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cinnaminsvga · 4 years ago

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a love that endures | Yoongi

→ summary:

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look who’s coming over to say hello!”

{or alternatively: Yoongi and Y/N. Y/N and Yoongi. High school sweethearts that were never meant to last, until a reunion ten years later manages to reignite a flame that never quite burnt out.}

→ genre: high school reunion!au, exes to lovers, fluff, humor, minor angst → warnings: shy!yoongi and shy!oc live rent free in my brain, mutual pining is poggers, hoseok and seokjin aren’t evil for once in a cinnaminsvga fic, implied smut so it’s pg-13 because i’m a wimp → words: 14.4K → a/n: SHE’S ALIVE!! this is dedicated to @himbeaux-joon who commissioned this piece ages ago. thank you again for requesting this because this was honestly so much fun to write. i’ve been in a bit of writing slump these past few weeks but this fic came out so easily and got way longer than expected (perhaps because it’s about yoongi and he’s always been the easiest one to write for me). enjoy!! ;o;

The mere sight of him is enough to knock the wind out of you.

Your body freezes, the hand curled around your paper cup filled with punch tightening ever so slightly. It isn’t like you’re surprised that he came; you aren’t supposed to be. Of course, you should have expected his arrival, but you’ve been hoping all night that he might have been too busy to attend.

He isn’t even on time—it has almost been two hours since the event started and you had been filled with a false hope that perhaps he had RSVP’d and decided he couldn’t make it.

You had seen Hoseok, his best friend from your younger days, standing outside the entrance of the ballroom before they had started letting people in. The moment Hoseok saw you, he immediately came over to sweep you into a tight hug, his infectious laughter ringing in your ears. He had greeted you happily, expressing how much he missed you since high school, but never once bringing up the elephant in the room.

It wasn’t like you were going to bring him up first. No, that would be weird on your part. Nevermind the fact that going to high school reunions was a recipe for reliving past traumas and seeing all your childhood friends either married or pregnant—you weren’t going to be that person who asked where their ex was. You refused to be the person craning their neck to spy on the entrance every two minutes, hoping to catch sight of an old familiar face.

The problem is that you are that person, and you kind of hate yourself for it. However, it is also the reason why you are probably the only person in the entire ballroom who notices his quiet arrival.

He has never liked causing commotions, which is often apparent from the way he conducts himself. He walks into the room just as a loud round of applause breaks out; an old schoolmate of yours is walking up to the podium, probably the person who had arranged the get-together in the first place. It is a perfect distraction for him as he slinks past the door, keeping near the wall so as not to be seen by anyone just yet.

(Except he has been seen—he just doesn’t know it yet.)

You do not know for how long you stare at him, just that it takes you a moment to realize you haven’t taken a breath since he stepped foot into the same space as you. You take a deep, shuddering breath, forcing your racing heartbeat to calm down. You swallow thickly, throat so unbearably dry that even drinking from your lukewarm cup of punch doesn’t seem to do anything.

But the undeniable truth is there, standing only a few meters away from you, and nothing on earth will be able to wash away the nerves flooding through your system.

After ten years of radio silence, Min Yoongi is in your orbit once again.

In the grand scheme of things, ten years wasn’t all that long. Four years in university had passed by in a blur, and the absolute chaos that ensued right after you graduated as you scrambled to secure a job and move out of your hometown had made the days seem shorter than they actually were. You had not even noticed that time was passing until you found that cream envelope waiting for you one day after work, your alma mater’s school crest painfully recognizable even after all these years.

During all that time, the world around you shifted without you noticing, and that meant people were changing too.

Yoongi is 28 now. And so are you, after many months of denial. You have not seen each other since you were both 18—both of you far too young to know about any of the things you would experience in the next ten years.

He might have grown a little taller since then, something you are sure that your brother will find amusing. His hair isn’t dyed like you remembered, as he has opted to keep it his natural dark black that you have not seen since you were both in middle school. It’s styled differently too: combed over and gelled back, with his bangs pushed back and his forehead exposed. When he turns his head to the side, a gasp spills past your lips before you can stop it.

“Is that a fucking undercut?” you mutter in shock, your eyes straining out of their sockets as you try to drink him in. Even under the dim lighting of the ballroom, his new haircut is hard to miss. No one else seems to be undergoing the same mental collapse as you, judging by how everyone’s attention is still fixated on the person speaking at the podium. How the hell is no one else losing their fucking minds to the sight of Min Yoongi with a fucking undercut? Some questions are impossible to answer, you surmise.

When you decided to attend the reunion, you had not once thought about how Yoongi would look like. Somehow, you had developed this stagnant picture of him in your head, even after all these years. To you, he will always be the boy with the stark blonde hair, the mismatched eyelids, the pouty lips, the dumpling cheeks. He is the boy who can’t wear his own contact lenses to save his life, the boy who sometimes wears his favorite leather jacket to sleep, the boy who only drinks Americanos like it was water.

Gone are those days, you realize. That image of him has been smashed to pieces, instead replaced by this dashing (and incredibly hot) man—a stranger. A stranger with unbleached (and healthy) hair, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He has his glasses kept away, and there is no leather jacket in sight.

But you can see him, if you look hard enough. The same spark in his eye, the same curve of his lips. You catch him smiling for a second, and his cheeks still puff up like dough. Maybe it’s just hopeless thinking, but you see him. It’s still him. To you, he will always be your 18-year-old Min Yoongi, the one who would greet you with a sweet kiss on the forehead every time you would—

Raucous applause breaks you from your train of thought, and you blink rapidly in surprise. You have to forcibly pull yourself out of your Yoongi-induced trance, clapping alongside everyone without really knowing what was going on. All of the extra noise sounds like buzzing in your ears, especially when it is drowned out by the roar of your blood rushing to your head all at once.

“Once again, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight. We will begin the program right after dinner, so please feel free to help yourselves to the buffet! Cheers everyone!” You faintly hear your old schoolmate speak, before her voice is quickly overrun by the commotion of people walking over to the extravagant display of food. It takes a moment for the crowd of heads to disperse, so when you can finally look back to where you last saw Yoongi, he is no longer alone.

Hoseok has his arm slung around Yoongi, his infectious laughter loud enough to be heard over clinking plates and silverware. The two are as different as night and day, with Hoseok practically bouncing from excitement and Yoongi rolling his eyes from annoyance. But it is easy to see that his pout is nothing but a ruse; you can already catch the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

You feel your own seams breaking, unwittingly sporting a grin of your own. It is nice to know that Yoongi hasn’t been alone all this time, that he still seems close with his old best friend. You cannot count the number of friendships that you have lost over time, and you still grieve many of them during your quiet moments. Alas, it was often never even anyone’s fault, the strains of adulthood often being the biggest deal breakers in your relationships.

That is, of course, except for one.

“Enjoying yourself? I didn’t think we’d share the same voyeuristic tendencies,” says a voice, creeping up behind you. Now, normal people would not usually expect other sane people to invade your personal space and breathe directly into your ear, but that’s just your humble opinion. What you do know is that one certain individual enjoys breaking the mold when it comes to societal norms, and it is none other than…

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shriek, nearly sucker-punching the offending degenerate in the face. You hold back your fist from connecting with his face, but your resulting irritation remains. Whether that irritation is because you regret holding back or not will unfortunately also have to remain unanswered. “Oh God, it’s you.”

“Oh, no need for that. Most people usually call me Seokjin,” he snickers, thoroughly enjoying your flushed face. Kim Seokjin pats you on the shoulder, his trademark “pretty boy” smile still as radiant as you remembered. It does nothing to quell your urge to raise your fists again, however. “Hello, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here!”

“The feeling is not mutual,” you snort. Much like how Yoongi was with Hoseok, your derision is nothing but a rouse. As much as you want to kick Seokjin in the nuts, you also cannot ignore how much you want to hug him the slimy bastard—but you definitely will not be the first one to admit it. So like the tsundere that you are, you decide to insult him instead. “Why are you here? You’re not even from this class. Don’t you have other things to do? Or rather, people to do?”

“My heart! You wound me,” he gasps, grasping his chest as though he’d been shot. “How could you say that to your best friend in the entire world? Don’t you know how much I missed you?”

“Easy. I do it because the only other alternative would lead me straight to prison,” you shrug, but your grin betrays you.

This time, you don’t jolt away when he closes in for a hug. “And I guess I miss you too,” you say, your words slightly muffled into his chest. Like always, he sees through your prickly act because as much as you like to pretend, Kim Seokjin is kind of amazing—loose bolts and all.

“It’s nice to know that your tongue hasn’t lost its edge, though I suppose I wouldn’t be intimately knowledgeable in that area. After all, I still am very much a raging homosexual and pussy isn’t really my forte,” Seokjin guffaws, his volume causing a few nearby guests to raise their heads in alarm.

You bow at them, sheepishly apologizing on his behalf before grabbing him by the collar.

“Will you stop being embarrassing for just one second? I swear, I thought I retired from my babysitting job when I graduated high school,” you hiss, but the way his mouth curls up with mischief is answer enough. God, you missed this son of a bitch.

“Unfortunately for you, being a pest is part of my DNA,” he smirks, carefully plucking your hands off from his neck, as though your nails were not mere inches away from ripping his trachea into pieces. “Though, I am offended by your assumption that I am still the same slut that you knew. I’ve grown up a little, you know! I’m a changed man!”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me you of all people have settled down,” you laugh, not missing the way Seokjin’s perfectly stenciled brow raises slightly.

“I know we haven’t seen each other since Christmas, but come on Y/N! You of all people should be applauding me for my improved behavior! You must have noticed how much I changed when I visited.”

“When you visited me last Christmas, you immediately insulted my taste in kitchen towels, went on Grindr to find a hookup despite my numerous pleas, and promptly desecrated my guest bedroom that no housekeeper or priest is willing to exorcise to this day,” you gag, shuddering at the memory. “And then you ate all my ice cream and proceeded to clog my toilet!”

“Um? Aren’t you forgetting that I also bought you that dress you wanted? Rude,” Seokjin retorts, not the least bit remorseful. “Well, that’s what you get for agreeing to be my best bitch for life. You know that I take pinky promises very seriously.”

Unfortunately, he does take his promises seriously. It is probably the only thing he’ll ever be serious about, as much as the man enjoys parading his depravity. “Okay, whatever. I’ll bite. Who’s the unlucky man you’ve managed to deceive into a relationship?”

“Oh, it’s someone we both used to know. I’m his plus one for tonight,” he says, supplying you with the most useless non-answer imaginable.

“Seokjin. We’re at a high school reunion. We know everyone here. That could be anyone!” you exclaim.

“Well, isn’t that fun? Then we can do a scavenger hunt!” Seokjin grins, clapping his hands together excitedly. He pulls you in front of him, forcing the two of you to survey the crowd. “Okay, hold your arm out like this—” After a few seconds of you failing to resist him, he manages to get you to unfurl your finger as if you were about to order something from the dollar menu at McDonalds. Unfortunately for you, the tall twink is stronger than he appears. “—and just keep pointing around until I tell you that you’re getting warmer!”

“Seokjin, I don’t think this is very—” you start, but Seokjin is already moving your arm for you. Like a hurricane, Kim Seokjin listens to no one but his own homewrecking whims.

“Park Chanyeol? Close, but not really. You should know that I don’t double dip with past flings,” he says, shifting you to the left. “Kim Namjoon? Now that’s a hunk of meat that I wish I’d taken a bite of, but unfortunately he’s as straight as a ruler. Pass,” he hums, continuing to move you bit by bit.

You’re both getting uncomfortably close to where Yoongi is, and Seokjin doesn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. You did notice that Yoongi had come dateless to the reunion (a fact, by the way, that you did not rejoice over when you had noticed), but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s single. You have known Seokjin for more than a decade at this point, and despite your odd friendship, you are sure that he would never do anything to hurt you on purpose.

Though, that does beg the question… How far does his dick thirst really go? Maybe you’ll finally find out today.

“Warmer, getting warmer…” Seokjin inches you closer and closer to where Yoongi is standing. You feel frozen in his grasp, unsure if you wanted to know anymore. If Seokjin really is dating Yoongi, then what? It’s not like you were dating him anyway… What difference does it make if it’s Seokjin?

(It makes all the difference, but you refuse to think about it.)

“Nope, not Wonho... A little bit to the left… Bingo!” Seokjin declares, stopping your finger right on— “No, Y/N! Stop moving! You’ve gone too far to the wall! I was pointing at him.”

“H-Hoseok? You’re dating Hoseok?!” You squeak, an avalanche of relief flooding through you. You don’t even have the energy to pretend to be composed as your entire body starts untensing involuntarily, your shoulders slumping as though a weight has been lifted from you. “Why couldn’t you have just told me like a normal person? Why must everything be tortuous and dramatic when it comes to you?”

“I am a naturally insufferable and theatrical person. Sue me,” he shrugs, greatly enjoying the exhausted look on your face. “What? Were you actually scared that I was dating your sloppy seconds? What do you think I am? An asshole?”

You stare at him. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Seokjin scoffs. “If I wanted to get roasted, I would approach two tops at a gay bar.” He pauses. “Wait, are you seriously not going to congratulate me for finally snagging a boy who has a functioning moral compass?”

“Define ‘snagging.’ Did you, like, tie him up and blackmail him to become your boyfriend like those terrible One Direction Wattpad fanfics, or—” You stop halfway, giggling at your friend’s unamused pout. “Okay, okay. Yes, Seokjin. I am very proud of you. Congrats on finally becoming an adult. Your hoe days are over.”

“Who said they were over?” He snorts. Noticing your alarm, Seokjin rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, don’t give me that look! I’m not into infidelity and you know that. I just meant that I’m still a hoe with significantly fewer options.”

“How did that even happen in the first place?” you say, jabbing your thumb in Hoseok’s direction. Thankfully, the man in question is still busy talking to Yoongi, though you don’t know for how much longer. If Seokjin isn’t lying, then there’s a high chance they’re going to walk over to say hi and you’re not sure if you’re mentally prepared to go through the five stages of grief all over again.

“Believe me, I’m surprised as well. I started dating Hoseok after he asked me for help with his sister’s wedding gift. He asked me to help arrange an itinerary for her sister’s honeymoon in America,” Seokjin explains with a dreamy smile. He sighs, holding a hand up to his chest. You can physically see the heart emojis circling his head like a halo. “We hit it off from there and dare I say… Not only is he the only person who can keep up with my high maintenance lifestyle, but dear Lord, he could totally be recruited into the NDA for his astounding dick game—”

“Ever heard of TMI? Gross,” you interrupt, your face crumpling in disgust. You shove him away when his loud cackles start rattling your eardrums.

“You were scared though, right?” he says through his giggles. “When you thought that I was dating Yoongi?”

Of course Seokjin had noticed your mini-mental breakdown, judging from the shit-eating grin on his face.

“N-no,” you stutter, but your heated cheeks and averted gaze give you away. “E-either way, I wouldn’t have cared if you did!” you say. You know, like a liar.

“I bet you don’t care that Yoongi got significantly hotter in the past ten years too, huh?” Seokjin teases, snickering loudly. Under the harsh lighting of the fluorescent chandelier lights, you might have mistaken the boy in front of you for the devil instead of your best friend of almost twenty years.

“I sincerely rue the day I introduced myself to you in the third grade,” you hiss, sipping from your cup to hide your humiliation.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re all embarrassed,” Seokjin coos, pinching your cheeks with the gentleness of an ape. You slap his hand away, unable to think of any retort.

“Cat got your tongue? You didn’t even deny it when I accused you,” Seokjin laughs. He claps his hands jovially, acting as though he’s enjoying a show at the circus. Given your performance tonight, that statement isn’t all that far from reality.

“I don’t need to defend myself from you,” you say, puffing your cheeks indignantly. “I just… think he looks handsome. Is that illegal or something?”

“Certainly not. Though, you might want to dial down the pining a teensy bit,” he singsongs. “That’s how I found you in the first place. I sensed your pining from a mile away and came as soon as I could!”

“I wasn’t pining!” you exclaim. “I was just… admiring the plant beside him.”

“Right, sure,” Seokjin says, arching an eyebrow in challenge. You feel your hackles rising at his smug expression, your ‘Seokjin-is-about-to-ruin-your-life’ alarm ringing in your ears. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I brought you over there to say hello? After all, my boyfriend is over there and as much as I enjoy pestering you, I also want to be with him very much.”

You whistle lowly, impressed. “Wow, that’s actually kind of sweet of you.”

“Yes, I know. Kim Seokjin’s heart grew three sizes that day, yada yada yada.” Seokjin says sarcastically, but his lovesick smile ruins the effect. When he opens his mouth once more, the mirage instantly disappears. “But you would understand if you saw how much he’s packing—”

“Shut up, I didn’t ask—”

“Fine, then let’s ask the man himself! Besides, you know you’re being ridiculous, right?” Seokjin tuts, annoyed. He fixes you with a glare, making you feel like a scolded child. “It’s just Yoongi. You and I both know he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and probably would love to see you after so long.”

You wave your hands around helplessly, almost sloshing your drink onto a nearby bystander. After muttering a meek apology at your harried classmate, you turn back to Seokjin with a defeated sigh.

You know that he’s right, and you absolutely hate him for it. “Jinnie, I’m a mess! I can hardly think with Yoongi standing meters away from me, much less if he were to stand right in front of me! I’m just going to embarrass myself,” you lament, holding your head in your hand.

“That’s true. You will definitely embarrass yourself,” Seokjin hums, nodding sagely. He shrugs his shoulders. “All the more reason we should do it. Relax, I’ll be your wingman like old times! All we have to do is remind him of all the fantastic, mind-blowing coitus you had in your youth and he’ll be a goner for sure.”

“If by goner, you mean he’ll be gone from my life permanently this time, then you’re right,” you groan. You have a half a mind to dump the remainder of your disgusting punch all over his expensive Bottega Veneta coat, though you also don’t want to spend the next three months receiving packaged turds from Seokjin in your mailbox. “Please, just let me suffer in silence for the remainder of the night, okay? Is that really too much to ask?”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

Swiveling around, you see that your intuition is right: Yoongi and Hoseok are swiftly making their way through the crowd, one of them appearing to be more enthusiastic than the other. You swallow thickly, your palms growing damp as they get closer to where the two of you stand.

"Seokjin, we gotta go!" you hiss, but your panic goes largely ignored as your best friend leaves you to envelop his lover in a dramatic embrace.

The two men exchange teary and heartfelt touches, acting as if they had been separated by years of war instead of the meager minutes they had spent apart to greet their long-time friends.

"My honeybunch! Oh, how I've missed you so much!" Seokjin cries, nuzzling his nose into Hoseok's neck. You might have mistaken him for a vampire with how aggressively he sniffs Hoseok's skin. Had Seokjin been 5% more unhinged, you do not doubt that he might have started suckling on his boyfriend like a leech.

"Oh, hyung. It's barely been an hour, but why does it feel like it has been forever?" Hoseok sighs forlornly, jaw clenching as though he's in pain. He croaks out a sob, lifting Seokjin in the air and spinning him around. "My love, let us never part again!"

You take a few steps away from them, trying to make it apparent to all the bewildered onlookers that you have nothing to do with homosexual Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

"What kind of shitty production is this? I want my money back," you murmur, fake-gagging behind the two of them. The lovesick fools pay no mind to your disgust; in fact, they seem to relish in it. Their efforts double, their theatrical kissy-smoochy sound effects causing goosebumps to form on your arms. "Seriously, I've had enough of this and I've only been forced to witness it for two seconds."

"Tell me about it," says a voice to your left. Startled, you nearly let out a shocked gasp when you realize that Yoongi had found his way by your side, his own disgusted gaze fixed on the bumbling buffoons still lost in their world. He glances at you for a second, quirking his lips into a small smile. "Hey, Y/N."

In just six words, Min Yoongi manages to make time grind to a halt. You gape at him, your brain ceasing in function. It takes you a full minute to realize that the man standing beside you is not a figment of your imagination. You had been so caught up in the absurdity of the situation that for a moment you had forgotten that Yoongi is a real person.

It's Yoongi, your first love. The person you haven't seen or spoken to in years. The man who has haunted your dreams for over a decade. He's standing right beside you, and he's smiling at you. He's here, he's hot, and he's saying hello.

Like the incredibly eloquent and profound person that you are, you reply: "Yellow!"

You had meant to say "Yoongi, hello!" like a normal person, but your brain had amalgamated your words during its rebooting process. And so, you are left standing there silently, frozen by your embarrassment. You swear you can hear a pin drop as you beg for the earth to swallow you whole.

Unfortunately for you, the floor remains painfully tangible beneath your feet, forcing you to clear your throat and expound on your mystifying exclamation. Yoongi watches you with curious eyes, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"W-what I meant to say is, uh," you stammer, your cheeks heating up to an alarming degree. "Those yellow streamers are pretty tacky, don't you think?"

Nice one. In terms of comebacks, you would personally give yourself a C for effort. (Note: C stands for "Can I please shove a fist up my ass and crabwalk the fuck out of here?")

Yoongi contemplates the tacky decorations in question, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. They pretty much look like the stuff we'd make in elementary school during Arts and Crafts." He points to your mutual friends, grimacing in annoyance. "Them, on the other hand? No child should ever come into contact with those heathens."

"You're right," you snort, shaking your head.

There is a long and awkward pause. Yoongi clears his throat, swaying from side to side while staring at his shoes. You aren't any better, twiddling your thumbs as you will your cheeks to stop flushing. Your senses are practically screaming at you to run away and hide forever, but your limbs feel disjointed from the rest of you.

It's like we're at the zoo on a date and the monkeys won't stop fucking each other, your mind unhelpfully supplies, offering you an image that will permanently make its home on the backs of your eyelids.

Desperate to break the silence, eventually you say, "Hey, Yoongi—"

Right at the same time, Yoongi says, "Hey, Y/N—"

Another pause, but this one is slightly less tense. The two of you share a nervous laugh, though yours sounds a little bit more hysterical. You motion for him to speak first.

"I, uh... wanted to say that you look great. Yeah. Like, you haven't aged a day at all. N-not to say that I don't think you've matured or..." Yoongi stumbles over his words, his voice cracking.

Instead of feeling relieved that he's just as nervous as you, his anxiety only exacerbates your own. There's a reason you have never been good at public speaking, and this is a good example of why:

"No! I get what you mean, don't worry about it," you laugh, on the verge of a mental breakdown. What the fuck is this conversation, even? "You look exactly the same too. Umm... Of course, except for the, uh, hair?"

"Oh, you mean the gray hairs?"

"No, no! Of course not! I m-meant your hair looks really hot—I mean good! It looks GOOD," you repeat, frantically emphasizing the last bit. You had instinctively panicked, your voice rising in pitch. If your cheeks weren't flaming hot already, then they're definitely redder than Seokjin's ass after a Friday night of fun.

The apples of Yoongi's cheek match your own flustered state, though you can imagine that you’re probably at least a hundred times worse. “Well, thank you. I was actually feeling self-conscious about my hair, so hearing that from you is really… nice,” he says, brushing his hair shyly. “I’m kinda done with bright colored hair for now, so seeing my hair in its natural state is still kind of weird.”

“I seriously doubt that Y/N was talking about your hair color, Yoongi,” Hoseok interjects, magically reappearing behind you when you don’t notice. You flinch in surprise, causing him to let out a hearty chuckle at your jumpiness. It seems that today is “Let’s scare the living shit out of Y/N” day with how many people have crept up on you in just one night.

Beside him, Seokjin looks like a bomb ready to explode, his fist jammed up his mouth to keep his guffaws from slipping out. “God, this is even better than the cringe compilations I watch on Youtube,” he wheezes, wiping a stray tear.

“Don’t be so mean to them, hyung! Don’t mind him,” Hoseok says to you, bowing apologetically. He smiles cherubically at Yoongi. “See, Yoongi? I told you that Y/N is even hotter up close!”

“God, fucking kill me,” you hear Yoongi groan.

“So, have you guys caught up yet, or have you just been fumbling around each other like a couple of horny teenagers?” Seokjin snickers, narrowly avoiding your heel stomping his foot.

“We’ve only just said hello. Leave us alone, jackass,” you huff.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, Hoseok and I can go on our merry ways if you wish—”

“Yoongi! Did you tell Y/N about your work back in Seoul? I bet she’d love to hear about it,” Hoseok interrupts smoothly, saving you from further embarrassment (courtesy of his infuriating goblin of a boyfriend.)

You blink in surprise, turning to the man in question. “You live in Seoul now? Did you move there after finishing university?” you ask.

“Well,” Yoongi starts, clearing his throat. He’s permanently pink at this point, not that you mind in the slightest. He always did have the cutest blush (and once upon a time, you used to love teasing him about it.) “I sort of dropped out of university early. Decided it wasn’t really my thing, you know?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Yoongi. You were a fantastic student. I’m sure Y/N remembers how smart you are,” Hoseok says, winking inconspicuously at you.

You force out a laugh in response. You know perfectly well what he was trying to do; Hoseok isn’t slick in the slightest, though you do admit that you are intrigued to find out what Yoongi had done over the years.

It isn’t like you haven’t been keeping tabs on him. In your defense, it’s hard to stay away from news about Yoongi when he’s such a big deal. So what if you’ve watched a couple of his interviews and streamed all of his songs? He’s always been talented with music, and all the radio shows seem to agree. You couldn’t get away from him if you tried (and it’s not like you were trying very hard, anyway.)

Yoongi shrugs, rubbing his neck bashfully. “E-either way, I decided to tough it out, you know? Follow my dreams and all that, even if it nearly killed me.”

“And now, he’s working in a famous idol company as one of their head producers,” Hoseok finishes for him, chest puffing up in pride. He slaps his best friend on the back, not noticing that he had inadvertently caused Yoongi's spine to cave in from his strength. “Yoongi is so cool, and humble too! He’s been working behind the scenes for a bunch of big names and never got greedy for attention even though he totally deserves it.”

“Damn, so no street cred? Bit schewpid, innit? Imagine all the chicks you could’ve landed, bruv!” Seokjin says, imitating a terrible British accent. You make a move to hit him in the groin, but for once, Hoseok beats you to the punch.

“Nope! Yoongi-chi is super single, aren’t you?” Hoseok says with a sweet grin, ignoring the pained groans of his lover on the floor.

“No need to rub it in, Seok-ah,” Yoongi grumbles defensively. He coughs into his fist, grinding his foot into the floor. He throws a glance your way. “Just been… too busy, I guess.”

From the floor, Seokjin holds up a hand, grasping at Hoseok’s pant leg to hoist himself up. “What a coincidence. Y/N is super single too. In fact, her pussy is so dry that there’d be no chance for any yeast infections to develop—WAIT, DON’T HIT ME AGAIN I PROMISE I’LL BEHAVE!” Seokjin is on his knees, holding his arms up in surrender as Hoseok’s boot is about to connect with his stomach.

“I know I said I was into BDSM, but not like this!” Seokjin says, faking a sob.

“Then behave, darling,” Hoseok replies, eyes lighting dangerously. When he returns his attention to you, you and Yoongi back away instinctively. “Sorry about him. We have an… arrangement,” he says, waving his hands vaguely.

“Understood,” you both say, not understanding but also not wanting to.

Seokjin manages to straighten up eventually, his skin slightly paler than it was before. “A-as I was saying,” he exhales, still gingerly cupping his crotch. “Y/N has been single for so long, but I don’t blame her. Not after that awful disaster of a boyfriend, right? God, Sungjae fucking sucked ass, and not even in the sexy way.”

“Um, yeah…” you say hesitantly, avoiding eye contact. You can feel Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s eyes trained on you, but you’re not confident enough to know that you can keep your face neutral.

With your gaze averted, you don’t notice the way Yoongi’s posture tenses. “Is that so,” he says carefully.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hoseok says. You can hear the genuine sadness in his tone, and you chance a peek at him. He pats your shoulder gently, giving you a soft smile. “Honestly, I feel you. I’ve definitely been there, done that. That’s why I’m grateful for Seokjin-hyung, believe it or not. He’s been really good for me.”

“Hah, I told you I’m a good person!” Seokjin says. Again, he goes ignored.

“It’s fine. It’s all water under the bridge,” you say, shrugging. You can still feel Yoongi’s persistent gaze on the side of your head like a brand. You’re kind of afraid to see what sort of expression he has despite the curiosity burning inside of you.

You are still in the middle of debating if it’s worth explaining or not (and to a lesser extent, why you feel like you need to explain yourself to anyone), everyone’s attention is caught by the onslaught of waiters bringing in a fresh batch of food to the buffet. Your stomach growls in response, and you are reminded of the fact that you haven’t eaten since breakfast in preparation for tonight’s event.

“Hold that thought, Y/N,” Hoseok says, holding up a finger. “Hyung! I saw a platter of tuna belly and I know that shit is gonna disappear in two seconds. Let’s head out!” He tugs Seokjin in a hurry, the elder’s gangly legs flying about as he trips over himself to keep up. Seokjin yelps and hollers for him to slow down, but the hangry Hoseok train stops for no one. They run off, leaving Hoseok-and-Seokjin-shaped dust clouds in their wakes.

“Wow,” Yoongi says, dumbfounded. “Did we just get ditched by our two self-proclaimed best friends in the world?”

You nod, equally dumbfounded. “I guess we did.”

He shakes his head. “Fucking traitors.”

And just like that, the conversation dies.

Without your friends acting as buffers, the pair of you return to your painfully awkward states. You rack your brain for a conversation topic, anything to keep the tension at bay. You don’t feel nearly comfortable enough to ask him about his love life, even though you want nothing more than to shake the details right out of him. For perfectly sane reasons, of course.

Lucky for you, Yoongi thinks of a solution. “Um, I guess we should go grab our food as well? I’m assuming we’ll be sitting together since our friends are... you know. Unless you don’t want to, then that’s also perfectly fine with me. I can find somewhere else to sit.”

“I’d love to sit with you,” you say, cringing at your choice of words. Love to? What are you, desperate?! your brain screeches at you, and you mentally beat yourself in the coochie.

Deep down, you know that you’re overreacting, but you can’t help acting like a blushy teenager talking to your crush when you’re around Yoongi. It’s almost as if you’ve reverted to your high school days, back when you’d both started to notice your feelings for each other and the steady flow of butterflies erupting in your stomach had felt less like a burden and more like a revelation.

After tossing your disgusting drink into a nearby bin, you and Yoongi line up behind the rest of your classmates for the buffet, the scene reminiscent of having lunch at your old high school cafeteria. You’re still mildly distracted by Yoongi’s proximity, not looking at what food you were getting and randomly scooping and hoping you don’t dislike all of them.

From the corner of your eye, you notice that Yoongi’s plate is steadily piling up, probably with enough food to feed two people. You’ve never known Yoongi to be much of a heavy eater, but you suppose that free food is still free food at the end of the day.

“So,” Yoongi says after a beat. He pulls you from your trance, and you catch the small smile on his face that tells you that he figured you had been distracted. “How is Jungkook, by the way? He graduated from university a year ago or something, right?”

You pause, your hand stilling on the metal tongs. “How did you know he graduated last year?”

He shrugs. “Well, assuming that he didn’t take any gap years, I did the math and figured he should be at the age where he’s looking for a job.” He turns to you with a sly grin. “Plus, I’m still his friend on Facebook.”

“That’s surprising,” you comment. You backtrack a little, “And I mean it’s surprising in the sense that… All his posts are reshares from dank meme pages and I thought you wouldn’t be into that.”

Yoongi laughs. “I’m not. But… it’s nice to know how things are back home, I guess.”

Do you wonder about me, too? you think, but you internally shake your head. But why would he? He doesn’t owe you anything.

“And your dad? I heard he got hip surgery last fall,” Yoongi says.

“Wait, Jungkook has been posting about our dad’s surgery on his Facebook?”

“Oh! No, not exactly.” Yoongi clears his throat, suddenly nervous. He heaps a big portion of kimchi, some of it staining his sleeve. “I… called him a few days ago, to catch up.”

You’re staring at him, and you dimly register the people lined up behind you huffing impatiently. “You… called him? You have his cell number, too?”

“No, I just… happen to still have your home telephone number memorized and hoped that you guys hadn’t moved,” he says, a little guiltily.

You’re silent for a moment, thoughtlessly scooping more bean sprouts onto your plate than any sane person would be comfortable eating. The two of you inch along the buffet display as you attempt to process his sudden confession.

On one hand, you’re slightly betrayed that your own brother hadn’t thought to mention that your ex had called him, but on the other hand, what would you have done if he did? Ask if you could say hello? The Y/N from last month probably would have laughed if she had known that Min Yoongi still cared enough to call and check on her family, much less have her landline memorized even after all these years.

He still cared.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the room, your heart skips a beat at the thought. You cradle a hand to your chest, urging your nerves to quell. Keep it together, you beg your stupid, naive heart. You can survive one night without falling in love again, can’t you?

...can you?

“I…” you stammer. You swallow thickly, desperate for something to say, anything to stop your mind from going in the wrong direction. “They miss you, you know? You have no idea how many times my parents ask if you’re coming home for Christmas, or—I don’t know.”

“Yeah, my parents are the same. They always wanna know if I’m coming home for the holidays, and they,” he hesitates, swallowing thickly, “They always ask about you, too.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you mutter lamely. Your cheeks feel like they’ve been lit on fire the moment you got here, and you haven’t even visited the bar yet.

You finally make it to the end of the long buffet table where there is a large chocolate fountain just begging for you to ravage if only your stomach wasn’t besieged by butterflies. Yoongi glances at you, his own hands too full to get any desserts, but he still pauses as if he’s waiting for you. When you make it apparent you aren’t interested in the mouthwatering cakes and pastries (a big fat lie, but you also don’t want to vomit in front of him and your hundreds of schoolmates), he raises a brow as though he’s surprised.

“What? I’m not that much of a sweet tooth,” you scoff.

“This is coming from the girl who broke into her little brother’s piggy bank to buy some ice cream from a passing street vendor?” he teases.

“That’s the old me. Now, I make enough money to buy my own sweets,” you say smugly.

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.” If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he looked endeared.

The pair of you search for Hoseok and Seokjin, only to find that the couple had somehow found a table for all of you somewhere near the back. With one last longing glance at the wondrous chocolate fountain, you walk away with Yoongi in tow. You have to push through throngs of people, a few old familiar faces stopping to say hello before they notice the precarious situation on Yoongi’s plate and let you through. You wave at them, promising to greet them later before turning to Yoongi.

“Isn’t it kind of weird to see all these people again? Not gonna lie, it’s almost hard to recognize a few of them.” You note some of the crazy hair colors and drastic fashion choices that you never thought you’d see a decade ago. An even stranger sight, however, is the occasional schoolmates with little ones attached to their hips. You recognize one of the new parents, your mouth dropping in shock.

“Wait, is that Seulgi? And is that her—”

“Her son? Jesus Christ,” Yoongi mutters, equally as bewildered as you. “Damn, I did not expect her of all people to be one of the first to have a kid. I’d always thought it’d be Sooyoung.”

You nod in agreement. You observe the little boy tug roughly at her skirt, his tiny fists making grabbing motions at the cookies on her plate. “Yeah. I always thought I’d have a kid before Seulgi, at least. What a surprise.”

You speak before you think, and it takes longer than it should have for you to realize your mistake. By then, Yoongi’s expression had already morphed into astonishment, his eyes bugging out as he chokes on his spit.

Your cheeks are burning, your mouth opening and closing as pure panic seizes you. You cannot believe that you just said that! No fucking way! Did you eat lube this morning or something? Why are words just spilling out of your mouth at an unprecedented rate?! You’re begging your brain to come up with something, anything, to control the damage, but alas your thoughts remain resolutely frozen.

If aliens were to choose to study the human race right now, they’d be sorely disappointed to find the lack of intelligent lifeforms. No complex thoughts going on over here! Not one goddamn neuron firing in this bitch!

“O-oh, well, that’s…” he trails off. He clears his throat, his jaw clenched as he awkwardly tries to feign composure. “I didn’t know you were, um, interested? Well, n-not that I think you were averse to the idea of having kids, since I remember you mentioning it when we were, um,” he pauses, struggling to find a word other than dating, or together, or in love, or not painstakingly careful around each other, like every conversation topic was a fucking minefield.

“Younger?” you supply. A safe, neutral word. Yay for you! You deserve a snack from your animal care keeper right about now.

“Right,” he nods. He looks down at his shoes, revealing his flushed neck. He’s frustratingly adorable like this, but it does nothing except distract you. “Were you, um, planning on having a kid with your ex-boyfriend? Before you broke up?”

Ex-boyfriend? Why is he bringing him up all of a sudden? You stare at him in confusion for half a second before realization strikes you. Thankfully (or unthankfully), it seems that Yoongi misunderstands the implication behind your words and has taken your little slip-up the wrong way. For once, you are so thankful that Yoongi almost failed Math during the 10th grade and never learned to put two and two together.

“Definitely not,” you bark out a laugh, but it sounds incredibly forced, even to your own ears. You stare at the plate of food in your hands, a wave of unpleasant memories washing over you. “I doubt he’d ever want kids, anyway. Seokjin used to make fun of him and call him the world’s biggest toddler.”

Yoongi winces, his brow furrowing. “How long were you together?”

“Like, two years?” You shrug. “It felt longer, to be honest. Even if we dated for so long, I could never imagine myself having a family with him,” you say.

It was almost the truth, but not quite. While your ex-boyfriend had undoubtedly been a pain in your ass, he wasn’t completely bad, especially in the beginning. You had enough self-respect that you would have ended the relationship earlier if he didn’t have any redeeming qualities. The main problem was that he had a tough act to follow, and you don’t think any man on earth would be able to live up to your lofty expectations at this point, not when you’d constantly be comparing everyone to—

Yoongi speaks up again. “Seokjin seems to really dislike him. Was he really that bad?”

“Seokjin has never really liked any of my past flings,” you admit, rolling your eyes. (You fail to mention that Yoongi has always been the only exception.) “Despite his own disgustingly high body count, I can’t say he was wrong. Sungjae was a self-centered prick who never gave me the time of day. Hell, I was almost thankful when I caught him cheating. It was the final push I needed.”

Even though it’s been so long, the pain of seeing your ex-boyfriend locking lips with a stranger he had randomly picked up from the street still throbs inside of you. It wasn’t like you were particularly sad or surprised to find out, but you’d always been a bit sensitive to people who kept secrets from you. Plus, it kinda sucked to know that they had fucked on your favorite Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Fucking bastard. If I ever saw him in person, I’d definitely kick his nuts ‘til he’s left with a concave crotch,” he seethes, eyes narrowing.

You laugh. You have to confess that the mental image is satisfying. “You don’t even know what he looks like though!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure Seokjin would tell me if I asked,” he huffs. He mutters something else after, but his volume drops to a whisper and you have to step closer to properly hear him.

“What? Sorry, I missed that,” you say, but you could have sworn he said something like “I wouldn’t have done that if it were me” but you couldn’t be completely sure.

“N-nothing,” he stutters, waving off your confusion. He tacks on a smile, but you can tell that he must have been embarrassed by whatever he’d said. If it was anything like what you thought he’d said, then you could understand. It wasn’t like he was wrong, anyway.

He makes a move to rub the back of his neck, but he greatly underestimates the weight of his platter and nearly drops everything. Something deep inside of you kicks in, and your body instinctively moves to hold his plate with your free hand, saving him from a very messy situation. However, that also means that your hands are now touching each other, your fingertips grazing his knuckles.

Instead of letting him go like a normal person, your ape brain makes the first move (as per usual).

“Your hands are still cold,” you say dumbly. You had wanted to say more, like “your hands are still as cold as they were from when we were younger,” but bringing up your past together, even for something so harmless, still feels taboo. You keep your hands where they are, your eyes locked on his. It feels like you’re in the middle of a dramatic TV show while I Will Go To You by Ailee plays in the background. You can almost imagine the numerous ads for random Korean cosmetic products framing the two of you in slow motion.

Yoongi chuckles, reluctantly pulling away from you. You already miss the sensation of his skin on yours. “I guess some things never change, huh?” he says, wavering slightly. He stares at you for another moment before shaking his head, as though he’s pushing away some unwelcome thoughts. He turns away, leaving you behind to make his way to your table.

Despite the unbidden emotions bubbling up your throat and threatening to spill over, you have no choice but to follow.

At the table, Seokjin and Hoseok speak mutely with each other, though the exaggerated expressions on both their faces tell you that they had been in the middle of an argument. When Yoongi takes his place beside Hoseok, the couple pauses in their bickering to greet you.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi’s overflowing plate. “Dude. I know I teased you about being a skinny twig a while ago, but I wasn’t implying that you gorge yourself.”

Yoongi jolts in surprise before staring back at his plate. Weirdly enough, he looks just as shocked as Hoseok to find the amount of food he had gotten, as though he hadn’t even noticed.

Perhaps he was just as distracted as you had been? you think, staring at your own meager pickings. Oops, you definitely didn’t get enough food to fill your ravenous appetite.

“That’s fine. I can share with you guys,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin peers at your plate, smirking knowingly. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Y/N would love to get some of your food. It seems like the two of you either over or underestimated how much you’d eat.”

“Aww, cute!” Hoseok coos, pinching Yoongi’s cheek. “You still have the habit of getting food for her. That’s so sweet that you still remember that about her!”

You had been in the middle of taking a swig of your water, but Hoseok’s comment nearly causes it to spew out from your nose. You cough harshly, beating your chest as your nose burns, among other things.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi scolds. He hits his friend on the shoulder, but Hoseok’s giggles refuse to stop.

“Oh shit, you’re totally right! Remember all those times when either one of us was forced to third-wheel with them?” Seokjin guffaws. “Y/N always orders something gross whenever we eat out together, and Yoongi ends up having to share half of his food with her when she starts moping.”

“I did not mope!” you retort vehemently.

“You kind of did,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, but you catch him this time.

You cross your arms, scowling. “Did not!”

Yoongi covers his mouth to fake a cough, but you can tell he’s smiling from how his eyes start to crinkle.

“You guys are so cute,” Hoseok sighs, squeezing Yoongi into a hug. Yoongi paws at him weakly, but you know that he enjoys skinship too much to push his friend away. Still, he pouts cutely, his cheeks puffing up like a pastry.

“Anyway, why were you guys arguing a while ago?” Yoongi asks, changing the subject. “Seokjin-hyung is kinda red in the face.”

“Oh, we weren’t really arguing. Hyung had gotten some wine from the bar but he forgot to get me some,” Hoseok says. He glares sharply at Seokjin. “Bastard.”

“You just said we weren’t fighting!” Seokjin whines. He stands up, raising his arms in surrender. “But fine! I’ll go get your damn wine,” he sulks, groaning when he stretches his back and a few worrisome pops resound from his joints.

“Damn, hyung. I know I told you that I hope you grow up well when we were kids, but I didn’t think you’d take it that literally,” Yoongi jokes, earning a sharp laugh from you. Yoongi glances at you then, visibly proud when he catches the wide grin on your face.

Seokjin gasps, offended. “I am not old! I’m literally a year older than you guys! And here I was, about to get you both drinks as well! It sucks to be the nice one in a friend group,” he sniffs.

“Yes, we are eternally grateful for your service,” Hoseok says sarcastically. “Oh, and remember to get some drinks for Y/N and Yoongi-chi too!” Hoseok adds, slamming his palm on Seokjin’s sore back.

Seokjin yelps, before biting his lip. “Owwie, that hurt,” he moans, winking salaciously.

As the closest person to him, you make it your right to jam your heeled foot onto his gelatinous and push away with a shout of disgust. “Leave, wench!” you snarl, but you’re unfortunately drowned out by his cackling. Even so, he does make his leave, affording your table some level of peace.

“So,” Hoseok starts, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He cradles his chin with his hands, smiling innocuously at the two of you. “How’s it goin’? Are you both having fun?” he says, laced with meaning.

Ah, you had forgotten; peace was never an option.

Though he is undoubtedly less annoying than Seokjin, you still don’t trust the way he’s staring at you, like he’s waiting for one of you to jump into the other’s lap and recreate his favorite porn scene.

(A terrible thought to have, especially when you’d probably be as begrudging as you should be if you were swayed sufficiently.)

“It’s going fine, thank you very much,” Yoongi responds, giving his best friend a stern look.

You nod wordlessly, unable to trust yourself to keep from stammering and making your frayed nerves apparent (if they aren’t already.) You grab your glass and busy yourself with your drink to delay answering.

You don’t notice that you had taken Yoongi’s cup by accident until you’ve already gulped a third of his water, dropping it with a loud clunk. “Oh shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to drink from yours,” you say sheepishly.

Yoongi smiles at your concern. “No worries. It’s just a cup.”

“Sharing cups too? Damn, what happened while Seokjin and I were away?” Hoseok laughs. Yoongi flicks him lightly on the wrist in retaliation.

“It’s just a cup,” he repeats before turning to you. “Sorry, I think he’s a bit drunk.”

“Haven’t had a single drop of alcohol but whatever,” Hoseok says, shoveling a large piece of tuna belly into his mouth.

The sight of him eating reminds you of your own hunger, your food slightly colder now after talking to Yoongi and your friends for so long. You take a spoonful of chicken, the taste not terrible but not as good as you would like. Your face must give your disappointment away because you hear Yoongi chuckling beside you.

“Bad food again? Guess you really are the same,” Yoongi says, low enough that Hoseok wouldn’t hear. He pushes his plate towards you, carefully nudging some of his bulgogi onto yours. “This tastes kind of sweet, so I’m not really into it. But you prefer it sweeter right?”

All you can do is nod in agreement, watching as he piles your plate with his food. His sleeves, which had already been stained previously by some stray bits of kimchi, become even more saturated with sauces and oils. Now that you see it up close, his sleeves seem a bit too long for him, his palms half covered like sweater paws.

Without thinking too hard, you place your hands over Yoongi’s wrists, his entire body freezing as he waits for what you will do. Gently, as though you’re approaching a frightened kitten, you fold his sleeves until they’re no longer dangling into his food. The gesture is more intimate than you had intended, his proximity allowing you to smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne.

Paco Rabanne, your mind reminds you. Of course.

You pull away, trying your best to appear as unfazed as possible. You clench your hands and dig your nails into your skin to keep them from trembling. “If I’m the same, you’re no better. You always used to forget to pull back your sleeves before eating.”

After a beat, Yoongi returns from his stupor, licking his lips. “My hands were cold,” he explains.

“I know.” You lick your lips too, suddenly parched despite all the water you have drunk.

A forgotten treasure trove of memories resurrects inside of you, things that you had thought had been buried too deep for you to find again. You are filled with this odd feeling, an awareness. An old wound has resurfaced, one that you thought had healed long ago.

That wound throbs, still.

It’s so strange, being with him like this. A piece of your past that has come to your present, both the same and different as you remember. He knows parts of you that no one else will, as do you with him. But those parts were only ever supposed to stay buried: memories, after all, aren’t supposed to be tangible.

And yet, here he stands: real, alive, close.

It leaves you feeling emptier than before.

The atmosphere grows somber after that, neither of you offering much to the conversation. Hoseok is more than happy to pick up the slack, filling the stark silence along with the occasional hums from Yoongi. When Seokjin returns, he makes no note of the change in mood and focuses more on eating and talking with his partner. It allows the two of you to remain deep in thought.

You are pushing your remaining bits of food around your plate when the soft instrumental music playing on the overhead speaker stops abruptly, and the sound of a microphone being tapped prompts everyone to turn to the front of the ballroom. The host of the event announces that the next part of the reunion will begin shortly and encourages all the performers to head to the sound booth to prepare. A couple of your schoolmates rise from their seats, most of whom were the students you remembered being part of choir or band.

You half-expect Yoongi to stand up as well, but he stays rooted to the spot. Apparently, Hoseok is wondering the same thing.

“Yoongi? Didn’t you say that the organizers asked you to perform some of your songs?” Hoseok questions.

“They did.”

“But?”

Yoongi brings his fingers to his teeth, biting on them anxiously. Your hand makes a move to pull them away, but you think better of it. No need to supply your friends with more teasing ammunition. “But I changed my mind last minute. I felt kind of embarrassed to be performing my own songs. I’m more of a producer, not a performer.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Yoongi. You’re poggers, as the kids like to say,” Seokjin pipes up.

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but he’s right. A lot of people like your music and think you’re a great performer,” you assure him. “And I like your music, too,” you add shyly.

Yoongi’s hand drops from his mouth, eyes glittering with disbelief. He looks like he wants to disagree with you, but eventually decides to just smile in gratitude. “I didn’t know you listened to my music,” he says quietly.

Before you can reply, Seokjin chooses to interrupt with his migraine-inducing cackle and ruin the moment (as he is prone to do.) “Oh bitch! If you only knew how much this girl loves your music. She even buys your physical CDs AND collects your photocards.”

“I do not!” You scream, flinging a piece of bread at his head. You refuse to peek at Yoongi.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I collect his photocards too. Wanna trade sometime? I’m missing the one when he still had mint hair,” Hoseok giggles.

“Will the two of you stop? God, it’s like you both had been planning to embarrass us as much as possible,” Yoongi exclaims, incensed.

When neither of them responds, you and Yoongi whip your heads towards them only to find two self-satisfied, smirking shitheads.

“Why watch reality shows when you can make your own?” Seokjin says in lieu of an answer, pointing finger guns. He blows you a kiss with a wink.

You clutch your chest, pretending to wince in pain. “Augh! Poison damage!”

Seokjin scoffs. “Swagever, man. You’re just mad because you’re angry,” he retorts, sticking out his tongue.

While you were occupied bickering with Seokjin, you had not seen that one of your old schoolmates had invited herself to your table. She sandwiches herself in the space between you and Yoongi, bumping you roughly enough to topple you out of your chair.

“What the fuck?” you yelp in surprise, holding onto the table to balance yourself. After straightening back into your seat, you find that your view of the world has become obscured by asscheeks the size of beachballs.

“Hi Yoongi,” she purrs seductively. Or at least, what she thinks is seductive. To you, her voice sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

“Hello?” Yoongi says, but it comes out sounding more like a question. It’s clear that he doesn’t remember her name, as he searches your eyes for help. You shrug unhelpfully; you deleted almost all the names of everyone that you had gone to school with right after graduation. Besides, her horrendous plastic surgery makes it even twice as hard to discern her identity.

“Hi Hyejin,” Hoseok speaks up, answering your unspoken question. Oh, right. The name does ring a bell, somewhat. You don’t recall her looking like a cartoon character before, but you suppose beauty standards are meant to be subjective. Maybe she wanted to look like a One Piece character.

Hyejin purses her lips into a tight smile but doesn’t return his greeting. She turns back to Yoongi, bending forward until her boobs are practically smooshed against his face. You wonder idly if stabbing her chest with your chopsticks would cause them to burst like a balloon, or perhaps drain like a puss-filled pimple. Both, you surmise, would be very entertaining to watch.

“It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other, hm? I heard you’ve been very busy ever since we graduated from high school,” she says, batting her eyelashes.

“Uh, yeah? Some of us have jobs,” he says, passively dissing her. You let out a strangled laugh, causing Hyejin to aim a glare back at you. You bring your (his) cup of water to your lips, feigning innocence.

Hyejin rolls her eyes. “Right. But I meant that you’ve become a real star back in Seoul! I didn’t know you were such a musical prodigy!”

“I’m really not. I just work hard,” he shrugs. He’s visibly uncomfortable, especially since Hyejin was pretty much breathing the same air as him. Every time he leans away from her, she takes it as an invitation to come closer. He is nearly lying horizontally at this point, his back parallel with the floor.

“Humble as well as handsome? My, my. I didn’t think you’d be such a charmer,” she laughs, saccharine sweet. She twirls her dyed brown hair with her perfectly manicured acrylic nails. You rub at the goosebumps forming on your arms, cringing at the phantom sensation of her nails digging into your skin.

“Just spit it out. What the hell do you want so you can leave,” Seokjin interjects. Everything about his demeanor says calm and collected, but the way he presses his lips into a thin line says otherwise. You can sense the air dropping in temperature, despite the embers burning behind his eyes.

“I came over here to ask if Yoongi could give me his autograph, that’s all. I am his biggest fan, after all,” she sulks. She winks at him for extra measure. “And maybe his number too? I’d love to discuss your music with you sometime!”

“Oh, um. That’s—” he cuts off, hesitant to answer. He tugs at his ears nervously, exchanging subtly alarmed glances with you.

You remember that signal very distinctly; it’s a distress call that he would do whenever he needed a way out. He used to do it a lot when you were at social gatherings, especially when people would trap him in boring or awkward conversations. He never did like socializing with people outside his circle, but he was often dragged to parties by his more extroverted friends.

He might be hot as hell with his stylish clothes and jaw-dropping undercut, but he’s still awkward as hell around strangers. When the universe created him, they made sure to keep everything in balance. If they hadn’t been fair, you certainly would’ve died much earlier.

“Yoongi, don’t you have spare CDs of your music?” you quip, dragging Hyejin’s attention onto you. Her eyes narrow imperceptibly, suspicious.

“I do?” He stares at you blankly.

You resist hitting your forehead in exasperation. “Yes, Yoongi. Remember? You left a couple of them in my car.”

Yoongi’s eyes light up in understanding. “Oh, right! I left my CDs. In your car. That we drove here. Together. We came here. Together. Yes, correct.”

From your periphery, you can sense Hoseok barely holding onto his sanity after witnessing that pitiful display. Who can blame him when Yoongi’s infamously terrible acting skills are having their first appearance in over ten years? How he managed to pass Drama class is still a mystery to this day.

“Yup,” you say, popping your p. You give Hyejin a winsome smile, your hands folded neatly on your lap. You can almost see the steam blowing out of her ears. It fills you with delicious satisfaction. “Why don’t Yoongi and I go get them so he can sign one?”

If her eyes had been made of lasers, you’d be a cauterized mess jumble of organs by now. Can’t say you would regret it either way.

“How kind of you.” She sneers. “Also, I wasn’t aware that you two were still a thing.”

“I wasn’t aware that we were required to inform you of anything,” you retort placidly. You plaster on your fakest grin. “Now, if you can please move your fat ass—I mean, if you can please move out of the way so I can go to my car...” you trail off, gesturing for her to leave.

After a few more indignant sputters on her end, she eventually makes her exit. She throws a couple of poisonous glares, but they go largely ignored by you and your friends. With her gone, you feel as though you can finally breathe fresh air again.

“Great stuff, Y/N! Congrats on winning your first bitch-off,” Seokjin chirps, back to his usual self. You roll your eyes at his antics but smile nonetheless.

“Thanks. I learned from the best.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “So, are we still gonna go?” He looks back and forth from her to you. “Just so we can pretend you actually have my albums in your car?”

“Trust me, Yoongi-chi. She does have your albums in her car.” Seokjin titters. “I wasn’t kidding about the photocard collection.”

“Ignore him. And yes, I do have your albums. I listen to them in my car from time to time,” you say, attempting nonchalance. “I’d hate to give them away to that bitch, but if it keeps her away...”

Away from you is left unsaid, but it’s heavily implied.

(No, you aren’t jealous. You’re above jealousy. It’s not like that bitch would ever have a chance with him anyway, unlike you—!

Woah there, cowgirl. Let’s stay on the right path. Don’t want your heart getting chewed up and spat back out all over again, do you?)

“I’ll just mail you a new one. Signed, if you want. You can probably sell it on eBay or whatever.” He tries to say it like a joke, but his brow is too furrowed to be convincing. (You want to kiss him there and make it go away.)

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so all you do is nod mutely. You stand up and Yoongi follows suit.

“We’ll be right back. If she comes back before then, tell her to scram,” you tell Hoseok and Seokjin. They salute you in response (well, Hoseok does. Seokjin does a very rude gesture with his fingers that is supposed to mimic something explicit. Feel free to use your imagination.)

The walk to the parking lot is a quiet one. The two of you stay side by side, his strides naturally matching your own. Unlike before, you don’t feel the need to fill the silence for once, content to just be in each other’s presence.

The hotel that your reunion is being held at is unusually unpopulated. The lobby consists of a handful of employees milling about, a few of whom look ready to fall asleep on their feet. You nod politely at the bellboy who opens the main doors for you, declining his offer to call the valet service to fetch your car.

“Just hand me my keys. I’ll look for my car in the parking lot.” It wouldn’t be hard to find, anyway. Your beat-up Toyota Corolla looks as though it’s been through three wars and then some.

It isn’t long until you find it parked close to the entrance. You unlock your car from the passenger seat, shimmying the glove compartment open to reveal your collection of CDs.

“Wow, you weren’t lying when you said you listened to my music,” Yoongi says, voice loud amidst the tranquil night. It startles you, and you accidentally knock over some of the albums onto your car floor. On top of the pile lies Yoongi’s most recent album, the one you recall he had released a couple of months ago.

Strange, how just hours ago you were listening to his music on the way to the reunion, only for the boy on the cover of the album to be just inches away from you.

“Yeah, well. You’re a pretty good artist,” you say.

“Only pretty good?” he repeats, amused.

“Don’t push it,” you snort. You grab the album on top, waving it in front of him. “This should be good enough, right?”

He plucks it from your grasp, an unreadable expression clouding his eyes. He chuckles, but there’s an edge of sadness in his tone. “Good enough,” he agrees solemnly.

His sudden quietness is different from the peaceful one before. It’s sorrowful, maybe regretful. He looks like a man stuck in grief.

“Did you know that I didn’t finish this album before releasing it?”

The question seems a little out of the blue, but you answer regardless. “No, I didn’t. They don’t sound unfinished to me.”

“The songs themselves aren’t unfinished,” he explains. He turns the album over, his finger running down the back where the tracklist is printed. “One of my songs never made it in.”

“Couldn’t you have delayed the album launch so you could complete it?”

He shakes his head. “It was actually the first song I finished out of all of them.”

“Then..?”

“It didn’t matter, at the time. I wrote it for someone specifically, but I didn’t want to put it on the album if she—they didn’t listen to it. It wouldn’t matter if the whole world heard that song because only they would understand it.”

“But now? What changed?” Fear and hope run down your spine in tandem when the question tumbles out of you. You hold your breath, and the world shifts from its axis.

But he doesn’t elaborate further.

x x x x x

You return to the hotel after acquiring both an album and some more tension. The album feels heavy in your hands, weighed down by secrets you are still too afraid to uncover. Not that Yoongi would ever willingly divulge them to you—because revealing them would make them real, and making them real would mean you would have to accept them, and accepting them would cause you to—

“They’re gone,” Yoongi announces when you reenter the ballroom. You can’t spot your table from the entranceway, but the certainty in Yoongi’s tone makes you believe him.

“No fucking way. Did those two little shits ditch us to exchange body fluids or something?”

Yoongi grimaces. “Please don’t say it like that. It’s bad enough that I was sitting close enough to Hoseok a while ago that I got accidentally footsie’d by Seokjin hyung.”

You wince, placing a pitying hand on his shoulder. “God didn’t make us his strongest soldiers.”

Yoongi tries dialing Hoseok a few times, but none of the calls connect. “Just my rotten luck,” he groans. He types angrily into his phone, worry creasing his forehead. “He was supposed to be my ride back to his place.”

“Seokjin isn’t answering his phone either,” you say apologetically. “How much do you wanna bet this is part of their evil scheme to leave us together?”

“I don’t doubt it in the slightest,” he deadpans. He sighs tiredly, rubbing his temples. “I suppose I can take a taxi there, but I also don’t know if he’ll be home to open the door for me.”

“Then why don’t you just stay with me?”

You don’t know what you’re doing.

In your head, the offer makes sense. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Nothing is stopping you from rekindling a friendship with him. You have purely platonic intentions. Friends help each other out.

Never mind the fact that your heart hasn’t stopped fluttering the entire night. Never mind the fact that you’ve caught yourself staring at him just as many times as you’ve caught him staring at you. Never mind the fact that you don’t want the night to end, not now not ever.

(Never mind the fact that you’ve never quite stopped loving him.)

So when he accepts, you convince yourself that offering had been the right thing to do.

(Maybe. Hopefully. You just wish your heart doesn’t end up as collateral damage.)

The drive home is short, thanks to the late hour. You had asked him if he had wanted to stay until the end of the reunion, but he had declined. “Nothing else left for me there,” he says.

You feel as though he’s hinting at something. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. “At least I get to keep my album.”

Yoongi laughs, short and sweet.

As much as you try to fight it, sitting in the car with him brings up a lot of memories.

The two of you in the backseat as his older brother drives you to his house for dinner, backpacks filled with crumpled notes and loose pens, a promise of an intense study session for your upcoming exams ready to be broken. You remember how the sky would turn orange in the afternoon, the warm light streaming through the car window and washing Yoongi’s skin with a soft glow.

His cheeks had looked inviting, his lips even more. And you would lean over, kissing him like it was easy. Because it was easy, and you never had to think twice about it.

Your trip down memory lane doesn’t end in the car. As you walk up the steps to your childhood home, you hesitate by the door, your keys frozen over the lock. You can hear Yoongi’s soft breathing behind you, but his presence doesn’t feel as stifling as you thought it would be.

You’re far from being at ease, but you aren’t frightened either. Mostly, you’re just filled with anticipation. Of what? You aren’t sure.

“Excuse the mess. Jungkook is in the middle of moving out so there’s just stuff everywhere,” you say just as you open the door. You toe off your shoes by the entrance, kicking them off haphazardly into the pile of sneakers and boots.

You hear Yoongi huff out a laugh behind you. “Aish, that kid. Still hasn’t let go of his Timbs, huh?”

“He has also been really into chunky sneakers these days. I think he’s finalizing his transformation into Thumper,” you joke. “He’s staying at his new apartment for the weekend with my parents, so you won’t be seeing them. They’re helping him settle in.”

“Really? He didn’t mention moving when we spoke. Where is he moving to?”

“Busan. He and his best friend from college are going to start a restaurant in his hometown. Which is funny, since neither of them are the best chefs.”

Yoongi whistles. “Still, that’s impressive. I can’t remove the image from my head of when he was a kid. He was so scared of anything. He wouldn’t let go of your mom’s leg even if his life depended on it.”

He steps deeper into the house, his gaze jumping from end to end as he surveys your childhood home. You watch him, noting how right he looks standing there in the middle of your living room, like a chipped painting that has been restored.

It’s scary, how easily you’ve accepted him back into this place.

He stays rooted to the spot, the moonlight filtering through the kitchen windows and illuminating his frame. The air pulses with something magical, something dream-like, and it muddles your vision. It’s the only explanation you have for why your chest tightens when he turns to face you, with a gaze filled with sadness, mourning, yearning.

“Jungkook’s height chart is still here,” he murmurs. The small nicks on the kitchen door frame are hard to see, and other people have mistaken them for signs of wear and tear. But he knows what they are because he was there when your mother had etched the first scratch.

He looks at your ancient dining table, his hand brushing over the surface. “This too,” he says, rubbing at a large burn mark on the wood.

“Mom made sure to use placemats after that. I didn’t think a sizzling plate would burn through the table like that,” you say, giggling as you reminisce. “You know, we still use your mom’s galbi jjim recipe. We haven’t found a better one.”

“I’m sure she would love to hear that,” Yoongi smiles, but it fades just as quickly. “It’s so… strange. Being here again and seeing that nothing really changed.”

But things did change. Upstairs, in your bedroom. That night, ten years ago.

You still remember what you had said to him, when you had said it to him, how you had said it to him.

It was a sunny afternoon, the time of day when you’d be on your way home from school. The two of you had stood in your room, neither of you wanting to sit because sitting meant staying, and staying only made this harder.

There hadn’t been many tears in that moment; those were shed only after the realization had sunk in, when you’d fully understood what had happened. At the time, the decision had been as easy as breathing.

Except you had both been drowning. The clock was ticking down to the end of high school, and the inevitable wasn’t slowing down.

Yoongi wanted to chase his dreams in Seoul. You wanted to stay closer to home, with your friends and family.

You weren’t going to be the one to hold him down. You weren’t going to be that person, not when he’s destined for greater things than his hometown could offer—not even a girl who loved him would be worth staying for.

He had suggested it, first. He had been prepared for you to cry, or maybe scream, but you did none of that. Instead, you pulled him close, hugging him tighter than you ever had before. You wanted to make it last, imprint the sensation onto your brain so that his warmth might stay with you, even after he’s little more than a distant memory. You trembled, terribly so, even though the beginnings of summer crept on your skin like a brand.

It’s time to let him go, Time whispered. You refused to listen, just for another moment.

Let me have this last moment, you beg. But Time refused to listen.

“Do you know?” Yoongi had spoken into your neck, had hoped his words would stain there. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Love, not loved. “I did,” you say. You think better of it. “I do.”

When you separated, for good this time, it had left an ache deeper than you could have ever imagined.

But you were young. Young love was supposed to hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to last. “You’ll find others,” your mother had said, brushing a soothing hand through your hair as you sobbed.

Then why? Then why has it lasted this long?

It has been a question you’ve asked yourself, and you’re starting to think that the answer has always been right in front of you.

The answer is standing in front of you: real, alive, close.

“Why didn’t you ever date again?” you ask. You ask even though you know he can lie, if he wants. He can tell you anything and you would believe him.

But he wouldn’t; you know he wouldn’t.

“I was afraid of closing a door that I never meant to close in the first place,” he says. His voice crackles like static, but that might be the blood rushing to your head. He moves toward you but keeps a hand’s width away. Still too far.

He continues. “After that day, when I left,” he swallows, “after I left, I think… I think I left a piece of me with you. A-and I don’t think I ever stopped…” he cuts off, exhaling shakily.

“Stopped what?” you breathe.

“You know.” He waves his hands around helplessly. They fall heavily back down to his sides, defeated. “You know?” he repeats.

You do. Because you are the same. The old wound had never healed; it burns and it bleeds like new.

Your skull feels like it’s stuffed with cotton when you close the distance between the two of you. He circles his arms around your waist, tentative, but he relaxes when you wind your arms around his neck. Your vision is warped, so you choose to close them. You wait, with bated breath, as his warmth inched closer and closer.

The sensation of his lips on yours jolts you back to your senses. His kiss reminds you of your youth, of a love that had made you excited to start your day. Even now, your body remembers, and it rejoices.

The tenderness does not last long before it turns fervent, tongue and teeth crashing like waves against the shore. If his kisses could speak, they would tell you stories of how much he missed you, of how much he mourned the time you had both lost. They would tell you of the days when he’d almost pressed your number onto his phone, of the nights when he’d stare at the polaroids he had kept of you.

They would ask if you still love him like he still loves you.

He tastes of desperation, and you are likely to be the same. It is a desperation you haven’t tasted in years—but it doesn’t feel scary like it used to. Time no longer feels like it’s racing against you, like you had something to prove before the hour was over. This reckless abandon feels like home against your skin—it is an ache being soothed after having ripped your scabs over and over again.

It’s Yoongi.

And when he pulls you to your room, he doesn’t even need his eyes to find his way as his feet still memorize the floorboards. He struggles with the doorknob, forgetting that it always jammed, but it’s okay because you can always teach him again. You can teach him everything again.

The bed creaks under your weights and even the mattress sounds like it is sighing in relief. That sigh echoes from your lips when his hand slips under your clothes, his palm stopping over your heart.

“I won’t break it, this time,” he says. He promises. “If you let me.”

You wonder if he can feel your heart soaring, pounding against your ribs. “I think the line has long been crossed to ask for my permission.” You place your hand over where his is laid. You squeeze tight.

This time, you don’t let him go.

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wincestisasincest · 3 years ago

Text

The Barrel - Ch. 1 (LOTR x Reader)

Okay, so time for a fun and sexy take on Modern Girl in Middle Earth that no one asked for - what if the Modern Girl had a gun? I wanted to try and write something where the Modern Girl in question was not completely defenseless, and had a fair amount of experience that the others lacked.

This will be very slow burn, I think.

Chapter: 1

Words: 1452

Warnings: Blood, guns (obviously)

Pairings: None (yet)

The butt of the rifle cracked against your cheek. You bit your tongue, but kept your arms rigid and eyes open. The taste of copper slithered between your teeth.

The orc staggered, his head reeling back with the force of the bullet that had just been lodged into it. His spine arched, and his arms flailed. Before he could catch his balance, his heart finished beating and he collapsed to the ground. Pungent, dark blood oozed into the dirt.

The wizard hardly flinched. His weary, sloped brow and buggish eyes were fixed on you thoughtfully. He tugged a strand of his curly brown beard - the one that had been blanched with bird crap.

You dropped your arms and let the rifle relax into the natural dent of your hands. They were clammy, but the crisp chilliness of the forest kept them from being sweaty. Everything about you, from the fresh redness pooling in your cheeks due to the recoil of the gun to the congested nose you had that made you sniff every couple of minutes, put you on the edge of sickness. And yet, here you were, shambling and corpse-like, but still upright and alive.

You stepped towards the wizard, your eyes occasionally darting back to the orc. You hadn’t registered yet that you were the one who killed it. You’d give it some time.

“Are you Radagast the Brown?”

You kept your voice monotone and deep to not risk exposing the rasp extending up the back of your throat.

“Who’s asking? Friend or foe?”

“Friend. I’m (y/n).”

“No family?”

“None that are around here. I’m, uh, not from here. If it wasn’t already obvious.”

You swayed nervously on your legs. Your combat boots were worn beyond repair, though their gaudy artificial stitching that was loosely holding them together still stuck out like a sore thumb. The black tank top clung to your body, and though you mostly kept it hidden with an oversized jacket, you couldn’t help the occasional peak of bare flesh and tight fabric. Oh, and, of course, your jeans were bright-ass blue and had a leather tag on the back with an impeccably printed logo.

“Indeed,” the wizard nodded, “I’ve never seen a bow quite like that before.”

You neither. This whole shooting business was about as new as Middle Earth. When you had woken up in a small pile of freshly fallen leaves, the gun, along with a few packages of ammo, were about 10 feet from your stiff body. You hadn’t dared to practice anything besides loading and unloading the gun, lest you run out of ammo in the middle of your hour of need. You had abstained from counting, knowing that it would just make you more nervous.

“Yeah...” you trailed, “but anyway, I know you don't know me, but you know Gandalf, right? He needs help.”

“Help? Now, there’d have to be something mighty strong that could get that old goat in trouble,” he raised an eyebrow hawkishly.

“Saruman.”

“Saruman? Well now, that can’t be.”

“He’s working with Sauron. Looking for the ring, and-”

“Hush!” he finally broke eye contact with you and warily scanned the tops of the trees. Nothing but a wall of silence.

“The forest... it’s quiet. Someone is listening. Come, come. Matters like these ought to be discussed inside,” he turned around and waved for you to follow, hustling in between long, imposing trunks that looked like they were ready to fall on you and crush the life out of you at any second.

******

You had killed the moth. Not on purpose, of course. You seemed to have fallen on it after you crashed through the sky of Middle Earth.

You could remember hearing its screams. You rolled over, looking for the source, grinding the roots further into your ribcage. When you finally saw the tiny thing flitting on the ground, trying to get your attention, you dumbly watched its crushed wings and snapped legs twitch with jolts of desperation.

“I have a message! A message for Radagast the Brown! Friend of the Eagles! You must take it in my stead - it is urgent. The fate of Gandalf the Gray depends on it.”

You said nothing, barely able to keep yourself conscious as you rapidly inhaled and expelled stilted breaths.

“Gandalf the Gray was betrayed by former friend Saruman the White. He is on top of the tower Orthanc, in Isengard, dying with each passing moment. He dispatched me to tell Radagast to seek out the aid of the Eagles - he fears that they may be his only chance at rescue from the tower.”

“Are... are you real?” you finally sputtered.

“I am alive, but not for much longer. My strength fails me. But you must go. Follow along the edge of Mirkwood until you find the brown wizard. The fate of Gandalf, and perhaps the realm, may depend on you. Please, time is of the essence. You must leave.”

The creature’s mouth never moved. You never heard the sound of its voice. But you felt the words in your head, bouncing around there after being injected by some foreign source. The moth pointed its head straight at you.

“Please. It does not matter who you are - your future depends on the knowledge that only Gandalf holds.”

A throbbing pain blossomed in the back of your head, just under your neck. The moth flitted its wings once more, and then the telepathic force that had been drilling into your skull blinked out.

You took a long sip of murky liquid in a cracked glass teacup. Warmth stirred in your void of a stomach, which you had been trying to ignore.

“My word. Then it is true. Saruman has turned to the darkness,” Radagast said to no one in particular. He looked out the window, as if waiting for the silhouette of his friend to appear over the horizon, completely fine.

“I’m sorry,” was all that you could say.

He turned to you, eyes still flickering with life but in danger of going out.

“So am I,” he said grimly, “but, no matter. Gandalf was right. The Eagles are his only chance of salvation from a place as wicked as Isengard. I’ll get the message to them at once.”

He looked at his feet. You couldn’t actually recall much about Radagast from the books - you knew more about how low of an opinion Saruman had of him. But the look of despair that was settling deep within his chest was a grave reminder that he was just as capable of complex thought as anyone else.

You realized that you had just seen a man accept that there would be war on their hands, and that there was nothing he could do to avoid it.

“It will be alright in the end,” you found yourself saying.

Finally, he looked up at you sadly.

“I know. The world will always be okay in the end. And I, who have lived many years and will live many more, will be around to see it. But what will happen to everyone in between?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged, “but in the meantime we’ll just... do our best to protect them. That’s all we can do, right?”

You tilted the edge of your lips up, not quite forming a grin but far from the hopeless neutrality that you had carried with you into the house. He analyzed you, squinting his eyes and pursing his lips, not caring if you noticed.

“Who are you?”

“I’m (y/n).”

“A person is more than their name, especially one such as you.”

“I’m nobody important to this world. I don’t belong here.”

“And yet here you are. You’ve become somebody important,” he scratched his chin, “this appears to be beyond me, but I suggest that you consult with Gandalf. You’re already heading in his direction anyway.”

“What?”

“I’m sending you with the Eagles. The fellow will be in a mighty poor condition when you find him, it’d be irresponsible for me to send him back all by himself. And besides, you seem like a useful person to know.”

He smiled coyly. Your mind buzzed.

“There must be someone else that you can send?”

“Nope. Well, no one humann, anyway. One of the quirks of dedicating your being to the plants and the animals. Now, on you get! I can hear them circling overhead.”

You had no idea how he had summoned the Eagles, and at this point, you were almost too afraid to ask. You gritted your teeth and let your stomach do a cartwheel as you realized that you were about to come to terms with your fear of heights in the worst way possible.

So be it.

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luimagines · 4 years ago

Text

You give them a kiss!

Masterlist

Despite the earlier confusion, I’ve got it done! Here you go Anon!

Since there wasn’t any specification, it’s set platonically (but maybe hidden feels) so I hope that’s ok.

Content under the cut!

Wind

You hear Wind call your name. It’s loud and joyful and inexplicably full of excitement.

It immediately light your heart and you turn to see where the voice came from. Wind is starting to run in your direction something clenched in his hand. You can see it sway from his grip but he’s moving too fast for you to get a good view of what it is.

He stops in front of you, hiding what he had behind his back with a a wide grin his face. “I’ve got something for you!~”

You smile and drop what you’re doing, giving him your full attention. “What is it Pirate?”

“Close your eyes.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Please!”

You oblige.

There’s a moment of silence before you feel something being placed on your head. It’s light but it feels oddly familiar and you open your eyes.

Whatever was in Wind’s hands before is gone and he’s staring at you with a pleased look on his face.

You slowly raise your hands to touch what it is and feel yourself smile.

It’s a flower crown.

“I made it myself!” Wind declares proudly. “Hyrule showed me how to make them. It’s not exactly the first one I made... That one didn’t come out as good, I think. But I like this one and thought it would look great on you!”

Your smile widens to a grin and you pull Wind into a hug. Your heart swells in adoration for this boy and you spin him around somewhat. “I love it! Thank you!”

You pull away slightly and give him a kiss on the forehead as thanks. “You’re very sweet.”

There’s a slight blush on his face as he pulls away from you, but his smile never falters. “Well, I’m glad you like it.”

Twilight

"Hey Twilight!" You skip to his side and place your hands on your hips. "How are you on this beautiful day?"

"I'm doing mighty fine, thank you." Twilight tosses a grin over his shoulder before he goes back to checking through Epona's supplies.

"What-cha doing?"

"Just checking through an old bag of mine. I'm looking for a new shirt."

This piques your interest. "Why?"

"My current one is starting to smell to kingdom come so while it needs to be washed, I need to find my other one."

"Well... I mean it's not that....Yeah..... Wild and I didn't want to say anything, but at least you're aware."

"Ok. Thanks." Twi deadpans. "I can feel your support from miles away. I am so glad that I'm traveling with you lot."

"We like having you around too!" You grin and punch his shoulder lightly. "Enough so that it's easy to tolerate the dog smell."

"You know what-" Twilight takes a swing in your direction but you easily dodge it. He's quick to follow you and take another swing.

You catch it and bring his fist towards your mouth to place a quick kiss on his knuckles.

"Maybe a shower will help too." You grin.

Twilight groans and takes his hand back. "I'll take that into consideration."

He begin to absentmindedly rub his thumb over where you kiss him even as he turns away from you and back to Epona.

"Glad I could help."

"Get out!"

You leave laughing.

Warrior

"Excuse me, but I need your assistance." Warrior walks up to and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. "It'll only take a moment."

"Sure thing Capitan." You grin and drop your little project into your pocket. "What do you need?"

"I heard that you have a specific set of skills that I believe would help me greatly in a personal endeavor of mine."

"Drop the fancy talk." You deadpan. "It only makes you look suspicious."

"I want you to teach me about flowers." He admits in a rush.

"...Why?"

"...Seeecret." Warrior hisses through his teeth, unwilling to tell you why. "You're good at knowing what plants do what and how they help people. You're the best person to go to."

"It comes with the territory of herbalism." You grin. "But it's not all about flowers. I'd have to know what you're going to do with the plants if you want me to help you."

Warrior pauses and he takes a while to think about your reply. There's a moment where you can see that's he's battling himself about your conditions. Somewhere among the lines he comes a consensus and sighs. "...But it was supposed to be for you."

There's a blush on his face and he begins to scratch the back of his neck. He's not meeting your eyes.

His reveal surprises you and you smile at the soft confession. You stare at him for a little moment longer you snort. "Ok fine. I'll let you keep your secrets. I've been teaching Hyrule about being an herbalist and he's learning at an incredibly fast rate. He's your second best bet at this point."

"The Traveler?" Warrior blinks. "When did you start doing that?"

"A while ago." You shrug and skip in his direction until you're toe to toe.

"Whatever your surprise is I'm sure I'll like it." You say and go up onto your tip toes to place a quick kiss on his cheek. "You're a sweetheart. thank you in advance. I'll be waiting!"

You hear Warrior audibly gulp as you leave. "Ok! I'll- I'll get working on it!"

Wild

"Wild! I'm bored!" You cry out and flop onto the ground.

You were placed on Wild babysitting duty, curtesy of Twilight, while the others went to go scope out the nearest village for both supplies and information. But because of Wild stepping out of line and going against orders, he was benched until further notice.

"We're both bored." Wild groans and flops on top of your stomach.

You grunt with the unexpected pressure and force from the hit and drop your arm onto his face. "What can we do!?"

"I don't know!"

"But you always have something on your mind."

"That doesn't mean I can just pop out an idea whenever I want!" He shouts back. "My creative process is an enigma. Not even I can control it or will it into action."

You sigh. "So now what?"

A moment of silence.

"Wanna make out?"

"What?" You sit up, pushing Wild off of you in the process.

"Kidding! Kidding!" Wild laughs and holds his hands up in surrender. "I saw an opportunity and I took it."

"Wild." You deadpan, not elaborating on anything else. You do not continue your sentence.

Wild descends into snorts and giggles at your unamused face and he's completely lost himself in his own head.

In the distance you can hear Legend and Warrior arguing with each other and know that you're time alone with the wild child is up. A wicked streak kicks up inside you and you smirk to yourself.

Before the others can come close enough to see the both of you, you maneuver upwards and into Wild's personal space and place a kiss smackdab on his cheek- stilling him entirely.

"Next time-" You say as you stand. "-Tell me what you want to do before the others can come and interrupt."

You send him a quick wink and leave him to his thoughts. You're quick to greet the others and act as if nothing had happened at all.

Wild is still stunned and red in the face where you left him even as the others come close to the camp.

Twilight goes to question what's wrong with him but from what you can hear, Wild doesn't kiss and tell.

Time

Time calls your name with audible hesitation.

It's unusual to say the least and it's enough for you to drop every you're doing and give him all of your attention. "What's up? Is something wrong?"

Time doesn't say anything nor does he make eye contact, and it's even more concern as the moment passes.

"Are you ok?" You stand and make your way toward him.

Time clears his throat for a hot second and takes a steadying breath to meet your eyes. "Everything is fine, it's just, I wanted to ask for your opinion."

You're confused. "That's it? Time, you freaked me out for a second. Ask away."

"Um..." Time stalls intelligently. "Wind pointed out there's a shore line nearby. I was thinking the boys could use a day off....play in the water or the sand, just a break to-"

"YES! Yes! Yes!" You scream and jump up in excitement. "Really? Are we that close? We can have a beach day? Are you serious? Can we go?"

You can feel yourself beam and if he were to say that everyone was getting ice cream and can sleep in tomorrow then you were sure you'd be vibrating.

He looks at you with mild surprise but a soft smile crosses over his face.

"Link, that's a great idea!" You jump on him, hug him, wrap your arms around his neck and give him a kiss on the cheek. "This is great! When? Today? Tomorrow?"

You drop and jump a bit on your toes still.

He grins. "I wanted to see if we could camp there tonight, and spend the whole day tomorrow just relaxing."

"I can do that! We can do that! This is great! It'll be so much fun! I hope there's waves. I've wanted to teach Wild how to surf and maybe we can get Twilight to join. This is great!" You're too excited to think about where to go but Time points in a direction behind with a wink.

"How about you go help pack up the camp? I'll go collect the boys!"

"Absolutely! You absolute champion!" You run off to go meet up with some of the others and do your given task.

Time chuckles a bit and places his fingertips against where your lips were. It wasn't the reaction he was expecting, but he's not complaining.

Legend

"Excuse me Mr. Hero, what do you think you're doing?" You walk up behind Legend and put your hands on your hips.

You had caught him going through your bag. As obvious as it was that he was trying to be stealthy, he wasn't fast enough to get out before you came back.

Legend freezes on the spot and doesn't turn around to look at you.

"Why are you going through my stuff?" You raises an eyebrow and try to not yell. It's a barely restrained rage that flows through your blood as someone goes through your things without your permission. But it's Legend, you trust him and you don't want to take things out of proportion or escalate things higher than they should.

"I... Um..." Legend gulps and stands up, leaving your bag alone. He kicks the flap over, hiding the insides of it from other prying eyes.

You keep your eyebrow raised and watch as he squirms uncomfortably under your stare.

"I was trying to see if you needed anything." He somehow manages to look up and look you in the eye.

"Like?"

"Supplies."

"Like?" You press.

"Just stuff." Legend snaps and walks away. "We got back from shopping. I just wanted to know if you needed anything."

"And you didn't think to just ask?"

"It's whatever!" He storms away a little quicker than you think he would normally. He's hiding something.

You quickly make your way to your bag and shuffle through it.

You're not missing anything.

Nothing of yours is gone but there's a new thing you notice.

You see three new healing potions that were decidedly not there before along with four packs of trail mix and food stuffs that look nothing like what you usually pack for yourself.

Understanding cascades over you like a wave and you take a deep breath to calm the last of your budding anger.

You seal your bag and leave it there, quickly following after Legend before he can get too far.

You power walk next to him and stop him with a hand on his shoulder. "Hey."

"I didn't do anything!" Legend pulls himself away from you.

"Doubt it." You lean in and place a quick kiss on his temple before he can get away from you entirely. "Thank you. I saw what you did."

"And what did I do?" He wipes it off aggressively.

"Something very kind."

Legend stills once more and keeps rubbing off your kiss. "...It's nothing."

You snort and begin to walk away from him. "Regardless, thank you."

"...You're welcome."

Hyrule

“Would you believe me if I said that I’ve never seen someone be able to do this before?” You ask Hyrule one day out of the blue.

“Do what exactly?” He pauses the spell, your wound stays only marginally healed because of it.

“Do magic.” You shrug. “It’s... not really a thing where I’m from. We have magician but they’re all for show and it’s mostly illusions. You know, smoke and mirrors and the like. If you can figure out how they do it when it’s pretty simple.”

“That sounds... depressing.” Hyrule twists his face and goes back to healing you. “I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

“It’s not so bad. It’s mostly for fun.” You try to sit up now that the pain isn’t as severe. Hyrule doesn’t let you. “Can’t lose what you never had.”

“But it’s all I’ve ever had.” Hyrule’s eyebrows furrow and you can see the gears turning in his head.

You let him think in the time it takes for you to get fully healed. Hyrule has always needed a little space to get his thoughts together before he says something.

You’re fully healed in seconds and Hyrule leans away from you. You get to finally sit up fully and you take his hand in yours. He lets you take it and lets you study his hand with gentle fascination.

No words are exchanged between the two of you and you pull his hand even closer to you. Before Hyrule can even think of pulling away you place a kiss against his knuckles.

“It’s a gift.” You say. “Don’t take it for granted.”

Hyrule smiles slightly and grips your hand. “Thanks. I think you might have a concussion though.”

“It’s nothing you can prove.” You answer with a loopy smile.

Hyrule snorts and stretches his hand by your head.

“Oh, yeah.” He grins. “That explains it.”

Four

Four calls your name with slight hesitation and you instantly give your attention to him out of concern.

When you see him, he’s hiding something behind his back, slightly hunched back and has a blush on his face. He doesn’t appear to be injured or in any sort of pain so it can’t so bad.

“Four?” You stand up fully and begin to walk in his direction. “Everything ok? Is something wrong?”

Four shoots up and begins to stammer slightly. “No, I- You see- It’s nothing! Everything’s fine.”

“Four.”

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s just- it’s nothing.” Four laughs unconvincingly and scratches the back of his neck. “Here. I made this for you.”

Four holds out a little package covered in cloth with both of his hands and refuses to make eye contact with you.

Intrigued, you close the distance between you two and reach out to take it. The cloth seems high quality and you wonder how much it must have cost to get even a fraction of the square he’s just given you. The package itself is hefty or at least heavier than you thought it would be.

Four is still refusing to make eye contact but he stays with the clear intent of watching for your reaction.

You unfold the cloth over the weight and hold it from under. Repeating a similar action for the other side, you see underneath it two beautifully crafted twin daggers. The hilt is what catches your attention the most. It has red and black accents, each of the colors swirl around each other and mimic the wings of a butterfly when placed side by side. There was a hook at the end of each dagger, expertly hidden and you wouldn’t have found it if it hadn’t nagged your sleeve as you passed your fingers over the blade.

You looked with intrigue and gently picked up the blades out of the cloth. You tossed the cloth onto your shoulder and hooked the blades together out of curiosity.

They fit together perfectly to create an elongated weapon.

“You made this?” Your breath leaves you in a whisper as you admire the craftmanship. “How? When?”

“It’s a secret.” Four grins softly, not bothering to hide his self satisfied smirk..

“And it’s for me?” You grip it tighter and flip it through your fingers, spinning it slowly.

“Yup.”

You don’t reply, too enraptured in taking it all in. Even as you spin it, it’s astonishingly light for both of them being combined than you feel it should be.

It must have taken a while to make this.

“Do you like it?” Four returns to be being bashful and kicks the dirt softly.

Your head snaps in his direction and you fling your arms around him. “I love it!”

Four takes a step back from the collision and is too shocked to hug you back.

“Thank you!” You shout and give him the biggest kiss you think you get away with on his cheek.

“I’m totally showing these off!” You bounce off of him. “Wild’s going to be so jealous! Thank you Four!”

You run away to find something to use them against as Four stays behind.

A hand slowly reaches up and touches the cheek where you kissed him. “You’re welcome.”

Sky

“SKY!” You shout and take off in a running sprint. You’re by his side in seconds and you’re quick to wrap your arms around him. He wraps his arms around you as well and turns your momentum in a spin.

“Well hello there!” He calls back in return, a grin on his face. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“Would it just be enough to say that I just missed you?” You grin back and get off of his back, keeping your arm wrapped around his shoulders.

"Perhaps, if I didn't know you as well I do." Sky replies with a subtle smirk.

"Rude."

"Am I wrong?" Sky raises a teasing eyebrow.

"That's what you think. I am a ball of mystery." You let him go and step away. "I am in no way predictable. There's no way you can know all my moves."

"I bet that I could."

"I doubt it."

"Try me."

"Alright." You tilt your head up and place a kiss squarely on his cheek.

It stuns him in place and you grin at the result.

"Bet you didn't see that coming."

"Admittedly-" Sky gulps and blushes all the way to his neck. "-I did not."

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #This was fun!#This was all written out of order #the way some are longer than others amuses me #let me know what you think!!

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 3 years ago

Text

I Wish I Could Leave This Alone (I Know How Much You Want Me To)

Babe Heffron x Reader (plus guest) One Shot

Summary: Babe’s birthday gift to you has an unexpected party crasher

Warnings: smut, angst, infidelity (?), reader overthinking while getting dicked down, I wrote this and immediately posted it so it will be edited at some point

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Babe’s kiss was soft, but his touch was not.

You couldn’t help the groan that escaped from the back of your throat as one of his hands gripped tightly at your hip, and when he smiled against your lips you couldn’t help but feel like you’d had done something to amuse him.

“What?” you pant, leaning back at the waist to break the kiss and frowning at his smirk.

He chuckled warmly as he walked you backward towards your bed, the hand at your hip finding its way under your shirt and up against your sternum.

“Where’d you go, Gorgeous?” he asked playfully, and you immediately felt guilty.

He was right, you’d gone somewhere else for a while. That wasn’t fair to him, and you knew that. And while he was quick to call you out on it, he never seemed to truly take offense to it. You weren't sure what that said about him. Or you, for that matter.

You shake your head and bring your hands to the hem of his t-shirt, lightly tracing your nails across the sensitive skin of his lower stomach. “Started getting a bit ahead of myself, that’s all.”

Pressing a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, you use your position to slide your hand down the front of his trousers and cup him through his boxers.

“You forgot to breathe,” he mumbles, his voice slow and distracted. “Can’t have you blacking out and embarrassing yourself like that—Woah.”

A smile of your own breaking across your face, you nose at him until he brings his mouth to yours again, making a show of inhaling sharply as the backs of your knees hit the bed.

“Good note,” you say breathily as you pull his shirt up his back, giggling idiotically as he intentionally gives you a hard time of it. Your shirt doesn’t last long either, and with a practiced ease, you have each other stripped and bare in the blueish darkness of your barrack.

He isn’t gentle when his hands grip your bare skin, his movements excited and rough as he settles against the headboard and pulls you up to straddle his lap.

“I remembered, by the way.”

Taking his face in your hands, you hold him away to study him, confusion marring your constantly furrowed brow. “Remembered…?”

His eyes are aglow in the dark, so amber and warm that they reminded you of the spiced ciders your family would make during the holidays back home. A wicked smile crosses his face, and he chuckles quietly.

“I told you what knowing my middle name would cost you when you asked me last month, and the information I wanted in return. And I told you I wouldn’t forget…”

The cogs clicked in your head, and you made a sound of upset when you figured out what he was talking about.

Detail for detail, that’s the deal, Sweetcheeks.

“Happy Birthday, Sargent Y/N.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you booed him quietly.

“What are the odds a blowjob will make you forget about it?” you ask with a wince, gasping when he playfully rolled his hips up to meet yours. Feeling how hard he was made your blood begin to run hotter.

“Hmm,” he hummed, leaning forward to suck a kiss on the delicate skin beneath your collarbone. “Somewhere between none and slim.”

With an annoyed hum, you lean your head forward to rest atop his head and let him mouth at you, your hand coming up to pull at his hair only when you knew he was intentionally trying to leave a mark.

“And do you remember what I said I wanted to give you for your birthday?”

Feeling the blood rush to your cheeks, you realized that you could only sit in hot embarrassment as he laughed at you again.

“Such a prim and proper lady, scandalized by the idea of riding my face—”

“Edward!” you hissed, hands that once held his face now pushing it away. “Don’t say it like that, come on—”

The auburn-haired man laughed, catching your wrists and pulling you into his chest. you grunted with frustration, your face now pressed against the hollow of his throat.

“It’s not like my mouth hasn’t been down there before, you know.”

Sighing, you let yourself sag into him slightly, trying not to lose yourself in his lighthearted tone.

“Yeah, but not like that, when I’m just…you know.”

“Oh I see, you like it better when I do all the work and you get to take the princess position, huh?”

“Jesus Christ, Babe” you sit up again with a huff, attempting to pull your wrists back from his unyielding grip. “I try to be serious for one fucking second….”

Rolling his eyes, he surges up and kisses you sweetly, and for a minute you feel yourself begin to slip out of your body again.

But he brings you back. He always brings you back to him and here and now.

“C’mon, Sweet Thing…” he croons shamelessly against your lips, rough hands releasing your wrists and sliding teasingly up and down your thighs. The touch has you trembling in his lap, and he’s kissing you before you can be too embarrassed. “If you hate it, I’ll stop and you can fucking edge me until I blackout, I swear to god. You gotta let me see you like this, Y/N. Please, Gorgeous…?”

Good GOD he was shameless, literally begging you to allow him the chance to make you feel good, to show you how good he can make you feel- how much he wanted to be the one to do it to you first.

Anticipation was knotted in your throat as you smashed your lips to his, a flutter of heady resolve resting in your belly. As if he could taste what you were thinking, he wrapped his arms around you and hummed against your mouth.

“God, you’re so perfect...” he pulled you into him, rolling his hips in a way that seemed to remind you of the urgency you both had felt before.

When he pulls back this time he’s grinning at you like a complete idiot, happier than any man should be at the prospect of cunnilingus, in your opinion.

But Edward Heffron was nothing if not enthusiastic in his pursuits.

“Hands on the windowsill,” he said breathlessly, his cheeks turning pink and making you want to kiss him again. When you didn’t follow his request quickly enough he guided your hands there himself and folded your fingers around the frame of the open window.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Do I want to know how long you’ve been thinking about this, or will I be insulted?”

He smacks your thigh lightly, drawing a surprised yelp from your lungs that melts into a hum of amusement as he kneads the reddening flesh.

“How about we err on the side of caution and say….. just within the past few months?”

“And you held me in the highest regard before that- right, Private?”

He says nothing for a moment, and when he does agree to your proposed question he mumbles it into the valley between your breasts.

“Hmph. You’re a terrible liar. This had better be worth it.”

Seemingly satisfied with your ability to keep your hands where he set them, Babe encourages you to rise up to your knees so you’re no longer flush in his lap. Immediately, his eyes flick down to your sex, and you cannot help the way your thighs start to shake

He says something under his breath that you can’t quite catch before he looks back at your face and his expression softens for a second.

“Remember what I said earlier? I mean it, you know I mean it—”

You’re nodding before he can finish the sentiment, letting a soft smile play at the corners of your kiss-swollen lips. “You’ll be the first to know if I want to stop. Promise.”

With one more biting kiss to the middle of your chest he brings his assault downwards with hands, lips, and teeth- his touch just the right amount of hard and teasing to send your head swimming long before you finally feel his breath on the overly-sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

“Oh fuck,” he sounds far away, but maybe that’s just because you’re feeling too big for your own body at the moment. “Could die happy here…”

God, he’s such a whore.

The first touch of his tongue has you pitching yourself forward, eyes squeezed shut as you let your face poke out the window enough to feel the breeze on your clammy face.

Shit, he was good at that- it felt so good. If you didn't have your own goddamn skeletons in your proverbial closet you may have even been jealous to think of all the other women who had been privy to this most spectacular consideration. Babe was kissing you down there just as sweetly as he had ever kissed your lips, and it made you briefly wonder if anyone else from your past could have made you feel as high as he was making you feel right now.

Bowing your head to look down at him, your breath catching at the sight of him looking up at you from between your thighs, his arms folded around your hips to control the small jumps you couldn’t seem to get a handle on.

“Fuck, Babe!” you bite out, the idea of him looking up your body and watching you squirm threatening to overwhelm you. “Can’t fucking do that, ‘s gross angle for me…”

“Oh?” he said, the sound and feeling of his voice running up your body in the most sinful way. “I beg to differ...”

Knowing that watching him watch you would ultimately be too much, you shake your head to clear your thoughts and lift your head to look back out the window into the night air.

Only to come face to face with Ronald Speirs.

A sound of surprise, shock, embarrassment, and panic got caught in your throat alongside your cresting moan and resulted in the most depraved cry that seemed to surprise all three of you.

Your blood boiled as it froze in your veins as you made eye contact with Speirs, mortification and utter shock leaving your mouth hanging open in a silent shriek of horror.

You had no idea how long the other man had been standing there, but if the look in his eyes was any indication it had been long enough to know exactly what was happening on the other side of the wall, just below the window frame. A cigarette hung forgotten between his lips as he openly stared at you, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed silently.

When Babe’s hand came up to squeeze your breast enticingly, you nearly jumped out the window.

Oh my God This can’t be happening right now I have to stop him Oh fucking hell….

Your head whipped down and he looked up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, mouth red and damp as he panted wickedly up at you. “You okay, Gorgeous?”

A crushing realization fell onto you in that very moment: there was no way you could tell him what was happening- who was there watching your shared private moment outside. Because that would mean that you’d have to explain that Ron always did this, that every night he would smoke near wherever you were sleeping that night and keep watch like a possessive and protective shadow.

And the only way you could explain that was by telling Babe about what you and Ron had once had- no, almost had. He rejected you, you reminded yourself harshly. He made his stance on you abundantly clear when he’d had you transferred into Easy Company. The fact that Speirs still behaved as if he was somehow responsible for you was not your problem.

Besides, you had Babe. You wanted Babe. Even if the ache in your heart tried to tell you differently.

You made your peace with Ron Speirs’ rejection a long time ago.

Not trusting your voice, you nod vehemently and hope what is happening outside isn’t clearly written on your face.

A smug grin stretches across his face. “Good, ‘cause you taste better than I imagined…..”

You curse as he pulls you back down to his mouth, your head flashing back up to see that Ron has gotten rid of his cigarette and shucked off his heavy coat and gun. His dark eyes look downright predatory, and if you had any sense in your sex-dumb head you would stop this debauchery and transfer somewhere far away from the both of them.

You open your mouth to do something, anything to save yourself some dignity in this fucking exhibitionist nightmare, but Speirs’s finger flies up to his lips, the command clear even through the darkness.

You knew this would happen eventually something in his gaze seemed to accuse. Did you really believe you could forget who you’re wishing was beneath you?

But as you watch him tilt his head, something else is conveyed: he’s asking for permission.

He didn’t intend to leave. He wanted to watch.

But he would, if you wanted him to.

It was cruel of him, and something in the way he worked his jaw told you that he knew it too, but like you he was too far gone to stop it.

You both know better, each of you having your own reasons for not wanting to inevitably hurt the other and cross that line. Your own sick, backwards ways of self-protection and showing affection for the other seemed to be twisting and becoming more complex as time went on.

The more involved you became with Babe….Ron suddenly wanted to be your friend again just after you had first slept with Babe.

You immediately understood that you and Ron were nearing your final days of dancing around each other, that you would have to be the one to stop it. Because Edward Heffron was too good and too kind to be fucked with like this. Eventually, you would have to stop being so selfish.

In a final show of weakness, you nod silently to Ron, your breath coming in quick bursts as your lover has patiently worked you up and up to the crest of your crescendo, none the wiser to the wicked thoughts and realizations spinning around in your head.

I really am a monster.

But you couldn’t focus on that right now, not as Ron stalked right up to the window with such confidence that you thought you had gravely misread the situation and he was going to announce himself to Babe.

You had just begun to make a hush of protest when his cold hands gripped yours and he knelt down so he was nose to nose with you, his hot glare turning it into another embarrassing sound of pleasure.

“Shit!” You whimpered, your body trembling more violently as the coil in your belly began to constrict. Ron’s thumbs rubbed the back of your knuckles in a soothing motion as he made a sound of pity low in his throat, the clucking of his tongue quiet enough that it disappeared in the sounds of the forest surrounding them.

When you get a better look at his face you can see his look of empathy is almost mocking, and you briefly wonder if you would ever have sex with someone who didn’t like to antagonize you the whole time.

As you try to pull your hands out from under his, he shakes his head sternly before wrestling them into his grip, the action pulling you slightly further out the window and making you gasp.

Babe chuckles and grips your ass to control the speed in which your hips rocked, a nibble on your clit nearly making you scream.

You’re a terrible person. You’re the worst kind of woman. you hate yourself for this.

Ron’s brows furrow and his face goes soft, eyes a warm burn rather than a vengeful inferno. You don’t realize you have begun crying until he brushes the tears from your cheeks with quick fingers.

You press your forehead against his as your body bows in warning, your orgasm approaching with unforgiving intensity.

Ron doesn’t kiss you and you don’t kiss him. You never had and after this long, you don't think you ever will. You hate how much you wished you could though.

Especially with another man’s tongue working you into a frenzy at the same fucking time.

“Please, I want you...” you said pathetically, and Ron had the grace to look down in shame. Guilty fingers intertwined with yours and with a sad grimace he kissed the backs of your hands.

“I know you do, I’m so sorry,” he breathes across your knuckles, tongue darting out to wet the chilling skin where he kissed, kissing your hand as he had wished to kiss your mouth each and every day since he had met you.

But you couldn’t, he couldn’t. And he wouldn’t let you ever try.

You came with a silent cry, only the whispered reminder from both of the men you loved to breathe saved you from falling apart in the most critical moment.

Because you are cruel you take one hand from Ron, the one he wasn’t kissing, and pull it back.

Babe’s overgrown hair is soft and damp as you reach down to rake your fingers through it, quickly finding his hand on your hip and clinging to his fingers with painful desperation as you quake above him.

Pulling you impossibly close to his mouth, Babe holds you as you tremble through the last of your pleasure, suckling once, twice more before noisily pulling away from you.

The sound was so lewd even Ron had to close his eyes and grit his teeth in order to stay quiet.

your hair clung to your face, and after sliding his fingers from yours Ron brushes the sweaty strands around your hairline.

As you begin to catch your breath, you remember who you are, who all you’re with, and all that’s brought each of you to this point. You remember that Ron Speirs has to go, will always have to go.

He didn’t want you to be his, wasn’t interested in sharing his barracks or you asking him about his past or remembering your birthday. You didn’t matter, none of this did.

All that mattered to him was the fight. The big picture. “We’re all already dead. Why bother acting like this is anything other than a distraction?”

“Y/N,” Babe’s gentle kisses land on your hips and you realize that the time for your decision is coming sooner than she had anticipated. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You take a few more shuddering breaths with Ron, and from the way he tightened his jaw you knew he knew that you were going to have to let one of them go. And, because he’s just as selfish as you are, he doesn’t want you to choose Babe.

He’d rather keep you like a lark he can turn to for reassurance and comfort. Like a bird in a cage.

With a final sniffle, you look down, away from Ron, and give all of your attention to the beautiful, sex-mussed man who was looking up at you so sweetly and with such a clear desire for approval that you almost started crying all over again.

Ron lets you slip your fingers from his and takes a silent step back as you return your attention to your lover. You let him disappear into the night.

“Nothing at all, Babe,” you reassure him with a sigh, moving shakily down his body so you can kiss him as deeply as you can, sealing your body to his as you hold his face between your hands. “I just forgot where I was for a second there.”

Nipping at your bottom lip, he waits until you pull back before smiling stupidly at you.

“That good, huh?”

Shaking your head, you scoff and flick his chest. As he starts to chuckle, you roll yourself off of him enough to scratch your nails lightly across his stomach.

“I’ll give you a full review after round two, how about that?” You smirk as his eyebrows shoot up, sitting up and swinging your leg over his hips to straddle him. “But right now, how about I reward the idiot I love for remembering my birthday?”

If he’s surprised by your sudden proclamation of affection, he makes no show of it. And somehow that makes the moment all the sweeter.

~ ~

(HELLO SO SORRY FOR THE LATE FIC I LOVE YALL COVID IS A BITCH! I’M CURRENTLY WORKING ON THREE FICS SO HOPEFULLY THEY WILL FOLLOW SHORTLY! OKAY BYE BYE MY GORGEOUS GEODUCKS!)

taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday @sunsetmando @ricksmorty @now-im-a-belieber @tvserie-s-world

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #babe heffron x reader #ron speirs x reader #babe heffron imagines #ron speirs imagines #problematicfavesareproblematic

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lonely-lost-soul · 4 years ago

Text

First Lady of the Court

(Wilbur Soot X Reader)

Eyes fluttering open, you came face to face with the eyes of the president of L’manburg, his dark brown eyes were full of tender affection. A smile spread across your lips at the sight and his fingers brushed your hair off your face. Your hand came up to hold his as you nuzzled your face against his palm. You watched the British boy’s face turn a bright red at the sight he let out a strangled sound.

“Good morning to you too Mr. President.” A giggle spilled from your lips as Wilbur pulled his hand away.

“Good morning my lovely first lady.” He cleared his throat, putting a hand over his mouth, “did you sleep okay?”

Stretching your arms above your head you nodded, you ruffled your (h/c) hair.

“Slept like a baby. How about you? Are you nervous for you and Tommy today?” You sat upon your elbows as he looked at you thoughtfully.

“Hm... telling you would be spoiling the fun now wouldn’t it?” Wilbur mused, giving you a cheeky smile.

“Boo unfair, I deserve to know I am the first lady after all.” You scoffed pouting at your lover.

A lover is such a weird term to describe what you had with one Wilbur Soot. When L’manburg was founded and the presidency appointed to him you had agreed to take up the position of the first lady. Wilbur was ecstatic to hear you agree to the position after all, all he wanted was to ‘rule’ L’manburg by your side. To be more specific one of your duties was to love and care for the current president, be their pillar of sanity if the job became too overwhelming or stressful. Another job that fell within your duties was to keep the people happy and share their stresses with the president in hopes you could convince him to listen to the people. Luckily with Wilburs reign, there wasn’t many complaints you had to share with him, and on the rare occasion that there were any he was willing to listen and come up with a plan. All you wanted was to give the citizens of L’manburg the best life possible, and you knew Wilbur ultimately wants the same.

Wilbur and you decided to embrace it the romantic assumptions that came with you being the first lady, solely for political reasons, that’s what he always wanted to stress. However, he always said it a bit franticly with a blush across his face and while flapping hands. You couldn’t help but snicker every time he did it, you would simply nod and say of course but those ‘political reasons’ never justified why he insisted you two sleep in the same bed. You didn’t mind, as long as it made Wilbur happy, you’ve always loved him and you had a feeling he felt the same without saying it.

“Yeah, I know you are. Even so you still have to find out like everyone else, plus there are always last-minute calculations that need to be taken into account. Especially since someone got bots to vote for them.” He rolled his eyes clicking his tongue in distaste.

“Oh we have drama, we love tea.” You teased swinging your legs over the bed and Wilbur followed your movements.

“You have such a way with words.”

“Says the man who agreed with a sixteen year old to name his campaign POG2020.”

“It’s a good name!” Wilbur tried to defend and you just snickered in response he glared at you grabbing his L’manburg hat and placing it on his head.

“Yes, Wilby of course it is.” He moved back towards the bed and wrapped his arms around your waist placing his chin on your head. “Hey off, off! You’re messing up my hair!” You could practically feel Wilbur’s smile as he let out a little hum,

“Hm no I don’t think so, after all, I don’t think I can mess up your hair more than it already is.”

“OKAY RUDE!” You squawked swatting at the hands around your waist already done with him today. “I’m telling you right now you keep this up and I’ll be rooting for someone else to win.”

“How fucking dare you.” Wilbur gasped dramatically falling back on the bed as you turned to stick your tongue out at him.

“You deserve it, now get dressed we have an election to get ready for you dork.”

“Do you need any help with that-” A pillow was thrown in his face and he laughed cheerfully, “-point taken!” You both went to your separate bathrooms to get ready for the day. You had chosen a nice black skirt that was very professional looking and went down to just under your knees. The shirt you’ve chosen was a nice (f/c) blouse with a L’manburg pin, pinned onto the front pocket. Bending over you slipped on black heels, you just wanted to try to reach Wilbur’s height so you didn’t look so atrocious standing beside him on the podium. You quickly ran a brush/comb through your hair just to make it look presentable, looking in the mirror you finger gunned at yourself and smirked.

“Looking good.” You beamed happily before stepping out of the bathroom, Wilbur was already standing in the bedroom looking over what seemed to be some stuff around the election. “Wow, Wilby. You clean up nice.” Wilbur looked up from over his book and a bright flush came across his face when he took in your outfit.

“I- Ugh- thank you- you too!” He squeaked pupils dilating a little as he took a step back as you got closer. You moved quicker than him though and reached out to fix the collar of his shirt. Smiling a little at his reaction you straightened out said collar and placed your hands on his chest.

“You’re gonna do amazing today darling.” Your voice soothed and he seemed to relax under your hands, “Whether you win or not, you were the best choice for L’manburg’s first president. I mean that.” You looked up at him through your eyelashes, as your doe eyes stared up at him Wilbur felt like he lost his last life and went up to heaven.

He brought his hand up to your cheek and cupped it gently, his thumb brushing across it in soft movements. “Thank you (y/n) that means the entire world to me. Truly you don’t know how happy I am to hear that from you.” You smiled and pressed a kiss to his palm and he sighed happily at the small gesture shared between the two of you.

“I’m going to need to go find Tubbo and Tommy,” Wilbur whispered to you after a few more moments of comfortable silence. “But I don’t wanna leave you…”

“I’ll either be here or at the podium, go converse with your brothers.” You smiled softly stepping away from him and crossing your arms. He gave you one last look eyeing you up and down before giving you a tight hug once more.

“You look really beautiful by the way! See you later!” He said quickly before scurrying out of the room, you blinked a few times before heat rose into your cheeks. You let out your strangled sound slapping both of your hands to your cheeks,

‘He can’t just say that and run away the bastard!’

---

Stepping up to the podium you greeted everyone who was there early, and where greeted by you got a few teasing whistles from Quackity.

“You certainly clean up nice Ms. First Lady.~” He mused winking at you and you fondly rolled your eyes knowing that was Quackity being himself.

“Thank you very much I don’t look like his often so drink it up.” You teased as he laughed.

“I know I will sweetcheeks.” Schlatt mused appearing from besides Quackity once again that earned the duo another eye roll. “Hey come on now what’s with that look? Just what did I do to deserve that? After all, I’m going to be your new president, you’re gonna have to treat me with more respect.” An arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close, he smirked down at you and you frowned. Before you could protest the statement, Schlatt made a startled noise as Tommy seemingly came out of nowhere and pushed him away from you by the horns. “Hey Hey hey! Watch it, kid, this face is a money maker!”

“There’s no way in hell you’re gonna be the new president of L’manburg!” The young teen shrieked standing in front of you as if to guard you against the goat-man.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, you think you have a better chance at winning than me?” Schlatt laughed loudly in Tommy’s face, “Hell even the broad has a better chance at winning than you and Wilbur and she’s not even fucking running!”

“Lay off him Schlatt.” You placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder to calm the angry boy down. “Let’s not start a fight, that’s the last thing we need right now.” Tommy looked like he didn’t want to listen to you but shut up as soon as Wilbur came up to stand on the podium. Tommy fumbled to do a little salute and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his almost desperate antics to please Wilbur.

“Thanks for trying to prevent another full-out fight darling.” He mused looking at you and you smiled.

“It’s my job, after all, that is what I’m here for.” You shot back with a smile going to take your seat behind the group that was already up on the podium. Wilbur smiled softly at you before clearing his throat and addressing the crowd, welcoming everyone here for the first-ever L’manburg election. You sat there watching him give his speech with power and grace and your face softened immensely. In your opinion there was no way that he could lose this election, he was the only one for the job no questions asked. You only zoned back in when you heard Tommy’s loud shriek of shock, you blinked your (e/c) eyes and whipped your head around did you seriously miss the announcement of who won the election? God, you were a dumb broad. You felt someone grab your arm and you turned to face them it was the worried face of Wilbur,

“Come on darling.” He spoke softly “We should move to the crowd. Let Schlatt give his speech in peace.”

“Schlatt won?” You choked out your eyes bugging out of your head.

“You bet your ass I did sweet-cheeks!” He laughed looking down at you, “Wilbur surprisingly enough I’m going to have to ask you to remove your hands from MY new first lady.” Schlatt had a wicked smirk on his face as he held out his hand to Wilbur who’s jaw dropped in shock. “What? Why do you look so surprised? You picked a looker Wilby,” He mocked with a wave of his hand “(Y/n)’s a fine piece of ass I’m going to let her continue to serve. Come on ova here.” Schlatt motioned for you to come over with his finger, you shakily stood up from your seat. Wilbur grip on your arm tightened as he ground his teeth, you turned to look at him and he looked devastated.

“Darling you don’t have to agree to this-”

“It’s my duty Wilby…” You murmured slipping your arm out of his hold and holding it to your heart. With careful steps you made your way over to Schlatts side, once more you felt his hand slide around your waist and pull you flush against him. He tilted his head a little so his horns rested lightly on your head. You watched Wilbur and Tommy descend the podium and sit within the audience down below, neither would look at you and you knew why...but you also felt a little hurt at that fact. You were just as upset about this as they were, they had to know that right?

You heard Schlatt clear his throat and grab the microphone.

"That was pretty easy. And you know what I said, the day I got unbanned from the DreamSMP, and the day I said I was running... an election that I won by the way? I said; "Things are gonna change". I looked every citizen of L'Manberg in the eyes and I said; "You listen to me... this place will be a lot different tomorrow." Let's start making it happen. My first decree, as the president of L'Manberg- the EMPEROR! of this great country-! Is to REVOKE the citizenship of WilburSoot, and TommyInnit! Get 'em outta here! Get 'em outta here! You're no longer welcome!" Your blood froze in your veins and your jaw dropped, finally Wilbur and Tommy locked eyes with you.

“Schlatt no you can’t do that to them! Tommy’s a kid-”

“Trust me (y/n) and just shut up for a minute.”

‘Run.’ You felt yourself mouth as Tommy and Wilbur turned heel and ran from L’manburg, a city that they founded was just ripped right out from under them. You only felt Schlatt’s grip on you tighten as he looked down at you and almost as if he was speaking to your soul he addressed what has left of the crowd again.

"Oh, it was so easy! Until further notice... WilburSoot and TommyInnit are merely a memory of L'Manberg. A relic- A relic of the past. A reminder, of the darkest era this country, has ever seen- and I guarantee you all; dear citizens... Tonight, that changes. We are entering into a new period of L'Mangerg- a period, of prosperity! of strength! of unity." He finally pushed you aside and Quackity caught your stumble and held you up in place, you were a little thankful considering you felt like falling onto your knees. “Tubbo- where's Tubbo? where's Tubbo?”

“I'm right here…” His meek voice wobbles from the crowd.

“Schlatt…” You warned trying to sound stronger than you felt.

“Jesus, do you ever shut up?” He laughed “Is this what Wilbur had to deal with? Jesus you’re lucky you’re smoking hot sweetcheeks.” You grit your teeth and glared at him through narrowed lids, “Kidding kidding! I can appreciate a broad who’s got a brain on her makes it much more fun. Anyway, Tubbo- get- get up here! Get up here on my podium!”

“Uh- uh…” The young hybrid stuttered hesitantly looking back and forth between the podium and where Tommy and Wilbur once stood.

“C'mon Tobbo, you're the Secretary of State.”

“Wait- what- Okay... Wa- I'm Secreta- am I?”

“Yeah I think- I think that's... I think he's always been that, I don't know…right?” He looked over at you and you gave a nod in confirmation. He’s trying to pit Tubbo and Tommy against one another the cheeky bastard.

“Uh, yeah... yeah that's- I didn't know I got to keep-”

“Well, I'm not gonna fire you! I mean you're Tubbo! What- am I gonna fire Tubbo?”

“Uh... okay.”

“Tubbo get- Tubbo get up here. Now.” Schlatts voice boomed over the crowd another wicked smirk spreading across his cheeks as he looked down at his citizens. The horns only made him look more devilish and menacing to everyone looking up at him.

“uh- okay, I'm on my way, I'm on my way, I'm on my way!” Tubbo sputtered out hesitantly, unsure of what the right call was to go with Tommy or stay here with Schlatt.

“I don't think he wants the job!” Quackity mocked a grin matching Schlatts spread across his cheeks. You frowned up at him in disappointment,

“It’s okay Tubbo I’m here…” You murmured under your breath.

“Get up here now!”

“I do want the job! I'm on my way- I'm on my way- I'm on my way!” He sputtered walking up to the podium. You heard Eret scold him softly and some others match their distaste, you swore you heard Tommy in the crowd. “I need to... I'm on my way- I'm on my way- I'm on my way, President. I'm on my way- I'm on my way- I'm on my-”

“Ah Tubbo, so good to see you.” Schlatt pursed his lips an arm going around Tubbo’s shoulders like they’ve been best buddies for years. Tubbo made a weak sound of acknowledgment at the greeting. “Yes sir, there he is.”

“Good day Mr. President.”

“I love this guy!” Schlatt exclaimed with a loud cheer and Tubbo took a small step away from him.

“Okay... Schlatt...?”

“Ohh my very own Tubbo... Tubbo. As my Secretary of State- as my right-hand man; of L'Manberg... I need you to do something for me Tubbo.” Your eyes narrowed into slits but you bit your tongue if anything you can work from the inside you, try to keep Schlatt reigned in the best you could.

“What Mr. President...?”

“I need you... to find Tommy. And I need you... to show him the door.” Schlatt emphasized slicing his thumb across his neck in a beheading motion, Tubbo paled considerably at the implication. Finally finding your voice you couldn’t help but snarl,

“He’s a child Schlatt you can’t go around ordering a child to slaughter another child that’s insane!” You came up and grabbed his arm giving it a sharp tug,

“I can do whatever I want! Wanna know why? It’s because I’m the president.” He only ruffled your hair with a mocking coo. “Quackity you take her back to her room, then come back home we got some walls to tear down.” You made a distressed sound as you were dragged away, Tubbo said your name with the same amount of distress. You hoped Tommy and Wilbur made their great escape and didn’t have to see the destruction of the walls, fuck this is one hundred percent the worst-case scenario.

“Quackity you’re hurting my arm.” You gave a soft murmur and his grip on it significantly loosened, he looked a tad bit guilty. “It’s okay.” You assured you couldn’t blame him for it, he was always kind to you before this which was what also made it so downright confusing. A plan was already trying to brew in the back of your mind, keep relationships with the citizens high even at the cost of yourself, in the end, they might be the only ones to have your back. There was suddenly a lot of yelling and shouting you saw a blur of pink burst past you followed my more of Jschlatt’s guards, Quackity pretty much abandoned you and joined the chase.

“Tehcnoblade!” He shouted out “Where the fuck did he come from?”

Blinking in surprise as you were left abandoned, ‘what the fuck is a Technoblade?’ You glanced over at the retreating figures and you could’ve sworn you saw a glistening golden crown. A figure slammed into your side and you stumbled backward a few steps, looking down you noticed Tubbo clinging tightly to your middle.

“(Y/n)! What’re we gonna do?” He looked up at your eyes full of fear and you frowned, this child just got out of one war and it will be potentially thrown into another. “What if Wilbur and Tommy don’t talk to us again? I can’t kill Tommy!”

“Hey, hey, hey.” You shushed softly running a hand through his hair careful of the tiny horns growing on his head. “Take a deep breath for me Tubbo, in for five then out for five okay? That’s it you’re doing great sweetie.” You watched for a bit as Tubbo followed your instructions and after he calmed down a little bit you knelt to his height. “We are going to help them, they’ll need some men on the inside and that’s just what we’re going to be.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“If they’ll have us yes, I think it will work. You’ll probably be able to sneak away much easier than I’ll be able to do you think you’ll be able to handle that?” He nodded vigorously at your words, determination seemed to radiate off of him in waves. Now all that was left was to find a way to contact Wilbur and Tommy, wherever they ran off too.

~~~

I had this in my google docs for a while so I figured I’d post it to give you guys some more food. Under the Floorboards pt. III is in the works have no fear!

#dreamsmp x reader #dream smp #technoblade #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #mcyt #minecraft fanfiction #mcyt x you #mcyt x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #l'manburg

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no-pucks-given · 4 years ago

Text

JACOB MARKSTROM | COVER ME IN SUNSHINE

A/N: I wrote a rough part 1 and part 2 back in January (when I first started writing) and February, barely above 1K and 2K. However I loved that imagine, but it just wasn’t good enough to post here on Tumblr (in my opinion). So time for a rewrite, and I’m so glad I did. 3.5K more words, more ‘plot’, more smut, more love, more Marky. I love it. I’m happy to share this with all of you.

Warnings: Oral (female and male receiving), unprotected sex, shower sex, (some marking + cum, you know the drill, nothing shocking though), a few swearwords, sweet and soft Marky and a water bill so high I could treat you all to dinner.

Word Count: 6.5K

Requested: Yes.

The gentle beams of sunlight shining into the room isn’t what wakes you up this morning. It’s the prickling of Jacob’s beard between your legs, his rough hands sliding over your bare legs, his mouth leaving soft kisses on your inner thighs. That’s what wakes you up.

For a moment you’re completely confused, the sleepy haze still heavily present in your mind. You try to move your legs, gasping when Jacob’s mouth makes contact with your core. “Jacob,” you whimper, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Jacob mumbles from underneath the covers, the vibrations of his voice sending chills throughout your entire body. You grab the covers with both hands, throwing them to the end of the bed as far as you can, revealing a smirking Jacob between your legs. A naked, smirking Jacob to be precise. “Did I wake you up?” Jacob asks you innocently, his fingers brushing over your exposed skin.

“Mmhmm, you sure did,” you say, softly smiling at the man between your legs. What a fantastic way to wake up.

“I can always stop and let you go back to sleep?” Jacob whispers, a smirk playing on his lips as he dips his head down. His tongue makes contact with your core again, your hips almost bucking of the bed by the sudden contact.

“Don’t you dare, J,” you moan out, your hand finding its way into Jacob’s hair, gripping the strands tightly between your fingers. “Please, don’t stop,” you beg him, knowing the effect it will have on him. You hear his sharp intake of breath, his eyes shooting to yours. Gotcha.

“I see what you did there, baby,” Jacob groans against your core, slowly dragging his tongue through your slit. You give him an innocent smile, which turns into a quiet moan when Jacob tightens his grip on your thighs, bringing you even closer to his wicked mouth.

Jacob softly sucks your clit into his mouth, his large hands keeping you flat against the mattress. God, Jacob loves to take his time, loves to take it slow, and all you can do is squirm underneath him, hoping, begging he’ll give you more than this. His tongue swirls around your sensitive nub, excruciating slowly, but so, so good. “Please, J,” you beg, needing more, needing to feel more than this. Jacob looks at you expectantly, you feel his smirk against your core, waiting for what’s yet to come, it always comes.

“Please, Jacob. I need more. Please, can I have more?” you beg him, your eyes pleading to him to fill you, to finally give you what you need. You have absolutely no problem begging Jacob for anything, no shame at all.

“Always so politely huh, sunshine,” Jacob mutters, letting one of your legs fall to the side. He shuffles a bit, moving his large body so he can bring his hand between your legs as well. His hand joins his mouth, his long finger spreading your wetness through your slit, before pushing inside of you. You gasp at the sudden, yet welcome intrusion, clamping down on Jacob’s finger. “Is that what you wanted, baby?” Jacob ask you, moving his finger inside of you, curling it just the right way to make you slowly lose your mind.

“Yes, yes!” you tell him, not sure if it’s an actual answer to his question or an exclamation of relief and contentment.

Jacob makes a sound of approval, pushing a second digit inside of you. Your whimpers and soft moans spurring him on, bringing you closer and closer to your high. Your grip on his hair tightens even more, bringing him impossibly closer to where you need him the most. With only one arm around your thigh you have way more room to move your hips, grinding them against Jacob’s face. You can almost feel his smirk, his fingers digging into your skin. “Take it, baby. That’s it,” he praises you, encouraging you even further to make yourself feel good. This. This is all about you.

The moment your breathing starts to hitch, the moment you get even wetter Jacob knows you’re close. All it takes is a little push, a last nibble on your clit, a last hit with his fingers against that one particular spot and you’re a goner. It’s Jacob’s soft voice telling you to come for him that brings you over the edge, your orgasm thundering through your body. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your vision turning blurry, back arching off the mattress. Your legs tighten around Jacob’s head, keeping him firmly in place, while he does his ultimate best to prolong your orgasm.

Jacob loves to tease you, loves to watch you squirm underneath him, but he’ll always, always let you come. It’s his favourite thing in this whole world to watch you come, that blissful look on your face, those quiet moans and whimpers leaving your pretty mouth. There’s nothing he loves more, except you. Watching you shatter in front of him, all because of him, is the biggest ego booster anyone can get, watching the person you love orgasm thanks to you, because of you.

When you finally feel like you can breath again you relax your body, with shakily legs you open them up again, freeing Jacob from being smothered. You give him a weak smile, still trying to recover from the intense orgasm you just had. Jacob crawls back up your body, wiping your juices off his face with the back of his hand. He places his arm next to your head, putting most of his weight on his arm instead of your much smaller frame.

You reach around him, putting your hand on the back of his neck, pulling his face closer to your own. Jacob smiles, dipping down to take your lips with his. His tongue glides over yours, tasting yourself on his tongue makes this an even more intimate experience. It’s a pure and raw feeling, you can’t even begin to describe it. You break the kiss, smiling back at the man on top of you. “Good morning, sunshine,” Jacob smiles back at you, gently brushing your hair out of your face.

“Good morning indeed, baby,” you tell him, a soft chuckle leaving your lips. You lay there for a few minutes, simply staring at each other, enjoying the quiet Sunday morning. Jacob rolls over, taking you with him so you’re laying on top of his chest, a small squeal leaving your lips with the sudden movement. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him, his other hand finds its way into your hair, playing with the strands. You revel in the feeling of his strong arms around you, feeling so safe and secure.

You know, oh you know there’s no way you’re done, there’s no way you’ll both leave this bed and go on with your day, absolutely no way. Jacob has the exact same idea as his hand slowly moves down to the globes of your ass. Seemingly content with finishing this in bed he grabs one of your cheeks with his large, calloused hand, giving it a firm squeeze. His other hand tugs slightly on your hair, tilting your head so he can capture your lips with his again.

You absolutely want to finish what he started, you want nothing more than that, but you do have other plans than Jacob. Plans that involve him, a hot shower and you on your knees in front of him. You break the kiss, wiggling out of Jacob’s arms, who gives you a confused and almost disappointed look, a slight pout visible on his handsome face. You almost feel sorry for him, almost. “Baby?” Jacob whispers, reaching his arms out to you, eyebrows furrowed, an emotion on his face you can’t place.

“Don’t, J,” you shake your head at him, a small smile playing on your lips, surely confusing him even more. Poor guy, now you do start to feel sorry for him. You lean forward, brushing your lips over his ear. “Why don’t you head into the shower, love? I think we have some unfinished business, don’t you think?” you whisper into his ear, enjoying the way his breathing hitches.

You lean back, looking triumphantly at the astonished Jacob in front of you. He opens and closes his mouth, you’re pretty sure you can hear the wheels turning inside of his head. You want to laugh at him, at the way he looks when the realization of your words settle in. His eyes shoot from you to the shower and back to you, his face lighting up like a kid in a candy store.

You shoot him a quick wink, a small smile playing on your lips at his expression. You’re pretty sure you’ve never seen a 6’6 man jump out of bed that fast, almost tripping over the sheets. You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to contain your laughter at the sight before you. Jacob untangles his leg as fast as he possibly can, running straight towards the shower.

Barely 5 seconds later you hear the sound of the shower, the water falling on the tiles. You let out the laugh you’d been holding in and climb off the bed yourself, making your way over to the shower to give your boyfriend your own version of ‘good morning’.

You softly close the door behind you, turning your gaze onto the man standing underneath the stream of water. Your eyes rake over his naked body, focusing on the water droplets that fall onto his skin, following the sharp edges of his body until they fall down onto the tiles. It’s hypnotizing, the way he moves underneath the stream, the way his tattooed arms flex when he brushes his hands through his hair. You could watch him like this forever, never getting bored at the sight before you. What a sight.

Jacob catches you staring, gawking at him and his body. “Come here, babe,” he says, smirking at your obvious desire for him. You shake your head, trying to clear it of the lust induced haze – without much luck – before walking into Jacob’s awaiting arms. He pulls you close to him, his arms tightening around your body. His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing both of your cheeks with his large hands. You gasp by the sudden pinch, giving Jacob the perfect opportunity to claim your lips with his.

His tongue slides over your bottom lip, coaxing you to open up for him. A request you happily fulfil, granting him access to your mouth. His tongue collapses with your own, twisting and turning around the other, exploring familiar grounds. Hands wander over wet skin, gasps and moans swallowed by the sound of the never ending stream of water. At some point during your passionate make out Jacob’s hand finds its way into your hair, entangling his fingers with the strands.

Jacob tightens his grip on your hair, giving a slight tug to break off the heated kiss. You keep your eyes on him, the twinkling in his eyes promising nothing but trouble and mischief. “Are you gonna get on your knees for me, beautiful?” he whispers against your lips, giving you that signature smile, that smile that could make you do absolutely anything. You nod your head at him, your fingers trailing over his abdomen. You did promise him a ‘good morning’, right?

Jacob guides you to the ground, his hand firmly on your jaw the entire time. Your hands follow his body, sliding over every part except the part where he aches for you. You lightly dig your nails into his thighs as you settle down on the cold stone tiles. You fight to keep the smirk of your face as Jacob groans, his cock twitching right in front of you. Jacob brushes his thumb over your cheek, before moving it to your bottom lip. You look up at him, the desire and lust clearly swirling in his eyes. Slowly, excruciating slowly he pushes his thumb past your lips, coaxing you to suck it into your mouth.

“Look at you, so eager, aren’t you?” Jacob smirks, loving nothing more than filling your pretty mouth. It’s a sight for sure, a sight that would be even better if it was his cock in your mouth instead of his thumb, but he’s in no rush today. It’s his day off, something he doesn’t get a lot, something he treats as special. What better way to spend that day with you, on your knees, underneath him, in any possible position and way? Nothing, absolutely nothing beats that.

You release his thumb with a pop, waiting patiently for Jacob’s next move. You keep your eyes on him as he gives you a nod, his sign of ‘go on’. You waste no time, licking his impressive erection from bottom to top. You keep your focus on the underside of his cock, following the large vein with your tongue, stopping every time you almost reach his tip. Jacob’s sharp intakes of breath every time you get closer and closer to the tip spurs you on to prolong your teasing as long as you can, as long as Jacob lets you.

Apparently it won’t be that long, the hand still tangled in your hair yanks you backwards. Your eyes shoot to his, while you give him an innocent smile. It’s not like he wasn’t enjoying it. His hand reaches out, grabbing his throbbing erection. He wraps his fingers around his cock, bringing it closer and closer to your mouth. “Suck,” he commands you, a side you don’t see often with Jacob, a side that makes you clench your thighs together as desire rushes through your body. You love that side of him, you can only wish it would come out to play more often. Maybe this is the way to achieve that, tease him until he can’t help himself but give in to that side of him.

You open up for him, allowing him to slide his erection past your lips. You close your lips around him, softly sucking on his tip. He moans at the feeling, sending chills all over your body. Even in the middle of a shower he tastes like he always does, manly yet fresh, you fucking love it. You simply can’t get enough of him.

Grabbing the base of his cock you give him a firm squeeze, another groan falling from his lips. Your tongue swirls around his tip, softly sucking, all while keeping your eyes on Jacob. The way his abdomen flexes every time you suck harder, his eyes looking up to the ceiling every time he moans, it’s addicting. Moving your hand at the same tempo as your mouth you find a steady rhythm. You flick your wrist just the way he likes, earning yourself another symphony of moans and groans. Like music to your ears, that’s how the moans and groans that leave his lips sound like. Music.

His hand moves to the back of your head, a clear indicator it’s time to hand over your control, although you wonder if you even had it in the first place. You can’t help freezing up for a second, it isn’t Jacob’s fault at all, but no matter the crazy amount of time you’ve been together, he’s still impressive. His cock, his cock is impressive and slightly intimidating. Although.. maybe it applies to Jacob as well, 6’6 of pure muscles, tattoos and a beard? Yes, it definitely applies to both.

Jacob notices your slight change in demeanour, halting the slow movements of his hips. “You okay?” he asks, his eyes showing genuine concern. You nod, flickering your eyes downwards, before meeting his eyes again. Jacob chuckles, clearly understanding what this is all about. “Don’t worry, sunshine. I know what you can handle, but squeeze my thigh if you want me to stop, okay?” he asks you, giving you a reassuring smile.

You nod your head, but Jacob won’t continue without hearing your voice, he needs to hear the words. He slips out of your mouth for a moment, allowing you to voice your thoughts. “I’m okay, J. Just a bit intimidated,” you tell him, smiling when Jacob can’t contain his laughter. “But I’m fine, J. I trust you,” you tell him, reassuring him he’s good to go. He gives you another smile before bringing his erection back to your lips, coaxing you to open up for him again.

“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” he says, his voice low and raspy as he pushes further into your mouth. With his hand on the back of your head he slowly moves himself in and out of your mouth, making sure to never push you further than your limit. It takes you a few minutes to get used to him again, finally able to relax around him, taking him deeper into your mouth. “That’s it, baby. Look at you,” Jacob praises you, only spurring you on to take more, to make this even better for him and you.

His hips thrust forward, deeper into your mouth, a low string of curses leaving his lips. He uses your mouth as he pleases, while also giving you the confidence you can handle him, you can take him. You bring one of your hands back on his thigh, bracing yourself. Your other hand reaches underneath him, gently cupping his balls. You roll them between your fingers, gently giving them your full attention. You know Jacob is close, you know he’s chasing his high as his rhythm turns sloppier and sloppier. All he needs is that last push, that last push over the edge that has him tumbling into the abyss of pure euphoria.

Jacob looks down at you, cursing under his breath. There’s just something about having his girl on her knees in front of him, her lips wrapped around his cock, that drives him absolute nuts. It isn’t a sense of power, it isn’t your surrender. It’s the complete trust you have in him, it’s the love that shows in your eyes, the way you clench your thighs as he fucks your throat, as he chases his orgasm. It’s the fact you’ll do anything for him to make this a phenomenal experience, just like he tries his hardest to return that favour, to make this just as enjoyable for you. It’s teamwork.

He’s so close, so close to reaching his high, so close to just shooting his release down your throat. So close, but today he has other plans, plans that don’t involve you swallowing his seed. The moment he reaches his high, his orgasm thrashing through his body he pulls your hair, releasing himself with a pop from your mouth. His hand shoots out, grabbing his cock and aiming his release at your chest, coating you in his cum.

You would’ve laughed if you weren’t so shocked, and.. turned on. Watching Jacob orgasm is an amazing experience on its own, but watching him orgasm and mark you with his cum? That’s incredibly hot. Hotter than you would’ve expected it to be, hotter than you would like to admit to yourself. It’s a damn good thing you’re already in the shower. “What was that, babe?” you ask him, even though you know the answer to that question already, it’s clearly written all over his face.

Jacob smirks at you, sliding his fingers through the cum on your chest. “Just staking my claim, sunshine,” he simply says, bringing his cum-covered fingers to your mouth. “Open up,” he commands you, pushing two fingers past your lips. You suck them into your mouth, licking them clean until there’s nothing left. Jacob makes a sound of approval deep in his throat when his eyes focus on your lips wrapped around his fingers, his eyes blazing a fire you’ve seen so many times before. You’re not done yet, you’re not done until Jacob tells you you’re done.

You release his fingers, looking up at the giant Swede before you. “You don’t have to do that, you know? I’m all yours, completely and utterly yours,” you tell him, smiling as his face turns into a grin. He holds out his hands for your, helping you back onto both feet again.

“I know, but I like you covered in my cum. It looks good on you,” he simply says, shrugging his shoulders like it’s the most normal thing to do. You shake your head at him, stepping back under the stream, washing away all the evidence of his ‘claim’.

You feel his eyes on you, on your body, on every inch of your skin. It almost burns, leaving a sizzling feeling behind wherever his eyes landed on. His heated stare makes you ache with lust, desire for him, only him. The predatory look in his eyes tells you he’s coming for you, he’s coming for you hard. You’re more than ready for him, more than ready to take all of him.

Within a second his lips crash on yours, his hand landing on your cheek, keeping you close to him. He backs you up against the shower wall, his knee pressing itself between your legs. You gasp into the kiss, giving Jacob the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue invading your mouth. You can’t help but roll your hips forward, grinding down on his thigh. Jacob smirks against your lips knowing you can’t help yourself, knowing you can’t control your need for release.

“I’m gonna fuck you right here against the wall, sunshine,” he breathes out against your lips. Your breath catches in your throat by his words, a quiet moan leaving your mouth when his hand moves down your throat towards your breasts. His fingers linger on your throat for just a second, a second that makes your heart hammer against your chest. Aching for him, for his fingers, for his cock, just simply for all that is Jacob.

His hand cups your breast, his fingers pinching your nipple expertly. You drop your head against the cold shower wall, moaning out at the sensation of his fingers on your sensitive nipple, your core shamelessly grinding on his thigh. Your hand reaches between your bodies, instantly finding Jacob’s semi-hard cock waiting for you.

You close your fingers around him, gently squeezing his growing erection, moving your hand just the way that riles him up, gets him on high alert. “Fuck, you make me hard so fast,” he groans, thrusting upwards into your hand. You smile triumphantly at him, the knowledge that you have this much power over him, makes you even more desperate for him.

Jacob presses his thigh harder against you, his fingers still playing with your taut bud, rolling and pinching them, switching between your left and right breast, driving you absolutely mad. “Are you gonna come for me again, sunshine? Are you gonna show me how pretty you look while getting yourself off on my thigh, huh?” Jacob whispers in your ear, spurring you on to take, take whatever you need. The bastard knows how much his words, how much his teasing turns you on.

His mouth barely leaves your skin, biting and nipping on your neck, throat, anything he can reach. He knows you’re ready for him, ready to take all of him. Hell, you’ve been ready for him all morning, he fucking knows it, but God, he loves to get you off, he loves to watch you get off.

On edge all morning it takes you way less time than expected to reach your high, your second orgasm of the day crashing through your body. Jacob’s name on your lips like it’s the only thing on your mind, and in a way it is. His hands keep your trembling body upright, his thigh still pressing against your now oversensitive core.

His eyes search yours as soon as you’ve come down from your high, a search for affirmation, consent. You reach up, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down towards your own, crashing your lips on his. “Fuck me, J,” you mutter against his lips, the twinkle in his eyes telling you that’s exactly his plan.

You squeeze his now throbbing erection again, a breathy moan leaving Jacob’s lips. “You’re a tease,” he mutters under his breath, before grabbing the back of your thighs and hoisting you up. You squeal, not used to being this high off the ground. Jacob chuckles at your childishness, it isn’t that high up.

Your legs lock around his waist, pulling him closer towards your entrance, toward where you need him the most. He slides his cock through your folds, coating himself in your wetness. Chuckling low when you whine at him, tired of waiting, tired of not feeling him inside of you. So he gives you what you want, what you ache for. He lines himself up, before slamming all the way home. You choke on your own breath, the sheer force of Jacob’s thrust smacking the air out of your lungs. He stretches you to the absolute max, pain and pleasure going hand in hand, although pleasure has the upper hand here, it always has.

Jacob groans, trying to keep himself together. It was a bad, yet fantastic idea to slam himself deep inside of your tight pussy. The feeling of being buried deep inside of you will always feel like something extraordinary to him, it’s a mesmerizing feeling and if he could he’d stay like this forever.

“J, baby, you feel so good,” you whisper against his shoulder, bringing him back from his thoughts. He returns your praise with a low grunt of his own, slowly starting to move his hips again. Knowing it probably took some toll on him and his control you keep praising him, soft sweet nothings against his shoulder, against his lips. There isn’t much room to work with in the shower, the slippery tiles making it hard to go any faster than the slow and steady tempo Jacob keeps right now. It’s almost torturous, driving you absolutely mad. The way he fucks you, with slow and deliberate thrusts, making sure you feel every single ridge, every single vein on his cock.

Jacob loves this look on your face, the look of pure bliss, pure euphoria with every thrust he delivers inside of you. He knows he won’t last long, not after this morning, not with the way your pussy clamps down on him every time he moves inside of you. “Tell me what you need, sunshine,” he groans out, trying to keep his own orgasm at bay. You need, he needs you, to finish first. You’ll always come first, always.

“I need more, J, harder,” you moan out, your nails digging into Jacob’s shoulders. His mouth finds yours again, and only when he bites down on your bottom lip he speeds up. His hands move to your ass, squeezing each of your cheeks roughly, pushing you further into the cold wall. You can still feel his teeth in your lip, when he picks up his pace further, slamming harder and deeper inside of you. Every thrust, every movement he makes hits the right spot inside of you, it’s so fucking good.

You feel your orgasm creeping closer and closer, you can feel it crawling over your back, inside your tummy, fucking everywhere. Your vision blurs, nails digging deeper into Jacob’s shoulders, black spots appear in your already blurry vision, until you explode around him. Fireworks, fucking fireworks as your orgasm rocks through your body, like your nerve endings are on fire. His name echoes through the shower, your head falling back against his shoulder, completely spent from your third orgasm of the morning. Fuck.

There’s no way, no fucking way he can hold out any longer. Your tight pussy pulsing around him, aftershocks from your intense orgasm still rocking through your body, no fucking way he can keep this up. He thrusts into you once, twice more, before his knees buckle slightly as he reaches his own high for the second time this morning. He groans out your name as he buries himself deep, so damn deep inside of you, coating you with his release. His fingers tingle, his legs feel like jelly, his head spins. Never felt a second, fuck.. even a first orgasm like this, so intense, so intimate, so out of this world, absolutely mind-blowing.

Jacob tries his hardest to stay upright, with you still in his arms. Completely out of breath, mind still full of a post-orgasm induced haze, he puts all his weight against your body, crushing you against the shower wall. He drops his head against your shoulder, taking deep breaths, trying to calm down his racing heart. “You okay there, love?” you ask him softly, running your fingers through his wet hair.

He chuckles low, his raspy voice sending chills all over your body. “More than okay, y/n, more than okay. I just need a minute, maybe two.”

A few more minutes pass, before Jacob carefully slips out of you, making sure not to hurt you in any way. He gently puts you back on your own two feet, pulling you back underneath the hot water. Jacob raises his eyebrows at you when you suddenly start laughing, although he can’t help the smile that forms on his face by your laughter. Nothing better than seeing his girl smile or laugh. “This water bill is going to be so damn expensive, Jacob,” you giggle, pulling him closer to you.

Jacob chuckles, brushing your wet hair out of your face. “I don’t care, that was fucking amazing. You are fucking amazing,” he exclaims, softly pressing his lips on yours in a sweet, loving gesture. He reaches behind you, grabbing one of your shampoo bottles. “Can I wash your hair?” he asks you, an innocent smile plastered on his face. Suspicious, but whatever, if that’s what he wants to do, you’ll play along with it. You nod your head, before turning around so he can reach your hair.

His fingers brush gently through your hair, the smell of your favourite shampoo filling your nose. You sigh softly, this might be the best feeling in the world, something you could get used to. For a moment you think of ways to get Jacob into the shower with you every time you need to wash your hair, but quickly decide that would be a terrible idea. Not for you though, but definitely for your bank account and mother nature. Definitely shouldn’t do that, right?

Jacob’s voice brings you back from your thoughts, his fingers massaging your scalp. “Am I doing this right?” he asks you, a hint of insecurity lacing his voice. You try to answer him, but the only sounds coming from your lips is a muffled moan. “I guess I am,” Jacob chuckles, gently washing the shampoo out of your hair.

You close your eyes, enjoying his hands brushing through your hair, just enjoying his touches. It’s like he can read your mind, it’s almost scary. Just like you expected he had more up his sleeve when he asked if he could wash your hair. His hands wandering down your body, gently soaping your breasts. His soapy hands make soft circles over your breasts, cleaning them thoroughly, even though there’s no way they’re still dirty after the amount of time you spend under the shower stream. “You just needed to touch me some more, huh? you muse, shaking your head softly at him, not bothering to hide your grin.

“I need to make sure you’re completely clean, sunshine,” Jacob tells you, humour lacing his voice. Not bothered by his actions you let him clean you, from your head to your toes, no spot stays untouched. You guess he needs this right now, to make sure you’re absolutely okay, a way of aftercare, so you’re more than happy to give him this.

It takes both of you another 15 minutes to finally get out of the shower and dry off. It’s hard, so hard when you have such an attractive male running around, a naked, attractive male may you add, to keep your hands to yourself. And boy, it’s the exact same way for Jacob, who can’t keep his eyes and hands off you, imagining all the possible ways he can get you underneath or on top of him today, tomorrow and the day after that. It’s hard not touching each other, but why should you stop?

So when an arm wraps around your waist after you just pulled on some panties and hooked your bra, you lean back against the muscular chest behind you. His arm tightens around you, his hand covering your belly. You can feel he’s also still in the process of dressing himself, feeling the warmth radiating from his naked chest. You drop your head against his shoulder, enjoying his affection and attention to the fullest while you still can. You don’t even want to think about that upcoming road trip, not right now, right now all you want to think about is him, him and his warm body.

Jacob presses a soft kiss underneath your ear, snuggling his face in the crook of your neck. “I love you, y/n. I’m going to tell you that a million times more, until you’re absolutely fed up with it, but I need you to know that,” he whispers against your neck, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

You turn around, wrapping your arms around his waist, before looking up at him. “I love you too, J. So, so much, you know that, right?” you ask him softly, a small smile on your lips. His words make the butterflies in your stomach flutter at full force, you’ll never get used to hearing those words coming from his mouth, never. His words hold a certain edge though, an edge you aren’t used to hearing from him. It’s almost like he’s looking for confirmation, looking for a way to take away his insecurities, whatever they might be.

You squeal when he suddenly picks you up and drops you on the bed. For a moment he simply stares at you, his eyes raking over your body. Just as you want to tell him you aren’t having sex with him again, at least not yet, he chuckles. “I’m not trying to seduce you, sunshine.” When he finally got his fill of your body, he crawls on top of you, wiggling himself between your legs. He softly pecks your lips, before pulling back, a soft smile on his lips.

You cock your head at him, curious to know what he’s thinking right now. “Do you know why I call you ‘sunshine’?” he asks you, that same smile turning into a grin. You shake your head at him, you never thought much about that nickname, although you absolutely adore it. “I never thought I would find someone like you. Even after all this time together I’m still so,” Jacob muses over the right word for a moment, “amazed? I can’t even find the right words to describe it.” He stays silent for a few seconds after that, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. Although he doesn’t speak, his face does. The smile plastered on his face tells you a lot, the glint in his eyes tells you even more. You better pay attention to whatever he’ll tell you, you can see it’s important to him.

“You filled my life with sunshine, you still do every single day. When you give me one of those grins that make your eyes wrinkle, I feel like I’m on top of this world.” You can’t help but laugh at that, it’s no secret Jacob loves that, even though you aren’t too fond of it yourself. “You know those first sunny days? Those first warm beams of sunshine after the cold winter?” he asks you, and you nod. “That’s how you feel to me, every time you smile, every time you look at me. You feel like those first beams of sunshine, the beams that warm your skin, the beams that make you forget the cold winter you endured. That’s how you feel to me, like sunshine. You light up my world, you cover me in sunshine, you are my sunshine.”

His words tug at your heart, you had no idea your nickname went that deep, that it has that much meaning to him. What he just told you means more to you than anything ever could. You can’t help the emotions breaking free, you can’t help the tears that fall from your eyes, you can’t help how his words make you love him even more. He bared himself to you, showed his vulnerable side, showed you what you really mean to him. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Jacob whispers, gently wiping the tears from underneath your eyes. “Talk to me, baby,” he murmurs softly as he gently kisses your cheeks, your nose, your lips, anything, until you let out a giggle.

You cup his cheek with your hand, softly smiling through your tears. “You have no idea how much you mean to me, love,” you whisper to him. “You shower me in love, affection and good times every single day. You make me feel so loved, so safe, so special. No words can describe how much I love you, Jacob, absolutely no words, but I’ll try my very best to show you exactly how much. Every day I get to spend with you is one I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.”

Jacob leans forward, his lips pressing onto yours, so soft, so gentle, almost like he’s afraid to break this vulnerable, real moment you’re sharing with each other. You wipe away the stray tear that falls from his eye, he might be 6’6 and playing one of the toughest sports out there, he’s still human, he still feels like any other person. He buries his hand in your hair, pressing harder against your lips, never have you felt this close to each other.

He breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes locked on you as a smile slowly grows on his face. “It’s a damn good thing I have you for the rest of my life then. We’ll cherish every day together,” he pledges.

You can’t stop your laughter as Jacob rolls over, taking you with him. You land back on top of him, staring down at the love of your life. “We’ll make every single day count, J.”

“Every single minute of every single day, sunshine.”

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