Jungkook.

“So do I, mom.” — Jimin (6:37pm): Hey Doll, in need of extra McLovin after lunch with The Wicked Witch of the West?

You (6:45pm): Actually, I feel okay Minie, but thank you

You (6:46pm): I’m doing better

Jimin (6:53pm): I’m proud of you, beautiful

You (7:04pm): Me too — When you walk into the coffee shop a few minutes before you were supposed to meet you’re surprised to see Jungkook already sitting at a small table by the wall of large windows with two cups of coffee placed in front of him.

“Hey Guk.” you sit down, shoulders relaxing.

“I got your old order, I hope that’s okay.” he smiles nervously.

“How the hell did you remember that?” you gasp, taking a long sip from your cup.

“You’ve had a caffeine addiction since you were like fourteen, and you practically lived at my house.” he chuckled.

“I suppose you’re right.” you nod in agreement and take another sip, the drink making your taste buds dance.

“Listen,” Jungkook begins, rubbing the back of his neck. “I want to apologize for the whole you arresting me twice thing.” he hesitates.

“Technically, I didn’t arrest you the second time.” you correct with a smile, trying to ease his obvious guilt.

“Still.” his voice insistent, almost stern. “That isn’t exactly how I wanted us to meet again after five years. It didn’t feel right to not fix it.” his face seeking the approval that his apology did, in fact, fix it.

“There was nothing to fix really, Guk. But thank you.” you soften. “I don’t think of you any different. How could I, given my past?” he chuckles at that. “And you got the shit end of the stick in both situations. I still know you’d never do anything truly bad, you’re all bark and no bite.”

“Oh, you don’t think I can bite?” he tongues the inside of his cheek smugly.

“Would you shut up?” his face shifts immediately, his eyes crinkling. “I’m serious.” you groan, but the heat threatening your cheeks and ears contradicts you. Well, that’s odd. Anyway.

“Okay.” he says after a beat. “C’mon y/n, I know you’re dying to know why I came back. Just ask.” he states, less than smoothly steering the conversation.

“Why would I wonder about you inexplicably reappearing after three years of nearly zero contact with anyone? It hasn’t crossed my mind at all.” your mouth laced with sarcasm.

“You think you’re so funny.” he squints. “I am.” you wave him off. “Alright, spill Rockstar, since you want to so bad. Why’d you give up living it up in the city to come back to all this?”

“Actually.” he laughs. “They kicked me out of the band like two years ago.”

You blink. “What? Why would they kick out their only talent?” you say screwing your brow in offense.

He nearly chokes on his coffee. He sputters trying to catch his breath, wiping his mouth on this arm. “Thank you.” he clears his throat. “But they were definitely better off without me.”

“How do you figure?”

“I wasn’t in the best place when the guys and I moved over there, for obvious reasons.” you nod. “I was getting black out drunk every other night. And writing songs that were just, not good. The kind of sad that isn’t relatable anymore, it was just painful and would make the crowds go silent.”

You grab his hand wishing you could’ve been there when he really needed it, but now will have to do. He smiles.

“The last straw though, was one night I got absurdly drunk right before a gig, and I thought I could handle it because I had been tipsy on stage before. They told me not to but I didn’t listen, and when I got to the song that I wrote about Yoongi, I just broke down sobbing on stage. I was embarrassed so I just fucked off out of the venue and kept running until I didn’t recognize where I was anymore.”

“Guk, I’m so sorry.” you squeeze his hand, and he rubs his inked thumb over you knuckles to tell you not to worry.

“No it’s okay, the guys found me the next morning, passed out in a Denny’s.” he chuckles stiffly. “They brought me home and told me that I needed to get help, they didn’t want to watch me self-destruct anymore, and at the time I was hurt but I’m grateful. It still took me a fucking while to work up the courage to come home, but if I didn’t have anyone tell me to try, I don’t think I’d be home now.” his expression turned from bitter to sweet as he recounted his story.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too.” he smiles, the stars in his eyes multiplying when he looks at you. “My dumbass fifteen year old self thought if I went dark side I could fill the hole he left, but I didn’t know what dark side really looked like until it was too late. Then it just became something I told myself so I didn’t have to face the fact that I was doing shitty shit.”

“You sound like you’ve taken a lot of time to reflect.” you say impressed.

“Limiting your alcohol intake to a normal human level will do that to you.” he chuckles.

“My dumbass sixteen year old self wasn’t much better, arguably worse.” you counter. “I thought if I got rid of everything in my life that reminded me of him, I could force myself to forget.” your face falls slightly. “Which is worse? Diving in head first or turning your back entirely?” you push out a sound that’s supposed to be laugh.

“I think both are pretty fucking miserable.” you both laugh, he gives you reassuring look. “But, tragic backstory aside. I wanted to come home to face the music and make amends with my mom.”

“My mom told me she’s very happy you’re home.” you can’t help but feel her relief.

“Yeah, I really put her through hell.” his guilt present in his expression.

“But you’re here now, aren’t you?” he relaxes, his gaze fixed on yours for a moment. There’s those stars again.

He blinks, snapping his attention to his coffee. “I’m gonna get a refill” he says, disconnecting your hands, that you had forgotten you were holding, to tap his empty cup on the table. “Do you want another?”

“Yes please.” you say turning to rummage in your bag for a few dollars to give him, but when you turn around he’s already in line. You deflate setting the cash in front of you.

Your eyes wander around the cafe, inspecting the comforting eclectic vibe it produced. Your gaze stops on Jungkook standing in line, studying how his features have changed, how he has grown a few inches, his shoulders have broadened and how you can see the way his bicep flexes ever so slightly when he takes the coffee from the barista. What the fuck? Did I just check him out?

You inhale sharply, turning your focus on anything happening on the street outside the window.

When he’s seated back in front of you, you slide the small bills in his direction. He promptly slides them back towards you and you glare at him.

“When did you get so hell-bent on being nice?” he smiles.

You scrunch your brows and drop your jaw. “What do you mean? I’ve always been nice?” you question in defense and he laughs.

“You used to make fun of me all the time.” he states, crossing his arms.

“I mean yeah, but like in a sibling banter type way.” you frown. “Did you really think I was trying to bully you?”

“No!” he reassures. “I mean it kinda sucked because…” he trails off and takes a sip of his coffee in an attempt to abandon his sentence.

“Because?” You’re not getting away that easy.

“You know it’s funny.” he breathes. “I used to have a huge crush on you.” he admits nervously.

“And?” you blink.

“And?” he echos. “No reaction? Not even a slight inhale?”

“I knew, Gukkie.” you break as softly as you can.

Now it’s his turn to be surprised. “You did?” his furrows his brows in offense.

“We both did.” you laugh lightly. “Why do you think Yoongi left an obnoxious amount of hickies on my neck?” you can’t help but cringe a little at the memory.

“That asshole!” Jungkook’s jaw drops, and you snort. “I just thought you were normal slutty teenagers.”

“I didn’t say we weren’t.” you add trying to contain your laughter at the attention his outburst brought you.

He throws you an accusatory squint. “You guys suck.” — “You didn’t need to walk me back to work.” you beam at Jungkook as you walk through the doors of the station. “I don’t need protection.”

“I know you don’t.” he defends. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you.” you laugh.

“What did he do this time?” Taehyung chimes in loudly from his desk.

You turn to face him. “Nothing, we just got coffee and caught up.”

His expression remains bitter and unconvinced. You opt for brushing him off.

“Thank you, Gukkie.” you smile when you turn back to Jungkook.

“No, you.” he says, patting your hair affectionately before he exits.

You stand at your desk, shifting various papers to pick up where you left off when you see Taehyung approaching you out of the corner of your eye.

“What the fuck, y/n?” he asks angrily, and you widen your eyes in confusion.

“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

“Listen, I get it.” he ignores you. “You let him off easy a couple times because you have history together or whatever. But now you’re going on a date with him?” he accuses.

“Tae, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” he scoffs, and your jaw tenses. “I would never slack on my job. And that most definitely was not a date.” your words sharp, hoping you’ll get him to drop whatever bullshit this is.

“Then why would you let him go both times?” he crosses his arms waiting impatiently for a response.

“I didn’t ‘let him go,’ because we had no reason to keep him. It’s not illegal to defend yourself or to be a bit of a stubborn ass.” you defend, raising your voice. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sure okay.” Tae says, clearly annoyed averting his gaze from you.

“I trust him, and you should trust me Taehyung. Why are you being like this?” your voice falling slightly. “Because, I care about you, and the kid is bad news. Do you not remember all that shit he pulled at the end of high school before he took off for several years? He can just show up and everything is heart eyes and open arms?” he says trying to convince you but all it does is make your blood boil.

“I appreciate your concern,” you bite. “But you don’t know him.” He shakes his head letting out a stiff laugh. “Figures you wouldn’t be able to read him, you always did know how to pick ‘em.” “What the fuck, is that supposed to mean?” you say all but seeing red, trying but failing not to yell.

He tongues his cheek and turns to walk back to his desk, very much done with the subject, but you were far from it.

“No!” you say following him. “You can’t just say that and then walk away. Explain yourself.” “I don’t know what the fuck is going on out here but it’s going to end right now.” Captain Kim Namjoon says sternly from his office doorway, arms crossed tight on his chest. “Our apologies, Sir.” you say, both of you bowing at him.

“Y/n, you look frazzled, go home and walk it off.” he offers pointing at the door. “Captain, we’ll drop it. I-” “It wasn’t a suggestion, Officer y/l.” he interrupts. “I expect you’ll be better tomorrow.” his voice a little softer now.

“Yes, Sir.” you bow again, and turn on your heals quickly, avoiding Tae entering your line of vision.

You white knuckle your steering wheel your whole drive home, you’re probably speeding but you can’t be bothered to check. What are you gonna do? Get pulled over?

When your car is parked, you fish your phone out of your pocket. You pull up Jungkook’s contact and your finger hovers over the call button for a second, but you can’t bring yourself to press it with him having been so happy when you two parted less than an hour ago. You opt for seeking comfort from someone else.

You (3:32pm): I need you

Jimin (3:35pm): I’m off in an hour <3 — Your chest rises and falls rapidly while you stare at Jimin’s ceiling, waiting for the normal relief that settles after you two have sex.

But even after you’ve caught your breath you still don’t feel it, the sweat covering your body starting to feel less like afterglow and more like guilt. Why won’t my chest unknot? We’ve hate-fucked countless times. What’s different?

You brush it off shaking your head in the hopes you can trick yourself into feeling normal, before you stand up to gather your clothes. You shudder at how sticky your skin feels against itself as you button up your shirt.

You decide some fresh air would do you good, and you open his bedroom window and take a breath and let the flowers outside fill your nose.

“You okay, beautiful?” Jimin’s voice sounds from behind you. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” you say before you can fully register what you’re saying. You turn to him, his towel hanging lowly on his hips and the hand tousling his damp hair stops in its tracks, his eyes widen. “Is the sex not good anymore? I thought you liked it when I bit your ass.” he chuckles through his worry. His joke makes you soften a little. “No, it’s not anything you did.” you say walking over to hold his hands. “Remember how I said I was doing better?” he nods, his worry fades into a smile. “Turns out that’s more true than I thought it was.” you say and as the words leave your mouth, your body finds that relief it was looking for. Feeling like, for the first time in forever you don’t need to escape your own mind for a minute to function. “Is there a guy?” he quirks a mischievous brow. “Are you ready to be monogamous?” he gasps dramatically. You shove his shoulder while he giggles. “No guy, I just…” you think for a moment. “Don’t need to forget anymore.” you breathe, lungs feeling lighter, and he smiles brightly.

He hugs you tightly. “I really am proud of you, y/n.” he says into your hair. You smile against his shoulder. “Me too.”

You break the hug and he frowns slightly. “Guess it’s you and me for a while now bud.” he says looking at his palm.

“Jimin, I just had an emotional epiphany, and it only took you two seconds to be gross again?” “That’s why you love me.” he laughs trying to give you another hug. You laugh, pushing him by the shoulders. “Fuck off, Park.” — The sun hits your skin warming it despite the cool breeze, music playing your ears as your feet keep a steady rhythm against the pavement below you. Your late morning jog becoming more of a nature walk with the changing seasons. The greenery returning and the sweet smell it provides makes your limbs feel a bit lighter. You nearly throw a punch when someone starts jogging next to you. You stumble slightly after you nearly run into a sign. When you pull your ear buds out he’s laughing at you.

“Careful there.” Jungkook laughs, continuing to match your pace. “You scared the fuck out of me.” you huff steadying yourself. “What are you doing?” “Um-” He looks at you and then his feet. “Jogging?”

“Astute observation,” you smile in spite of yourself. “I mean why are you following me, creep?” you laugh. “I was jogging on the other side of the street and when I saw you I thought I’d join.” he shrugs. “I guess that’s allowed.” Neither of you talks for a few minutes, nothing but your shoes fitting the sidewalk and your heavy breaths filling your ears.

Normally with a silence like this your mind would shuffle through the files of your mind, bringing a similar memory to the forefront, good or bad. But you come up blank. You inhale deeply deciding to file this under ‘Something New.’

“Are you getting tired?” He asks. “No?”

“Good.” he smiles and tries to wink before he picks up his pace, pulling ahead of you. “A race? What are you, twelve?” you laugh running faster.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over me winning!” he calls over his shoulder, and you groan at the considerable distance he’s put between you.

“You’re an asshole!” you pick up your speed fully running ahead of him.

You laugh and chase each other halfway across town, if you could see how you look you would probably be embarrassed, but you can’t be bothered to think about anything but the wind hitting your face and the idiot you’re running with.

He stops in front of a small market, and contrary to how you struggle to catch your breath, your lungs feel fuller than they have in years.

“Do you wanna get ice cream?” he questions, eyeing the banner in the store window.

“Won’t that negate all the exercise we just did?” you breathe, wiping sweat off your forehead. “And?” “You make a strong argument.” you say pushing the door to the corner store open and sighing when the air condition hits you like a refreshing wall. You walk straight to the large freezer to pick out your respective flavors.

You wordlessly decide to walk home in favor of more running, talking about nothing between bites of your cold treats, and you can’t help but think the flowers smell a little sweeter. — You have more work to catch up on than you normally do, you opt for having lunch at your desk so you can work through your break. You have your lunch to your side as your fingers click away on your keyboard.

Something being placed gently on your desk draws your attention away from your screen. You look over too a coffee cup with ‘I’m sorry’ written on it and with a sheepish looking Tae with his hand still wrapped around it. “I’m sorry.” he says looking guilty. “Tae-”

“I acted like a complete ass the other day.” he interrupts before you can even fully think of a response. “Well I won’t argue with that.” you soften and he looks the slightest bit relieved. “I just care about you, and I don’t trust him.” he reiterates his statement from a few days prior.

“This apology was going so well.” you half laugh.

“But!” he adds quickly. “But, I trust you. And if you trust him, then that’s good enough for me.” he says with large eyes, nudging the coffee toward you in the hopes you’ll accept his regret. “Thank you, Tae.” you say taking a sip of the bittersweet drink, appreciating his sincerity. Truth be told, you had already begun to forgive him, he just wants you to be happy. If he expresses his concerns in a less assholistic way next time, you’d be happy to listen. “And I won’t stand in your way if you want to date him.” he smiles. “Like you could, I can kick your ass Kim.” you laugh. “And what is it with you and us dating? I promise you, it’s not like that.”

“Awfully defensive for someone who has no reason to be.” he eyes you with a stupid smirk.

“I just forgave you, don’t push it.” you point a finger and he raises his hands in defense though he doesn’t drop the taunting smirk on his face. He walks backwards to his desk and sits in his chair giving you a nod as one last confirmation that you’ve forgiven him. You continue your work, the air feeling light in the station for the first time since your fight. So focused on your pile of tasks you don’t even notice it’s dark out until the phone rings and makes you look up from your computer.

“Hello, this is Officer y/l.”

“Hello dear, this is Mrs. Choi.” she says sweetly. It’s like clockwork with this fucking lady. “Could you possibly send an officer to this side of town? I saw a young man in a black hoodie hop the fence to the old place.” Well that is far more description than usual.

“Of course, I’ll go make sure everything is okay.” you reassure.

“It’s appreciated as always, Miss y/n.” she says before she hangs up.

“Mrs. Choi?” Tae asks lazily, not even lifting his eyes from his computer.

“Yep.” you say tossing your jacket on.

“Do you want me to check on it?” now he’s looking at you, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“No, I’ll be fine.” you smile. More than fine this time.

Your drive to the old house feels way more like a normal patrol than it ever has, the air feeling like a fog has been cleared. Or perhaps you’re just getting a little too used to Mrs. Choi’s usual request.

You walk down the familiar dirt driveway and your eyebrows furrow when you see a light in the window. Incredible, the old woman who cried wolf is actually right.

“Police!” you shout before you turn the doorknob, your guard not too high as you’re expecting a harmless teenager. Though you’re surprised when you find Jungkook sitting against the wall at the edge of the tattered living room, his legs bent with his forearms resting on them and a bottle of whiskey by his hip. “I’m not here to damage any property.” he says calmly, raising his hands above his head in a lazy surrender. “What are you doing here?” you ask and point your flashlight at the ceiling to better light the space, the light on his phone not doing very much by itself.

“It was something of a quiet place for me. I guess old habits die hard.” he said patting the dusty wall he’s leaning against.

“It was for me too.” you breathe, you look around the room taking in how it’s become even more run down and not quite as beautiful as you remember but breathtaking even without the fantastical dream cloud your memories have become muddled with. “Did he bring you here too?” he looks at you through his messy hair, much more practiced than you at bringing Yoongi up in conversation.

“Yeah he did.” you smile fondly. “We used to have picnics here all the time during the summer.”

“Sounds romantic.” he says, with a comedic scoff.

“Hey, for a sixteen year old? Peak romance.” you retort and he chuckles, letting his head fall against the wall. “He never told me he brought you here too.” you furrow your brows. “Makes sense though, it was his favorite place.” “Yeah, he brought me here a few times when he could ‘remove the stick from my ass.’” he laughs at the memory. “I never understood, there’s about three inches of dust on everything and all the windows are cracked.” he shakes his head. “But after he was gone, it was the most peaceful place I could find. There’s no place as serene as these four shitty walls.” he smiles looking up at you. “It was far less peaceful for me after the accident. The silence coming from this place was deafening for a long time.” you take a seat next to him. “But it’s not so bad anymore.” you hum, eyes scanning the room. You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes letting the sound of the crickets fill your ears, doing your best to not disrupt the stillness around you.

“I want to thank you.” your mouth making the decisions for you once again. “I missed you a lot and spending time with you has been really nice. I’ve been able to face things again that I didn’t think I ever would.” you steady your breath. “So, thank you.”

“I should thank you too.” he begins, and you turn to watch the way his profile moves when he speaks. “I can’t recall a time I smiled when thinking of him. It feels nice to reminisce, not just remember and wish he was still here.”

“God, he wouldn’t recognize either of us.” you say looking down at your uniform and Jungkook’s dirtied jeans.

“He’d kick both our asses.” you laugh.

“You know for a long time,” you hum, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I was upset because I lost the boy I was in love with.” he shifts a bit. “But somewhere along the way, it became less about being in love and more that someone I cared for so deeply was gone. I don’t know when or where I fell out of love, but it took me a long time to realize that I had.” “I don’t think falling in or out of love can be pinned to a single moment. You just kinda have to take a step back every so often to assess how fucked you currently are.” he laughs, leaning his head on yours. “How vulgar yet profound.” you smile and lace your fingers together. Your mind is running at a dull roar. You had never actually said you weren’t in love with Yoongi out loud before, not even to yourself. You suppose on some level you’ve known for years but saying it made you aware of just how true it was, like you’d been standing on a diving board for ages and finally took the leap that wasn’t so scary after all. You’d still give your left arm to have him there with you now, whether you were still just as in love or maybe just a friend. You still loved him but maybe… I’m not in love anymore. Before you have a chance to explore that thought further you feel Jungkook’s lips on yours, you gasp slightly and move your mouth with his, humming at how soft his lips are.

Despite your realization, when you close your eyes you’re overwhelmed with how familiar this feels. The stale smell of the wood around you and images of Yoongi kissing you right where you’re sitting flashing through your mind. Suddenly your heart is beating in your ears and just as quickly as it began you break the kiss.

“Fuck, y/n I’m so sorry.” he says when his eyes meet yours again. “No don’t be, it’s okay.” you say, trying but failing to keep your voice steady as you stand. He gets up to follow you but his feet seem to be stuck. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t worry about it.” you force a smile. “I should get back to work, I’ll see you Guk.” You say trying to ignore how your throat wants to close. He doesn’t answer, just watches as you close the door behind you, leaving him alone in the empty house. The sense of serenity he found within these walls fades as the light of your flashlight gets further away.

You pull out of the driveway, and remember why you were here in the first place when you see Mrs. Choi’s house across the street. You decide to say fuck it and drive back to the station and hope that she just went to bed. — You (2:30am): Sorry I left. I just need to think

Jungkook (2:37am): No I’m sorry, take your time

You read the same two texts over for what has to be the three hundredth time in the last few days. For a long time you stared at it unsure if you should respond, and then too much time had passed.

Not even texting could be simple with Jungkook.

But where the paradox lies is, if you stop thinking, the smile you hold when you’re with him is the simplest thing you’ve ever done.

Just like the texts you play the kiss in your mind on a loop, your lips tingling at the memory. The old house under your feet and Jungkook’s arms around you crosses too many wires in your brain for anything to make sense.

All you know is… when he kissed your lips you felt like you could breathe again. — You’re sitting on your couch when you hear a frantic knocking at your door. You jump at the sound and check the time. 11:30? What the hell? Your training kicks in and you approach your door and open it slowly.

“Okay listen, I’m so fucking sorry.” Jungkook rambles frantically pushing past you beginning to pace around your living room. “It was fucked up to kiss you, but I just- your eyes looked so beautiful and- shit that’s not the point.” he runs a hand through his hair trying to collect his thoughts. “Guk, it’s okay. You don’t need to-”

“I know what I did was shitty but we haven’t talked in days, and I can’t bear to not have you in my life again.” he’s on the verge of yelling at this point. “This time since I’ve been home with you is the most alive I’ve felt since I was fucking fifteen.”

“I’m not upset with y-”

“I know, I wouldn’t forgive me either, but I needed to try and-”

“Oh for fucks sake.” you mumble as he continues to ramble. You take in a breath. “I wanted you to kiss me!”

“I-” he finally stops, nearly out of breath. “You what?” “I wanted you to kiss me, that’s what scared me.” you clarify now that he’s listening.

He just blinks unsure of what to say. He imagined this going far differently, something more along the mine of you slamming the door in his face, but you didn’t and his heart swells as he takes in your words. “I want it too.” you continue though you’re unsure where you’re going. “I love you, Jungkook, and I can’t get your stupid pretty smile out of my head and-”

“You love me?” the words falling from his mouth softly, and his gaze fixes on your face.

“Yes.” you breathe realizing what you just said. “And it scares the shit out of me.”

“How do you think I feel? I’m in love with my deceased brother’s ex.” he counters, laughing at how ridiculous your situation is, and your heart can’t help but race at his bittersweet words. “But you’re the first time I’ve felt home in forever.” he says, his eyes hiding behind messy bangs.

“Me too.” you admit, and the air in your lungs feels lighter. “I know he would want us to follow our hearts but… like this?” you ask sheepishly, maintaining the distance between you as if neither of you are allowed to cross the invisible threshold.

“I think that even if you guys got the opportunity to break up like two normal ass teenagers…” he begins, his face full of concern but his eyes filled with the hope that you’ll agree. “He always wanted everyone he cared about to be happy, and fuck y/n, you make me so happy. You always have.” There’s those stars again.

“But I feel guilty.” your eyes threatening to water for the first time in a long time, and your lips tingle at the memory of Jungkook’s lips on yours. “Me too.” he takes a step closer to you. “But we don’t have to. We can-” “No, you don’t understand.” you interrupt and he deflates. “I feel guilty because even though we’re talking about him… I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want you to kiss me again.” “Fuck, okay.” he says as if you had just stolen the air from his lungs. He quickly closes the gap between you and reconnects your lips. You put your arms around his neck and attempt to pull him as close as you can, his hands are warm on your jaw and the dream cloud in your mind feels as if it’s been wrapped around the two of you. A blanket of home that you didn’t know had been missing until you had it again.

You run your fingers through his hair and savor how it feels in your hands. He licks into your mouth and his heavy breaths feel hot between kisses. He feels almost frantic as you feel his nails gently dig into the sides of your neck, as though you’d slip out of his grasp if he doesn’t tighten his grip, the dull pressure making you moan into his mouth.

You put your hands on his and he relaxes his fingers. You pull his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging it lightly and he groans at the sensation, your thighs rub together at how you’re affecting him.

You wordlessly guide him to the couch and nudge him gently until his shoulders are flush with the back of the couch. You straddle him and his thighs flex underneath your ass, you resist the urge to grind down onto him in favor of kissing along his jaw.

His tense shoulders release under your hands as your lips continue their path to his neck. Your teeth graze his skin and his breath catches in your ear, you smirk and bite down harder. His hands quickly grab onto your hips squeezing them in tandem with your mouth, you run your tongue along his reddened skin and your sounds create the most beautiful harmony you’ve ever heard.

Your hips give into temptation and grind down on his hardened dick, the layers between you not doing much in the way of friction but the way his hands tighten around your waist send heat through you melting you from the inside out.

Your hand snakes between you to palm him through his jeans and you move your head up to face him, to see how sweet he looks with his eyes squeezed shut and lips parted from your touch. He reconnects your mouths and the kiss is messy as neither of you can properly think.

You break the kiss and quickly slip to your knees between his thighs. You tuck your fingers into his waistband and pause your movement, eyes searching for his. “Is this okay?” you ask with a slight tug to his pants, he answers by smirking lazily and helping you slide them down his hips.

You pull his boxers down and your mouth waters when you see his dick, the tip a frustrated shade of red. You run your tongue along the thick vein on the underside of this length, wrapping your lips around it when you reach the tip. He groans as if he’s relieved to finally have your lips wrapped around him. He grips your hair tightly, fingers flexing against your scalp as he fights the urge to push your head down to his base.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good, sweetheart.” he says out of breath, working against his flexing abdomen to keep his voice steady. You hum around him in response making his hips stutter against your mouth, and arousal pools at your core.

You sink your mouth as far down as you can and he moans deeply holding your head in place beginning to thrust into your mouth to test the waters. You grip his thighs to ground yourself and do your best to ignore the way your lungs are beginning to burn. He picks up his pace and you take his cock in your throat until tears prick in your eyes. You tap his thigh and he takes the hint releasing your head so you can breath again.

“You like having your pretty mouth fucked, don’t you?” he questions as he wipes a tear from your eye with his thumb. You nod eagerly and move to take his cock back in your mouth but his grip on your hair stops you. “Patience beautiful,” his eyes darken looking at your swollen lips. “Open.” he says, his voice low. You oblige, flatting your tongue for good measure, he spits in your mouth and his cock twitches at the sight. He lowers your lips back on his dick, the extra wetness making him groan at how messy you look, and you try to keep your throat as relaxed as you can, doing your best to ignore the growing arousal between your legs.

He breaks his assault on your mouth, pulling your head up with a wet pop and you gasp. “Can I taste you too, sweetheart?” he asks sweetly despite how ready he looks to devour you.

“Yes Sir.” you answer and his pupils twitch at the name.

“You’re gonna ruin me.” he laughs stiffly, releasing your hair and you realize how sore your scalp is.

You stand on shaky legs, he sheds his shirt and you follow suit before laying on the couch in front of him. You tuck your fingers in your waistband but he stops you. “Let me.” He says his eyes softening and you relent.

He puts his large palm on your waist and kisses your lips slowly contradicting his previous actions. He leaves hot open mouthed kisses on your neck and down your chest, the wet trail he leaves behind feeling cold when the air hits it. He wraps his mouth around one of your hardened nipples, swirling his tongue and teasing his teeth on the sensitive skin.

Your moan catches in your throat as he bites down and your hand tangles in his hair trying to pull him closer. His free hand runs up your arm removing it from his head and pinning against the cushion gently, you lace your fingers together and you can feel him smile against your chest.

His mouth doing little to relieve the real fire you’re feeling growing deep in your abdomen. You give into the urge to move your hips against his waist and he chuckles deeply taking the hint and continuing his path down your stomach, nipping at your skin when he reaches the hem of your pants.

His breathing picks up again as he slips your pants down your legs and the wet spot on your underwear is exposed to his gaze. He takes his time removing your panties, reveling in the string of your slick that follows. “Such a pretty pussy.” he breathes quietly just to himself.

He tosses them on the floor and eagerly puts your thighs on his shoulders placing gentle pecks anywhere but where you need his mouth. You roll your hips to meet his face and he smirks darkly at your frustration. After properly enjoying your wordless plea he gives you what you want, licking a long flat stripe from your entrance to your clit and you whine at the small bit of relief he’s giving you.

“Did you get this wet just from sucking my cock, sweetheart?” you deflate slightly at his teasing and nod, clenching around nothing at his words. He swallows a groan at the sight in front of him.

He wastes no time wrapping his lips around your clit, swirling tongue in delicious circles. A moan rips out of your throat at the sudden stimulation and he groans wrapping his arms tighter around your thighs.

You move your hips against his face and he shifts his mouth to collect your juices on his tongue before moving back up to your clit. You fight how your thighs want to close around his head but he only presses himself further into you at the shaking against his ears.

You feel him at your entrance, stretching you slowly with two fingers as he continues his work on your clit. He curls his digits into you and your hips buck at the sensation.

“That’s my good girl, fuck yourself on my tongue.” he moans into your folds, flattening his tongue for you to use. He picks up the pace of his hand and you rut against his mouth. The sounds you’ve been swallowing down flowing out of your lips before you can stop them.

“Jungkook, fuck!” you whine and he scissors his fingers faster to bring you to your rapidly approaching peak. Your walls clench and your rhythm falters, he wraps his lips around your clit sucking as he does. Your orgasm rips through you and onto his fingers with a loud moan.

“You’re so beautiful.” he says breathless, he almost sounds amazed that someone can look so beautiful when they cum.

He quickly climbs over you, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand and reconnecting your lips as soon as he reaches your face, he can’t get enough of your lips and you moan at your taste on his mouth.

He slips his pants down his legs, and lines himself up with your entrance, gasping at your wetness on his painfully hard cock. His eyes widen “I didn’t bring a-”

“I’m on the pill.” you reassure, grinding up against his dick.

“Thank fuck.” he sighs, pushing his cock in as he does. Your eyes close at the stretch he’s providing. He pushes in rather slowly savoring every small clench and twitch your walls give him.

He’s quick to pick up the pace seeing as you were more than happy when he was rough earlier. You moan at how well he fucks into you, you hold onto his arms as you’re afraid you’ll float away if you don’t anchor yourself. He smacks his hips against you harder and you gasp at how deep he is, trying your best not to yelp.

He wraps his arm around your back and takes a handful of your hair, yanking against your sore scalp until your chin is pointing at the ceiling, and you can’t contain your moans with your neck so open. “Don’t hold back, sweetheart. Give me all those beautiful sounds.” he says into your ear before sinking his teeth into your neck.

With your new position you’re a moaning mess underneath him and you feel him smirk against your skin as he delivers particularly hard thrusts, the sound of your moans and slapping skin filling the room..

He continues his relentless pace, watching you in awe. “Such a pretty slut.” he groans. “Look at you falling apart on my cock.” you can only whimper in response. He rubs your clit so he can watch your eyes roll back, doing his best to ignore his approaching orgasm so he can feel you cum again on his cock.

“I’m- fucking- I’m gonna-.” you try to warn doing your best to keep your voice steady.

“Good girl, cum for me, beautiful.” he soothes, lacing his finger with yours, mumbling praises into your ear as you clench around him, his hips work hard to keep their pace through your orgasm.

With his not far behind, he thrusts faster finally letting go. He reconnects your lips, the kiss hot and messy as his end is finally in sight.

His hips stutter. “I love you.” He breathes as he releases into you, falling against you shortly after and you laugh, brushing his wet hair out of his eyes while he catches his breath.

“I love you, too.” you whisper and he hums holding you tightly.

“I could get used to hearing that.” he smiles brightly, before he kisses you slowly. — “So…” you begin after the two of you are showered. Jungkook is sitting on the end of your bed ruffling his damp hair. “So?” he perks up, taking your hands in his. “Are you sure you want to do this?” you say squeezing his hands, still a little nervous despite the several ‘I love you’s and how your heart pounds when you look in eyes. Still a little nervous that if you hold on too tight he’ll slip through your fingers. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” he says leaning into your touch, and his words calm your racing heart.

“Okay.” you smile brightly, and he can’t help but mirror you.

“Hey.” he says, making sure you’re giving him your full attention, and you meet his gaze. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” — You stand next to Jungkook, fingers laced tightly together, as you stare down the familiar dirt driveway.

“You ready?” he asks, still looking straight ahead at the chicken wire fence.

“No.”

“Yeah, me either.”

He squeezes your hand in his as you walk through the dirt and into the old house, same as you left it. You walk past the living room into the furthest bedroom where Yoongi’s mark is most prominent in the house. You stop at the corner where he carved that heart in the wall that, besides some dust, looks just like the day he put it there.

“Hi Hyung,” Jungkook begins. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to talk to you in a long time.” he looks a tad nervous as if he’ll be reprimanded, he squeezes your hand and you rub your thumb over his knuckles. “I found her,” he says, sounding more sure of himself. “And I wanted you to meet her. Are you surprised?”

“We are too.” you breathe out a laugh. “Hey Yoongs,” your voice is a little shaky. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, I just didn’t know how.” you breathe. “I miss you, and I want you to know that I’m happy.” you reassure, remembering how he always checked. “We’re happy.” you put your other hand on Jungkook’s.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.” He adds, placing a kiss on your temple.

“And I’ll take care of him.” you say, and you both put your hand on the heart gently. That final breath that was taken from you those years ago returns and your lungs finally feel full again, and you open your mouth to speak.

“I love you, angel.”

————————

A/N -> Hello! I hope you liked it!!! I’m really proud of this one, feel more than free to send me an ask with your thoughts, I’d love to know what you thought. <3

Tag List -> @ancailinaerach @kpopfanfictionhoes @bunnyboyenthusiast @singularity-mp3

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waiting4inspiration · 5 years ago

Text

Darkness before Dawn VIII: Manifestation

Summary: You agree to let Malla manifest, knowing that it would be a good idea to have someone like her on your side. Charlotte wants to find out who her father really is.

Warnings: angst, strong language, mentions of sex and fooling around, mentions of arranged marriage, mentions of bastard children, horror themes, magical elements

Word Count: 2,859

Darkness before Dawn Masterlist II The Witcher Masterlist

“No. I refuse,” Dominic sternly says as he paces the floor in front of you, shaking his head as he runs his hands over his face.

After telling Geralt and Jaskier everything that Malla said and what she suggested, Jaskier mentioned that before deciding anything, you should tell your father and your aunt, Ida about it. And you had to admit that he’s right.

Your father has done everything in his power to protect you, hired a Witcher and called for his sister. He has to know what’s going on and be included in every decision involving your protection.

Ida dropped everything to come to Eronia to help you. She voluntarily tired herself out to make the protective spots keeping the spirit away from you and is currently doing her best to find out what she can about dark magick to try and locate the witch so the curse can be broken.

Not including any of them wouldn’t be fair.

“Dominic, having a ghost on our side could help us find out things we can’t,” Ida mentions from across the room, arms folded over her chest and her shoulder against the wall, supporting her as she leans. Your mother always told you that it is unladylike. “She said she could help us and we need all the help we can get.”

Your father turns to look at her, staring in shock as he breathes out a long sigh. “I am not going to allow my daughter to give part of her life force to a spirit,” he rambles, looking between you, Geralt and Ida. “How do we know if we can trust her?”

“I trust her,” you speak, making everyone turn to look at you.

You haven’t moved from the circle by your painting, too afraid of his words, the spirit’s words that he’ll be waiting for you to step out. Even though you’re sure that with Geralt and Ida, you’d be able to cross your room and get to your bed, but you’re too scared to try.

“She refuses to touch me unless I give her permission even though she was standing right in front of me. She’s not like the one tormenting me,” you state, your fingers touching the bandage around your forearm. Ida says that tomorrow, you’ll be able to take them off and let the wound breathe. “I-I want to do it.”

Dominic shakes his head and takes a few steps towards you. “(Y/n)-”

“He’s afraid of her just as he’s afraid of Geralt and Ida,” you mention, lowering her gaze to your hands in your lap. You left that part out when you told Geralt what happened.

Your words make Geralt and Ida perk up in interest and Jaskier to look between both of them. “What?” Geralt questions.

His voice pulls your gaze away from your hands - it has that effect on you - and you give a small nod. “He said that he wanted what he came for, and that there wasn’t anyone here to stop him. No Witcher with his silver swords, no Mage with her magick. No Malla. She can stop him from harming me when I’m not in a circle.”

“How?” Jaskier questions before anyone can speak.

“She’s a ghost. Spirits can interact with each other just as we can,” Geralt explains, glancing over to Ida who nods an agreement.

Dominic sighs as he shakes his head. Again. He’s fought wars before, won most of them. But this seems like a losing battle trying to prevent you from giving some of your life force, which is basically your soul, to a ghost. “Having someone like her would be beneficial to us,” Geralt states, noticing Dominic’s reluctance and your eagerness to do this.

You have the Witcher on your side.

“Fine. How do we summon her?” Dominic asks, looking to his sister who only shrugs her shoulder.

Your eye catches Malla standing by the fireplace again, a gentle smile on her face and a small nod in her head. Like a bow of acknowledgment. “She’s already here,” you whisper, standing from your seat and taking a step closer to the edge of the circle.

They all follow your gaze, unaware that Malla begins to walk towards you. “You have decided?” she questions.

You nod.

Malla sighs in relief, her kind smile never fades as she stands a few feet in front of you. She holds out her hands in front of her. “You’ll have to be outside the circle, I’m afraid,” she states, knowing that you’re scared to do just that.

Nonetheless, you take a step forward. “What must I do?” you ask, slowly lifting your hands and keeping them above hers.

“Nothing. You may feel tired at the end, but it’s nothing rest can’t fix. I promise, you’ll feel just as you feel right now after you rest,” she explains, making you nod and look down at her hands. “Whenever you are ready, princess.”

She’s calm, no need for rush in her voice. Not like your main spirit. And you know, should you change your mind, she will understand. You can see it in her eyes.

Still, you look over to Geralt for assurance. He steps forward to make sure you know he’ll protect you no matter what happens. That you’re safe, as long as he’s there.

And you trust him.

Turning your head back to Malla, you nod your head and place your hands in hers. They’re cold, though you don’t know why you’re surprised at that. She curls her finger around your hands and takes in a deep breath. That’s when you start to feel as if something is pulling at something deep down inside you.

Your mouth falls open, like you want to scream, but it’s not like that. All you can do is breathe out heavily and shift on your feet when it feels as if the floor sways beneath your feet.

To Geralt, Jaskier, Dominic, and Ida, they begin to see a figure taking form in front of you. It starts off as a flicker, but they start to make out the outline of a person. Then they start to see more detail, the dress she wears, how long her hair is, any jewelry she wears, and how she has your hands in hers. Next, they see color, the dark red of her dress with small embroidered shapes on the hems, the honey color of her hair, and the bruise on her neck that portrays how her life was taken from her.

It’s as if a human stands in front of you and they just appeared out of thin air.

Malla suddenly lets go of your hands, making you stumble back and gasp in surprise. But Geralt is close enough to catch you before you fall. He scoops you into his arms, takes note of the paleness of your tired face and quickly carries you to the bed, leaving the other three people staring at the newer one.

Geralt places you on the bed, reaches up to stroke your forehead as you turn your head towards him. Giving him a weak smile as he places his hands over yours that lie on your stomach, he smiles in return before looking over to Malla. “What did you do to her?”

“She’ll be fine, Witcher. She just needs to rest,” Malla gently says, not wishing to alarm anyone or make them think she has other motives now that she is manifested. “She’ll be perfectly well before sunrise,” she mentions, turning her gaze to the window to see that the sun has already set. “I told her that doing this would allow me to communicate with you what I know without her having to speak for me and waste time. And I have much to tell you.”

Uza thought that she could keep the secret that Charlotte isn’t the King’s daughter to herself until her dying day. She didn’t think that a witch would ruin everything she worked for to get her first daughter into a seat of power, knowing that it’s something she couldn’t have if Dominic knew the truth. She was right.

Now, everything has changed since the night of the curse. She wasn’t scared for Charlotte because she knew that she wouldn’t be affected by it. She already knew you would be the one receiving the curse.

She had to tell the truth that night to Dominic. She had to tell him that Charlotte’s father is a stable boy from her home kingdom, that she was conceived before their marriage was even arranged.

Hearing the door open and close with a shrill call of her name, she knows without looking that Charlotte has walked in. “What is it?” she questions, turning around to look at her, only to find a broken look on her face. “What happened?”

Charlotte chuckles and shakes her head as she steps forward. “As if you didn’t expect this to happen. People are calling me a bastard. The Bastard. People in the city, people in the castle, everywhere,” she complains, throwing her hands up in anger as Uza steps forward. “And now, I want to know who my father really is. My real father,” she demands.

Uza stares at her in shock, her eyes wide and her hands folded in front of her. This is just like when she had to tell Dominic the truth. There’s the same look in her eye, the same want for the truth. Something Uza is sure she learned from Dominic.

She gives a sigh, turns to walk towards a chair in the room, and clears her throat to begin explaining. “It was before I was supposed to marry the new King of Eronia. My mother...caught me in a vulgar affair with the stable boy,” she starts, sitting down in a chair and lifting her gaze up to Charlotte. “To spare any embarrassment to the family, my father married me off to King Dominic of Eronia. The day of the wedding, I found out I was carrying you,” she adds, ending her explanation there.

It’s short and to the point. Simple. It’s all Charlotte needs to know.

Charlotte gives a small nod as she drops her gaze to the ground and steps forward, closer to her mother. “Did you at least love him? My real father?” she softly questions, only looking up at her when she sits in the chair in front of her.

“No,” Uza whispers, her answer makes her daughter’s head drop between her shoulders again, shamed. “He was just someone to have fun with.”

Shaking her head to herself, Charlotte glances to the side as she hears those people calling her that name in her mind. “So I really am a bastard,” she whispers, her hands folding in her lap as she fights back the tears growing in her eyes.

Uza leans forward to place her hand over Charlotte’s. “No, you are a princess, Charlotte-”

“No, I’m not,” Charlotte snaps, pulling her hands out from under her mother’s and stands to her feet again. “I’m your bastard child who’s only a princess because of a lie. If the King wanted, he could strip me of my title right now and send me to live on the streets like a true bastard,” she states, taking a few steps backward away from her mother as she shakes her head, afraid that what she said might just happen.

Uza stands and tries to reach out to her daughter to calm her. “Your father wouldn’t-”

“You mean the King. He is not my father,” she cuts her off again, silencing Uza for a moment longer than she thought.

Realizing she’s right, that Dominic is too occupied with you at the moment to cast anyone out of the royal family and take away titles and rights, she gives a defeated sigh. “I will talk to him. And I will make sure that you are no longer called a Bastard,” Uza states, stepping in front of her daughter and placing her hands either side of her face, she leans forward to kiss her forehead.

Malla told everyone what she had been doing while you decided if you wanted to help her manifest. She told them how she asked around everywhere in the spirit realm about this malicious spirit haunting you. The look on her face, however, tells them that it’s not really any good news.

“His real name died with him. He now goes by the name ‘Kurst’, and many are afraid of him,” Malla explains, sitting on the bed by your feet. You try to keep your tiredness at bay, wanting to hear what she has to say, wanting to know about this man tormenting you. “He’s powerful. And he’s the only one in the realm of the dead with no indication as to how he died which is a sign that he was involved with dark magick when he was alive. Those that would talk to me, told me that he has been trying to get back.”

Her last words confuse everyone, including you. But you don’t have the strength to ask what she means by that. You know that someone else will ask.

“Get back? What does that mean?” Dominic questions, leaning forward in his seat as he keeps a strong stare on the ghost.

You breathe out a tired sigh and let your eyes flutter shut for a second, telling yourself that you’ll just rest them for a moment. But when Malla looks over at you, she knows that you won’t wake until morning. She’s happy that you’re finally giving in to rest. You need to. “It means that he’s trying to come back to the world of the living.”

That shocks everyone.

Geralt’s eyes fall to your bandaged arm and he realizes something that no one has yet questioned. “He’s touched her before. Does that mean he’s pulled some of her life force out of her?” he questions and it only unsettles Dominic more.

Malla sighs and glances down to your arm. “It is possible.”

“If he draws all of it out of her, what will he be capable of?”

“That’s enough,” Dominic snaps, the rise in his voice makes you stir turn around to face away from them with a small whine leaving your lips.

But still, Geralt looks to Malla for the answer to his question.

She sighs, lowers her gaze to the ground and shakes her head. “I don’t know. Nothing like that has ever happened before,” she whispers, slowly looking up at Geralt again. “It’s not a very good feeling pulling out a part of a human’s soul for us ghosts. It feels worse the guilt of killing someone,” she mentions, glancing down to her hands as she recalls the feeling of when you gave her permission to touch you.

“But if someone has killed before, they would be used to that guilt,” Jaskier mentions, pulling Malla’s attention to him.

She gets a thought, almost as if his words sparked a memory in her mind from when she was still alive. Shaking her head to push it aside, she looks back at Geralt before glancing down to you again. “I can ask around some more and try and find people who will talk,” she states, looking back at the group who nod their head in approval, thanks, or appreciation. “Is there anything else you wish for me to find out? The spirit realm can hold a lot of answers and secrets.”

It’s quiet for a moment, everyone looks at each other, waiting for one of them to speak.

“The witch that cursed her,” Dominic speaks, breaking the silence and standing from his seat. “She had a personal vendetta against me. Can you find out who she is?” he begs, earning a friendly smile from Malla as if it would not hinder her main quest.

She nods her head and stands from the bed. “I can try,” she whispers, looking back down to you. “She’s lucky to have people like you that care so much about her,” she states, looking to them again.

Ida steps forward and rests her hand on Dominic’s shoulder. “We should let her rest now,” she says, nodding to you as you breathe out a deep breath.

“I shall return when I find out something,” Malla speaks before she disappears.

Dominic walks closer to you, strokes your head gently before leaning down to kiss your forehead. You shift before settling down again, nuzzling your face into your pillow and humming to your pillow as your father pulls away to walk out of the room, followed by Ida.

Jaskier looks over to Geralt who steps forward to you and sits beside you. Smiling to himself, he silently walks towards the door and closes it behind him.

Looking around the room, Geralt notices that he’s alone with you. He strokes your arm with the back of his hand before he reaches up to push a piece of hair away from your face. He thinks about the conversation he had with Jaskier. He does like you. He is getting attached to you. And it’s not like the time with Yennefer.

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krreader · 5 years ago

Text

BTS reacting to you wanting, but being scared to have sex with them.

pairing: bts x reader fandom: bts warnings: mentions of sex ; insecurities genre: angst ; fluff ; smut word count: 1.4k+

a/n: heeeey my love, I hope you like it ♥

kim seokjin

“Tell me about it,” Jin gently brushed over your cheek, the darkness of the room giving you the confidence to talk about this that you normally wouldn't have.

“You're perfect, Jin. And I'm not. I have flaws and I still do not understand how you love me even with them. You seeing me fully naked.. it would just make me so self-conscious.”

“You think they're flaws, I think they're details about you that make you more special. The scars on your face from past break-outs? Warrior marks,” he chuckled, then kissed your forehead, “The stretch marks on your thighs that you always try to hide from me? Signs of growth. Strength.”

He could go into detail right now and tell you everything that he loved about you that you didn't, but he didn't want to make it seem like he only did it because he wanted to sleep with you. He did, but not now. Not when you weren't ready yet.

But with him saying things like that.. it might happen sooner than both of you thought it would.

min yoongi

“Can you.. turn off the lights?” you asked, your naked body currently under the blanket.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at you, but decided not to turn off the lights. Instead, he walked over to the bed and sat down, letting out a sigh, “I'm not going to sleep with you before you're not completely honest with me. Is this really something that you want to do? Now?”

“Yes. Just.. not with the lights on.”

It wasn't hard to figure out that it was because you were insecure. You've done sexual things before, never all the way, but whenever you were naked, you wanted him to turn off the lights.

He didn't know what caused this insecurity but he didn't have to guess much longer, because his look was enough for you to finally give in and tell him about your ex-boyfriend who, upon breaking up, said he ended things because your body wasn't what he was into. And to hear someone say that, as a reason for breaking up with you.. well, it wasn't very nice to hear.

Yoongi understood, but Yoongi also didn't sleep with you that night, lights on or off. He would not sleep with you until he made sure you understood that you could honestly love your body like he loved it.

He would not sleep with you until you were fully comfortable with him.

jung hoseok

It was hard for you, because you really wanted to sleep with him. You wanted to feel him inside of you, but past memories were making it hard to take that leap of faith.

It was just never nice.. consensual, yes, but nice? Not really.

That's why you always walked away whenever Hoseok tried to start something.

But tonight, you wanted that to change. Because Hoseok wasn't like that. He already told you countless of times that he'd pleasure you like there was no tomorrow. That his goal was not to find release himself, but to make this as pleasant for you as he could.

And so when his fingers started rubbing circles over your clit and you felt the sensation, all you could do was moan and arch your back and you knew that he was true to his words.

He would make you forget about shitty past experiences.

kim namjoon

When you and Namjoon first started dating, he could tell that there was an invisible wall between you two. Something that kept you at a distance, but not voluntarily.

It didn't take long for him to find out that it must have had something to do with past relationships, because every time he so much as tried to get close to you, physically, you didn't want to.

Naturally, he never pushed you. He never pushed you to take that next step and he never pushed you to talk about it.

And that was exactly the reason why you felt comfortable enough to tell him on your own one day, “He was my first and it unfortunately wasn't a very good experience. I know they say the first time is supposed to hurt..-”

“No,” Namjoon quickly, and angrily interrupted, “That's a stereotype. The first time might feel weird, but it should never hurt, at least not like it must have hurt you.”

You smiled a little and then leaned against him, “You make me wish I had waited..”

“I can't undo what he did wrong. But I can show you what it's supposed to feel like, (Y/N).”

And that he did.

park jimin

Jimin wanted to have sex with you so badly, but he didn't push it. He knew you weren't ready yet, but he must have assumed it was because you've never been with anyone before.

When you finally told him about the real reason, he was more than surprised.

“When my friends get drunk, they always talk about 'how good they rode their men' and.. I'm not that, Jimin. I'm not confident in my body or in sex. Yes, I've done it before, but I don't think I've ever really been good at it. And I'm scared that if we sleep with each other and you realize that I'm bad at it, that you're going to break up with me.”

“You know the good thing about relationships, Jagi?” Jimin smiled softly, “It's being honest with your partner. If there is ever something that I want to do in bed, or something that I don't like, I would be honest with you and tell you about it. At the same time, if there is ever something you want or don't want, I want you to tell me. Because I want this to feel good for both of us. And for that to happen, we just have to be honest with each other.”

He always found the right words..

kim taehyung

Taehyung could tell that you wanted to sleep with him, but at the same time, something seemed to be holding you back.

The first month he told himself that you just wanted to wait and see whether or not this relationship would even work.

The second moth he told himself that maybe you've just been really stressed and wanted to wait for a more relaxing time.

The third month, when he, once again, found you watching him biting your lip, your eyes lingering on his crotch area as he got changed, he decided to finally ask.

“This isn't me pressuring you. I'm happy the way we are, I'm just wondering.. is there a reason you don't want to have sex?”

The question caught you by surprise, but secretly you had hoped he'd ask at one point. Because it was easier to just answer the question than to bring up the topic on your own.

“Sex was always just something that I thought was required in a relationship. I never really did it because I wanted to. But now I want to have sex.. I'm just scared that I won't be very good at it, because all I ever did was wait for it to be over, which sounds horrible, but.. it just never felt like I thought it should feel.”

Taehyung blinked at you with an open mouth for a second, then he asked: “(Y/N).. you.. never did something you didn't want to do, right?”

“It was always consensual, don't worry. When I said I didn't want to, he would never lay a finger on me.”

Taehyung let out a relieved sigh, then he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, “Baby girl, I'm ready to cum without even touching you, that's how hot you are and that's how little you have to do to make me hard,” he chuckled, making you giggle into his chest, “I'll guide you through it if you'll have me.”

And a kiss from you was all it took for him to push you back into the mattress.

jeon jeongguk

The more you watched Jeongguk perform live, the more you wanted to give yourself to him.

Yes, you loved the sweet and caring boyfriend that he was, but that persona that he had while he was on stage did things to you that you honestly thought you'd never feel.

“We don't have to rush things,” he tried to calm you down when you pushed him against the door of his dressing room after a concert, him still sweaty as hell.

“Jeongguk, I never thought I could feel this attracted to someone in my life. I never thought I could want sex as much as I want it now. I thought I might be different and that I'd never want it and that scared me but,” you beamed happily as you interlocked your fingers behind his neck, “I want you. God, I want you so bad.”

Jeongguk would have accepted and loved you with or without sex. You had told him about your worries early on in your relationship. But seeing you so happy about it and so sure.. it made him just as happy.

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angelsswirl · 4 years ago

Text

Petrichor

Two

"Cupid must have wrote a love story in the dark. Oh, sloppy Cupid. Doomed us from the start."

"Walk me through it one more time." Yeri's lip quivered as she tried not to laugh. And she was trying really, really hard.

"No, you're going to laugh." A petulant pout overtook Chaeyoung's lips. It's an odd look on her. She's sitting in a desk chair that anyone else would probably describe as something just shy of a throne. And she's dressed head to toe in an Armani suit that someone else picked out for her.

Yeri, her assistant, shook her head profusely. If she was going to laugh, she would have done it already. She was simply holding it in for Chaeyoung's sake. If it were anyone else she would have cracked up in their face, but her boss seemed quite miffed with the situation.

"I promise I won't." She insisted. Rosé narrowed her eyes, then sighed. She grabbed her heart-shaped stress ball off of her mahogany desk. She threw it into the air once, twice, three times before speaking.

"I saw her walk in and may or may not have dropped a 15 pound weight on my toe. She got on the elliptical and it wouldn't work, so I decided that was my opening. I walked over, kicked it with the same probably broken foot, then I asked her out. There." Rosé glared at her assistant who snickered profusely.

"Now hold on. You're forgetting a part." Yeri looked down at the legal pad that had been sitting in her lap. She perused the page before tapping on a particular spot.

"Ah hah! You pulled a business card out of your fucking gym shorts like an absolute psychopath." This must be the final nail in the coffin as she finally howled in laughter, "I'm surprised any of that actually worked. Are you sure she gave you her actual number and not someone else's? Like a cop's?"

"We'll address the fact that you're taking notes on my love life in your quarterly evaluation, but to answer your question I have no idea. I completely embarrassed myself in front of her, but she was smiling like she found it cute."

Yeri eyed the look on her employer's face, "You know I'm just messing with you, Rosie. I'm sure you completely charmed her. Besides, there's only one way to find out." Yeri nodded her head towards Chaeyoung's personal phone which had been haphazardly placed on top of a stack of meeting notes.

"You're right. I need to redeem myself." Chaeyoung grabbed her phone, and searched for your name in her contacts.

Yeri rolled her eyes. Alphas were so weird. She's about to leave the office and give Rosé some semblance of privacy, when a framed picture, sitting on one of the many counters in the room, catches her eye.

"Hey, Rosie. Hate to burst your bubble, but are we just supposed to act like Joy doesn't exist?"

Rosé gave a heavy pause, she sighed and looked up at Yeri, "We've been broken up for two months, so yes we are supposed to pretend like she doesn't exist."

"Yeah, but I don't know if that's how that works."

Rosé sounded tired when she spoke next, "Just drop it, Yeri." She ran a hand through her blonde hair.

Yeri sighed and shook head, "Fine. Don't forget you have a meeting with Spectrum at 12:30 this afternoon."

"I won't. Thank you." Yeri let the door close behind her.

~•~

"Could you knock for once? What if I was naked?" Jisoo frowned as she padded into her livingroom, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

"Why would you walk around naked? You're roommates with a two year old alpha. She'd most definitely try to punch you in the dick." The intruder exclaimed as she pushed passed Jisoo into the kitchen area.

"Roommate would imply that she pays rent. I keep telling her to get a job, but everytime I do she just stares at me then asks for more cheerios. I'm all cheerio-ed out!" Jisoo gripped her hair dramatically.

"Which is exactly why I bought you some real breakfast." As if on queue the sound of small feet slapping furiously against hardwood is heard.

"How do you keep escaping your jail cell?" Jisoo asked, peering down at her daughter with a confused glare.

"Stop calling her crib a jail cell."

"There's bars. I lock those bars. And she's supposed to not be able to get out of those bars. Sounds plenty like a jail cell to me. One time she even ran her sippy cup along the bars and started playing the harmonica."

"Aunt 'Rene!" Lia shouted. She had a wonderful knack for distracting her aunt so she didn't choke her mother to death.

"Hi, Lia. Are you hungry?"

Lia nodded happily.

"She likes to act like she'll starve here. I feed you, too." Lia just stared blankly at her mother as she chewed on a piece of pancake Irene handed her.

"Anyway. Why am I here?"

Jisoo's brows furrowed, "I don't know. You just showed up."

"No. You texted me last night asking me to come over."

Jisoo raised an eyebrow as she checked her phone. It was very plausible. Sounded like something she would do, but she'd be lying if she said she had any recollection of doing it.

The One With The Kid : v v upset. Told cutteeee omega me lifes storie. Wanna sEx her but Jenn3i look at me mean. Pls cum huggg my. Read at 10:03 pm.

"Wow. Drunk at only ten o'clock? I might have a problem."

"You think?"

"Well, it looks like I already told you why you're here. I told a very cute omega my entire life's story and I was totally going to go home with her if Jennie hadn't have ruined it. And I was like completely sober at that point."

"Do you still want that hug?"

"Will you try to choke me?"

"Probably."

"Then yes."

"Sometimes I wonder if your child is actually parenting you instead of the other way around." Irene rolled her eyes then got to setting up the rest of the food she had brought.

"So, what actually happened last night. I'm sure Jennie threw an absolute rager." Irene chuckled at her own joke.

"Y/N made the same joke."

"Who the fu-heck is Y/N?"

"The cute omega. She walked into the kitchen, where I was hiding. We got to talking and I don't know, I just started telling her things." Jisoo explained as she calmly pulled a piece of pancake her daughter would have most definitely choked on out of her hands. She handed it back to her after ripping it in half.

"Do you think-"

"You know, I hate that question."

Irene sighed and poked at her eggs, "It has to be asked, Chu. When was the last time you voluntarily gave any type of information about yourself to a stranger?"

"Never."

"Exactly. Maybe she's the one." Irene shrugged, she eyed her best friend. Jisoo just sat silently and watched her daughter eat.

"I don't know. She saw my phone background and asked about it. And I only hesitated a little bit. She smelled great." Jisoo's eyes took on a bit of a dreamy look, and Irene just chuckled to herself.

"Did she recognize you?"

"Not at first, but I guess I said something and it jogged her memory. She said she had seen some of my videos in her classes."

Irene's eyes widened dramatically, "Oh my God, Chu. How old is she?!"

"She's friend's with Jennie and Lisa. Met them in college, so I'm assuming she's talking about Grad school." Jisoo laughed as the turmoil slowly drained from Irene's face.

"That was close. So, she knows about the kid, your job, and she still didn't run for the hills? Please, tell me you got this girl's number."

"....But you don't like it when I lie to you."

"Jisoo!" Irene admonished.

Lia, assuming this is just a game of word association yelled as well, "Mama!"

"What?! After Jennie walked in she just abruptly left. She had a class this morning." Jisoo shrugged.

"Chu, it's Saturday."

"Oh yeah."

"Then why did she leave? What did Jennie say exactly?"

"She glared at me a bit when she saw me with her. She said Lisa had been looking for Y/N, but Y/N didn't really seem to care. Then Jennie left. Y/N said that was weird, then she said she had to go. That was it. I think she noticed Jennie being weird to me, and it scared her off somehow."

Irene nodded as she listened, "Why was Jennie glaring at you anyway? I thought you guys were cool with each other again."

"I never try to venture into Jennie's mind. I imagine I'd go insane. I think she was just being an alpha really. She probably thought she had an obligation to protect her." Jisoo shrugged once more, "It's okay. If I really wanted her number I'd just get it from Lisa."

"You should really want her number."

Jisoo didn't say anything. She just chewed the inside of her lip as she continued to monitor her daughter's eating.

~•~

"Should I have dressed up a little more?" You asked, self consciously looking down at your sweater and skinny jeans.

"Oh, no! Sorry, I just came from work." Rosé gestured at her suit with a nonchalant wave of her hand.

"Well you look nice."

"So do you." Rosé smiled at you softly. She held the door opened for you.

"Did you want anything?" Chaeyoung gestured to the menu floating over the baristas heads.

"Um, sure a white chocolate mocha, please."

Chaeyoung nodded, "An excellent choice. I think I discovered the drug of coffee back in college. A white chocolate mocha was my gateway drug into plain black. I'm thinking about enrolling my self into coffee-holics anonymous."

You laughed lightly, "I totally understand. I don't think I'd pass my midterms if I didn't have at least two shots of espresso on study nights."

Chaeyoung placed your orders and patiently waited for it to be filled, "What are you studying?"

"I'm earning my master's in education. Would love to be an administrator some day." A big smile spread across your face and Rosé couldn't help but find it contagious.

"You'd make a wonderful administrator one day, I'm sure." When the order is ready, Rosé retrieved them and lead the two of you toward an alcove in the back of the coffeeshop.

"Thank you. Everyone thinks I'm crazy for staying in school so long."

"Do you think it will be beneficial for you in the long run?" Rosé asked as she took a sip of her black coffee.

"Absolutely."

"Then fuck what they think." Rosé said matter of factly. There's a spark in your eye that sort of snatched her breathe right out of her chest.

"That's a bit easier said than done. But, enough about me. What do you do that's got you so dressed up?"

Chaeyoung's eyes widened a bit. She was hoping that she could avoid that question. People always seem to freak out a bit when they realize she'd could probably buy a private island for them if she wanted to.

"I work at a marketing agency. Royal Collective."

"That large as fuck building like right next to central park?!" You asked excitedly. You walked passed that place all of the time. And it was hard to miss, considering it was one of the taller buildings around instead of normal glass windows, the windows had curated, colorful graffiti all over them.

"That's the one." Chaeyoung prided herself on keeping her financial status private. Not many people knew who ran Royal Collective and it was going to stay that way.

"That must be so cool. Does your office have a nice view?"

"It does ac-" Rosé is cut off by the sound of her phone ringing. She sighed discreetly.

"I'm sorry. I have to take this." She stepped a few feet away, and answered the phone.

"I know you're on your little date but we're going to need you to come back in. The CEO of Spectrum is having a tantrum in your office." Yeri's voice does sound apologetic, but she can also hear the humor as she listened to the grown man in the other room scream and cry.

"I'll be there soon." Rosé hung up the phone, then took a deep breath. She turned back around toward you with a slight grimace.

"I'm so sorry. But there's an emergency at work and I have to handle it. Do you mind if we cut this short?"

You stood up quickly, "Not at all. I understand."

Rosé sighed in relief, "Thank you. I'll call you." She kissed you on the cheek before all but sprinting out of there.

You blushed heavily.

~•~

You hated Sundays. Somehow, they're your busiest day of the week. Which, doesn't make sense because you don't have classes on Sundays.

Though, this Sunday is serving to be a bit better than the rest. You were able to get the rest of your classwork done the previous day, so you were free to do whatever you wanted.

You eventually decided on going to your favorite pizza place. It's only around the corner from your apartment, and you've got cravings.

You walked into the small hole in the wall a bit preoccupied with your phone.

You all but rammed into someone just as you crossed the threshold. You're about to lose your balance, when the person grabbed your waist firmly.

"Where's the fire?"

Your looked up with a gasp. Maybe if you weren't so close you'd have something more articulate to say other than "Oh".

"Sorry, Jisoo." You breathed out. Jisoo just chuckled lightly before letting you go.

"It's okay. You might want to look up from your phone at least once next time, though."

You blushed heavily and looked down in embarrassment. It's then that you realized Jisoo isn't alone.

You smiled softly at the small girl hiding partly behind her mother's legs.

"Hello, I'm sorry I ran into your mom, but she's firm. I'm sure she's fine." Lia looked up to her mother for confirmation. Jisoo gave the child a thumbs up.

Lia waddled out from behind her mom. She seemed interested in you for about two more seconds before the claw machine tucked in the corner catches her eye.

"Hm. Normally she hates meeting new people." Jisoo watched as her daughter toddled over to the machine she couldn't reach.

"Kids can be odd." You shrugged, as if it was as easy as that.

"So...come here often?" Jisoo wondered if there was a set of subway stairs she could throw herself down, because what the fuck was that?

"Yes, actually. I live around the corner, and Sal here has the best pizza in this entire state." You nodded toward the owner of the restaurant.

"Never been here before actually. One of my friend's recommended it."

"Smart friend."

"Irene has her moments." Jisoo shrugged. Speaking of Irene, now was her chance. Irene would murder her in cold blood if she found out Jisoo had the opportunity to get your number and then didn't.

"Uh, did you want to maybe-can I get your number?" Those subway stairs have to be close, right?

"Yeah. If you hadn't have said anything, I probably would have asked for yours." Jisoo handed you her phone and watched deftly as you put your number in.

"I would have said yes." The pair laugh until they're interrupted by your phone ringing.

You pulled it out of your back pocket and took a glimpse at the screen.

'Rosé🥀🌹' flashed across it.

It's then that you realize you have a problem.

#petrichor #blackpink fanfic #jesssica's fanfic #blackpink #jisoo fanfic #jisoo x reader #rose fanfic #rose x reader #alpha female #abo #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #alpha beta omega #alpha x omega

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universe-n-3276 · 4 years ago

Text

Moments

#2: Jealousy

Sander rarely manifested his emotions.

Because of anxiety, he had learned from an early age, to look calm, even when he felt like he was suffocating inside. There were few people with whom, he felt free to let himself go, first and foremost Robbe, to whom he had voluntarily shown his most vulnerable, saddest, happiest, angriest side. At the beginning it hadn't been easy. He wanted his boyfriend to see him as a strong, dominant, and always in control, human being. Sander was afraid, that, if he let himself go, if he revealed all of his emotions (and he had many of them, too many, too intense), Robbe would have left him right away. Over time, however, the love he had received, made him understand, that showing his weakness, didn’t mean making himself less powerful, in the eyes of the other.

Robbe was more emotional, and he looked at Sander every day with admiration, because of the way he managed to smile despite everything. His mysterious aura never disclosed too much about him. On the contrary, he felt as if everyone could read his thoughts, directly on his forehead, like an open book. In particular, Sander did it ridiculously easily. Robbe liked it, because if struggling, he could completely give himself in to his boyfriend’s care, who knew exactly what to do. Always.

Both were quite possessive. There had been times, in which Robbe had left a more evident mark on his boy's neck, and others in which Sander wanted to lock Robbe up in a room, to keep him for himself only. But it all ended there, neither of them had ever screamed in someone else's face, because of their jealousy.

It was a Saturday, on morning, in autumn, when Robbe and Sander crossed the city to visit a photography exhibition.

"I wish I had half of that photographer's talent."

Sander was frustrated. He loved to draw, but photography had been his first love. When he was 14, his parents had given him his first camera, and from that day, he never stopped taking pictures. He often found himself daydreaming, about the possibility of taking pictures, simply by blinking. Having images to look at in his mind, every time he wanted. He often thought about it, when he was with Robbe, in moments when, grabbing the camera to take photos, would have been totally inappropriate, but being able to capture his boyfriend’s perfection, would have made him feel unbelievably fulfilled.

However, Sander had been stuck for about a year, bored with his own style. He had tried experimenting with Photoshop, with analog photography, with black and white photography, but nothing convinced him. That is why, that morning, they had decided to visit the exhibition of a photographer that Sander loved.

“You are always way too hard on yourself, your photos are amazing! The ones you gave Lucas and Jens were among my favorites."

Although Robbe's words filled him with pride, there was always a voice inside his head, that kept telling him he was not good enough, that he had to give up and start studying to find an actual job. He didn't know, if it was the perfectionist in him, or his anxiety disorder, but, in any case, Sander was convinced, that in his life, nothing would have made him feel as happy as he felt, every time he finished a new drawing, a new painting, or looking for the first time at a photo, he had taken.

"Thanks, but we both know, that, as much as your opinion is the most important to me, you are also very biased."

He gave a sweet smile to his boyfriend and pressed a kiss on his cheek. Robbe laughed, and it took Sander all of his willpower, not to drag his boyfriend somewhere to give him all the kisses. He felt lucky, but he still couldn’t explain to himself, how Robbe could be the sweetest human being in some moments, and turn into the sexiest man alive in others (much more private) occasions.

It was a very cold day, despite the sun shining in the sky. Both began to feel their fingers stiffen, so, by mutual agreement, they decided to stop in a nice café, to have a couple of hot drinks.

Sander opened the door, to let Robbe in, and they were about to wait in line, when he heard his phone ring in his pocket.

“It's Charlotte, I have to pick it up. Can you get me a coffee and something sweet to eat? I'm going to look for a place for us to sit.”

He walked away, while answering the call. The cafeteria was very crowded, but luckily, he managed to find a table, from where he also could see his boyfriend waiting for his turn. He really liked to watch Robbe from afar. He loved to see him simply being himself among others.

“Lot, I can't hear you, I'm in a cafeteria. I'll call you right away, as soon as I get out. "

He hung up the phone, hoping his sister had heard him, and looked up from the screen, then, back at his boyfriend. It was his turn. The barista was clearly giving him bedroom eyes, while Robbe was completely clueless. He still didn’t understand, how his boy could be so unaware of the power, he got on the people surrounding him. Sander had spent years trying to make him understand, how irresistible he was, but the results had been very poor. Sometimes, when they were alone, Robbe realized, how much Sander was clay in his hands, and this drove them both crazy.

At that moment, the guy behind the counter kept throwing him languid looks, while he was trying to decide which dessert to order. Sander would have never, in his entire life, over his dead body, made a scene, but he was feeling the blood boiling in his veins, especially when, as Robbe were approaching their table, he noticed a detail, that almost made him set the whole place on fire.

"Why are you making that face? Did something happen with Charlotte? "

Sander raised his eyebrow even higher, while his boyfriend was sitting in front of him, placing the drinks on the table.

"I see you've been lucky."

His voice was dry. He knew he shouldn't have been upset with Robbe, who was probably oblivious to that whole situation, but he just couldn’t contain himself.

"What are you talking about?"

Robbe frowned, trying to take off his jacket without spilling the drinks, or hitting one of the other customers by mistake.

Sander turned the cup, to show him what the barista had written on it, with a large black marker, and the boy's jaw immediately dropped open.

"What the f-"

He turned himself quickly to look at the counter, meeting the gaze of the phone number’s owner written on the cup.

"Robbe."

He didn't know, why he was reacting in that manner. He had never felt so jealous, so possessive, in his life. He wanted to force the guy to watch them while... no. Nobody was allowed to see Robbe looking like that, he was the only one, who had that honor and he would have done anything, to keep the situation that way. Forever.

"I'm sorry, I swear, if I’d only noticed it- "

This was not how it was supposed to go. It wasn't Robbe’s fault. It was definitely all wrong. He had to put himself back together, regain control of himself and his emotions. He took a deep breath and went back to being, what his boyfriend needed, but of course, without forgetting to take advantage of the situation, to feed his ego, and show the barista his and Robbe’s place.

"Come."

It sounded almost like an order, and that was exactly what it was supposed to be. The boy frowned, but got up anyway. Sander took his hand, making Robbe sit next to him on the booth. He took his boyfriend’s leg under the table, placing it on his own. Sander, actually, wanted to have him sit on his lap, but he knew, it would embarrass the other, and he didn't want his little revenge on the barista, to turn into a punishment for Robbe.

He slowly brushed his fingers on his boy’s thigh, coming dangerously close to his groin, enjoying the way Robbe was trying to mask his reaction.

"What are you doing?"

His boyfriend whispered, resting his head on Sander’s shoulder, who was feeling, by the minute, more powerful and proud. He couldn’t write his name on Robbe’s forehead, but he was making sure, that the entire world understood, who that that boy belonged to.

"What am I doing?"

He smiled, very satisfied, and took the cup of coffee with the infamous phone number written on it. Sander begun to sip the dark liquid, looking the barista in the eyes, while he kept lustfully touching Robbe’s leg. He wasn’t sure, if that slow, but steady movement, could be seen from afar, but he knew, that the way his boyfriend was literally melting on him, didn’t leave much room for imagination. He felt Robbe's lips trace small kisses on his neck.

"Let's go home, please."

At that point, Sander could have been satisfied by himself, anyone else would have been pretty much proud, but not him. He knew, he could push that whole situation, a little closer to its limit. He was feeling Robbe's urge become more and more intense, while sneaking closer and closer, agonizing for more physical touch. By now, their legs were entwined under the table and his boyfriend was really close to finally sit on his lap.

"I want you."

Robbe's voice was almost a whisper, but Sander heard it like a jolt down his spine.

The euphoria he was experiencing, at the time, was absolutely impossible to describe. He pressed his lips against his boyfriend’s. That kiss immediately turned into something deeper and lascivious. He felt every inch of skin tingling, craving Robbe, in a way that had never happened before. He didn't even care about the people, who were probably looking at them. Actually, he really care a lot about then, because they were making that game even more exciting.

Sander suddenly realized, that they wouldn’t make it home, without risking losing the feeling, that was taking over their senses. He was sure, he would have had the best sex of his life, if only he had ridden those sensations until the end, and he had to do it right away.

"Let's go to the restroom."

He managed to say, catching his breath, pulling away from Robbe's lips, who immediately raised his eyebrows.

"Do you really wanna-"

Sander didn't even let him finish the sentence, he needed to touch those delicious lips, so tempting. He ran his thumb over them before kissing them again. He felt completely drunk with love for that boy. His boy.

He stood up and took Robbe's hand, giving him a look, that he knew the other couldn’t resist. He made each one of his moves dramatic and theatrical, to make sure, that his intentions were clear to everyone, especially that someone, who was now staring at them from behind the counter. He drew Robbe closer to him, putting an arm around his waist. Sander took the skin on his boyfriend’s jaw between his teeth, biting it not so lightly. Robbe didn’t shy away from that gesture, on the contrary, he came even closer to him, grasping Sander’s sweatshirt with his small fist.

Robbe looked up, and in that moment, Sander saw the intensity of his boy’s eyes. He was swimming in his exact same wave of lust, that soon would have swept them away.

Somehow, Sander managed to take a quick mental note: sometimes surrender to his own emotions wasn’t bad at all.

#wtfock #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #robbe x sander #sobbe #drijzermans #rosander #wtfam #fanfic #one shot

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thirsty-x1 · 5 years ago

Text

Prove Me Wrong II | Lee Hangyul

|| Part I ||

Request:

Hi! I love what you write a lot! Idk if is considered as a request, but could you do a part 2 of the Hangyul one shot “prove me wrong”? It was reaaally good and i loved the story😊

Aww I’m so glad you liked it!

↬ Pairing: Hangyul x fem!reader

↬ Genre: Fluff, slight Angst, Smut.

↬ Warnings: explicit language, mentions of violence and abandonment, oral sex, protected sex.

↬ Word Count: 4k

You had been trying to avoid Hangyul after what happened that night in the club. Not like he was really trying to contact you anyway, but the fact that you had to sit right next to him made you feel extremely nervous. What if he told someone about it? What if he wanted to try it again? You had been missing the classes, a little bit of guilt filling you whenever you got behind.

As the last class of the day finished, you rushed, trying to not be seen by anyone but one of your professors spotted you and asked for your help with some paper work. So here you were, organizing files according to the date they were received.

“I’m really sorry for making you stay until this late, y/n. One of the students was supposed to come but hasn’t yet...” Even if she had good intentions, you couldn’t help but to be annoyed. So because some irresponsible asshole didn’t go you had to be there and risk your reputation?

“It’s fine, I’m glad to be able to help–” You were interrupted as the door opened, a figure breathing heavily.

“Sorry for being late, I tried to make it on time but I couldn’t...”

Both you and the guy in front of you went silent the second you made eye contact. It couldn’t possibly be... Your professor talked for half an hour about how nice and helpful was the student, how he would always offer to give a hand, had good grades and such, so definitely it couldn’t be talking about Hangyul.

“Oh, Hangyul! You are finally here. Y/n almost finished with everything, though... Can you help her out? The director called me a few minutes ago but I didn’t want to leave her alone...”

It was bizarre. An extremely bizarre situation. You simply observed as he nodded, the professor leaving you two alone, an uncomfortable silence taking place. He didn’t say anything, just stood next to you and started to categorize the folders quickly. Even if you hadn’t seen him for a few weeks voluntarily, now you felt bad... And decided to start the conversation.

“So, uh... How have you been?” It seemed that the question made the atmosphere somehow become more awkward than before. Five minutes passed and he finally answered you.

“You have been avoiding me on purpose but now you ask how I am doing?” His condescending tone stabbed you a little. “There is no need for you to try and talk, we can just finish this and get out.”

Fail. You couldn’t blame him though, maybe fucking and then not even looking his way was something that affected anyone, including him.

“I’m curious about something...” He sighed before just looking at you, as if giving you pass to ask the question. “Are you really a ‘bad boy’ or not?”

Judging by the way he stared at you with evident confusion in his eyes, he wasn’t expecting that.

“What do you mean?”

“Well... You offered to help with this and no one would do that unless they are actually trying to look good with the staff here.” He simply laughed at your justification.

“What if I was just trying to build a good image so I wouldn’t get into trouble?”

“You ran here, so you obviously care about something else. Even if it’s just a build up, it seemed like you were sincere whilst apologizing.” Hangyul shook his head before going back to ignoring you. “Why do you keep pretending?”

His hands froze as he was saving the last papers. He bit his bottom lip before turning around and walking towards the door, stopping a second just to whisper a soft ‘goodbye’.

You were determined. Hangyul wasn’t as bad as everyone made him look like and you were going to prove that, at least to yourself. The classroom door stood in front of you with an imposing vibe, almost defiant, but you couldn’t care less, opening it and walking straight towards your seat, ignoring your friends and their surprised faces, but not Hangyul’s.

“Hey.” The simple greeting made him squint his eyes before huffing, that being his reply.

The class went by with you not understanding one bit, regretting missing so many of the themes in the program. Your notes were a mess, some sentences weren’t even finished as you tried to catch up with everything at the same time as you tried to process what the professor omitted since he had already talked about it previously. The torture came to an end after two eternal hours, your face pressed against the desk as your headache intensified. A hit was delivered on your neck, and as you turned to see who it was, your heart almost jumped.

“Have this, it’s from the classes you missed. It was pathetic seeing you like that just now.”

Hangyul was lending you his notebook, the pages scribbled with simple yet quite complete notes. You frowned, not remembering a single time where he took them during the classes both of you had shared before.

“I thought you didn’t care about taking notes in class?” He tensed up before rolling his eyes, extending the notebook anxiously.

“Do you want them or not?”

Startled, you nodded, a small smile spreading on your face without permission. He left them in front of you before grabbing his bag and leaving, not even letting you thank him so you hurried to pick up everything and followed him. Hangyul was already quite ahead of you, his pace hurrying more and more, finally slowing down when reaching the entrance of the university.

You softly patted his shoulder and he turned around slowly, looking down on you even if his cheeks were completely blushed. He took his earphones off and faced you after inhaling deeply, as if he were trying to build up patience to endure whatever you were going to say.

“Can you... slow down when walking? No doubt your face is so red...” His eyes opened wide whilst you were trying to not die and catch your breath.

“W-What do you even want now?”

“I just wanted to thank you for lending me your notes.”

“That’s all?” You nodded. “That’s why you ran here?”

“Uh... Yeah?”

“You ran here, so you obviously care about something else.” The mocking tone in his voice annoyed you a bit, but this was your chance to see who he really was.

“Actually, you are right.” Would stunning him work? “I c-care about you.”

There was no hesitation when he turned around and walked away from you, leaving your words hanging in the air.

You continued to bug him for the next two weeks: offering to make group projects with him, sitting next to him during lunch, joining him after class to help in the university... He would tell you to go away, even hide from you, but at some point the tiredness beat him and just gave up, getting used to have a little annoying one right next to him almost the whole day.

“Will you walk me home today as well?” The professor hadn’t even left the classroom but you already were sitting in Hangyul’s desk, waiting for him to finish picking up his stuff.

“I have somewhere to be today, so no.” For some reason, it saddened you a little.

“Can’t I go with you?” He seemed to think about it for a few seconds, before shaking his head. “Why not?”

“Just because, learn how to take a no for an answer.” You scoffed at him.

“You are one to talk.” His gaze fixed on you, his next words sending shivers down your spine.

“I don’t remember you saying ‘no’ that time.”

It was the first time you two talked about that night. The flashbacks made your blood start boiling, but not in the anger-like way. A satisfied smirk crossed his face at your sudden muteness and he got up, starting to walk as if to leave but you grabbed his hand.

“I wouldn’t say no to repeat it if you take me to wherever you are going.”

You thanked whatever superior force existed that everyone had left the classroom, because your face was burning with embarrassment and Hangyul was completely still, scanning your face to see if you were joking.

“You are not being serious.”

“O-Of course I am!” He laughed at your stuttering before shaking his head.

“You can come.” Your stomach flipped, not sure if you were happy for succeeding with your plan or nervous about the upcoming consequences. “It’s not too far away.”

Walking next to Hangyul was comforting. Somehow, you felt secure when being with him. He didn’t look at you, instead his stare was fixed on the way, fingers playing the string from his hoodie. He didn’t really look like a bad guy. Everyone stayed away from him because he earned a ‘bad reputation’ although no one told you exactly how. Supposedly, he tended to get into fights but his demeanor was pretty pacific and chill.

“Do you get into fights often?” It’s not like it was something wrong to ask.

“What do you want me to answer?”

“That made no sense.” He shrugged his shoulders and you continued. “The truth, maybe?”

“Why do you care about that?”

“Because everyone talks shit but I want to hear it from you. So, is it true or not?” Hangyul stopped walking, turning to see you in the eyes.

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

“What?”

“That’s a lie. I’m sure you are not the kind of guy that would fight as a first choice.” He seemed confused at your response.

“Why you ask me if you are going to believe whatever you want anyway, then?”

“It’s fun to annoy you.” You giggled and he sighed frustrated, resuming the walk, seeming to be deep in thought before speaking again.

“I don’t... I don’t fight often, honestly. I got into a fight once but it was a long time ago, I was like sixteen.” The sudden confession made you smile, glad that your judgment wasn’t wrong.

“I see.” Again, his brows furrowed.

“Are you not going to ask why I got into the fight?”

“I know you will tell me whenever you want and when you are ready, so there is no need to push it.” His chuckle warmed you up.

“You never cease to surprise me...” Your head turned and you were about to ask what he meant, but his face lit up. “We are here.”

You followed the direction he was looking at: a house. Or that’s what it looked like from the outside, but the sign at the front saying ‘Orphanage’ changed everything and it left you with some kind of uncertainty. As you got closer, you could hear kids laughing and playing. Hangyul knocked on the front door, a lady opening and being surprised as she hugged him close.

“Oh, you are here again! The children have been driving me nuts asking for you.” He laughed shyly, looking like a whole different person. “Oh, and who is this?”

“Ah, it’s my friend. Said she wanted to help so I thought I could bring her with me. Is it alright?” You were at a loss of words, but when the woman smiled widely, there was no turning back.

She guided you both in, a bunch of young kids screaming and running towards Hangyul, asking him to pick them up, to which he complied without any kind of resistance. Soon, he had one on his shoulders, one on each arm and one hugging his leg. The view was hilarious and you were about to take a picture until a small hand pulled on your clothes. A little girl was staring at you, a curious glint in her eyes as she spit the words boldly:

“Are you his girlfriend?” You panicked, trying to deny it fervently.

“She is pretty, right?” His reply made you swallow hard, cheeks tinting pink.

Almost the whole afternoon was spent playing with the kids, reading them stories and drawing incessantly. There was even a corner for Hangyul’s hairdressing time, where he simply made a mess out of everyone’s hair but they loved it, joy filling their round faces. It was strange seeing that side of him... You would have never taken him as the kind that enjoyed doing silly things like that, his usual serious expression completely changed whenever a few grabby hands appeared in front of him. If you were to be honest, your heart started beating faster a few times.

Hours later, the youngsters were taking their nap and you two were exhausted, laying down next to them. He stared at you and you stared back, some kind of complicity taking place in that silent moment. When you were sure everyone was asleep, you got up, stretching and Hangyul opened the door so that you two got out of the napping room.

“That was fun~ They were all so cute...” You glanced sweetly at them before closing the door. He didn’t say anything and just started walking forward, having you follow after him until he stopped in front of a wall filled with pictures.

“See this one?” You had to squint a little, but your heart dropped a beat. “That’s me. My biological parents abandoned me when I was a baby and I grew up here until I was adopted when I was seven.”

Your eyes were stinging, trying to swallow the hard knot forming in your throat. So you were right, there was way more to Hangyul than what everyone could even look at...

“You come here regularly?” He nodded in reply, staring at the picture, remembering that past.

“It was the least I could do.” His voice broke softly at the end, the strong composure he was trying to keep crumbling slowly. “I haven’t... told anyone about this, not directly. The fight I got in was with some dickheads that were laughing at the kids. After that people just made up rumors, but I didn’t care, the ones who truly matter knew me and didn’t believe them. Besides, it was just easier for me to focus on paying back to my parents if no one came near, you know?”

There was nothing you could say. No, you didn’t know, you didn’t understand and you weren’t going to pretend that you did, so you simply hugged him, your head against his chest, a quiet sob escaping your lips as he surrounded you with his arms, his breathing trembling as if he were trying to hold back the tears. The two of you stayed like that for a while, just letting everything out. You didn’t pull away until Hangyul softly ruffled your hair, giggling as he saw your swollen eyes and lips.

“S-Sorry...” You lifted up your hand to clean your face but he was faster, quickly drying your tears with his sleeve.

“It’s fine... We should get going before it gets dark. C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”

He held you tight and took you out. This time, both were silent but it didn’t feel awkward anymore. It felt comfortable, as if there was no need to share words in order to know what you were thinking. The walk felt refreshing and you even noticed details that you hadn’t before, despite crossing that path every day. As you saw your apartment coming into view, a little bit of disappointment filled you, wishing that the time spent with him could be longer, even if you had already been together for quite a good amount of hours. He stood in front of your door, waiting for you to get in, and you had to reunite all the courage in your system to ask him:

“Do you want to come in? Drink something…” You started regretting it the moment you spoke. Maybe it wasn’t the best time after all he shared with you.

“I would like to.” His reply made you blink a few times. “I’m kind of hungry after playing with the kids.”

You let out a nervous laugh and proceeded to open the door, letting him come in after you, signaling the room so that he would make himself comfortable. As you headed towards your room to leave your bag and your coat, Hangyul sat down on your sofa and asked if he could put some music to which you nodded. When you came back, mere minutes after the brief exchange, his head was thrown back and his eyes closed. You sat next to him, careful to not wake him up, and just stared at his facial features. As you did, you started to remember the events of the night at the club: how he had kissed your lips, you sucking on his neck, the soft grunts he had left out… Almost hypnotized by your memories, you didn’t notice that his eyes were open and staring you back, doing the same thing.

“Oh, I– About what I said before, the deal thing, I–” You tried to say something, but he just grinned.

“I was just looking forward to an excuse to let someone in, I guess. We don’t have to repeat that.” Sure, that’s what his voice was saying but his stare was fixated on your lips. “I’m not really that good, either…”

“Yes, yes you are.” Your heart started beating faster, fluttering against your rib cage as your hand caressed his cheek. “You keep proving me wrong, over and over…”

You weren’t sure who started, but now both were making out. His hands grabbed your hips and placed you on his lap before sliding down to grip your thighs. This time, the kiss was slow and passionate, not nearly as aggressive and quick as the last time. He took his time, feeling you up, sliding his tongue against yours. His cold hands slipped under your shirt, making you flinch slightly as he took it off, his gaze taking you in. You did the same, grazing your nails against his toned muscles, sending shivers all over his body before kissing his chest, going down until you dropped on your knees, palming his hard on over his pants.

“Such a tease when you have the time…” It was the same tone he used that night, your eyes closing in delight of the slightly raspy voice.

“It’s payback.”

In a flash, his cock was out and now you had the time to admire it all you wanted, to tease him the way you had imagined since the night at the club, licking a stripe on the side of his shaft until you got to the head, gently wrapping your lips around it and sucking, evoking a buck of his hips. The view you had was turning you on: his half lidded eyes taking in your every move, tongue licking his lips, the ones that opened in a pretty shape whenever you teased the small slit in his tip, letting harmonious moans fill the room. His fingers tangled in your hair, struggling between pushing your head down or pulling you away, until you took him wholly, your throat tightening around it as you gagged softly.

“F-Fuck, wait, I don’t want to cum like this.” You let out of his dick with a lewd pop sound, to which he bit his lip. “Room?”

You stood up, holding his hand and guiding him to your room. He undressed and you did the same, stopping when he laid down in bed, grabbing the pillows and arranging them, before turning to you with a wicked smile.

“What are you even–”

“Ride my face, at least just this one time, let me taste you.” The way his voice sounded, almost as if he was begging had you gone weak. You weren’t sure, never did it before, but it didn’t look like he was going to give up. Your legs straddled his face, embarrassment running on your veins as he stared at your center directly. “You are so beautiful.”

He wasted no time, attaching his mouth to your core, humming at your wetness and taste. You couldn’t help but to moan, his tongue feeling so much better than his fingers somehow, knowing every spot, every motion to have you gasping for more. Your hand yanked his hair as he flattened his tongue against your clit, two of his fingers getting inside of your hole. The stimulation was almost too much, especially whenever his fingertips would press against the roof of your insides, rubbing your sweet spot. In-between needy whimpers, you warned him you were about to cum, in hopes of him letting you go, but it was worse: his arms wrapped around your thighs, pulling your body down, your whole womanhood at his disposition to torture you. With a tremble, you came, your juices flowing down your legs and onto his face whilst he lapped at every single drop. You came down, kissing him, feeling yourself and his own taste, the mix almost glorious.

His cock was hard, pre-cum leaking from his tip; apparently eating you out turned him on beyond belief. You chuckled before opening one of the drawers at the side of the bed and pulling out a condom, ripping it open and sliding it on him, the friction making him groan. Now you raised up your hips, grinding against him a few times and finally sinking down, his length filling every single bit. Your hands were pressed against his chest, trying to get used to his size when he started thrusting causing you to let out a high pitched whine.

“Can’t you wait a second?” Your half-complaint, half-plea only encouraged him to snap his movements faster, rougher.

“I know you can take me, baby, I know that this dripping wet cunt of yours can take me so well.” His hands roamed around your body, unclasping your bra so he would play with your nipples, your overall sensitivity almost ripping your body. “You react to my touch so nicely…”

“Hangyul…” His name slipped once, twice, a hundred times from your lips and he loved it, strong arms turning you around as he rammed into you with all his might. Despite his words, his touch was gentle and careful, his actions always taking into account your pleasure. He swore again, seeing you under him, your breasts bouncing with each shove of his dick, your eyes looking deeply into his, your lips parted murmuring his name.

“Let me be the only one that sees you like this.”

You weren’t sure how to reply, or if it was serious or if he said it because of the hit of the moment, but you nodded before even being able to process all the feelings that simple statement awoke in you. He hid his face on your neck, leaving love bites all over your chest, one of his hands rubbing your abused clit, your pussy tightening around him as you came. He buried his length deep inside of you, spilling into the condom with a pleased sigh, hugging you tightly as he rested his head right above your heart.

After a few minutes, he got up and discarded the used condom while you went to the bathroom, cleaned yourself and put on some clean clothes. You threw him an oversized pink hoodie and a pair of boxers you usually wore to sleep, to which he raised an eyebrow and laughed while picking up his pants from the floor. You both went and laid down on the sofa, a wave of tiredness suddenly hitting you, the soft music that he had played on before relaxing you. A loud growl was heard and you stared at Hangyul before wheezing out loud.

“Oh jeez, you really are hungry, huh? Should I ask for some Chinese food?” He nodded, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks. When you came back, he opened his arms in an almost instinctive way, and you cuddled next to him. No words needed.

“So… You always talk about how I prove you wrong but you have proved me wrong many times as well.”

You were all ears the rest of the night, sharing your experiences and first impressions of each other before falling asleep, empty packages of food on the table, and his strong arms holding you close to him.

I am genuinely satisfied with this and that doesn’t happen often at all. Writing this for over six hours was worth it! Hope y’all like it, tell me if you cried (jk)

~Nani

unedited

#could I have put more angst into it? of course #I had some mercy #lee hangyul #lee hangyul smut #lee hangyul scenario #lee hangyul imagine #hangyul #hangyul smut #hangyul scenario #hangyul imagine #x1 #x1 smut #x1 hangyul #x1 lee hangyul #x1 scenario #unb #unb smut #unb scenario #unb hangyul

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tsuki-chibi · 5 years ago

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Avengers Valentine’s Fic: Six Hands are Better than Two

Read it on AO3!

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When her cup of tea was ready, Pepper carried it over to the table and sat down. She took a careful, too-hot sip, then set her cup down and looked at the tablet sitting in front of her. This was it. The moment of truth. Despite of her nerves, her hands remained remarkably steady as she picked up the tablet and unlocked it. The first file opened seamlessly, and she scanned it with a critical eye.

She knew exactly what she was looking for. The biggest issue was finding it. The first few she dismissed out of hand due to various health problems. The fifth file showed a man with blond hair; she lingered over that one for a minute before flicking past, knowing that she would prefer someone with darker hair. The sixth was passed over for the same reason. Then she landed on the seventh, showing a striking man with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a broad smile with straight, white teeth.

“Not him. Too much like a movie star.”

Pepper shrieked and jumped about a foot in the air. “Tony! What the hell?!”

Tony laughed as he sat down beside her, close enough to steal the tablet but out of range of any punches. “I asked JARVIS to tell me when you started looking at the profiles,” he said smugly. “I wanted to see too.”

“JARVIS, you traitor,” Pepper muttered without any heat.

“My apologies, Ms. Potts, but Sir was most persuasive.”

Knowing what that meant, Pepper shook her head. “Tony, you have got to stop threatening to sell them to MIT,” she said, exasperated. “One of these days JARVIS is going to take you seriously and have himself voluntarily moved, and then where will you be?”

“J loves me too much for that,” Tony said dismissively, continuing to flick through. “Is this really all you have to choose from? Slim pickings.”

Pepper sighed and rested her cheek on her hand. “Well, fewer men are donating sperm now,” she said frankly. “People are nervous about having biological children showing up on their doorstep in twenty years.” She could appreciate that fear, but it made this process no less frustrating.

When she had first decided that she wanted a baby, Pepper had thought long and hard about her choices. As an aromantic woman, she had absolutely zero interest in a relationship. She liked sex – was rather good at sex, actually – but that was about the extent of it. And no one night stand or frequent booty call was going to agree to have a baby with her without bringing feelings into the mix. Eventually they’d want more: they’d want a relationship, the whole 2.5 kids and white picket fence, and the thought made her skin crawl.

No romance. No relationships. Just a kid. That was harder to get than she had anticipated. She had done quite a bit of research into adoption, but every place she had reached out to had unapologetically informed her that they were reluctant to adopt a child to a single woman. She probably could’ve paved the way by throwing money at the situation, but she was loathe to do that when she’d already be facing a ton of media scrutiny as it was.

There was also surrogacy as an option, but Pepper was more than willing to carry the baby herself. It was Rhodey who had suggested that she go to a donation clinic. Pepper hadn’t seen any harm in looking to see what was available; she wasn’t committing herself just by looking. But she hadn’t anticipated how lackluster it would be. Did she really want to choose the father of her child like she’d pick out a pair of shoes?

Well, no. Of course she didn’t. But she was running out of options – and time. She was turning thirty-five after this year, so she was approaching the threshold where pregnancies were a higher risk. She was already aware she was probably only going to do this once, so she had to make it count. This was the best resort. She held a hand out for the tablet back, but Tony shook his head.

“Seriously, Pep, you don’t have to go with one of these losers,” he said.

“Then how else am I supposed to make it happen? I am not interested in a relationship,” Pepper said, a bit more forcefully than was necessary considering who she was talking to, but she was so damn sick of having to repeat herself. People thought there was something wrong with a woman who didn’t want a relationship. There was a reason she and Tony had covered for each other for as long as they did.

“I know you’re not,” Tony said, far more kindly than she deserved, and Pepper’s shoulders slumped.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bite your head off,” she said. Out of everyone, Tony knew exactly what it was like to fall short of people’s expectations. He had cultivated a reputation as a slut early on to keep people from figuring out that the infamous Tony Stark had no interest in sex: he would bring drunk women home with him and then put them to bed. Anyone who remembered going to bed alone never wanted to admit that Tony hadn’t slept with them, so they’d make up stories. And she was pretty sure the sex tapes had been faked.

After Afghanistan, when Tony could no longer bear the idea of bringing strangers home, he and Pepper had officially become a couple to give them both some relief. Unofficially Pepper had cultivated a few discreet fuck buddies, while Tony had been content to remain alone. Their agreement had worked very well to keep them both from being bothered by the media, or worse hunted by prospective partners, until Tony met Dr. Stephen Strange.

Pepper had seen the writing on the wall from the moment they returned home from the fight on Titan, having been victorious. Stephen looked at Tony like Tony was something precious, and Tony’s eyes lit up whenever Stephen walked into a room. Naturally, the two of them had awkwardly danced around each other for a few months before Pepper got impatient and forced them to talk it out.

“That’s okay. I get it. Hell, no one gets it better than me,” Tony said. He set the tablet down and looked at her seriously. “What if I offered to do it?”

Her eyebrows jumped. “You’re gonna have sex with me. You.”

“Eww, no,” Tony said, making a face. “But I’d happily donate some of my sperm to the cause. Stephen says that the whole process is way more advanced than it used to be, but that there’s plenty of room for improvement… maybe he and I will take a look at it and see if we can’t figure something out.”

“If anyone could do it, it would be you too,” Pepper said, still reeling from the offer. “You… you’d seriously want a baby?”

“I’ve been thinking about it. I know you and I didn’t work out, but I still think any kid of ours would be awesome.” Tony gave a small smile that quickly faded as he added, “I mean, I understand if you don’t want to. I’ll probably end up being a shitty dad –”

“Tony, no. That’s not it. Anyone who sees you with Peter knows you’re a wonderful dad,” Pepper said immediately.

“It’s not really the same,” Tony mumbled, looking embarrassed.

“Yes, it is and you know it. He literally calls you and Stephen ‘dad’,” Pepper pointed out.

“But we didn’t raise him,” Tony said. He shook his head. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that the offer is there if you’re interested.”

Pepper hummed softly. “What did Stephen say?”

“He’s okay with it. You can talk to him about it if you want to, which you probably should.”

“He’s ready to be a parent?” Pepper asked. “Or are you just looking to make a donation and that’s all?”

“No, we want to be parents with you. Midnight feedings and all. You could move into a room on our floor, and we can set the baby up in the room between us and you. That way, we can help equally. And you’d still be able to go back to your floor when you needed a break,” Tony explained, sounding adorably eager.

“You’re really serious about this,” Pepper said, amazed. At one time, Tony hadn’t been sure that he wanted to be a father at all. That was all Howard Stark’s influence as far as Pepper was concerned. She knew that Tony would be a great dad, but Tony was petrified that he was going to turn out like his father. Having Peter around had done wonders for Tony’s confidence in that regard.

“I am… but only if you’re okay with it. I get that it could be awkward or uncomfortable,” Tony said. “I mean… Stephen and I would still be Avengers and everything.” He looked up uncertainly.

“Let me think about it,” Pepper said slowly. “Is that okay?”

“Sure. Take all the time you need.” He stood up, passed her the tablet, and ambled causally out of the room. Only someone who knew him well, like Pepper did, could recognize how tense he was as he went. He really, really wanted this, she realized.

“JARVIS, have Tony and Stephen really talked about this?” Pepper asked.

“Yes, Ms. Potts. In great detail,” JARVIS replied. “Dr. Strange has just arrived home. Would you like to speak with him?”

“Please,” Pepper said. She believed Tony when he said that Stephen was okay with this, but she wanted to be sure before she even started considering this. She didn’t want a baby to be the thing that came between Tony and the only person he’d ever seriously fallen in love with.

It was only a few minutes before Stephen joined her in the kitchen. He was wearing his uniform, minus the Cloak, and looked tired. Pepper waved him to the table and got up to make herself another cup of tea. She also poured one for Stephen. Unlike Tony, who might as well have had coffee in his veins considering how much of the stuff he drank, Stephen preferred tea. When she turned around, Stephen had picked up the tablet and was flipping through the profiles. Pepper rolled her eyes.

“See anyone interesting?” she asked, sitting again.

“I see some people who may have lied on their applications,” Stephen said critically, stopping at one profile and frowning down at it. “Besides, I believe the more important question is whether you’ve seen anyone interesting.”

“I didn’t get very far before Tony interrupted me,” she admitted. “He had a proposition.”

Stephen didn’t look surprised. “He mentioned he was planning to bring it up today. What did you think?”

“I’m not opposed to the idea,” Pepper said carefully. In truth, it was the best option she’d heard yet. “But I wanted to see what you thought. This isn’t just between me and Tony. I know Tony; he’ll want to be there 100%. And that effectively makes you a father too.”

“It does,” Stephen agreed, his blank expression giving nothing away.

“So… are you okay with that?” Pepper said. “Is that something you want? If it’s not, now is the time to say it.”

“I never imagined I would have a child,” Stephen told her. His hands shook as he lifted his cup. “Particularly after the accident. I lost all interest in sex after that, and a couple of the medications that I’m on would make it difficult for me to get someone pregnant.”

Pepper nodded, having already known this. Tony had told her in confidence after she professed worry over how the two of them would get on, what with Tony’s complete lack of interest in sex. Stephen wasn’t asexual, or at least he didn’t claim the label for himself, but based on what Tony said he was pretty adamant about never wanting to have sex. Luckily, that suited Tony perfectly fine.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not intrigued by the idea. I like having Peter around. I like seeing the joy that Peter’s presence brings to both Tony and myself. I would very much enjoy raising a child. We’ve talked about adoption, but then when you started looking into donations, Tony suggested this could be a convenient solution for all of us.” Stephen hesitated briefly. “My one concern is that I’m not sure how much help I would be at first. My hands…” He trailed off, grimacing.

“It’s fine,” Pepper said gently. “Tony and I will be there. Hell, there are plenty of people in the tower to help. And trust me, there is still plenty you could do.”

“So you’re considering it?” he asked.

“Well… yes, I am. Some people might think it’s crazy… my mom sure will. But I really want a baby, and I like the idea of my child being a part of someone I know and love,” she said. “Even better if it’s Tony, because I know him so well. Plus, Tony brings you to the table as well. The idea of three parents instead of being a single mom sweetens the pot significantly.” She smiled to show that she was teasing, even though she was partially serious.

Stephen smiled too. “Give it some thought. You don’t need to decide right away.” He sat back, rubbing his neck. “JARVIS, where is Tony?”

“Sir is in the workshop.”

Pepper and Stephen exchanged exasperated looks, and then Stephen stood up. “I better go get him out of there, or he’ll pull another all-nighter.”

“Please do,” Pepper said, standing up herself. She picked up her tablet as Stephen left, and did a quick pass through all of the profiles. Some of them sounded impressive, but… she cast a thoughtful look at the door and hummed under her breath as she washed her cup out and set it in the dishwasher.

She did a lot of thinking over the next couple of days. She talked to Rhodey, who was very much in support of the idea, and she talked to her mother, who was very much not. And she also spent some time looking seriously at the files that the agency had given her, trying to decide who she might pick if she decided not to take Tony up on his offer. The problem was, Stephen’s skepticism had made her nervous. After all, she was trusting that complete strangers were who they said they were, and Pepper had been burned that way before in far less high-stakes situations.

There was always the option of asking JARVIS to run background checks, but honestly Pepper wasn’t sure she wanted JARVIS to bother wasting the processing power. Not when, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she had never wanted to be a single mother. It was just the only avenue that she felt was open to her, and she wanted a baby badly enough to accept the cons.

But why do so when she didn’t have to?

It was late at night when Pepper crawled out of bed and padded, bare foot, to the elevator. JARVIS took her down to the common room floor, where she knew that some of the Avengers had been having a late night watching movies. As expected, everyone else was gone and Stephen and Tony were alone in the room, cuddled up on the couch: the two of them had a bad habit of falling asleep there and then regretting it the next day.

Pepper paused for a moment in the doorway, staring at the two of them with a smile. Stephen was laying on the couch itself on his back, bare feet stick out from beneath the blanket. Tony was laying half on top of him and half on the couch, mostly buried beneath the blanket. They made for an adorable sight, one that made her heart swell with happiness on Tony’s behalf.

This was all that Tony had ever wanted. This, right here. Or so she had thought. But maybe there was something else that Tony wanted too, which Pepper had never considered before. Being asexual and not wanting to have sex meant that there was a very obvious obstacle in the way of Tony having kids, but even more than that Tony had to be extremely careful about who he had a child with. Way too many people would take total advantage of him if it meant getting their greedy hands into the Stark fortune.

She didn’t need to take advantage; Tony would gladly hand her his entire fortune without blinking an eye. Hell, in a way he already had by making Pepper the CEO of Stark Industries. Technically, if she had been so inclined, Pepper could’ve overthrown Tony and forced him out of his own company. Thankfully for Tony, she had absolutely no intention of doing that. S.I. would die without Tony’s genius guiding the way, which was something that men like Obadiah Stane were too stupid to realize.

She padded over to the couch and sat down on Tony’s side. Stephen awoke first, blinking owlishly. “Something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Pepper said. She patted Tony’s knee.

“Huh – wha?” Tony was slower to stir. “Pep?”

“I wanted to see if your offer was still open,” Pepper said.

Tony snapped to immediately. “Of course it is!”

“Good. Because I think I want to take you up on it,” she said.

“Seriously?” Tony said.

“Seriously.”

“Oh my god,” Stephen said. “You’re going to have a baby.”

Pepper wasn’t sure who he was talking to, but she shook her head. “No. We’re” she gestured between the three of them “are having a baby.”

The resulting brilliant smiles that lit up both Tony’s and Stephen’s face made her feel warm from head to toe, and she knew immediately that she’d made the right decision. She beamed as Tony and Stephen kissed with joy, and then Tony pushed himself up and threw his arms around her. Pepper hugged him back happily, returning Stephen’s smile over Tony’s shoulder.

They were really gonna do this, and she knew that three of them would do it right.

#avengers #pepper potts #tony stark #stephen strange #ironstrange #aromantic pepper potts #asexual tony stark

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