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jo-harrington · 10 months ago

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Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Prologue: Crossover

Summary: Everyone wishes that they could have an Eddie Munson in their lives. In a strange turn of events, Eddie wishes that he could meet you, his favorite character from a cult classic 80's TV series. And he's about to get his wish.

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Minor Angst, Fluff, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events

Note: Hello and welcome. I'm very excited about getting to expand on this idea; it's going to be a wild ride. Please note as you head in, and as we get into further chapters...this fic is going to be a little mind-fucky and a little bit self aware. This is my love letter to and my criticism of fanfiction, but at the end of the day, we're still gonna get to fall in love with Eddie and get some kind of Happily Ever After. This is my guarantee.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

May 2022. Such a weird time.

A time of uncertainty, a time of change. A time where the world seemed like it had been torn apart and was slowly being knit back together again.

But then a switch was flipped. Something happened. An old season ended and a new one started and with that start came something new. Someone new. And suddenly, countless people began to yearn for this new person in their lives.

A new, old person. Eddie Munson.

Joy ignited. Creativity sparked. Millions of words written and read. Edits made. Art drawn. Merch bought.

So many voices crying “why isn’t he real. WHY ISN'T HE REAL.”

If there was a god, he would let them have their own Eddie Munson. And if there was a Satan, he would let them sell their souls for Eddie Munson.

That’s just not how the universe works.

At least…not this one...

October 1985. A different kind of place and time. Still weird.

But Eddie Munson was real.

Sometimes to his detriment.

And for the most part, it was alright.

He played guitar, laughed with friends, mocked bullies to protect the people like him that were considered less than. He'd overcome hardships of one sort or another for most of his life, he could keep at it for a little while longer.

It would be his day week month year sometime soon.

Wouldn't it?

But until then, he would bide his time. Hopefully, this year, he'd pass all of his classes and finally graduate. Get to flip that douchebag Higgins off and snatch up a long-awaited, and well-deserved diploma.

What made it all easier, what softened the blow...was you.

It was silly. He knew that. Ronnie used to tease him on Wednesday nights when he needed to run home because he had a "standing date with his girl."

"Your girl doesn't even know you're alive," she'd scoff as he bustled her into the van. "She isn't real."

No...no you weren't.

Why couldn't you be real.

See, for the past...however long Eddie had spent his late nights half-assing homework, planning campaigns for Hellfire, working on music, and watching a television show. His guilty pleasure, a show about the ups and downs and upside downs of living in a sleepy suburban town: Port Geneva.

A show where you were his favorite character.

And crush.

You weren't the main character--in fact, you were just the main character's quirky best friend--but you were a fan favorite, as much as he could tell. You'd only been in the background during the first season, but before long you were front and just-left-of-center. And last year, you'd even gotten a two-episode arc in the season finale as you turned the small town on its head by announcing, a month or two before graduation, that you were quitting school to follow your dream and become an artist.

And man...Eddie had been there.

He'd actually missed those episodes airing when...well, when everything happened with his father and the heist...and the house...and Paige.

He'd missed a lot of episodes that season. Missed seeing you come into your own as he tried and failed to come into his.

Thankfully Wayne--and Eddie wasn't a believer but whatever deity in charge needed to bless his Uncle Wayne--had the foresight to tape those episodes for him.

Those tapes would be cherished 'til the day he died, because they had truly gotten him through those tough days after everything.

He wished he had seen them when they aired, maybe...maybe he would have made some different decisions if he had.

Of course, Eddie had already loved you before then.

Since he had first laid eyes on you, actually.

He was sure that if you were real, you would be the one to understand him more than any of his friends. See the real him. In return, he would understand you, be there for you too.

He already had been. He'd seen you cry countless times, he'd laughed with you, celebrated your successes and mourned your failures. He'd been there for you when you crushed on that dickhead Mark, and then had your heart broken by the careless jerk.

And somewhere deep down inside of him, when he was sitting in that jail cell after he wasted his phone call on Paige and he felt the weight of the world bear down on his shoulders…he wished that you were real so he could have called you instead.

If you were real, Eddie's life would just be a little nicer.

He knew…he just knew.

Of course, in the mean time while he wished with every fiber of his being that you would walk into his life, he brought you to life in other ways. During mid-season and summer hiatuses, he would write you into his DND campaigns. His friends knew, they always called him out for it.

"Are you seriously making her an NPC man?" Dougie would scoff and throw a D20 across the table at him.

"No, what are you talking about?" he defended and threw the die right back at his friend. "This is Spiria the Bold."

"Uh huh," Jeff rolled his eyes. "Sure."

By his imagination and his pen, you became a powerful warrior, a sharp-tongued trickster, a seductive mage. You became anything he wanted you to be--most often with a companion and lover that mirrored him--and everything he knew, deep down, that you were.

And then the unthinkable happened.

September ‘84. He and Wayne were in the checkout line at K-mart. Cart stacked with new clothes and school supplies and groceries. When suddenly...there you were. Right in front of him.

Alright, not you. Per se. But your face, smiling alongside Samantha and Patrick and Scotty and Bill on the cover of the TV Guide.

On Set with the Stars of Port Geneva.

Wayne was the one to snatch the magazine from the rack and add it to their bounty, a knowing smile on his lips as he shook his head.

He knew Eddie needed a little pick-me-up.

Or a big one.

How could he have known this would be anything but one...

Eddie scoured over the pages once they got back to the trailer. He was hoping there would be a big enough picture of you that he could cut out and tape to the otherwise barren walls of his new room. And there was; you were leaning against the back of your signature pastel blue Volkswagen Beetle, arms across your chest, head tilted to the side with the signature scrunched smile you gave when you were embarrassed.

He adored you.

Before he took scissors to the page, he read the interview with your actress.

He wasn't too keen on her, even though she had your face.

The illusion that Rosemary Glass was really you had been shattered the first time he'd heard her voice on a radio interview; instead of your perfect and familiar middle-American speech...Rosemary's voice was accented.

Not to mention, she sounded pretentious.

Gross.

Still, he could look past that annoyance if he got some kind of insight to what the next season would bring for you.

Hopefully not a new love interest. His heart could only take so much.

...gives us a tour of the Patterson and Son's set, one that is forever enshrined as the setting of Patrick and Samantha's first kiss. "Oh I'm actually not fond of that scene," Rosemary confesses. "Yeah it's sweet, and the way I bring Sam in so Pat could confess his feelings but the...when I fell down? It was not scripted. And I was honestly shocked they kept that in. But fans seem to think she's clumsy now because of it. That I'm clumsy. When I just tripped over a wire. It's quite awful, really." We ask Rosemary to tell us what she'll miss most, now that the show is coming to an end...

Eddie went rigid as he read those words.

The show...coming to an end?

"What?" he exclaimed into his empty room. "No, no, no."

He carefully examined the article again, then turned back to the beginning of the feature, only to feel his heart stop in his chest.

The title of the feature was like crit hit.

The final killing blow to his already weak constitution.

One Last Summer in Port Geneva - On the Set of the Final Season

The final season was a sham.

Eddie savored every episode, though. Of course he would!

He would enjoy every last moment with you that he could get before he lost you forever. But...he hated it.

It was lazy writing--seriously what were they thinking--and a quick, cheap means to tie up all the loose ends they'd set up over the years. He could tell they tried to deliver as fulfilling a finale for the extensive cast of characters as they could. Still, he was sure he could have done better.

Samantha and Patrick got engaged after graduation. That was lame.

Bonnie finally quit the bakery to open her own cafe the next town over. Didn't anyone remember that she wanted to quit because she wanted to be a vet instead? That was the whole point of her! She didn't want to follow in her family's footsteps and she was doing just that.

And you? You took a backseat.

Instead of leaving town right after graduation--something that you had followed through reluctantly to make your parents happy even though you had just resolved to put your own happiness first for once--you stayed to help Pat plan his proposal.

Your big adventure, your big push for your dreams, were on hold again. You played second fiddle over and over until the final episode.

Eddie was grateful to have you for a little longer, but...once again annoyed that you were looked over--over and over, just like he was--when you had already proved that you were worthy of top billing.

Worthy of being the main character for once.

Still, at the beginning of the series finale, you packed your bags, cashed in your savings account, and drove out of town. The future was yours, just like it was always meant to be.

And Eddie cried.

The whole time tears streamed down his face as you said your own watery goodbyes. He might have even waved as you stuck your hand out the windshield to say goodbye to your friends as your car idled at the last stop sign. You blew a kiss to everything you knew and loved then started on your way into the unknown, car getting smaller in the distance right before the commercial break.

He held his breath for the final scene: a walk through the house where it all started and then Sam smiled her signature hopeful smile as she shut the door on the audience.

The screen faded to black for one final time and he exhaled.

"It's over," he muttered in slight disbelief, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself.

Port Geneva was over, and you were gone for good.

It was a strange feeling.

Heartbreak, mourning, disappointment? He couldn't really know for sure. Empty was the best way to describe it; the lack of feeling. It was infuriating. Port Geneva was just a television show, he attempted to rationalize for the nth time since he started watching. You were just a character on a tv show; how could you mourn for someone and something that wasn't even real?

You hadn't actually died. He could still see glimpses of you if he wanted, whenever Rosemary Glass' next movie came out or something.

But that wasn't you.

You were gone, for all intents and purposes, and it was a blow that hit Eddie hard.

How could he go on without you?

Devastated, he got high that night after he stewed on his grief. He day-dreamed and monologued to an empty trailer about a universe where the two of you were together, where your travels took you to Hawkins, of all places, and you fell in love with him, just like you were supposed to.

If the walls could talk, they would have a fantastic tale to tell. One with heroes and misunderstandings and love at first sight. One with a horrible, unseen foe and many pitfalls and dangers that exceeded anyone's wildest imaginations. One with a magic door that led to the happily ever that was beyond well-deserved.

Grief did wonderful and terrible things, after all.

He woke up for school the next morning with cotton mouth and a vague outline of a story that did just that: brought you to Hawkins to fall in love with him and all of the other things that seemed like nonsense once he was in a more right-minded state.

The only problem was that it was all in his English notebook. And he didn't need anyone finding that.

"Fuck," he groaned and ripped the page out. He shoved it into his bedside drawer, where it would be doomed to a crumpled and forgotten future.

Or until he needed a condom.

Which, considering how everyone had doubled down on their disgust of him, wouldn't be any time soon.

But there you stayed.

Put away, like old obsessions and childish things, to be ignored and forgotten.

At least for a little while.

Eddie tried.

He did.

He kept you and Port Geneva out of sight and mind as much as humanly possible. It was the most effort he had really put to anything tangible in the past year.

The series ended at a weird time--during the middle of the season--and some investigative journalism show took over its time slot. Barbara Walters couldn't hold a candle to you, so it wasn't difficult for him to keep himself rooted in reality on the nights where he typically indulged in his silly fantasies.

The daydreams that he had were limited to lyrics for Corroded Coffin originals and ideas for Hellfire, and nights were spent alone in the darkness of the living room, with his reflection in the television set to keep him company as he tried his best to do homework that he'd already done before.

Before he realized, though, the school year was coming to a close and he was--big shocker--on the brink of failure. It wasn't until Higgins called him into his office, again, that you made your violent resurgence into his life.

There was a tentative truce between Higgins and Eddie for a while.

Civility was a strange thing for both of them. They actively avoided one another, save for a snide jab here and there, and Eddie tried to stay out of the Principal's Office as much as he could.

That is, until Higgins was forced to tell Eddie that he needed to repeat his repeat senior year.

"Don't act like I want this at all," he sneered at Eddie who tripped over a reaction. "I'd rather have you out of these halls for good. You drop out one year, then you re-enroll and you fail another. Try to make the most of it this time Munson; I don't want to have this talk again."

Eddie grumbled the whole drive back to the trailer, and he fell onto the sofa with his head in his hands once he got in.

"Which one of the fates wrote this stupid plot for me now, as if last year wasn't enough. You can't make this stuff up sometimes."

He laid there, wallowing in his misery for hours, days, years, until it got dark enough for headlights outside to be noticeable as they shined through the window. There was a glint of a reflection that caught his eye and had him turn his head.

"TV," he sighed and reached out as though he could touch the set and stacks of tapes neatly piled below. “The cause-of and solution-to all of life’s problems.”

He contemplated his life for a few more minutes.

He could make the most of the final few weeks of the school year. He could set himself up as a willing and reliable pupil for these last few assignments and tests, even though they wouldn't mean very much.

He could do all of these things so that when he walked into the halls of Hawkins High in the fall, on his absolute last first day of school--whatever deity or powers-that-be willing, because how "getting the hell outta dodge or he would die here" turned into "two extra years in that shit hole" he could only attribute to cosmic intervention--the faculty would already know he would try his best this time.

It would show them he was serious about graduating and that he would succeed despite all odds against him. Finally.

He could do this.

Or...

He could put in one of the tapes from the stack and scrounge for loose bills left over from his last few transactions and order a pizza. Pretend like he didn't exist for a little while.

And given the choice?

Eddie Munson chose the latter.

And he continued to choose the latter throughout the summer and even into the fall.

Nights that he didn't already have plans were spent in front of the television.

They were cherished nights with you.

Aside from his VHS recordings, he found a channel that showed reruns of Port Geneva after 10pm. Two hours of small town shenanigans that might very well be found just outside of his own door--if he only went and looked--with you just there, making your appearance every so often and catching his eye.

Homework was sometimes left halfway done on the coffee table until he needed to switch out a tape, or change the channel, and he spent more time filling his heart than enriching his mind, so to speak; he knew all of this school stuff already anyways.

Third times a charm and all right?

He talked to the screen more often than not, tried to warn you against one disappointment or another. Sometimes, if he was watching one of his tapes, he'd pause right on your face and just talk to you. Mundane things, usually, like Ronnie's last phone call home or some album that got released and a song he thought you might like.

Other nights, like tonight, he got vulnerable. Moments where life seemed a little extra trying, and he'd confess his feelings to your image.

Knelt on the floor in front of the coffee table, warm light bathed his face promising comfort as he spoke, and the din of static emitted from the television set, akin to an angel's voice...beyond understanding of humans.

He'd never been one for church, but this kind of confessional was sacred enough.

An eternal bond, just you and him.

He stopped his ramblings at that thought.

It was a strange moment of clarity.

Where had that come from?

"I..." Eddie looked down at himself, a foot away from the television set, remote clenched in his hand. Then he looked at you, soul-filled eyes just beyond the glass, not looking at him, only...through him, just past him. "What am I doing?"

What was he doing? He was...he wasn't a kid anymore who could hide in his dreams; well, honestly he was always going to do that, but this was different.

One minute he felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders as he told you about his troubles, and the next it was all back, heavier than ever, as he realized how silly this all was.

And here he was, wasting his life knelt at your altar.

It wasn't holy. It was pathetic.

You'd never answer; you weren't real.

"Why?" he asked aloud, jaw clenched. He gripped the remote tightly. "What did I do to not have...someone? Huh? What have I ever done to be alone? That I have to rely on a fucking television character to feel understood. And now I'm losing my mind talking to myself, talking to you, at midnight every night. Why am I here wishing that you're real? Why couldn't you just...be...real?"

If there was a God, he would let Eddie Munson have you. If there was a Satan, he would let Eddie sell his soul for you.

And that's how he knew neither of them existed: you didn't exist either.

Eddie hit the eject button on the VCR and was about to shut everything so he could go to bed, when there was a crash outside.

Crashes in Forest Hills weren't abnormal--someone backing into trash cans, losing traction on the icy roads in the winter, and the one time Mrs. Dawson kicked her husband out and threw all of his things out the window--but it was something he'd gotten used to since he came to live with Wayne.

This crash, however, started a ruckus.

Someone was yelling and that stupid dog across the way started barking.

Eddie was a lot of things...but a dramatic gossip was definitely high on the list.

What else was there to do in the Midwest?

He grabbed his cigarettes from the bowl full of junk on the coffee table and stepped outside, fully intent on plopping down on the old couch on the porch to smoke and watch the scene unfold.

A car crashed into the telephone pole; didn't look like there was much damage but it had run through some trashcans and might have clipped the drivers side mirror off of Mrs. Mayfield's car. The same Mrs. Mayfield who was on her own porch being held back by Max as she yelled.

"Are you kidding me? It's fucking midnight!"

"Mom! Stop!"

"The car, Max!"

Maybe there'd be a fight.

He barely got his cigarette lit when he noticed--really noticed--the offending car: a powder blue Volkswagen Beetle.

He blinked several times and then rubbed his eyes, thinking it might have just been a trick of the light or something.

Or it was a coincidence.

Or a dream.

Maybe he'd had a heart attack and died in front of his television or something?

Plenty of people drove Volkswagen Beetles. He was pretty sure he'd even heard Nancy Wheeler asking her parents for one as a graduation present.

But with the same license plate number?

The same one from the show, the same one that was in the TV Guide all those months ago. The same one on the makeshift poster he had taped on the wall next to his bed, that he'd run his fingers over to "kiss" you goodbye countless times, just like he did to his guitar.

"It's just dark," he tried to convince himself, "and I'm tired, and...and..."

It was a coincidence. It was a dream.

He repeated the mantra over and over in his head like a lifeline.

It was another fan like him who just used fantasy to make their life a little better. That's all he was trying to do too, right? He could understand; hell, if this was a new neighbor, maybe he'd be able to chat with them about the show. Wouldn't that be something?

Eddie was so distracted making up endless excuses for himself that he didn't notice Mrs. Mayfield as she threw her hands up in the air with an exaggerated "I'm calling the police. He didn't hear Max holler at her mom to calm down, or see the tail lights of the Beetle turn off either.

It wasn't until the driver's side door swung open and a sneaker-covered foot crunched against the gravel that he forgot all the excuses he was conjuring.

And his heart stopped as the driver got out of the car and stood in the faint glow of the streetlight.

Because that driver was you.

Next Chapter: Alternate Universe

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#Eddie munson x reader #stranger than (fan)fiction #stff #Eddie munson fic #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson angst #stranger things fic #stranger things Eddie munson #Eddie munson #stff updates

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smartkookiee · 2 months ago

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Wounds We Never Show // Ch.2 - jjk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・ ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/her, afab) ❥genre/rating: 18 +explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, enemies with benefits, these two really do hate each other ❥chapter warnings/tags: SMUUUTTT (mdni), protected sex (stay safe kids), dry humping, cum eating??, fingering, so much kissing, doggy, really confused about their feelings fr, they still hate each other, yay Melanie and Namjoons wedding hehe, drinking, swearing, Jungkook continuing to be a little shit ❥word-count: 13.9k (I'm so sorry its another monster) ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter fic is cross posted to ao3 - send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

“So… is that a yes?”

“I-…” Your mouth was moving before your mind could, “Okay.”

Jungkook blinked, staring at you like he wasn’t sure if you had actually said “okay” or if he’d just imagined it. He looked completely caught off guard. Honestly, you couldn’t blame him. You were pretty shocked yourself.

The word still hung between you both, heavy with the weight of the sheer stupidity of what you’d just agreed to. You half-expected him to start laughing, for you to snap out of whatever spell had come over you and tell him to go to hell.

But no one moved. Neither of you even took a breath.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up, surprise etched across his face. Clearly, he’d expected you to kick his ass, maybe curse him out, not... this.

It felt bizarre. The longer you sat with the idea, though, the more it made a twisted kind of sense. Maybe it was because you’d already agreed to this ridiculous plan in your head before your mouth even caught up. Because, as much as you hated to admit it, this was probably going to work better than the endless cycle of arguments. But also, by agreeing to this, you were, by extension, agreeing with Taehyung’s dumb, immature logic.

So in this moment—yes—you were dumb.

You thought back to your last hookup. It had been... disappointing, to say the least. You wanted something better. Needed it, actually. But this? Jungkook? Not what you had in mind, exactly.

“Okay,” Jungkook finally broke the silence, rubbing the back of his neck as if he couldn’t believe you’d gone along with his idiotic suggestion. He was clearly thinking through how the hell he’d come to agree with Taehyung’s logic himself.

He’d spent years watching Taehyung bury his problems in a series of meaningless hookups, laughing it off as Taehyung’s way of handling things. But deep down, Jungkook envied it. Taehyung took life so casually, like nothing really mattered. Jungkook never had that luxury. Not in the last few years, at least.

“So, uh... do we, like, hold hands or something?” you asked, unable to stop the awkwardness from bubbling up. Because really, what else could you say? You couldn’t even figure out how to broach the subject of touching each other, let alone jumping straight to that.

It was like the two of you had never spoken before, it was strange.

“Seriously? Hold hands? What are we four?” Jungkook teased trying to cut the tension and you groaned.

“I don’t know! This is uncharted territory!” You move away from the building wall and start pacing back and forth, Jungkook just watching you.

You just stayed like this for a moment going back and forth. Maybe being a little like Taehyung is what he needed. This just wasn’t the way he expected it to end up, and least of all with you.

Jungkook wasn’t really the hook up type, let alone hook up at a wedding. Yet here you two were, playing out the most common wedding hookup cliche. The best man and the maid of honor.

You let out a long groan before you looked directly at him.

“This is a one time thing.” You say quicker than you can think. You needed to stop thinking, just do.

“Okay.” He was sure in his tone.

“Fine.”

A beat, for the first time ever you two were in full agreement. Jungkook decided that it needed to happen now or never before the two of you thought to much about it. He walked away from you, going to the door back into the hotel. He didn’t look back until he realized that you weren’t following.

“Well, are you coming?” He nodded his head in the direction inside the door.

“Oh we are doing this now?”

Then your feet were moving. Without a word, he held the door open for you and followed you inside. Without some protest, Jungkook grabbed onto your wrist, almost like he wanted some contact with you. Jungkook pulling the two of you into the nearest elevator, pressing a button to what you assumed was his floor.

And then the doors closed.

You both stood in silence for a moment, standing side by side. Jungkook then stood in front of you, the hand that was on your wrist made its way up your arm to your face.

“What are you doing?” You pulled back for a moment and your voice was a little shaky, flinching away from him. Old habits die hard.

Jungkook would never admit this to you but he was nervous. Maybe more nervous than you but he would bury that down for now.

“Oh you know, I was going to kiss you.” The words felt gross coming out of his mouth. Kissing you after all is the last thing he ever thought he would do.

“Oh.” You realized yeah, you probably should kiss. Maybe a good place to start. You were deep in thought before you realized how close you and Jungkook were. Bodies almost pressed against each other. “Yeah go ahead.”

The only sound was the hum of the elevator filling the space. It felt so silent as you looked between Jungkook's eyes. For a moment he hesitated but then decided to just go for it. Kissing you softly at first. He tasted like cigarettes, and it was a little overwhelming. Not as gross as you thought though. His hands had now found a place on your waste and pressed your whole body into his. Without you really thinking about it one of your arms had wrapped around his neck and the other was wrapped in his hair.

The two of you begging silently for another kiss.

It was the only thing you two did on the short ride, just kissed, dipping your toes into the shallow end of your possible mistake. The elevator rang, causing both of you to split apart as fast as you could. The feeling of your mouth weighing on Jungkook's mind.

A memory from college came to the front of your mind.

“What? I’m a pretty good kisser I’ll have you know. I have references.”

You don’t know why you remembered it now, all you could think was that: he wasn’t lying about that.

You both peered around the corners of the hallway, a silent understanding passing between you as you checked to make sure no one familiar was nearby. The hallway was unnervingly quiet, the soft thud of your heart echoing in your ears as Jungkook’s hand brushed against yours. He fumbled for his key, hands steady despite the electricity buzzing in the air. The lock clicked, and he hastily opened the door, pushing it open and gesturing for you to step inside.

The room was surprisingly tidy. Too tidy, like he’d barely even been in here.

“Huh. It’s smaller than mine,” you muttered, unable to stop yourself, that competitive streak rearing its head. It was a childish comment, but you were already grasping for control in the situation—anything to anchor yourself.

Jungkook ignored and he grabbed your wrist and spun you around, his lips meeting yours again. The taste of cigarettes filled your mouth, flooding your senses. His fingers pressed into your waist, as if he was trying to push the world away and keep you both in this moment. You kissed him back fiercely, but something was building in your chest—a knot of panic twisting tighter and tighter.

You broke away first, breathing hard, pressing your hands against his chest to put space between you. “Woah, okay.”

He paused, looking at you, his chest heaving. “You okay?”

You shook your head, the room suddenly feeling too small, the walls too close. You raised your hands like you were warding off some invisible force. “God, this feels... weird. Is this not weird for you?”

Jungkook exhaled and leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “It’s weird,” he admitted, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely sure what made it weird—just that it was.

You paced in a tight circle, your fingers twitching. “I don’t know, I feel... confused. Like everything inside me is screaming that this is wrong, but I don’t know why. It’s like my head is split down the middle and I can’t—”

“Y/N—”

“And I can’t stand you,” you continued, voice rising, “but for some reason, I agreed to this. Like, maybe I’ve just got some kind of self-sabotaging streak? What is wrong with me?”

Jungkook moved closer, trying not to let you chatter annoy him. “Y/N.”

You met his gaze, finally stilling, but your heart was racing, chest tight with the weight of your own thoughts. His eyes were calm, though you could see the same uncertainty hiding behind them. He had already made up his mind, you could tell, but the awkwardness of it still clung to the space between you.

“Are you in, or are you out?”

The question hung in the air for a second longer than you liked. You blinked, your throat dry. “I was in. But now I don’t know. I can’t get past... being with you. You of all people.” Your fingers picked at the skin around your nails, searching for an answer you couldn’t find.

Jungkook stood there, thinking for a moment. “Then pretend I’m not me.”

“What?” You give him a confused look.

“Maybe we just pretend like we don’t know each other. Like we just met. So I’m not Jungkook… the guy I know you want to kill.” He teases and it actually lightens the mood a little. “I’m just… someone at a wedding, you’re also just someone at a wedding. I’m not me.”

A small smile actually seems to creep on your face for a moment, you have to catch yourself. “You’re not you.”

“I’m not me.”

“And I’m not me?”

“Exactly. We’re just two strangers.” He stepped closer, and you felt the gravity between you shift again. “Does that make it easier?”

You stared at him for a moment, your heart hammering as the absurdity of the whole thing began to ease the pressure in your chest. Slowly, the tension began to melt into something else. Something that felt almost like... freedom.

“Okay.” You found yourself nodding. “You’re not you. And I’m not me.”

Jungkook smiled, taking that as confirmation, his fingers brushing your cheek again, this time softer. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, but this time it wasn’t panic. It was something hotter, more dangerous.

“See?” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “Just two strangers.”

He stepped forward, and before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the distance. You kissed him again, but this time it felt different—deeper, like the weight of everything that had been holding you back was gone. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you let yourself be pulled, let yourself sink into the kiss, the moment. Just two people—no history, no hate—just... heat.

You both stumble your way back to the bed, kicking off your shoes in the process. As you both just let yourselves live in the feeling rather than who it was with. Everything started to move faster and the intensity between the two of you got heavier. Jungkook detached himself from your lips onto the exposed skin on your neck. You found yourself leaning into it easily.Jungkook paused for a moment, his fingers tracing along the straps of the dress you wore.

“Can I take this off?’ He says lowly into your ear.

Both of your minds were quiet. Here it was, no going back after this.

“Yes.” Your voice almost gets caught in your throat.

He very slowly slips the straps off your shoulders. Your dress falling down the rest of the length of your body to the floor. Jungkook takes a pause, he had hoped somewhere deep inside him that you wouldn’t look good under your dress, but of course you did. You still had your bra and underwear on but he knew you’d probably look great without those as well. How incredibly annoying he thought.

“Listen I know I’m hot but you don’t have to stand there and stare.” You felt like you needed to move your hands to cover yourself.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, “I wasn’t starring.”

“Yeah right.” Your hand found your way to his tie, beginning to undo it and pulling it off him. Jungkook following by undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“Eager are we?” He teases, it was too playful for what you were familiar with. Almost made you cringe but you pushed the feeling away.

“Says the one who took my dress off.”

He pulls his shirt off once the buttons are undone. You wanted to maybe deny for a bit that he did in fact have a nice body and you kissed him again. It left you breathless so quickly, your head was spinning. With some quick movements you moved back onto the bed and Jungkook held himself above you. He kissed down your neck and then down your chest, his mouth was warm against you with every kiss.

Oh god, you thought.

The suddenness of all of this though had gotten you soaked in your underwear and it was going to be embarrassing for him to see. As he inches closer you close your legs rather quickly. Only this one time, Jungkook was going to have this effect on you.

“Spread your legs for me, darling.” He looked up to you and he placed both of his hands on your knees trying to pry them open, you denying him the satisfaction.

“No.” You were very clearly teasing him and sat up, which allowed you to see the full sight of him, shirtless, kneeling in front of you. Never thought this would be something you would ever see. “And darling? What are we married now?”

“That would be my nightmare.” He shivers at the thought.

“Yeah I’ll be dead before I ever marry you.”

“Well we agree on something at least.”

His hand was running up and down the inside of your thigh, he leaned up to meet your eyeline again. Catching you in a quick kiss before his hand grazed against the outside of your underwear. You held in the gasp that wanted to release from you.

“Be good and let me eat you out.” He brings his face in close by your ears and leaves a small kiss behind.

“Ask nicely and I just might.”

He took the opportunity to stand up straight, towering over you a little. Like he was getting the same sight of you below him that you had just seen of him. He tilted your chin up with his thumb and index finger, to look into his eyes.

“Please.” He said so quietly and kindly. A tone he had never taken with you.

“Fine.” You try to say in a displeasing tone, but you couldn’t help but want it.

He lowers himself back to his knees and opens your legs up again and pulls your underwear down your legs rather quickly. You laid back on your back again.

“For someone who hates me so much, you sure are wet for me.” He laughed a little and it sent a ripple of anger. You covered your face with both of your arms.

“Fuck off.”

“Fuck you.” He replies and his hands slowly slide up your thighs. Almost agonizingly slow.

He reached your pussy which was eager to feel his touch and he swirled his fingers around your clit a few times. You really were wet, his fingers took no time to play with you. Applying some pressure, he uses his other hand to play around with one finger at your entrance. You have been trying not to elicit any sounds because you didn’t want to see that stupid smirk on his face. Your breath was heavy in your chest though. He then instead inserted two of his fingers into your dripping pussy. You let out a low hum, you wanted a little more.

“There you are. Was worried you had lost your voice.”

He switched from using both hands to just one, with his two fingers moving in and out of you. His thumb still circling your clit. He had laid himself down on the bed next to you now, he was playing with a piece of your hair, and looking at you with an amusing smile.

Before you were able to say anything, he pushed his fingers into you deeper and he was touching a spot that could easily make you come. It forced a moan out of your mouth. Which seemed to surprise the both of you.

“You really needed it bad huh?” He laughed a little at your little noises and faces you were making.

He was right.

You turn your head to the side so you don’t have to face him but he stays with you. He had to take his fingers out of you, and adjust his arm but he slipped his fingers right back inside you but this time adding another one. You moan softly into the sheets. He uses his other hand to move some hair away from your face and he leaves little bites into your shoulder.

“Three fingers already? You must be desperate for it,” he pumps his fingers in and out of you faster. Making that little curling motion that is driving you crazy. Your breathing was quick. “Can I make you cum with just my fingers?”

“God shut up already.” You groan, but mostly at the feeling. He had you in the palm of his hand so easily.

“I’m good.” He hums, looking down at his fingers which were covered in your arousal. It made his cock twitch, he wanted to replace his fingers and fuck you but there was something satisfying seeing you all quiet and annoyed just with his fingers. “Annoying you seems to turn me on.”

“Stop.” You gasp but Jungkook picked up the pace of his fingers, and a soft moan left you. You mentally cursing yourself out. “You always this chatty during sex? Feel bad for any girls prior to me.”

Jungkook shook his head, “Nah, I usually have my tongue inside them by now.”

“You sure are confident in your skills.” Acting as if what he said didn’t send a wave of arousal through you.

Jungkook did a few harder thrusts of his fingers and you moan and your eyes fall shut.

“Just say please, and that can be you too.” He whispers and he kisses your skin.

“I’m never begging you for anything.”

“Nights still young.”

He had gotten a good rhythm with his fingers now. Touching you in just the right way. You were trying to fight the high off as best you could. Jungkook could tell you were trying to fight it but he wanted to get you off. Would be funny in a way that he could make you cum so fast even though you despise him. He begins to suck on your neck, just in a nice little spot and makes goosebumps rise all over your body.

“You really seem to want to get me off? Didn’t think you’d be so considerate considering how selfish you are during the daytime.” There was that competitive streak again, that same part of your that is protesting this whole thing.

“I may not like you, doesn’t mean I don’t want you to cum.”

Jungkook then lowers himself down to press his tongue flat against your clit. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. He keeps working his fingers in and out of you. He only sucks on your clit one more time because he wanted just his fingers to do the work here. He brings his other hand down to rub your clit as his other hand fucks you. You were letting small moans fall from you. It turning him on more than he wanted to admit.

It doesn’t take much longer but a few more pumps of his fingers he gets your cumming onto them. You grinding on his fingers. You come down quickly and your face was completely red. Jungkook just smiling down to you. Jungkook then removes his fingers from you with a small protest from you. Licking all of your arousal off them.

“That’s unfortunate, you taste really good.” He did sound a little disappointed at the discovery.

“You’re such a dick.”

“Relax, I’m not even done.” Jungkook let out and exasperated sigh, he wanted you to just trust the process but he should have guessed you give him a hard time.

“Addicted yet?”

“Not even slightly.”

You wanted to take back control since he had his moment of slight dominance over you. You pull Jungkook back onto the bed turn yourself around and swing your legs over his waist and pin him down on the bed. Jungkook knew it was painfully obvious how hard he was in his trousers and you were sitting right on top of it. You couldn’t help the pressure made your mouth drop open a little. You wanted to feel his dick stretch you out. Not just yet though.

You run your hands over his chest slowly, and you begin to grind yourself into his crotch. You were a skittle swollen and sensitive but it seems to drive him a little crazy. His eyes had fluttered closed, enjoying the feeling of the pressure on his cock. You lean down close to his ear.

“Looks like I’m not the only one that seems to need it badly.” You grind into his dick a little more forcefully. Jungkook moans a little bit and his hands have found the way to your ass, trying to guide you but you don’t let him take control of the pace. You keep your hip movements slow and taunting.

“Shit.” He whispers, followed by a soft moan.

“Think I could make you cum just by grinding on you? No chance to even slip yourself inside of me?” You're pushing him a little. You would not let this night go without getting fucked but making him cum just like this also sounded hot. Cum in his pants and then leave him here.

“Not a chance.” He says almost like he could hear your thoughts. “I’m fucking you tonight.”

He sits up, keeping you pressed into him. His hand found its way into your hair and pulled your head back. Keeping his other hand on your ass. Again trying to take the control back from you but you keep your hips still.

Jungkook runs his mouth over the side of your neck again, letting his hot breath fan over you. Then finding that same spot earlier that made you twitch. Attaching his mouth there and keeping his one hand tangled in your hair. You hum softly, and Jungkook tries to use his hand to encourage your hips to move. You refuse.

“Say please and I just might move.” You laugh under your breath. Jungkook squeezes your hip, he was getting really desperate though, he needed the friction for some relief.

“So annoying.” He mumbles against your skin and bites you lightly, “Please.”

Thank god, because you needed the friction too. You grind your hips down into him and he moans but this wasn’t enough. You were making a mess on the top of his pants for sure but you didn’t care, it would be his problem tomorrow.

Jungkook leaned away from you. Resting on one of him arms and just watched you move for a moment, it felt like he actually was in some sort of twisted dream. Because you of all people, were here dry humping him in his hotel room, and you both were really liking it. Your face was all twisted up and breathing heavily as you chased your high. Jungkook needed this to end though.

“Okay.” You stop for a moment and sigh, your legs were getting a little tired from the position. “I need… huh.” You mumble under your breath. Jungkook gave you a confused look.

“What was that?.” Jungkook smirks and he grinds his hips up into you. You moan a little but hit his chest to protest the movement.

“Please fuck me.” Your plea comes out more pathetic than you wanted. You wanted him to pound into you though.

“I thought you weren’t going to beg me for anything?”

“I’m not saying it again.”

Jungkook takes no pause and he lifts you off of him, and he kisses you so desperately before placing you back on the bed. He wastes zero time in getting off his pants and boxers. His dick springs free and you were upset but also glad to see it was a good size. Of course he’d have a nice dick, how fucking annoying.

You couldn’t help but think about sucking him off though.

Watching him unfold for you. It’d be nice. Unfortunately it was never going to happen. You just needed a good fuck and then you can go back to absolutely hating each other. He’s still vile… Just for this moment though, he is incredibly desirable.

“You got a bit of drool coming out of your mouth.” He teases you. You look away and scoff. Jungkook grabs something from his bag which proves to be a condom, quickly unpackaging it and rolling it onto his dick.

“You just had condoms at the ready?” You ask.

“I didn’t, Taehyung gave me some. ‘Just in case’, his words not mine.” Jungkook leans two hands on each side of the bed next to you. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping with anyone.”

“Find that hard to believe.”

He gave you a confused expression.

“How so?”

“Isn’t this your kind of guys stomping ground? Aren’t weddings like prime hookup locations. Taehyung always seems to have some wedding hookup story.” You sit up, coming closer to Jungkook’s face.

“Tell me what ‘my type of guy’ is then?” He was getting annoyed, and it honestly made you happy.

“Assholes. Haven’t said it to you in the last twenty minutes so you probably forgot what you were.” You tilt your head in innocence. You were poking the bear, but you may be starting to regret it because you might be cutting your fuck short.

“Well, you just let this asshole finger you.” He tilts his head in the same direction as you, then using one of his hands to move some hair off your shoulder.

“A minor lapse in judgment, I’m sure.” You place a hand on the back of his neck, you needed him close again. Due to your own inability to not fight with Jungkook, you were cooling off.

Jungkook leans close and kisses you again, head still spinning. You called him and asshole and he was willingly kissing you now. So strange but it was working for the both of you. One of his hands goes down to his cock and strokes himself slowly but then moves on top of you more. He then presses his tip down onto your clit and you break your kiss to gasp.

“Then let me fuck you and we can be done with it.”

He was staring at you so intensely, he needed you. You needed to give up this fight, you needed him too. You nod and he pulls himself back for a second. You don’t think you can face him during this, you decide to flip yourself over instead. You almost preferred it in this position anyways.

“Awe what?” You heard him laugh under his breath and you scoff. “Think you might fall in love with me if you look at me the whole time?”

“Yeah right. I’m here for one thing only and I can only hope you can actually deliver.” You sigh, Jungkook had reached over to the top of the bed for a pillow. He lifted your hips which surprised you and shifted the pillow underneath your hips.

Maybe he did know what he was doing.

He begins to climb on top of you, he presses a bunch of kissing up your back and up to your neck, sucking on a spot there. Your body is completely flooded with heat. He breaks away from you, one of his hands on his dick, stroking it a couple of times.

“Still time to back out now Jeon.” You say, tilting your head to the side to look back to him.

“Nah, I need to feel you cum around me.” He was completely serious.

He pressed the tip of his dick to your entrance, playing with you as he swirls it around and he just watches your reaction. He could see it’s driving you nuts. How badly you want him to sink his dick deep inside of you. You bite your lip to fight back the moans he could be eliciting from you.

“Moan for me baby. You know you want too.”

“And let you have the satisfaction? No.”

“What a brat.” his tone was lower.

You both were thinking the same thing. You were both a little hesitant because this was it. It would be real, you would have fucked each other after this.

Jungkook presses the tip of his dick into you and it elicits a small noise from you. He pushes his dick in more, slowly and you could feel every tiny movement. He slowly stretches you out so you can take the full length. His breath was rather ragged, and his eyes were shut. He didn’t completely bottom out yet but he pulls himself out and then pushes himself in again. You groan at the movement. You hated how much he was driving you crazy and how desperately you were wanting him to pound into you.

“Jungkook please.” You needed it.

“Oh yeah?” he opens his eyes. “What do you need?”

“Enough teasing. Just fuck me.” You grip onto the sheets below you, you needed it so bad and your breath was all ragged and desperate.

Jungkook observes you for a moment, you had laid your head to the side so he could examine your expression. You were desperate. He brought his hands up on top of yours gripping onto them. He then completely bottoms out inside you, which forces a moan out of you. It’s soft but it’s like music to Jungkook’s ears.

“I win.” he says with a chuckle.

He doesn’t give you much time to react before he pulls himself all they way out and shoves his dick all the way back in again. Wanting to feel every inch of your pussy around him. Each thrust forces a small moan out of you. You want to move your arms but Jungkook kept you in place. He is rocking you back and forth with each thrust and pounding all the way inside you.

The sound of his thrust and his pelvis slapping against your skin is so lewd. Its driving you crazy. Both of your moans fill the room. He bites down onto your shoulder and you swear it felt electric.

“Jesus your fucking wet.” He is so out of breath. He can’t get enough.

You can’t either.

“Oh my god.” You moan, you feel the swell of your climax rising again. Jungkook has been stroking a part of your pussy with his dick and it’s driving you insane. You have never cum from penetration sex this quickly before.

He slowed for a second. Moving his hand between your pussy and the pillow. Rubbing your clit. He was going to make you cum again, he was messing with you earlier but he didnt want you to feel good. You press your forehead deep into the mattress. Just letting whatever sound was in you out. You were almost running away from his touch and you push backwards just forced your ass into his pelvis. Pushing his dick deeper.

Double edged sword here, nowhere for you to escape. He did a few slower thrusts while he did this, keeping a certain rhythm. Before you are able to even think, your climax rolls over you again and you’re squeezing Jungkook's dick and he takes this moment to go a little faster with his thrusts while you ride it out on him.

“Fuck.” you let a long dragged out moan, as Jungkook rides you through your high.

“That’s right baby use me.” His hot breath fans over your skin. “I-I’m also close.”

You continue to hang onto his hand as he rocks into you. Filling you up completely. Never stopping for a second as you come off your climax. The stimulation felt crazy, you almost didn’t want to stop. Consider asking him to eat you out and make you come all over again. Then Jungkook gets a little sloppier in his thrusts as he’s close to his climax.

“Coming, coming.” His breath catches in his throat as you feel him fill up the condom.

He thrust a few more times but slows to a stop. Both of your breathing in sync. He rests his head on your back. You both just stay there for a minute. His cock still buried in you. You both relish what just happened. It felt really good.. Really really good… but oh my god.

You just fucked Jungkook.

How, bizarre.

Jungkook kissed your shoulder softly before pulling away and getting out of bed. He stood too quickly, feeling a little dizzy, but more from the weight of what had just happened. You stifled a small whine at the loss of contact, quickly covering your mouth. He chuckled through his heavy breaths, but you couldn’t look at him—your face was already burning with embarrassment.

What the hell did I just do?

You didn’t want to think about it, but you couldn’t help yourself. The guy you hated more than anyone was just in bed with you. His hands, his mouth, his entire presence—everything felt so good, too good. You hated him, didn’t you? This shouldn’t have happened. Yet, the feeling of him still lingered on your skin, and worse, a part of you already missed it.

Reality hit harder the moment you sat up. How long had the two of you been gone? You turned over, and Jungkook was already reaching out a hand to help you up. We can’t stay here. We need to get back. He held your dress in his other hand.

“Thank you. We need to get back.” You say at almost a whisper as you begin to redress yourself.

You rushed into the bathroom, flicking on the light. Seeing yourself in the mirror made everything feel even more real. Your hair was a mess, and you looked… well, you looked like you’d just been thoroughly fucked. You wiped at your neck where he’d left a tiny mark, hidden easily enough, but tomorrow? You were going to have to get creative.

Jungkook, meanwhile, was dressing in the other room, moving on autopilot. He stared at his ruined slacks, feeling a strange satisfaction. Damn, what did we just do? He hadn’t expected any of this, not with you. You were the last person he ever thought he'd sleep with, but there you were, both standing at the edge of something that shouldn’t have happened.

I don’t regret it, though. Should I? He shook his head. It can’t happen again.

When you came back out, dressed, Jungkook saw the tension written all over your face, mirroring his own. It was thick between you, the weight of what just happened hanging in the air. He cleared his throat, glancing at his phone.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah we should hurry.” He had checked the time on his phone, it was well past time that the two of you needed to be back.

The air felt tense between the two of you. What you both just did felt amazing but you also fucking despise this guy. You pretty sure that hate didn’t go away. Knowing what he can do in bed though certainly makes that feeling all the more confusing.

I guess you just go back to hating the guy. He would go back to hating you.

“I’m going to go down first.” You said and you don’t look at him.

He hums in agreement. Better to not show up together, not that you believe anyone would be at all suspicious of what you two had done.

“This is never happening again.” You say back, a seriousness behind your voice.

It shouldn’t happen again. You're reeling a little but from the touch of Jungkook’s skin, how it made you feel so warm. So inviting, even though he makes you burn with a fiery rage.

Your head was completely cloudy, and your mouth with the left over taste of a cigarette.

Downstairs, you entered the rehearsal as if nothing had happened. The walk had been a blur, your mind still buzzing from the touch of his skin, the way he made you feel even though you despised him. Your heart was still pounding, but you pushed it all aside when Melanie spotted you.

“Thank God, everything’s a mess. Where have you been?” she asked, concern mixed with curiosity.

You pulled yourself together, forcing a smile. “Sorry, Jungkook and I were… talking. I think we’re good now.”

“Talking?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious. “You guys actually talked?”

“Yeah, sort of,” you replied, keeping it casual. “No more fighting this weekend.”

After some time Jungkook also rejoined the party. You spent the entire party not speaking and not even looking at each other. Nothing else happened, like it never happened. A secret the two of you could bury way deep down. Except it kept playing over in your mind into the next morning. You were completely distracted getting dressed and doing hair and makeup.

Ash definitely took notice.

"Hey, where did you disappear to last night?" Ash tapped your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blinked a few times, trying to refocus. Where’s my head right now? Well, you knew exactly where. You were still reeling from last night, mentally replaying every fight with Jungkook, trying to figure out how the two of you ended up… here.

“Oh.” You forced a casual tone, definitely not because you had slept with the person you hated most. “Jungkook and I got into a fight.”

“Shocker.” Ash rolled her eyes, not even mildly surprised.

“It was bad this time. Namjoon stepped in, got mad, so we took it outside...” You trailed off, hoping that would be enough to dodge further questions.

She raised a hand, halting you. “If you’re about to tell me you punched him and I missed it, I’m going to be pissed.”

You laughed. “I didn’t punch him. Wanted to, though.”

“So, what happened?” She raised an eyebrow, her curiosity not dropping.

Nothing I’m admitting out loud.

“We came to a truce... of sorts.” You gulped.

“I don’t get why he’s always up your ass.” Ash finally seemed to let it go. “What was he picking a fight about this time?”

“He just wanted to piss me off, I guess.”

At that moment, Melanie stepped out of the dressing room, her hair, makeup, and dress all done. She looked beautiful. Her mom and sister fussed over minor details, but she was radiant, if a little nervous. Hopefully, she’d relax more once we started pictures.

Apparently, she’d had a minor meltdown about dinner last night because the caterers were short on some items, which shifted the schedule. She seemed to have forgotten about it this morning, though. You’d gone straight to the reception area to help smooth things over.

For all the times Melanie had helped you, it was a small favor. Hopefully, today would go smoothly.

“You look so beautiful,” you say, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“No crying!” Melanie waves you off frantically. “The makeup cannot get messed up!”

She fans her face like crazy, trying to hold it together. You glance over at Ash, who’s already wiping away a tear.

“Ash!” You bump her gently.

“I can’t help it,” she mutters, dabbing under her eyes with her fingers.

“Melanie, we need to get down to the fountain for the reveal and photos,” the wedding planner calls out as she steps into the room. You glance at your phone and realize time’s running out—you need to get out of the hotel room now.

“I know, I know.” Melanie smooths out her dress, her mom hovering nearby trying to fuss with her hair, but Melanie waves her away.

Grabbing your bouquets, you start ushering everyone out the door. It’s a bit chaotic navigating through the hotel, with guests stopping every few steps to offer their congratulations. It’s sweet, but you’ve got a time limit, and you and Ash do your best to shield Melanie from well-wishers, playing defense as you maneuver outside.

Eventually, you make it to the courtyard. The photographer, who had been by earlier to get pictures of the hair and makeup process was here again, had gone ahead to get some shots of Namjoon before the big reveal.

“He’s going to bawl like a baby,” you say with a smile, and Melanie laughs in agreement.

“He is so going to cry.”

“You are too, though. I expect full waterworks.” You nudge her playfully.

“I’ve got tissues at the ready,” Ash announces, pulling out a small packet of tissues stashed between her boobs.

“No one wants your boob tissues!” you protest, cringing a little.

“Says you!” Ash pouts, stuffing the tissues back into her bra defiantly.

You all come to a halt as the photographer’s voice carries around the corner. Deciding to check if everything’s set, you sneak ahead and peek around the wall leading to the fountain. Namjoon stands facing the water, the photographer taking a few last shots of him.

You run back to Melanie and whisper, “We’re ready.”

She takes a deep breath before stepping forward. You, Ash, and the others stay back to watch the exchange.

The photographer takes a few more photos of Melanie as she approaches Namjoon from behind. Finally, the photographer waves her forward to tap him on the shoulder. He turns slowly, his eyes still closed.

You hear Melanie giggle softly as she pats him again to get him to open his eyes. The second he does, Namjoon doesn’t hesitate—he pulls her into his arms and lifts her off the ground, spinning her around like she’s the most precious thing in the world.

He sets her down gently, taking a moment just to look at her. You can’t hear what he says, but the words clearly make Melanie smile before they kiss. It’s such a tender moment that you feel your own eyes start to well up.

The photographer waves you all over, and you, Ash, Serena, and her mom step out from behind the wall, walking toward the fountain. As you get closer, it’s clear—Namjoon and Melanie are both absolute blubbering messes, completely lost in the moment. More touching than you’d imagined.

“Oh no,” you laugh and smile fondly at the both of them, “Not the both of you.”

Namjoon is wiping his eyes, and Melanie is also wiping his face while she wipes her own.

“I can’t stop.” He says so innocently.

“Shit I can’t stop either.” Melanie is trying to fan herself.

Ash comes to the rescue, with now an unpacked tissue. You laugh to yourself a little.

“Never thought I would be so happy to see a boob tissue.” Melanie laughs and accepts the tissue.

“A what?” Namjoon asks and looks between you.

“Don’t worry about it.” You pat him on the shoulder.

They both try to pull themselves together, with joyful sniffles. Namjoon didn’t let go of her for a second. His eyes are filled with nothing but her. It makes your heart scream.

“Okay, now we can get pictures with everyone.” The photographer yells a little louder. The fountain as a little loud for everyone to hear. You didn’t seem to notice she was actually trying to call over the groomsmen who were waiting a ways away.

“Hey guys!” Namjoon calls and does that cool like two finger in your mouth whistle thing.

You and Ash both try to mimic Namjoon and fail miserably. Just getting spit on your hands.

The groomsmen usher their way over and are ready and waiting for instructions.

“Okay, we will start getting a picture of everyone lined up! Bride and groom in the middle and then the maid of honor and the best man.”

Everyone lined up in order and Ash placed herself behind you. You get a couple of shots like this, some serious and some goofy. You couldn’t wait to see them later.

“Okay let’s get a picture of just the groomsmen and the bridesmaids really quick.”

She waves for Melanie and Namjoon to step away from the group really quick. You then come face to face with the scum of the earth himself. You had been avoiding acknowledging him up until this point. Jungkook just gives you the widest shit eating grin he can muster. You can’t help but have a look of disdain. His look is the one that says ‘we fucked last night’.

Fucking embarrassing.

“Morning.” He says a little too pridefully.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You groan before standing immediately next to him, making sure you aren’t touching.

“Play nice you two.” You hear Namjoon call off from the side, some of the other snicker knowing exactly who he’s addressing.

“I think we can take a picture, Namjoon.” You smile almost embarrassed, everyone else very audibly disagrees.

“Sure, we can.” Jungkook says, “At least I can.”

You just shake off the comment.

Once the group shot is finished, you waste no time putting distance between yourself and Jungkook, stepping away as quickly as possible. The other bridesmaids follow your lead, and the groomsmen do the same, splitting into their own groups. Namjoon and Melanie are ushered back for more couple shots, their laughter filling the air as the photographer clicks away.

“Jungkook can’t leave you alone for one day, huh?” Ash breaks the silence in your head.

“Seriously,” you sigh.

“He really does like provoking something out of you, doesn’t he?” she adds with a knowing grin.

“This is exactly what I’ve been saying!” You throw your arms up dramatically, earning a laugh from her.

You glance back at Namjoon and Melanie. They look absolutely radiant, like they’re in their own little world. Namjoon hasn’t taken his eyes off her the entire time.

“They look so happy, don’t they?” Ash comments, her gaze softening as she watches the couple.

You nod, a slight smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, they really do.”

“Got your sights set on anyone for the evening?” Ash wiggles her eyebrows mischievously.

“That was random.” You give her a look. “And no, I’ll probably be going to bed early tonight. This wedding has been months of stress on the brain. I’ll be happy to turn in, thanks.”

“That’s exactly why you should stay up! You’ve helped Melanie plan this whole thing from the very beginning. You deserve to enjoy it too!” Ash grins widely, nudging you playfully.

You roll your eyes. “Seeing Melanie happy is all the reward I need from today. No random hook-up is going to top that.” and you know… you already had one.

“Ugh, you’re no fun.” She leans against you, feigning a whine.

“I don’t know,” you muse. “I’m just not interested unless it’s with someone who looks at me like how Namjoon looks at Melanie.” You gesture toward the couple, where Namjoon is still gazing at his bride-to-be like she’s the only person in the world.

Ash cocks her head. “How would you describe it?”

You pause, watching as Melanie stumbles near the fountain, nearly pulling Namjoon with her. For a second, your heart skips a beat, but they both catch themselves, bursting into laughter. The moment is so full of joy, so genuine, you can’t help but sigh.

“He looks at her like he can’t breathe without her. Like she’s the air that keeps him going. And it’s the same the other way around. They push each other to be better, to grow. And somehow, through that, they keep falling deeper in love.” Your voice grows soft, almost wistful. You want that too, you realize. But it feels out of reach—like something only other people get to have.

Ash is quiet for a moment before she nods. “I get it. You want someone to breathe for, too. Someone who makes you want to be better.”

She pinches your cheek playfully, making an exaggerated cooing sound, and you swat her hand away, laughing.

“Not just that,” you add thoughtfully. “I want someone who makes me feel like fire too.”

Ash raises an eyebrow, teasing. “You want someone to set you on fire? Kinky.”

You shove her with a grin. “You know what I mean. I want tenderness, but I also want passion. The kind that burns. Most people don’t really want the specific kind of passion I’m looking for.”

Ash considers this for a moment, and you both fall into a comfortable silence. It’s not something you talk about often—your idea of love. Mostly because it seems too ideal, too unattainable. You’ve placed it high on a shelf, a fantasy you’ve all but convinced yourself isn’t real.

“I think you’ll find that,” Ash hums after a while.

You shrug. “Yeah? Well, let me know when you find them.”

“Find who?”

Of course, the second you think the day might calm down, Jungkook appears behind you, his voice as obnoxious as ever.

“Speaking of fire extinguishers,” you mutter under your breath before turning to face him. “What do you want?” you ask, your tone dry.

“Just thought I’d let you know—you look nice,” he says, flashing you that infuriating smile again.

“Well, that’s—” you start, but before you can finish, he adds.

“Oh, not you. I was talking to Ash.”

You catch the smirk on his face and feel your cheeks flush. Of course. Why were you even surprised? He’s just determined to remind you of how much of a mistake last night was.

“You really came over here just for that?” you ask, your patience wearing thin.

“Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p’ like it’s the most satisfying thing in the world.

“Fuck you.”

“Funny you say that, Ash—” Jungkook starts to reply, but you shove him away before he can finish.

You glare at him, but he doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he steps back with a smirk, clearly content with having annoyed you. Linking arms with Ash, you walk away, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“Just ignore him. Stay ten feet away all day.”

“We have to walk down the aisle together.”

Ash sighs. “Okay, other than that, stay ten feet away from him.”

The pictures had finally wrapped up, after what felt like a few thousand poses in every scenic corner of the hotel. The fairy tale vibe was exactly what Melanie had dreamed of, but now it was getting close to go time.

Except, of course, you couldn’t find the Best Man.

You paced around the ceremony hall, looking for Jungkook. He had exactly one job, and he managed to vanish right before it. Frustration boiled in your chest. Naturally, he’d run off now.

“Where the hell is he?” you muttered, stepping outside into the warm afternoon air. The sun greeted you, but so did the smell of cigarettes. A flash of last night flickered across your mind. Nope. Not going there.

You rounded the corner, and there he was. Of course. Standing there like nothing was wrong, cigarette in hand. Taehyung was next to him, equally guilty.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Your voice is coming out a little more aggressive than you intended.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung grabbed his chest in shock and held the cigarette away from him, “how did this get in my hand!” He threw the cigarette down like it had betrayed him and gave you his most innocent look.

Jungkook just stood there, holding the cigarette in his mouth and taking in a long breath.

“Just get your ass inside.” You look pointedly at Taehyung and he bows his head a little.

“Sorry, I’m going.” He drops his cigarette on the ground and stomps it out.

He then runs past you to head on inside and you follow him with your head, before you turn to look back at Jungkook. Who has not put out his cigarette.

“Well?” you say folding your arms over your chest.

He looks at you confused like he is supposed to do something.

“Are we supposed to be somewhere right now?” He says sarcastically, almost playful. Now coming your direction.

“Don’t start with me, you damn well know we need to be lining up to walk down that aisle in like five minutes and you’re out here smoking!” you rub the side of your head, you really didn’t want to do this right now.

“I’m kidding I’m sorry I really thought we had more time,” he drops his cigarette and stomps it out, unfinished, “Lets get this show on the road.”

For once, he didn’t argue. Progress.

“Thank you,” you muttered, leading the way back inside.

“No problem,” he said, tone as dry as sandpaper.

You turned around and you went inside first. He was close behind you heading back into the ceremony hall. You rushed a little because you had to go be in line right now or the wedding coordinator would have your head. Ash was in the line in front of you and had your flowers ready for you to grab when you got in line.

You and Jungkook were in the back of the line so that when you lined up you would be first behind the bride and groom at the alter.

You mouth a ‘thank you’ to Ash as you take them and hold it in your right hand. You look next to you and Jungkook is already holding his arm for you to take. You groan a little bit and wrap your arm around his.

“You stink.” You huff.

“Didn’t seem to be a problem yesterday-…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You elbowed him hard, earning a gasp, but he recovered quickly. Just as you settled in, Melanie popped up behind you, looking like she might explode from excitement or nerves.

“Are you two going to be okay back here?”

“Yes you just focus on your wedding.” You give her a soft smile.

“You look lovely Melanie.” Jungkook looks back at her and smiles.

“Awe thank you Jungkook. Stop giving my maid of honor a hard time.” She pats him on the shoulder.

“Fine, only for you though.” He smiles very genuinely.

The music in the Ceremony Hall began and everyone in front of you started walking down the aisle. You smile back to Melanie one more time before you and Jungkook begin to walk.

The ceremony went off without a hitch. Namjoon and Melanie’s vows were beautiful, heartfelt, and perfect.

But the day was far from over.

As soon as the ceremony ended, you slipped out to the reception hall, tackling Melanie’s last-minute worries so she could enjoy some alone time with Namjoon. It was a long day—they deserved a moment to themselves.

Unfortunately, things weren’t running as smoothly here. The DJ was late, so you had to improvise. The hotel lent a larger speaker, and the planner decided to shuffle the schedule—dinner and speeches first, dancing later.

Most of the guests had already arrived, found their seats, and were milling around. The open bar helped keep them entertained. Ash was busy working the room, chatting with everyone and keeping things lively, while you stayed on the outskirts, handling logistics.

Stationed by the front door, you kept an eye on the time, knowing you’d need to get things rolling soon, even without a DJ.

“Hello.” Jungkook’s voice rang next to you.

“Yes?” You look at him blankly.

“Can I help with anything?”

“No.” You sniff and continue doing what you were doing.

You walk away from him and he keeps right on your toes. He expected that exact answer from you but he didn’t stop. He placed himself in front of you, making you come to a halt.

“Oh come on. There is seriously nothing I can help you with? You look like you’re under a lot of stress.”

“No, because I don’t need your help Jungkook.”

He crossed his arms, irritation flashing across his face. “You know this is my friend’s wedding too. Thought I’d try to make things go smoother, but I guess you’ve got it handled.”

“Great, then go have a nice time,” you said, waving him off.

“You seriously can’t relinquish control if it’s me, huh? What—”

You angrily groan and push him a little further away from other guests and cover your ears with your hands in frustration.

“God I can’t do this right now Jungkook. I don’t have the brain power to fight with you right now.” You let out a long sigh of anger. “Just go away.”

He was annoyed and so were you. You don’t get why it was such a big deal and why you couldn’t just let him help. You just didn’t want him to ruin anything. You didn’t know where that feeling came from, that he would ruin anything. Maybe just to spite you, because it felt like something he would do.

“See this just makes me believe that last night was a waste of time. Nothing’s changed.” You rub your face a little bit.

“Maybe. Right now though we don’t have time to deal with that.” His voice was pretty steady, he was feeling the same, “I can help though. Just tell me what I can do..”

He was looking right at you. You hadn’t looked straight at him. You let yourself for a moment though and he looked genuine.

“The DJ isn’t here.” You let go.

“Okay… we do have some music playing though.”

“Okay but no one is announcing Namjoon and Melanie.”

He cocked his head to the side like he was a little confused.

“Announcing them?”

“Like ‘Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time Mr. and Mrs. Kim’ that whole thing.” You wave your hands around trying to describe it.

He just watches your hands fly around everywhere.

“Okay. I’ll do it then.” He says it so matter of factly, so easily. “We have a microphone set up. I can easily introduce them. Maybe even throw in a joke or two.”

This was a small weight off your shoulder.

“I was honestly dreading having to do it. I’m pretty worried about my speech. I don’t like talking in front of others.”

You had been dreading the thought. You made some note cards, they weren’t very good and the story was pretty boring. It was still something.

“Well this is one less thing you need to worry about.” He gave you what looked like a little bit of a smile, “See? I can be helpful.”

You roll your eyes.

“I’m sure your speech is great.” You mumble a little.

He had a certain confidence in himself that you envied a little bit.

Except you didn’t because you would never envy Jungkook. Obviously.

Still.

“Can I read your speech?” Jungkook held out his hand like you were just going to hand over the cards.

“Uh no.”

“I’m sure it’s good.”

For some reason—maybe because you were already too stressed—you actually did. You pulled the cards from your pocket and dropped them into his hand. He flipped through them with the speed of someone browsing a restaurant menu.

“It’s not that bad,” he said, still holding onto your cards.

“Really?” You picked at the skin on your thumb, surprised. It was weirdly nice hearing that.

“Oh yeah,” he smirked, wiping his nose before leaning closer. “Now let’s see if you can remember it.”

He then slipped your cards into the inside of his jacket. Your eyes widened at the action and immediately lunged for him and he backed up.

“You’re not fucking serious right now Jungkook.” You were trying to set him on fire with your eyes. He looked rather amused, “Give me back my cards before I kill you.”

He kept reaching out of your arm range. He knew if you got a hold of him, he was going to the ground for sure.

“Can’t do that.” He grabs hold of one of your wrists and stops you. “Speak from within.”

“I’m going to kill you. That is the worst advice!” You actually couldn’t believe what was happening.

Was he fucking five years old?

“I didn’t write down my speech.” He sounded so cheeky.

“Good for you.” You groaned, throwing your hands up. There was no way you were getting those cards back now.

He really was not going to give it back.

Jungkook, still looking way too pleased with himself, tapped the side of his jacket. “I’m serious, though. You’ll have better things to say than what’s on these cards.”

“Okay, but not everyone can just whip it out like you!”

“Well—”

“Don’t.” You cut him off, pointing a finger at his face as the joke formed in his mind. He was practically buzzing with the urge to say it, but you could see him weighing whether it was worth the inevitable wrath.

Just then, your phone buzzed—a message from Melanie letting you know they were waiting outside. Jungkook leaned over your shoulder and peeked at the message too.

“Looks like it’s showtime.” He grinned, leaning way too close to your ear before taking off in a jog across the room.

You watched, half-annoyed, half-amused, as he reached the speaker playing music and paused it. The room’s chatter became the only sound as he tapped the microphone a few times, then cleared his throat loudly.

“Mic works!” He beamed, casually removing it from the stand like he was born to hold it. All eyes turned toward him. “Alright, everyone, sorry for the delay! It is my absolute pleasure to present to you all, for the very first time... Mr. and Mrs. Kim!”

He started clapping before anyone else, but soon the whole room joined in, everyone turning toward the doors as Namjoon and Melanie made their entrance. They looked overjoyed—and completely exhausted—but the energy in the room was contagious. You clapped too, quietly slipping toward your table at the edge of the room.

As Namjoon and Melanie finally reached their seats, the room began to settle, everyone sitting down together just as you reached your chair.

Jungkook still has the microphone and is standing in the middle of the dance floor in front of everyone.

“So, I’m Jungkook as many of you know. The best man. It is my duty to let you know there has been a slight change of plan for the night folks.” He was really good at speaking to the whole room, “We are going to get the kiss and cry out of the way first tonight so we can all party and celebrate with my wonderful friends here.”

He flashes a very genuine smile over to Namjoon and Melanie. Who were sitting so close they could have melted together.

“First thing I will say is drink responsibly tonight everyone!” He points around the room, “Specifically you mister.”

He points over to Namjoon who raises his hands up in defense. Everyone laughs a little bit.

“Speaking of whom,” Jungkook clears his throat, “I have a little story. We all know Namjoon to be kind of like a dad,” the guests all nod and agree, “He is pretty responsible and takes care of others a lot. What some may not know though is Namjoon does not hold his alcohol very well.”

Everyone in the room either laughed a little or let out some low chatter.

“Namjoon is actually a terrible lightweight. So he usually is the responsible one when we are out.” He paced around the room a little, “This story has to do with the night he met Melanie. He had a terrible week at his job, several years ago now.”

****************************************************

Four years prior.

Jungkook shoved his way into the bar, immediately swallowed by the crowd. It was packed—busier than he'd ever seen it, and it made finding Namjoon seem impossible. He craned his neck, scanning over heads and across booths, trying to spot his friend among the chaos.

“Come on, man…” Jungkook muttered, pulling out his phone and dialing Namjoon’s number, which, of course, went straight to voicemail. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He sighed and left yet another voicemail.

“Dude, the one time you decide to turn off your phone? I’ve been looking everywhere—”

Jungkook froze mid-sentence, spotting Namjoon on the dance floor, swaying wildly in a sea of strangers. He cut the call and couldn’t help but laugh. Namjoon was not the kind of guy who danced with strangers—ever. And yet, here he was, fruity cocktail in hand, looking like he was auditioning for some bizarre dance competition.

Jungkook fumbled for his phone again, snapping a quick picture to roast him with later.

“Oh, buddy… you are done for,” he muttered, still laughing as he pushed through the crowd toward him.

Just as he was about to reach him, someone yanked Namjoon off the dance floor. Jungkook's eyes narrowed as he watched a girl—someone he didn’t recognize—drag Namjoon over to a booth and force water down his throat like he was a wilting plant.

“Do you have any friends I can call?” she asked, practically shouting to be heard over the noise. Namjoon, half-asleep, slumped against her shoulder in a drunken stupor.

“I have a friend named Jeonnnnyyy,” Namjoon slurred, and Jungkook cringed, feeling secondhand embarrassment from a distance.

The girl sighed, shaking her head. “Okay, can I have your phone to call him?”

“No no no no no no no,” Namjoon mumbled, waving his hands as if the mere thought of Jungkook seeing him like this was some mortal sin. “He’d laugh at me.”

The girl’s patience was saintly. “I’m sure he’d be happy you’re alive, but sure, whatever you say. Let me just text him—”

“I can’t leave. If I leave, I have to go back to work and get fired.” Namjoon hiccupped, sagging further into the booth. “I f-fucked up at work.” He looked like a kicked puppy, and it was almost pitiful.

The girl patted his arm reassuringly. “Hey, we all screw up. You’re not the first person to mess up at work. Trust me, I screw up all the time.”

Namjoon blinked at her, looking like he’d just found the meaning of life in her words. “Yeah, but I can’t screw up. I have to take care of everything.” His voice cracked with the weight of it, and he slouched even lower.

“Well, let me take care of you tonight,” she said softly, pushing his sweat-dampened hair back from his face. “Just for tonight. Let me carry the weight for a bit.”

Jungkook could see the change in Namjoon’s face—a moment where everything clicked for him, and suddenly he was grounded. “You’re beautiful,” he mumbled, almost too quietly for Jungkook to hear.

The girl laughed, brushing it off. “You’re a mess, but thanks. Now, let me have your phone. I’ll call Johnny.”

That was Jungkook’s cue.

“Johnny here,” he announced, stepping up with a grin. “Actually, it's Jungkook.” He clapped a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Jeonnnnyyy!” Namjoon cheered, looking up at him with bleary eyes, completely oblivious to the embarrassment of it all.

The girl stood and crossed her arms, her brow creased with concern. “You know him? How did you even find us?”

Jungkook chuckled, pulling Namjoon to his feet. “He called me before he decided to turn off his phone. Classic Namjoon move.” Namjoon practically collapsed into him, his weight dragging both of them down slightly. “I think it’s time to call it a night, buddy.”

With the girl helping to steady Namjoon’s other side, they guided him through the crowd and outside, plopping him down on a bench.

Jungkook pulled out his phone to order an Uber. “Thanks for looking after him in there,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He usually doesn’t need babysitting, but today was… rough.”

She smiled warmly, wiping some of the sweat from Namjoon’s face. “No problem at all. I’m Melanie, by the way.” She extended a hand, and Jungkook shook it gratefully.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve got it from here, though. You should head back inside.”

Namjoon, however, had other plans. “Stayyyy!” he chanted, practically bouncing on the bench. “Don’t gooo!”

Melanie laughed but knelt in front of him, pressing a piece of paper into his hand. “Here. If you ever need to talk, give me a call, okay?”

Then like that she was gone and heading back inside. Namjoon held the piece of paper up above his head. Namjoon was smirking at him, just watching him completely star struck over this little piece of paper.

****************************************************

“I got Namjoon home that night,” Jungkook said, laughing as he addressed the room at the reception. “And yes, I made sure to stick the little piece of paper on his fridge. Luckily, he didn’t chicken out and actually called her.”

Namjoon stood up with a sheepish grin. “Full disclosure, he did stay at my place the next morning and bugged me non-stop until I called her.”

Some laughter came from around the room, Jungkook was soared through this with ease. Seeing you basically stare daggers into the side of his head the entire time.

“Okay fine, he was a little baby. Though the rest is history now.” He sighed, “Dude you fucking scored.”

He ran over to Namjoon really quick and gave him a fist bump.

“Seriously though, I could not be more happy than to be the best man at this wedding. I’m so happy to see you this comfortable and at ease with someone. She is amazing. I couldn’t be more excited to see how you two grow together. If I find someone who makes me just as happy or comfortable as Melanie does for you. I will consider myself lucky. Congratulations to the both of you.”

Everyone clapped, and a few sniffles echoed through the room as Jungkook wrapped up his speech. You couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly charming he was when addressing an audience. His story had been sweet, and it stirred fond memories in you. You recalled a slightly different version from Melanie’s perspective—she had fallen for Namjoon that night, captivated by his blend of adorableness and vulnerability.

Thank goodness he’d called her.

You remembered how quickly they’d started dating after that. They dove headfirst into a whirlwind of outings, and Melanie was completely smitten while Namjoon was lost in her. Their connection had been instant. Years had passed since that fateful first date, but today felt like the culmination of a long journey—a day that had been long overdue.

“Alright, I now need to turn over the mic to my esteemed colleague.” Jungkook spun on his heel, his gaze locking onto you, and your heart leaped into your throat. That familiar, infuriating grin spread across his face. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Maid of Honor!”

He strode over to you, extending a hand to help you up. You accepted it, grimacing at the unwanted attention, as he hoisted you to your feet. He placed the microphone in your hands, and you could feel all eyes on you as you made your way to the dance floor. Sweat prickled at your brow, and your nerves danced wildly in your stomach.

A quick glance at Ash, who gave you a thumbs-up, and Melanie’s encouraging cheers offered a semblance of comfort, though you still felt like you might explode.

“Hi everyone, I am Y/N.” you managed, your voice wavering slightly. “I had a speech prepared for this occasion, but apparently, someone who shall remain nameless—definitely not Jungkook—decided to take my notecards. So, I’m winging it!”

That got you a few laughs, out of the corner of your eye you could see Ash hit Jungkook. You gripped the microphone tightly, focusing your gaze on the floor to steady your nerves.

“Anyway, I have a story that’s somewhat fitting. It’s about Melanie and Namjoon’s first date—an experience that couldn’t have gone more wrong. Namjoon had planned an elegant evening at a nice restaurant, but wouldn’t you know it, the place caught fire when they arrived. So, they shifted gears and went to see a movie instead, which turned out to be utterly terrible.”

A few chuckles rippled through the crowd, and you took a deep breath, pushing on.

“Determined to salvage the night, they decided to grab some snacks and hang out in a park. But here’s where it gets really interesting—Namjoon accidentally caused Melanie to go into anaphylactic shock because he didn’t know she was allergic to peanuts! And just when they thought things couldn’t get worse, it started pouring—I'm talking a torrential downpour, not a light drizzle.”

“It’s true!” Melanie called out from the back, prompting you to scrunch your face playfully at him.

“Some would say that, yeah that’s a really terrible date. Some may take that as a sign from the universe that you two shouldn’t be together. I certainly did. Melanie had a different perspective...”

****************************************************

“I’m your emergency contact?” You found Melanie’s bed in a far corner of the your own hospitals ER. You were technically in the middle of a shift when another nurse in the ER called you.

You had no idea Melanie had placed you down as her emergency contact. You were glad to see nothing crazy had happened. You came and sat in the chair that was available next to her.

“Yeah, I don’t have a lot of family in the city.” She looked embarrassed, she played with her hands in her lap. You took one of her hands.

“This is not the place I like to see you in after a date, What happened?” You scrunch your eyebrows together in some serious concern.

“Oh, I promise it was nothing insane. I had a reaction to some peanuts but I’m really okay!” She assured you and she sat up in her bed.

“Well that’s good, was the date good otherwise?”

“It’s actually been a crazy day. First the restaurant caught fire, our movie was terrible, I went into shock and then it rained on us.” She was laughing and you were confused, sounded like a really terrible date.

“Oh my god.” You were in shock just listening to her. “So I’m assuming you’re never seeing this guy again?”

Before Melanie could get in a word, Namjoon had come back with some water cups. He was walking slowly as not to spill. You hadn’t had a chance to see what this guy looked like. He was very handsome, no wonder Melanie suck around during this natural disaster.

“Water for you.” Melanie takes her water with a smile, “And I’m sorry how about you take this one.”

Namjoon tries to pass you the other water but you wave him off to keep the water. He takes a different chair next to the bed.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.” You give him a small wave and he nods. “You must be Namjoon.”

“That’s me.” He smiles, he looked embarrassed.

“You don’t have to stay I’m really okay.” Melanie assures him.

“Oh no it’s okay. I may go find where they put your jacket though, some nurse took it and hasn’t brought it back.” Namjoon set down his cup and got up again to see if he could find the nurse.

“He’s here?” You look back to Melanie.

“Yeah he was so worried he’s stayed the whole time.”

“That’s sweet. Do I need to scare him off?” You give her a serious look.

“No no don’t. I actually want to keep spending time with him.” She sits closer to you, “All of those things did go wrong. Except all the conversations we’ve had have been like… It’s like I’ve never clicked so well with someone so fast. He’s been very kind and is listening. He has very thoughtful and intelligent things to say to every topic I bring up. He’s very goofy and awfully clumsy, but I never felt more safe. So I promise it’s okay.”

“Still, you don’t know him.” You were hesitant.

“I swear to you that if anything happens I’ll call you in. Then we can kick his ass.” You placed a hand on your shoulder and you smile.

Melanie would probably break all of his bones before anything could happen.

“It’s funny though. I was serious. It’s like every time I talk to him, I’m just so at peace.”

***********************************************************************

“I stuck around because, you know, your best friend has a medical emergency with a random guy; you can’t just leave. We all talked for a while, but it became glaringly obvious when Namjoon came back that he was already so in love with her. I had never seen Melanie let her guard down with someone like that.” You chuckled, and everyone else joined in.

“That night, Melanie came back to my place, and I swear she didn’t shut up about him—not even for a second. She explained everything that happened in excruciating detail, and I thought it was the craziest first-date story I’d ever heard. But that wasn’t what captivated her. It was how Namjoon smiled, how kind and funny he was, how charming. She didn’t care that everything had gone wrong; she only cared about seeing him again. That was when I knew this was serious. This wasn’t just some fling—Namjoon was sticking around.”

You smiled at Melanie and Namjoon, realizing she had found exactly what she’d been looking for. He was the one who would treasure her heart, never to crush it. You remembered the night she met him, how she called you about another idiot she had to rescue, how he reminded her of you and how stupid he was.

She was in love with Namjoon from the very first night.

“All I have left to say is, Namjoon, I’m sorry I thought you were a creep. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better for Melanie to be with. Congratulations!”

You clapped, and everyone followed suit. Letting out a heavy breath of relief, you quickly made your way back to your seat. Ash was practically glowing, excitement written all over her face.

“That was so good!” She pats you on the back a you sit down.

“It was literally the only memory I could think of to be honest.” You scoot your chair in and you watch as dinner was being served to each table. Your food being sat in front of you.

You look back to Namjoon and Melanie who were only looking at each other. She was so happy, so in love, and has gotten everything she wanted. We finally made it to this day.

Thank god because you were over wedding planning for a long time.

“We did it.” You said, Ash was also looking over at them.

“We really did. Now we get to party and have a good time!” She looks at her drink for a moment and then hand sit to you, “Drink up. This night could only get better if you fall on your face”

You rolled your eyes and push her drink back over to her plate.

Everyone at dinner and mingled, a lot of the relatives from both Namjoon and Melanie's sides of the family came over and talked to you. Slowly everyone finished up and cake was also served. Namjoon and Melanie were not fond of the official cake cutting thing so they just wanted it to be served out once dinner was done. Everyone ate and mingled, and you got to hear lots of stories about Namjoon over the years. He really was just a good guy, everyone spoke of him so highly.

Even though he was one of your good friends, it was so interesting to hear about him from before.

You also got to hear some childhood stories about Melanie that you were going to keep in your memory for later. Definitely some embarrassing ones you can bring up at other times. Eventually the DJ showed up and everyone began to dance. Everyone is getting more and more drinks in them and loosening up. You were also one of these people. It was nice to finally wind down after a very stressful weekend.

Just dance and have a nice time.

You had gone back to your table though and it was now a slow song, which gave you a chance to be off your feet for a little while. You did take off your shoes and just watched everyone dance. Melanie and Namjoon had begun to make some rounds around the room to greet family they hadn’t had a chance to speak too yet. Ash was off dancing with some cousin or other of someone.

You just took a sip of your drink and closed your eyes for a moment and just listened to the music.

“All alone?” There he was, the little pest who had avoided you all night.

You open your eyes and look at Jungkook who has taken Ash’s vacant seat.

“I don’t see you with anyone.” You let out an annoyed sigh.

“Hmm not true. I have been chatting up that lovely young thing over there.” He points past you.

He’s pointing to Melanie's widowed grandmother. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“She’s way out of your league.” You take a sip of your drink.

“I know right.” He says matter of factly, “Thought I would come over and give this back to you though.”

He places your cards back on the table, you slide them back over to yourself, lining up the edges of them.

“That was a mean prank Jungkook.” You scowl at him.

“It worked didn’t it? Your story was great.”

“I guess.” You don’t look at him, “Can you go bother someone else now.”

“I can’t. Unfortunately, I have been tasked to ask you to dance.”

You snort, laughing right in his face, maybe louder than necessary. “You’re kidding, right?”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Nope. Bride’s orders. She wants to see you ‘enjoy yourself.’ Her words, not mine,” he says, looking as unenthusiastic as you feel.

Your eyes narrow as you scan the room, landing on Melanie, who’s grinning like a Cheshire cat and motioning toward the dance floor. You shake your head at her, but she just waves and mouths the word “Go,” as if you have a choice.

You sigh dramatically. “Do we really need to do this?”

“It’s her day. One dance.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine. One. But if you step on my foot, I’m taking you down.”

He stands up, stepping around the table with that annoyingly smug look. “Shall we?” His smile is barely there, but it’s cocky enough to make your blood boil.

“Don’t push it,” you mutter, taking his hand. You barely make contact, hovering your fingers above his like even touching him might burn you. As he leads you onto the dance floor, you bury yourselves among the other couples, hoping no one’s watching. His hand settles on your waist, and instinctively, you pull away.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “It’s a dance, genius. I kind of have to touch you.” You begrudgingly let him place his hand back on your waist, feeling the heat of his fingers through the fabric. “Not like we haven’t done more,” he adds with a smirk.

Your jaw tightens. “We are not doing this right now.”

“Why not? It’s funny,” he says, grinning wider.

“It’s not funny. And if you make this a running joke, I swear—”

He cuts you off, still smiling. “Alright, no jokes. Just dancing.”

The silence between you is thick as you sway to the music, the tension almost unbearable. Every inch of you screams to get away, but somehow, you stay. His body is warm—too warm—and it’s irritating how natural it feels to fall into rhythm with him. You hate it.

“This could be worse,” he murmurs, voice softer than you expect.

“Yeah, I could be dancing with someone I actually like,” you shoot back, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

His eyes flick down to meet yours. “Always so charming,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You don’t have to make this harder.”

You smirk, the alcohol making you bolder. “Oh, trust me, I can make it way harder if you want.”

He snorts. “Of course you’d take it there.”

“Just saying. You’re the one who couldn’t keep it together last night,” you bite back, giving him a pointed look. Jungkook competitive side kicking into gear.

His hand tightens ever so slightly on your waist. “You’re really gonna go there?”

“You started it.”

Shaking his head. “Fine. This isn’t so bad, right? We’ve done worse things together.”

You bristle at his words, heat rising to your cheeks. “Like I said, let’s not make this a thing.”

“Fine. But don’t act like it wasn’t on your mind.” His voice is low, taunting. It had been on your mind, but you had been doing your best to push it to a deep place inside you to forget.

You glare up at him. “I barely remember it.”

He grins, leaning in just enough that you can smell the cigarettes and cologne on him. “Sure you don’t.”

You roll your eyes, willing your heart to stop racing. “Whatever. This is officially the worst slow dance of my life.”

“Mine too,” he says, but there’s something in his tone that makes you think he’s not completely serious.

The song drags on, slow and painful. Finally, you break the silence. “So... back to hating each other after tonight?”

He meets your eyes, his smirk fading just slightly. “That’s the plan, isn’t it?”

You hesitate for a second longer than you should. “Yeah. I guess so.”

There’s a flicker of something in his expression—something you don’t have time to figure out before he lets you go, stepping back as the song ends.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

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serverusslaype · 1 year ago

Text

Shameless, pt. 11

Severus Snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

guys im running out of gifs to use ffs

despite that, HELLO!! i am more than 100% certain that you adorable feral little cretins are going to love this chapter holy fk. like i'm actually so excited to see your reactions/comments LOLL

i apologise for the long, long wait, however i wanted to perfect this part, it was really important that i did, otherwise it would be a waste, and kind of cringe. i won't keep you any longer <3

thank you for reading, i hope you enjoy this!! and again, thank you soooo much for all your replies and reblogs and likes they just make me smile all the time, i really cannot believe that people like this, i'm still flabbergasted.

warnings: 18+ further down, minors DNI after the big red *'s. i also put a sign to say where it ends if you're not comfortable reading such things!

if i was any good at coding i'd cover it up, you know how people do on discord, like that spoiler thing. but alas, i am but a technophobe.

(this song is very important during that certain scene so if you will, please listen to it as you read <;3)

onwards and upwards...

Severus stood beside Dumbledore, his hands hanging at his sides, fingers fidgeting thoughtfully at the seams of his his black slacks. Before he was able to speak a reply to the Headmaster, a voice he had hoped he'd never hear again pierced the blanketed silence in the Great Hall. For a moment, both his heart and stomach dropped as he turned his head toward the irritating voice, jaw clenching almost immediately.

"Y/N!" None other than Benjamin Bluewater had called out, his ridiculously well-groomed hair bouncing as he jogged towards you. Severus felt a burning blaze of rage prickle his skin as his eyes observed how Bluewater embraced your rigid form, clearly in shock at his sudden appearance. What the hell was he doing here?

"Ben-" Severus heard you gasp as Bluewater pulled away from you, his hands flying up to cradle your cheeks intimately. Something Severus had done less than an hour ago. The jealousy that was raging inside of Snape was lethal, and he was desperately fighting the urge to rip you from Bluewater's slimy grasp and tuck you within the safe haven of his arms.

Your fearful eyes met Snape's icy ones, setting a kaleidoscope of butterflies free in his stomach. He could tell you were quietly begging him for help, however, he refused to get involved. The last thing he wanted to do was seem suspicious and perhaps trigger an unnecessary reaction from Bluewater. Snape remembered how volatile the boy could be, he served enough detentions with him. In fact, that was one thing that Severus was worried about. He wasn't sure if you knew about his bad temper.

"Are you alright? I came at once when I heard about Black getting into Hogwarts." Bluewater said, his overly-concerned voice dripping with worry. Something didn't sit right with Severus as he watched the two of you. Why didn't Bluewater visit when you had been attacked by a dementor? How does that not warrant a visit but this does? A deep, frustrated sigh left Snape's nose as Ben's thumbs brushed against the apples of your cheeks. Your hands reluctantly rose to sit atop of his forearms, silently soothing his worries.

"Wha-what are you... how...?" You stuttered, cheeks ablaze. You had to take a moment to compose yourself, and it didn't help that Severus's fiery eyes were burning holes into you. Inhaling slowly, you spoke again. "What are you doing here? How did you even get in?"

"Well, it helps when you work at the Ministry of Magic," Bluewater shrugged, a proud, smug smirk teasing his lips. His hands fell from your cheeks and settled on your waist, squeezing you a tad. You tensed up again as you glanced at Severus, your heart going a million miles an hour. Bluewater frowned as he followed your eyes, a flash of surprise crossing his features as he finally noticed the two of you weren't alone. "Erm... Headmaster, Professor... Snape." He greeted awkwardly, offering a nod. Snape wasn't keen on acknowledging him, however, Dumbledore kept it polite, smiling at the boy.

"A lovely surprise, Mr Bluewater." Dumbledore said. It had sounded sarcastic, but that was unintentional.

Severus stared at Bluewater with cold eyes, his gaze slowly falling to where his hands sat comfortably on your waist, taunting him. His mouth twitched bitterly. "How you've grown, Mr Bluewater," Snape commented slyly, his sharp eyes flicking back up to meet Bluewater's. "It feels like only yesterday you were causing chaos here at Hogwarts. More specifically in my classroom." He drawled, eyes narrowing in contempt.

An incredulous huff slipped from Bluewater's nose and a sarcastic grin broke out on his face; his grip on your waist tightening. The jealous fire in Severus exploded. Clearly, there was unresolved conflict between these two.

"I see you've remained the same, Snape." He quipped sharply, tongue like a sword. Severus turned his back to you and Bluewater, his shoulders stiffening as he muttered something to Dumbledore.

There was an awkward silence that fell upon the four of you.

You turned to Ben, keeping your voice low. "Look, I think it's best if you leave." You muttered, an uncomfortable expression slipping onto your face. You nibbled on your bottom lip.

"I'm not leaving until I know where Black is, I need to keep you safe." Ben laughed dryly, his eyes narrowing at you in disbelief. Oh no, no-no-no. He had to leave, there was no way he could stay.

"I'm perfectly safe here," you attempted to reassure him, "I'm surrounded by some of the most talented witches and wizards to ever exist, Ben." An incredulous chuckle fell from your lips as you spoke, a little surprised that he deemed Hogwarts unsafe. How could it be unsafe when Dumbledore was here? Despite that, you couldn't risk him noticing the tension between you and Snape, it wouldn't look good on either of you.

He looked at you with a stiff expression, his gaze flicking to where Snape and Dumbledore stood, eyes hardening as he stared. You glanced away awkwardly.

"I'll stay here until I deem it so, Y/N." Ben said rather sternly, making your brows shoot up in shock. Since when was he like this? This was not the Ben you knew.

"Sorry?" You choked.

"The Ministry gets the final say, irregardless of what you or Hogwarts thinks." Ben tilted his head at you as he stared down at you. "I'm staying." His serious tone of voice made you back down and nod, your lips pursed. There was nothing you could say or do to change his mind.

Shit.

Shit, indeed.

Two knocks sounded at Snape's door, and he audibly sighed, a little vexed that someone had chosen to come and bother him when he'd just settled down - his raging jealousy had finally subdided after two hours of brooding in his office.

"Come in." Snape grunted from his desk, piles of parchment and books surrounding him messily. Usually he was neat, organised - but tonight was rather exasperating. He just about managed to watch another man with his hands all over you.

"Severus," Minerva McGonagall's voice made Snape's head snap up, a startled look adopting his features. He definitely was not expecting the Head of Gryffindor House to be knocking at his door. "I'm sorry to impede, however, I wanted to chat with you. Regarding Y/N." She sighed, her wrinkled lips pouting. His body suddenly felt heavier.

"What about Professor L/N?" Severus asked curtly, looking back down at the pile of assignments in front of him like he had no interest in the subject.

"I wasn't born yesterday, Severus," Minerva said, a stern look taking hold of her face. Snape's jaw ticked, his fingers stiffening in irritation. He sighed and glanced back up at the older witch, waiting for her to continue her lecture. "You need to be careful. She's just a girl." She said softly and stepped forwards a tad, linking her fingers together in front. Why was he getting lectured when he's been the one trying to push you away? Well, he was. Now, all he wanted to do was pull you close to him.

"This is no concern of yours, Minerva." Severus's brows furrowed harshly, his voice clipped and cold. Minerva's eyes narrowed; his tone rubbing her the wrong way.

"It concerns me when it starts to affect my colleagues." Minerva retorted, her patience wearing thin. She knew this was going to be a hard conversation, especially with someone like Severus. "I just want you to consider things before you cross that line, Severus. This isn't... wise."

It isn't wise? Well, who would've thought that? Not me, apparently, Severus growled in his mind, sighing heavily through his nostrils as he stared at Minerva.

"You think I don't know that?" Severus groaned, shutting his eyes as he reached up to massage his temples. He felt a headache coming on; all this stress wasn't good for him.

There was several seconds of quiet before Minerva spoke again, voice soft. "Do you care for her?"

He kept silent once again.

Minerva felt for Severus, she knew what it was like to care for someone and to have to push them away. In fact, it felt horribly and hauntingly familiar. This was like a walk down memory lane for her. Her head tilted slightly, her eyes softening as she stared at the Potions Master who had his eyes glued to his desk, palms splayed out atop of it as he intensely read through an essay. "I do not want your pity, Minerva," Severus hissed, his head snapping up, a face full of anger, "I have walked down this road before, and I know how it ends. So please, save your sorry for someone else."

Minerva was so used to Snape's flick-of-a-switch emotions that she hardly flinched at his sudden outburst. "Alright." A soft sigh left her as she glanced away from him, her fingers flexing. There was nothing left to say, she knew that Severus knew the risks with you. And you knew the risks with him. For now, she could only let things play out, she wasn't going to play God. If the two of you wanted to do it, who was she to stop it?

"I have a lot of work to complete." Severus grunted, his shoulders hunching up as he sat closer to his desk, burying his nose further into the parchment. Minerva exhaled softly through her nostrils and her lips pouted together again. She blinked, turning around to leave.

As her fingers grasped the rickety door handle, she looked over her shoulder at Snape. "Should you and Y/N choose to take such a risk, Severus," she began, earning another exhausted sigh from him, "don't break her heart. She doesn't deserve to go through that pain. Not at such a young age."

Severus's eyes faltered a tad as he glazed over the messy handwriting laced upon the parchment sat in front of him, as if it were goading him. His breath hitched slightly at her words. Minerva had a point. A very, irritatingly valid point. Severus cared for you - a lot. However, now he found himself questioning whether it was enough - whether he was enough for you. He couldn't pour his whole self into a relationship with you if it wasn't that - his whole self. Were you better off with Bluewater? He could probably treat you better than Severus ever could. Bluewater was young, handsome, somewhat smart... he also had a very good job at the Ministry... Severus was but a teacher, and he was old. Why would you ever settle for someone like him when a boy like Bluewater existed?

The click of his door told him that Minerva had left. Severus buried his face in his hands, his heart twisting and knotting itself as it yearned for you.

Rolling over in your bed, your unwearied eyes skimmed your darkened room, landing on the clock that was hung on the wall. Almost eleven o'clock at night. Ben stirred beside you, the bed creaking and groaning as he shuffled to right, away from you, burying his cheek in the pillow. You glanced at him and sighed, your mind wandering to the thought of Severus. You wondered what he was doing right now. Was he awake or asleep? No, he was definitely awake, that man never slept.

Severus.

Gods, you adored that man. You weren't exactly sure what it was that drew you to him, but perhaps it was just his aura; it was so dark, mysterious. The way the two of you bantered so easily, the conversation flowed like a river and it felt natural, whereas, with Ben... it was... well, it just felt artificial - forced, almost. It wasn't a secret that the chemistry and tension between you and Severus was incredibly palpable - even Minerva had noticed, and suddenly that made you panic - what if Ben notices? Other teachers? The students had even noticed last year when Severus had helped you up the steps when duelling Lockhart. He won't notice, will he? No, he won't be here long enough to.

Hopefully.

You rolled over in your bed again and noticed that Ben had turned back towards you, so the two of you were face to face now. You tucked your hands up and underneath your chin, allowing yourself to stare at his features in the dark. As you laid there, staring, breathing soft and slow, your heart skipped a beat as he shifted slightly; the shadow that was cast against his face suddenly transforming him intosomeone else. Suddenly, he'd grown long, obisidian black hair that framed his face perfectly, his basic nose had become hooked and prominent, his cheekbones turned more defined.

You sucked in a sharp, yet soft breath - careful to keep quiet so you didn't wake Ben - your skin prickling with goosebumps. Was this how hung up you were on Severus? So much so that if you stared too long at someone, they'd turn into him?

Your hand slowly rose to drag itself against your face. Glancing at the clock again, you knew you weren't falling asleep any time soon. You'd been laid there for at least two or so hours, tossing and turning, begging for your brain to shut off so you could perhaps get some sort of shut-eye. So, you chose to get out of bed. Flipping open the duvet, the biting cold of your room enveloped you; a chill shooting down your figure. You shivered slightly as you sat up and twisted yourself on your bum so your legs hung down over the side of the bed. It creaked slightly as you leant forwards to put your slippers on, prompting you to quickly glance behind you to check if it woke Ben - thankfully, it didn't. With a quick exhale of relief, you spun stepped out of bed and padded quietly over to your sofa where your favourite comfy, deep green cardigan was resting over the arm of it.

You picked it up and slipped it on, wrapping the warm, soft and cosy garment around yourself. Headed towards your door, you threw once last look at Ben and clicked open your door, shutting it calmly, making your way down to the one place you only wanted to go at this time of night.

The mossy, damp smell of the dungeons invaded your nostrils angrily, almost making you cough. You forgot how bad the smell could get down here during the autumn and winter months. The cool chill seeped through your wool cardigan, making you pull it tighter against your frame, hurriedly trying to keep every bit of warmth around you before it escaped.

As you neared that certain door, you lingered by it, raising your knuckles hesitantly.

With a stern sigh, you knocked, and awaited his usual grunt of acknowledgement.

"Come in." Came an annoyed tone from the inside just as you expected. You bit the inside of your cheek as you creaked open the door and slipped inside.

"Erm, hi," You squeaked out, closing the door shut behind you and pressing your back against it, staring awkwardly at Severus, who was still sat behind his desk, head down. "What are you doing up so late?" The sound of your voice made him look up, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"I could ask you the same thing, Miss L/N," Severus mused. You couldn't help but smile coyly at him, padding forwards to move closer, your skin tingling with anticipation. "So, what brings you here?" Severus asked, his voice curious, yet there was also a hint of coldness to it. You assumed it was because he was tired - or at least hoped it was that.

"I couldn't sleep." You hummed, folding your arms against your body, the silk skirt of your yellow nightdress shimmering in the low, amber light. Severus found himself glimpsing down at your garment; the sheen of the smooth, rich fabric catching his attention. Your cheeks suddenly simmered from the way his eyes glazed over you.

He looked back up at you. "So, you chose to bother me instead?" Severus quirked a brow.

"Precisely." You smiled bashfully, a quiet laugh slipping from your mouth as you rocked back and forth on your heels, your eyes leaving his to glance nervously around his gloomy classroom.

"How lucky I am." He said sarcastically, leaning back in his chair. Your smile stayed on your face as you rolled your eyes, stomach flipping at his voice.

"It feels weird that almost a year ago, we were in here, brewing that Mandrake potion together." You commented as your eyes fell on the exact desk the two of you had stood at.

Severus's eyes followed yours. "Indeed," he spoke, gazing back at you as you were distracted, taking a moment to admire you. His heart skipped a beat as the corners of your lips quirked upwards into another sheepish smile. Though, he soon felt indifferent to it as the thought of Bluewater slipped into his mind. "That was also the time we spoke about... your friend." Severus added, tutting at the end as if he had to force himself to spit that word out.

"Oh, right, yeah," you said awkwardly, clearing your throat, "you two still seem to absolutely despise each other." You looked at Severus, a rush of butterflies surging through you as you found his inquisitive eyes already glued to you.

Severus only grunted in response, clearly unwilling to talk about Ben. His body stiffened and his eyes had hardened. "Who would have thought that he'd come back to haunt me later on." He huffed, voice soaked in sarcasm. You had to force yourself to keep a straight face, unsure of how he'd react if a smile broke out on your face. You didn't exactly want to get into an argument right now. "I was foolish to think that he'd had enough causing me grief every single period that we shared."

"He was just a boy back then." An amused hum left your lips, though Severus didn't share the same outlook. His face had become stony again, unfeeling.

"He is still a boy now." Severus spat, like the idea of Ben was poison in his mouth. "He's young, barely twenty-three. He has a lot to learn."

"Am I just a girl to you, then?" You tilted your head at Severus, a tiny smile picking at the corner of your lips. You were twenty-two, almost twenty-three - a whole lot younger than Severus.

He stayed silent for a moment, staring at you, studying your gleeful little face. You suddenly felt a little vulnerable and so you averted your eyes to the ground, your face hot and embarrassed.

"Far from it." He sighed, eyes still glued on you. No, you were so much more to him than you could imagine. He couldn't tell you that though. Not when you had a chance at true happiness with someone that suited you better than an old, ugly git such as himself. "You're a grown woman, you've proven that." His reply had you shocked. You were not expecting such a response, in fact, you were actually expecting a dig, or even a petty insult. Your stomach felt a little heavier as you frowned at him, your eyes gently and slowly dissecting his worn features.

"Oh?" Your voice slipped up an octave as you were caught a little off-guard. "What, err, makes you say that?"

"I don't think I need to explain my reasoning. You're an intelligent woman, no need to spoon-feed you." Severus said simply with a slow blink, his glittering black eyes staring into yours, prompting your cheeks to burn even hotter. You forgot how beautifully hypnotising those two pools of inky-black were as you stared into them, almost losing yourself again.

"It feels weird to hear you compliment me." A gentle laugh left your lips. Severus's own lips tugged upwards slightly, the smallest hint of a smile appearing on his usually-cold face. A comfortable, yet partially awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. You stepped forwards once more, shuffling closer to Severus's desk, almost a foot away from him now. You looked down at the piles of assignments in front of him, curious. "May I?" You asked quietly, gesturing to them. He nodded.

You picked one up and began to read.

'Amortentia is the strongest known love potion in the world. Amor is a Latin word meaning ''Love'', it is also the name of the Roman goddess of love. ''Tentia'' is the Latin for ''held''. It makes the drinker become infatuated and obsessed.'

"I remember this," you smiled, eyes still glued to the parchment, "fourth years, correct?" You looked back to Severus, who was currently staring at you with such soft eyes that you almost melted right on the spot. You had to clear your throat to attempt to compose yourself, though it was truly in vain. It hadn't helped.

"Correct." He muttered, still staring at you, inducing a shiver of goosebumps to erupt on your skin. Your breath hitched slightly as you gripped the parchment tighter, never breaking contact with his eyes. A sharp pain suddenly shot through your finger.

"Ouch," You gasped, the essay falling to the ground as you let go of it, rushing to grab your injured finger. Severus's brows furrowed at you.

"Are you alright?" He cast a glimpse at your finger that you were now squeezing tight, a tiny spot of blood beginning to dribble down it.

"Mhm, just a cut, I think I accidentally cut myself on something that was stuck to the paper." You laughed awkwardly, a little embarrassed as you flipped it over to see a shard of glass stuck to it in a sticky substance. You placed the parchment back onto his desk and looked down at your finger. A scarlet liquid was beginning to ooze out, and fast. You exhaled, feeling a little woozy. Blood was never your strong suit - as a matter of fact, you hated it. The sight of it always made you feel so lightheaded.

Severus noticed your unusual behaviour and quickly rose from his seat, rushing to your side. "Let me," He sighed softly, his hands taking ahold of yours, an electric jolt shooting through you. Your breath hitched once more as you glanced up at him, your wide, doe-like eyes meeting his sparkling obsidian ones. Severus felt like he couldn't breathe for a moment. He was trapped in your eyes, the buzz filling his body up like a drug. You drew him in so easily, and it didn't help that you were excruiatingly even more beautiful up close. The moonlight did you no justice in that greenhouse.

Forcing himself to tear his eyes from yours, he reluctantly looked back down to your injured finger, retrieving his wand from his sleeve. The moment he'd taken your hand in his, his mind went insane. There was no other feeling like it. Merlin, he wished he could experience that moment all over again.

"Does it hurt?" He asked, voice quiet, aiming the tip of his wand over the cut. You hadn't looked away from him once.

"No." You whispered. Severus's head shot up, his worried eyes meeting yours instantly. A warmth spread throughout his body, engulfing him. The two of you were so close, sheer milimetres apart. So close that if one of you leaned forwards even the tiniest amount, the tips of your noses could touch. He needed to stop getting himself into these situations with you, he wasn't going to get over you if you kept ending up inches apart.

His hot breath was on familiar territory again, tickling your pink cheeks, caressing your jaw. Like you were pulled forwards, you found yourself gradually leaning toward him with parted lips, testing the water as you brushed the tip of your nose against his larger one; soft eyes flicking between his lips and his two pools of black. You hesitated, waiting for Severus to respond, your heart thundering against your ribs like a starved lion locked within a cage.

His wand-holding hand faltered slightly, the tip tickling your palm as it grazed your skin; your creeping presence sending his own heart racing. A soft gasp left you as it touched your hand. Severus's mind was fighting desperately for him to pull away, to save you and him the heartache. Perhaps months ago, he'd listen. However, having you so close to him, so vulnerable and soft-looking, he couldn't help himself. Against the wishes of his mind, he tipped his head forwards with half-lidded eyes, nudging the side of your nose with his. Every bone in his body was screaming at him to pull away, to push you away to spare his heart. He knew he wouldn't be able to deal with the aftermath if you suddenly decided one day that he wasn't enough for you anymore. However, he decided that you were entirely worth the risk in this current moment.

You swallowed and allowed a hand to slip up onto his chest, your fingers splaying out slightly across the broad area. With a slow, controlled inhale, your eyes fluttered open to look up at his through your lashes. His tongue poked out sheepishly, wetting his lips as the two of you stared at one another, waiting for the other to make the first move.

He shuffled forwards once more, your lids fluttering shut as Severus pressed a soft and slow kiss against your lips. It was gentle, sweet and reserved. Tender, tickling you like butterfly wings. A warmth bloomed in your chest and your body leaned in instinctively towards his, silently begging him for more. As Severus pulled away, your eyes were still shut.

"Kiss me again," you whispered, "please."

The last word was all the encouragement he needed from you.

Severus leaned in once more, pressing another gentle kiss against your lips, another buzz of electrifying warmth sweeping through the two of you. It suddenly felt as if the world had stopped turning, like you'd been shot into another dimension as Severus held you close, his cool skin a great contrast against your burning skin. Your shallow breaths hitched once more as he sheathed his wand back up his sleeve, a hand coming to rest tenderly against your cheek; cradling your face like it was the most precious thing in the world as he kissed you. A part of you was melting at how gentle and soft he was being with you, and the other, wilder part was begging him to deepen the kiss; to just take control of you and show you how much you truly meant to him.

Your cardigan had slipped off of your shoulder as you leaned into his tender touch, exposing your skin to the chilly, damp air of his classroom sending a shivering chill through your body. Your other hand quickly snaked up his strong chest to meet your opposing one. After a moment, they found themselves nestled around his neck, a speck of blood staining his white collar from your finger as you grazed past it. Severus's other hand swiftly made its way to your waist and pulled you close, his body desperate to become drunk in your warmth once more. A soft moan bubbled in your throat as Severus peppered gentle kisses against you, pleading him to go further.

Almost immediately, he caved at the sound of you, his fingers digging into your clothed-flesh, any feeling of guilt fleeing from your body. Gods, you were so wrong, Ben was nothing compared to Severus. Ben never made you feel an ounce of the way that he did - you couldn't remember a time where Ben had touched your body the way he did, nor a time where Ben had kissed your lips as he did.

The two of you had become lost within each other as you made out sloppily in his classroom, his hands gripping you so deeply that the worries of Severus leaving bruises upon your supple skin had vanished from your mind. In fact, deep down, you were hoping he did. The way his hands held your body was heavenly, other-worldly.

You were a little embarrassed at how easily you folded with this man.

Severus's current state of mind was the total opposite of yours. In his head, all he heard was the constant chant of something telling him to stop. He pushed past it, drowning the voices out with harsher kisses, forcefully grabbing you tighter, pulling another moan from your lips. His conversation with Minerva from earlier began to rear its head within his own, torturing him. His stomach twisted awfully, and suddenly there was a bad taste in his mouth.

What the hell was he doing? You were seeing someone.

You were seeing someone.

Is this how pathetic and utterly sad he was? That he immediately latched onto you because he finally felt appreciated, wanted? For once, he didn't feel like a burden to the world. He felt validated, desired, perhaps even loved - everything he had ever wanted when he was younger. Your soft touches sent him spiralling, and he couldn't escape this maze of uncertainty. Did you truly feel something for him or was this some sort of sick, twisted fantasy you had? Were you just taking advantage of him? Was he so easy to be manipulated? He hoped not, he'd worked incredibly hard to get ahold of his emotions; imprisoning them. And you were breaking those thick walls down like dominoes.

"Severus, you're hurting me," Your voice suddenly whined, tearing him from his thoughts as your fingers touched his shaking hand that was gripping your hipbone like a merciless vice. Almost immediately, he released you from his grasp and stepped away, turning his back to you ashamedly. Several seconds of silence passed through the pair of you, your fingers lingering on the sore area, gently rubbing it in an attempt to soothe the ache. "Are you okay?" You kept your voice quiet and soft, careful not to startle him. He clearly wasn't in a good state of mind.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his head drooping, "I shouldn't have kissed you." Severus slowly turned around, his body parallel to yours, a solemn look upon his features. "It was wrong of me, and I was selfish." Severus added, his lips molding into that familiar, emotionless flat line as he stared at you. You frowned and reached your hand out to him, however, he shied away from it. Your chest tightened as you quickly pulled your hand back, hurt by his rejection. All this emotional warfare was wearing you down.

He's running away again, you thought, a shock of fear bolting through you.

"Why are you sorry?" Your brows furrowed deeply as you wrapped your arms around your body, the chill of the dungeon devouring you once more. You instantly missed his warmth against you.

"You're with Bluewater, are you not?" Severus's eyes hardened as he spoke that wretched name. Suddenly, your throat felt incredibly tight. Shit, Ben- he'd totally slipped your mind the moment Severus had kissed you. You'd undoubtedly made a bad habit of forgetting him when in the presence of Severus...

"Erm, yes." You said quietly. The tone of your voice had him confused. You sounded regretful.

Severus stood straighter as his hands slinked away behind his back. You shrunk underneath his towering height.

The next thing you wanted to say could ruin it all. You had no idea whether Severus felt the same. Did he feel something for you, or was it just lust for him? Perhaps some sort of fantasy of fooling around with a younger professor? Everything you'd built could come crashing down like a burning plane within seconds. Your hands suddenly felt clammy as you fought to find the right words, your mouth quivering.

"I..." you breathed out as your eyes fell to the ground for a moment, staring hard. "He's not you." You glanced back up at Severus, his scrutinising eyes sending your lungs into a breathless spasm. You felt like you couldn't breathe as you waited for his reply.

"Don't be a fool, Y/N." Severus's voice was cold. It made your stomach drop. Was this his way of rejecting your affections?

"I'm serious." You chewed on the inside of your cheek, eyes studying his unwavering stony face.

"You can do far better than me. I will only hurt you, Y/N," he spoke, his voice deep and languid, "I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible, I will make it impossible to live a life without pain and regret. People do not linger around me for certain reasons."

"Yet I'm still here." You huffed quietly, your fingers squeezing your arms out of frustration.

"For now." Severus mused sarcastically, wallowing in his self-hatred. It hurt you to see his true opinion of himself, and it made your mind race with reasons as to why he despised himself so much.

"Why can't you see yourself the way I do?" You sighed softly, almost defeatedly, gazing at the man in front of you. Severus hated how your eyes were laden with sorrow.

"You look at the world with rose-coloured glasses. I do not." He replied. Those deep, black eyes had suddenly lost the flicker in them, and it pained you. He began to move, sweeping back to his desk, taking a seat behind it - still disorderly and untidy.

You were quiet, quite obviously hurt. Severus's jaw clenched, an ache spreading across his chest as a deep sigh fell through his nostrils.

"Why do you always shut me out, Severus?" A shaky exhale left you as your eyes burned. The emotional rollercoaster that this man was sending you on was truly heartwrenching.

He was silent in response to your question, eyes stuck to his messy desk, an indelicate representation of his current state of mind.

"Severus, answer me," you demanded, attempting to sound as stern as possible, though it was a pathetic failure as your voice broke; breathy sobs fighting to escape your throat. "Why are you so scared of this?"

"I will only hurt you, Y/N." He said, too afraid to look at you. Severus couldn't bear to see you so upset, especially because of him.

"You don't know that." You replied, voice soft.

"And you do?" Severus's head snapped up at you, frustrated, his eyes cold and ruthless; back to their usual appearance. A quiet gasp shot out of your quivering mouth. "Bluewater is better for you." He admitted. How could he say that when he'd said you'd deserved better than him?

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" You cried out, the building frustration within you finally crumbling and spilling out through your tears. Severus looked away from you, physically unable to watch you cry. Gods, he wanted to rush to you and hold you, tell you that everything was going to be alright, but he couldn't. He had no idea if things were going to be okay. And they definitely wouldn't be if he had the honour of callilng you his. "Y/N-" His eyes were still avoiding you, too ashamed to even look at you.

"No, Severus, what gives... what gives you the right to kiss me, to pull me so close to you and then suddenly shove me away like I'm nothing but a piece of dirt on your shoe?" You rambled, your hands flying outwards frantically as hot tears rolled down your cheeks. It was embarrassing how unravelled you'd become, but you couldn't stop yourself. He'd finally broken you. "You can't keep doing this to me, I can't- it's..." Your lungs and throat burned. You'd exhausted yourself. "To kiss you? Did you not initiate it?" He scowled at you. "You were the one pushing your face into mine!"

"Okay, sure, I admit to that- but you didn't have to kiss me! You could have walked away!" You cried, walking up to his desk and pointing a finger at his face. Immediately, his lip curled upwards, his features twisting into a disdainful scowl.

"Is that not what you wanted?! For me to kiss you?!" Severus bellowed, rising from his desk chair, his hands slamming down onto the desk furiously. This time you didn't flinch, too distracted by the flaming hot anger searing through your veins.

"Did you?!" You exclaimed back at him, leaning forwards over his desk. One more time, the two of you were impossibly close - so close that you were sure you could feel the angry heat radiating from each other's bodies.

The room was suddenly dead silent, and yet, the only things the two of you could hear were the ragged, desperate breaths that seeping out of your heaving chests.

"Go to hell, Snape." You whispered with a red face. You felt humiliated, angry, upset- actually, you were certain every single emotion was surging through you right now; the way your body was trembling uncontrollably made you sure of it.

Severus's lack of an answer more than enough for you. With a frustrated, teary-eyed huff, you spun around, storming straight for his door.

Jesus, how could you have fallen for such a cruel man? Were you so blind? He had an abysmal reputation for a reason, yet you still selfishly thought that you could change him, that you could fix him and make him a better person. And you were wrong, Gods, were you so. Fucking. Wrong.

You were only three steps away, when a strong hand suddenly gripped your arm, spinning you around with force. You whirled around, taken by surprise as Severus crashed his lips against yours, his touch-hungry hands rushing carelessly to grasp at your waist, drawing your body into his. He was like a devouring flame, hungry and starving for its fuel of life. You gasped against his lips, your body soon falling victim to his alluring aura, melting shamelessly into him. Your mind clouded with lust and desire as your hands swiftly settled around his neck once again, desperately tugging him as close to you as possible as a few stray tears fell from your closed eyes, wetting both of your cheeks. You were unabashedly needy for his touch - for his lips, for his whole self in general - your body and heart was begging for him, and Severus noticed.

Severus pushed you backwards towards the very desk that the two of you had brewed the Mandrake potion a year ago, his hands slipping underneath your thighs to lift you up effortlessly. Your bum grazed against the surface as he placed you down, a rogue piece of wood tearing the hem of your nightdress slightly. You spread your legs, inviting him in, his hips pressed against the edge of the desk as he kissed you hungrily. Severus's hands slipped up from your thighs and felt their way up to your waist again, squeezing you tenderly, shooting a delicious shiver up your spine. He pulled a delicate moan from your lips as he let one of his hands snake up to your neck, his thumb grazing against the side of your breast on its travels. A groan bubbled in his throat at the sultry noise, a thrilling jolt trembling through him as his hand gently grasped the back of your neck, his cold fingers tickling the nape of it.

You mindlessly wrapped your legs around his hips, tugging him closer with each lingering kiss like he could be ripped away from you any second. Severus's hips rutted against yours and you gasped, prompting an animalistic groan from his mouth.

Your hands fell from his neck, sliding agonisingly slow down his torso and halting themselves at his hips, toying with the buckle and buttons of his trousers. Instantaneously, with his wet and swollen lips still glued to yours, his hand abandoned your waist to help you with his clothing, unbuckling them one-handedly. You were impressed to say the least.

As you fumbled with his zipper, Severus returned his hands to your body. His slender and skilled fingers found your cardigan and slipped it off of your shoulders and arms, discarding it to the ground. You whined slightly at the sudden bitter air, though it was soon silenced as Severus delved his wet tongue wildly into your mouth, licking and caressing it against your own. You moaned as he moved his mouth down to your jaw, nipping at it sweetly, his tongue leaving a hot trail as he made his way down toward your neck; his fingers having a mind of their own as they flew to your shoulders, tugging at the straps of your nightdress. Another breathless moan tumbled freely from your mouth as Severus sucked sweetly on your neck, pushing you backwards onto the surface of the table. You let yourself be guided by him as you laid back on the desk, arching yourself as your hands flew from his hips to the back of his neck, diving your fingers into his thick, mop of black hair, urging him to continue.

Your lids are lazy and heavy as you let him ravage your neck with sinful lips. "Severus," You whispered, breathless, sending a shockwave through him. "Need you-" A lewd whine left you as your body rocked hungrily against his.

"Patience," He whispered back against your hot skin, panting. You whined once more, evidently unhappy with his response. Severus chuckled, pulling away from your slender neck, your hands sliding down from the mess of his hair to his clothed biceps. He leaned down toward your face once more, a pool of warmth flourishing in his torso as he gazed down at you. He lifted a large hand and placed it tenderly against your cheek, his thumb brushing against the pinkened apples of your cheeks. Instinctively, you leaned into his sweet touch, your cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red, inducing a rare smile upon Severus's lips. You allowed your fingers to shift from his tensed arms to the hem of his cloak on his chest.

"What?" You asked quietly, a coy smile gracing your full, swollen lips as you beckoned him closer with a tug at his cloak that lingered between the pads of your fingers.

"Nothing." He rumbled in his deep voice, still staring at you. You sucked in a cheek and bit down on the inside of it, the overwhelming feeling of vulnerability eating you up. His thumb brushed against your cheek again, sending a shiver throughout your body.

"Then kiss me again, will you?" You laughed softly, slightly embarrassed at the dishevelled state you were currently in. You gave another tug at his cloak again. Severus's lips quirked upwards again at your demand, caving at your sweet voice. He leant down slowly, large nose brushing against yours in an intimate fashion as he pressed a soft, chaste kiss against your reddened lips.

In this tender and soft moment that you shared with Severus, all you wanted to do was remain here forever. Seeing him act so warm and soft with you felt like a fever dream. From the callous way he spoke to you in the first year, you never expected a man like him to have such a gentle and delicate side. It was momentous - he'd finally succumbed to you, allowing you into his world; a side of him you never thought you'd ever see. And you were eternally grateful for it.

You felt yourself becoming lost in his addicting touch again as his hands travelled down your body, gently caressing your flaming hot skin. They reached your thighs, squeezing them, and your back arched into him; the fire from before burning hotter.

Kissing you, Severus trailed the tips of his fingers down your legs, toying with the hem of your nightdress, slowly and teasingly guiding it up towards your thighs. The sensation sent a chill down your spine as the crisp air nipped at your bare legs, excited goosebumps erupting all over you. With a delicious, muffled hum, he hooked a finger underneath the string of your underwear, pulling at it.

"You want this?" He muttered against your lips, his eyes fluttering open for a brief moment.

"Yes," you panted, "please, yes."

At the sound of your pleas, Severus slipped your lacy panties off of you, discarding them on the ground with your cardigan. Instantly, he grazed his hand up the inner side of your calf, and up your thigh, coming to a teasingly close stop at where you needed him most. You whined, rocking your hips into him, begging, pleading him to touch you. A throaty growl rumbled out of him, and he mashed his lips harsher against yours, diving his tongue into your wet mouth, engaging in a heated quarrel with your own. You gasped as his hand finally settled on your burning core, a single cool finger delving itself between your wet folds, circling around your sensitive bud.

A strangled moan left your mouth as he added another finger, tracing the outline of you agonisingly slow, a coil tightening within the confines of your belly. You were panting helplessly now as he teased you, losing all control as Severus slipped his fingers inside of you, extracting a high-pitched whine from your throat. You grit your teeth as he curled them inside of you, clutching at any last bit of strength within you to stop yourself from screaming out. Your body was trembling now, hopelessly, as Severus had you wrapped around his fingers quite literally.

You exhaled, "Severus," with a whiny moan, he pulled away from your mouth and removed his fingers from you and brought them up to your lips. Without hesitation, you parted them, prompting Severus to dip them into your mouth, your tongue curling around them sinfully. A groan bubbled in the back of his throat as you tightened your legs around his hips, begging for him to continue.

A smug smirk picked at the corners of his lips as he stared at you. Your lips were wrapped around his two fingers, saliva dripping messily from them, your eyes blown and dark, hungry for more of him.

"Such a good girl," Severus uttered, tilting his chin upwards. You almost combusted right then and there. "You always were." He hummed. Instantly, your hands flew to his trousers, tugging at them with wild determination. You couldn't wait any longer, you needed him now.

He pulled his fingers out of your pretty mouth and helped you, lowering his trousers; the growing tent in his boxers driving you insane. Your fingers hook at the hem of them as his own did with your panties, pulling them down urgently. A fierce flicker of lust and desire flashed in your eyes as his cock bounced free, your legs tugging him closer to you once more, a whimper leaving your lips in an attempt to persuade him to finally take you.

"Sev, please," The way you shortened his name in your soft, enticing and whiny voice almost sent him tumbling over the edge. He drew a sharp breath as he placed a hand against your cheek, and his other underneath your nightdress upon your waist, his fingers finally touching and squeezing your naked flesh. He groaned as you rutted your hips against him again. Without a delay, he slipped himself inside of you, the pair of you moaning together at the intense flash of pleasure washing over you like a tsunami.

Severus's mind was jaded as he fucked you, his mouth parting and lips quivering as he allowed himself to become lost in the ripples of unwavering bliss that rattled through his body. Your hands snaked up to his face and cradled it sweetly, pulling him back down to meet your lips again. The kisses were short and sweet, nothing like the hungry and harsh ones before.

Your head fell back slightly, your bottom lip caught between his teeth as Severus's full length sheathed itself inside of your warm, hot core; the delicious slapping of yours and his flesh echoing in his classroom. All those years ago, studying in here, never did you think that you'd find yourself right here in this sensual moment.

Severus's hand that was sat on your waist slipped downwards and settled itself on your hip, fingers digging harshly into your skin as he felt himself teetering closer to the edge. His breaths were becoming ragged, laboured and heavy, and so he brought his other hand down to your womanhood, slipping his fingers between your folds once more to thumb your clit. As he circled it skillfully, your body quaked with every rub, strings of moans and gasps falling freely and shamelessly from your busied mouth. The coil within you tightened, and your fingers sunk themselves into his mop of black hair once more, gripping it with force as your body shook uncontrollably.

Severus's thrusts became sloppy and uncalculated as he pulled his face back from you, watching as you came undone beneath him; your face twisting in a dangerously beautiful manner as the coil snapped. He moved his hands from you and placed them beside your hips as your walls clenched frantically around him, and Severus himself was sent tumbling over the edge, a broken and throaty animalistic moan slipping out of his mouth as his body gave out, collapsing over you. Catching himself with his hands, he transferred his weight to his elbows and forearms, leaning up slightly to gaze at you. His black eyes twinkled beautifully in the amber glow of his classroom, a flush of warmth blossoming over your spent, sweaty body. A gentle giggle came from you, and he found himself smiling. Usually, it felt odd for such an expression to take hold of his features, however, with you, it felt natural. Like it was meant to be there.

(end of 18+)

He allowed himself a moment to recuperate as your fingers softened their grasp in his hair, gradually glazing to his cup his red cheeks, thumbs brushing sweetly against his burning skin. He pulled himself out of you and pulled up his trousers, buckling them up. He pulled your nightdress back down over your legs, his hand lingering over your thigh.

"Don't you look happy with yourself," you giggled again, and Severus hushed you with a gentle kiss on your lips. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"What do you mean?" He frowned softly, thumb brushing against the silk material that covered your thigh. A warmth pooled in your belly at his touch.

"You're smiling, and it's not forced... or sarcastic." You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip playfully.

"I can't help myself," Severus muttered, his face mere centimetres away from yours, "You just seem to pull them out of me." The warmth within your burned a little hotter.

"Don't stroke my ego, you'll regret it, Sev." You joked, a toothy grin replacing the sweet smile. He chuckled at you.

"I hate to bring this up, however, it's niggling at my mind," Severus suddenly sighed, the tiny flicker of a smile that was on his face disappearing. "What about Bluewater now?"

You scrunched your nose up at the sound of his name, the guilt that once vanished making a very hasty return to your body, sinking into your aching shoulders. "Um," you winced, "I don't know. I can't exactly... end things with him whilst he's staying here, erm, I'm not sure how he'll react." You finished, allowing your fingers to brush through Severus's dishevelled black hair.

"Hm," he hummed, pondering. "what does that mean... for us?"

"We will just have to grin and bear it until he 'deems it safe to leave'." You made a face, mocking Ben's words from that moment in the Great Hall. A faint amused smile spread across Severus's face, your chest tingling at the sight of it. "And I'm not sure I can tell him about us, he might just lose it, you know how he... you know- hates you."

"That would truly be a sight to behold," Severus smirked, the arrogance in him slithering out. You rolled your eyes at him. "However, we must be wise in our decisions, I do not want you getting hurt." His other hand held your cheek, fingers brushing a stray strand of messy hair behind your reddening ears.

"Do you think you can handle acting like you hate me for a few more days?" You asked, a bashful grin gracing your blushing face. Your hand settled atop of his large one as he caressed your cheek. Severus couldn't believe how lucky he was. What on Earth did he do to deserve this? To deserve such a beautiful, kind creature like you?

"I did it for the past year, another few days is nothing." He quipped quickly, a playful tone in his voice. You scoffed at him.

"Wow," you breathed out, grinning, your hands flying to his chest to push him off of you. He obliged and leaned up, stepping out of the trap of your legs. You slipped off of the table and picked up your underwear and cardigan, putting them both back on. An embarrassed red blush fluttered across your cheeks as fresh memories of Severus rolling up your nightdress flooded your mind, almost drowning you.

"Oh, that's too far?" He laughed softly. You head flew to look at him, your heart skipping a beat from the sound of his beautiful laugh. You'd never heard it before, and it was... gorgeous, to say the least.

"That's the first time I've heard you laugh - genuinely." You gasped, an uncontrollable smile spreading across your face like a wildfire. Almost immediately, Severus's face dropped and he rolled his eyes, clearly opposed to your positive reaction. He wasn't exactly fond of being fawned over, it made him feel weak.

"And it'll be the last." He groaned, turning away from you as another sweet laugh bubbled in the back of your throat.

"I should get back, Ben is probably wondering where I am, or... he's still asleep, oblivious to the world." You sighed heavily, padding towards Severus's tall, cloaked form. He slowly turned around, his black eyes sparkling in the orange torchlight.

"Yes," He said softly, fingers coming up to hold your chin. All sense and feeling suddenly drained from your legs. "Though I'm not sure I can promise to stay away from you, let alone keep my hands off of you." Severus muttered, his deep, languid voice sending a shock through your smaller body.

Your breath hitched, "Well, you're going to have to try," you exhaled softly, eyes flicking between his. He brought your chin up, cool fingers grasping it sweetly, and pressed a tender kiss upon your lips. Naturally, your hands flew up to sit against his strong chest, a guttural groan emitting from his throat as he kissed you. You had to swallow the moan that threatened to slip from you, feeling yourself become aroused all over again. "Alright, I really have to go." You whispered against his mouth, though your body was showing the complete opposite of what you said.

You kissed him back, a little harder, tracing your tongue against the surface of his bottom lip. "Go, then." He murmured back, hands slipping from your face and down to your waist, gripping you teasingly slow. You arched into him, breaths becoming shallow and wanting.

"I'm trying," you whimpered, "you're making this very hard."

"Let me make it easy for you then." Before you could protest, Severus tore himself from you, a needy, desperate whine falling from your lips.

"Gods, you're such a tease." You groaned, folding your arms against your chest, a clear show of disappointment. Severus couldn't help but smile at you. You looked so incredibly cute with that unhappy frown on your little face.

"My apologies." Severus mused sarcastically. "Now, go, I will see you tomorrow."

You sighed, "Alright, fine..." eyes looking at his form dangerously, rousing him.

"Stop it, Y/N."

"What?"

"You know exactly what you're doing."

"Do I?" You blinked, an innocent look crossing your features.

"Leave. Now." Severus said sternly, gesturing to the door as he swept behind his desk, seating himself.

"Alright, I'm going." You couldn't help but smile cheekily as you moved towards the door, fingers clicking it open reluctantly. "Same time tomorrow?"

"We'll see. Now, go."

And so you did, slipping out of his classroom sneakily, making sure to shut his door as quietly as possible with the brightest smile on your blushing face.

What the hell just happened?

Part 12!

oh LORDT. i do hope i wrote that scene well, it was tough i won't lie. however, credit to the weeknd, bro really helped me.

let me know your thoughts, i'm always curious to see what you think :)

i love you guys!! thank you again!! make sure to drink enough water, it's getting super hot again ffs! >:(

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we-were-beautiful · 8 days ago

Text

Unraveled Ends Chapter 2

Pre chapter Shenanigans

a/n: Sooooo long time no post but I'm here now and that's what matters. Writers block hit me like a brick wall after my last piece that I did for the riders quadrant fic exchange back in July, that piece was only supposed to be 3k in words but ended up around 7.8k. I had been working on this chapter at the same time and had roughly 2k words but after I got through the edits on the gift fic couldn't seem to string together a coherent sentence much less moving the plot forward. all my photos for the moodboard/aesthetic come from pinterest. Last bit of info is that we did pick up two beta readers for this story( but I am always open for more if people want to hop in). So big Thanks to @loving-and-dreaming and @curse-bearing-hips for reviewing this chapter. That said we are all still human so there is more than likely some mistakes. And a huge thanks to @whisplion for inspiring me to write this fic. Hope y’all enjoy

Summary: A tailor in the heart of Velaris finds herself mated to the two most powerful fae in Prythian. Unfortunately for her the mating bond only snapped for her, leaving her to question on how to move forward. Should she wait for her mates to feel the bond or should she go ahead and reject it and live with the gaping hole in her heart

Poly!Feysand x Reader

Warnings: None but there is angst

WC:3.1k

The next few weeks are nothing short of hell. I didn’t know pretending like nothing is wrong would be as exhausting as it has been. It was a never ending cycle of waking up, getting ready, going to work, and coming home. At work I was dancing a fine line of hiding everything from my seamstresses and sister and failing miserably. The only small mercy that I have had was that I haven’t had to see my mates. Thank the mother for that; I don’t know how I would have reacted to seeing them so soon after the bond had snapped. Not seeing them however did nothing to dampen the feelings that the two of them would throw down the bond unknowingly. Deep down I know that they didn’t mean to send those memories and feelings to me, but on a good day it makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t know why it has gotten worse. I was fine for a year of burying the feelings that I have for the two down.

They were so happy together, and I don’t have a place in their perfect lifestyle. I thought that I had seen them around town a lot when they were just my customers but now it felt like every time I turned around they were there. It has increased since they came in to get their outfits for Starfall designed. I swear I ran into Rhys yesterday when I went to get lunch for myself. I ran into Feyre the other night while I was getting the groceries for my sisters and me. The two of them had actually approached me a week ago while I was at the park with my baby sister. They had little Nyx with them then and it felt like someone had taken a hold of my heart and started squeezing. The babe was adorable at two years of age. He's starting to reign terror on his parents who had apparently decided he needed to run off his energy at the park. The two of them are far more friendly with people than I would have liked, but mostly that friendliness was targeted towards me. As they joined me on the bench sandwiching me between them. They ended up chatting my ear off for the better part of an hour. There brushes of hands against my body that were too well placed to be incidental. It felt like a vice clamping down around my heart as I left the park with my sister to head home. Feyre had wanted me to stay a bit longer so that she could continue talking to me about my sketches.

The physical interactions with them weren't the worst thing though. It was the images and emotions that the two had unknowingly sent down the bond. It wasn’t unusual to get a flash of lust from one of them at any given time of the day. It was inconvenient to just get hit with the overwhelming need for someone when I’m with clients. Late at night though I get the images. Of my mates tangled up in pleasure. Sometimes it was flashes of Feyre's face screwed up in pleasure; other of Rhys’s eyes alight with lust and desire. Those nights sleep was hard to come by. A few of those nights I found myself back in the shop working on my clients orders, anything to keep my mind from lingering on the two people that didn’t know I was bound to them. I was surprised to be receiving so much from them down the bond given that both of them are powerful Demati. I figured that they would be skilled at keeping to themselves.

Last night was one of those sleepless nights. It was a damn near endless barrage of want and need coming from both of them. If I hadn’t known that their mating bond had been accepted between them I would have assumed that they had accepted it last night. I left a note for my middle sister in the kitchen before heading to the shop in the dead of night. Being the night court, plenty of people were milling about the streets and shops in the palace of thread and jewels. Thankfully it isn’t one of the nights we keep the shop open for those who live under the stars, I could work in peace and not be bothered by anyone. No customers, no seamstresses, no nosy sisters, and most importantly no over friendly mates or their friends.

It was wonderful to sit in the shop and do what I love with my shadows dancing around me. The shadows had been my friends since I was a very small faeling. They were more shy when I was out in public but when it is just me they come to life and sing. I had only seen two other people like me. One was my maternal grandfather who was from a court that had long since been lost; and the other was Azriel. Grandfather was able to teach me how to control the shadows and use them to my advantage. But he also told me to keep the gift to myself. Shadowsingers had long been coveted by the courts to be used as spies; and he and my parents were worried that the former High Lord would have conscripted me into his spy network if it was ever found out. I had successfully kept it a secret for nearly 400 years. Though times like this, when the shop is closed and I have the room to myself, I let them loose. A soft smile grows on my face as I watch the playful shadows dance about the room. A few of them try to be helpful by handing me tools and instruments that I need as I work on Feyre’s Starfall gown.

Feyre’s dress had been coming along beautifully. She had come in for a fitting last week where we were checking the fit on the mock up. The High Lady had all but begged to have a similar fabric to my own. We had more of the fabric left; thank gods for that; the last thing I wanted to do was take a trip to the Autumn court to source more. I lose track of time working on the dress; so much so that I didn’t realize the sun had risen until I heard the lock on the door turn.

“Sis, are you still here?” Genevieve calls out. Of course she came here. “I saw your note on the counter this morning. I dropped Itty bitty off at school and brought breakfast.”

I sigh and set my things down to make my way out of the work room. Genevieve stands in the room looking so much like our mother; hair tied up in a worn red scarf, a dark red linen shirt and comfortable leather trousers. Ready for a day at the blacksmith. In her hands she balances a bag of what I assume is the breakfast and two cups in the other.

“Your shadows are so helpful I’m jealous.” She passes me one of the cups and I take a sniff and immediately am greeted by the comforting scent of coffee “ Were you here all night again?”

It's not hard to hear the concern in her voice as she takes a once over of me.

“Yes” I responded, taking a sip of the delicious coffee that she had brought.

“Ok what is going on with you.” She cocks her head to the side “It seems like you have been stressed this past year. Well more so than normal. This is starting to get worrisome. The number of times you have left the house in the middle of the night and worked through to morning is ridiculous.”

“What’s going on? I know it's not money since I help with the books and we have two sources of income coming in.” She takes a breath. “You can talk to me Sis.”

“Let's go into the office. The ladies should be coming in soon.” I led her into my office not wanting to state what was going on when one of my employees could walk in. Once we are in the office I gesture for her to take a seat in front of my desk. I take a seat and my chair, bones creaking as I sit on the soft leather. She fixes me with a look telling me to start talking.

“So I met my mates.” I sigh running a hand through my hair

“You met your mate. That's good news right.” She starts rifling through the bag of food

“Mates. Two of them.” She stops looking up at me

“Two. Is that possible?” Her eyebrows nearly disappear into her hairline.

“It is.” I lean back in my chair. “Incredibly rare but possible.”

“So let me repeat my earlier question. That’s good news right?”

“It’s complicated.” I bite my lower lip “The two of them are already mated. Sealed the bond and everything. But the bond only snapped for me.”

“They don’t know.” Her voice drops in concern

“No,they don’t.”

“So what is stressing you out about it? You wouldn’t be leaving the house in the middle of the night over nothing?”

“They are sending things down the bond. Images, emotions; it’s driving me crazy Gen.”

“Shit, well can you block them out.” Mom had taught the two of us how to shield from Demati when we were younger.

“I’ve tried; it only is able to dull it.” I fidget in my seat. “It also doesn’t help that I keep seeing the two of them every time I go out into the city.”

“Oh..” She hesitates “Do you mind if I ask who it is.?” I quickly sent a few shadows out to make sure that the shop was still empty and that there were no busy bodies lurking around the shop.

“It's the High Lord and Lady.” This was the first time I had ever said those words out loud. I guess I had thought that if I didn’t say it then I could pretend it wasn’t real and that it didn’t bother me. Gen lets out a low whistle.

“That does complicate things. I was going to tell you to grow a pair and tell them but fuck. The High Lord and Lady that… that makes things way more complex.”

“You see why I am stressed now.” I can feel the ugly emotions filling my chest.

“Yeah, you are in the world's shittiest situation.” She lets out a sigh “It's not like you can go up to them and say hey I am your mate. Fuck I am sorry Sis.”

I let out a wet laugh, a few tears escaped my eyes and rolled down my cheeks “ There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I just got dealt a shitty hand by the mother.”

“Are you going to…” She trails off. I know what she was going to say though. It wasn’t something that was talked about often and not in polite company. Rejecting the bond.

“It’s an option, and I am considering it. I want to ask a few friends of mine in Day about it first though. Since it hasn’t snapped for them they shouldn’t notice but I would like some confirmation first.” It helped that I had friends in other courts that I could gather information from; and there was no better place for information than the Day Court.

“I will support whatever decision you make. You deserve to be happy Sis, and if your happiness is achieved by breaking the bond then do it.”

The conversation between us dies after that as she passes me a blueberry muffin from the bag. Seems she stopped by our favorite bakery before heading over here. Time seems to fly too quickly and all too soon Gen has to leave for work leaving me here by myself. Although I’m not on my own for too much longer as my employees start trickling in.

The day seems to stretch on and on as clients make their way into the shop for fittings or to pick up their orders. The dull chatter of my employees and the various customers buzzes in my ears as I methodically pull a small needle through water-like silk. It's hard to make out any distinguishable conversation from behind my office door. Today seems like one of those days when time is just suspended and I can work in peace. There is a quiet content hum from my mates bond; one of the few times that I haven't felt heightened emotions from either of them.

A soft knock shatters the silence of the office, effectively breaking the spell of tranquility that had fallen over me

“Come in.” My voice cracks just a bit from not using it. The door squeaks open as a familiar head of midnight hair pokes in. Violet eyes twinkle in amusement as a smile grows across his stupidly handsome face.

“Sweetheart!” The door swings open the rest of the way as Rhysand swaggers his way into my office like he owns it. I am quick to stand from my desk.

“High lord.” I give him a polite curtsy, slamming my mental shields up before meeting his gaze

“How many times do I have to tell you it's Rhys?” He laughs before taking a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of my desk. “ So are you ready for my fitting or should I come back later.”

Shit… Shit shit shit. I had completely forgotten that he was on my books for his second fitting today. It wasn’t like I was completely unprepared. No his suit was ready for the fitting but I was nowhere near mentally prepared for a fitting and not having slept the night before was going to be the actual death of me.

“No, you are fine.” I move from behind the desk “Let me go grab your suit and we will get you out of here in no time.”

“No need to rush, I quite enjoy your company.” I cannot afford to focus on my racing heart right now. I need to get him out of this shop as quickly as possible. I move through the back of the shop with practiced ease quickly locating the High Lord’s suit hanging neatly next to the High Lady’s gown. The two pieces were works of art in themselves that compliment each other. The suit as dark as the night sky embossed fabric giving the illusion of swirling depths. The dress flowed off the hanger like liquid moonlight, the delicate silk the identical twin to my own gown. Small gems sewn into the bodice catch and reflect the light like the stars that will make their journey across the sky on Starfall. For as much as I don’t want to care about the two, these pieces tell a different story. If I wasn’t just a little bit attached to the two of them I would have passed the designs along to another dressmaker and been done with it; but now I painstakingly designed and sewn these garments for my mates. I let out a small sigh before reaching up to grab the suite. Once I get back to my office I am quick to pass the suit off to Rhys directing him to the small changing area at the back of the office. I quickly begin to route around my desk for my supplies.

An hour, all I have to do is make it an hour and then I will be free of Rhysand for the time being. It feels like forever before he walks out from behind the curtain. It is only years of working with Rhysand that keeps me from gasping out. If the suit was beautiful on the hanger and dress form it is absolutely stunning on the male it was made for. Rhys makes his way over to the platform and mirror in the office stepping up before moving to fuss with the cuffs.

“This is a beautiful suit Sweetheart.” He moves to pick off the smallest piece of lint on the collar. I move to stand behind him to begin the process of adjusting the way the suit sits on Rhysand.

We continued the song and dance that we had done for many years to get the suit to fit him perfectly. I can't help the small ache in my chest as I circle around him placing pins and chalk lines where minute alterations need to be made. Rhys is beaming the whole time chatting away like we hadn’t seen each other just the other day. I can feel the long day in my bones, my hands ache from the countless hours of work. My fingertips are raw from the amount of times I have jammed pins and needles into them. While I try to appropriately match Rhys energy, it's easy to tell that he isn’t buying the act.

“You seem tired.” He arches a brow at me as I move to pin the hem of his pants.

“My mates kept me up last night.” A mischievous glint grows in his violet eyes.

“Oh. They kept you up .” He teased but hidden in the back of his teasing tone seemed to be a bit of jealousy… possessiveness.

“Yeah the two of them kept sending all of their emotions down the bond last night.” I sigh looking up at him from my spot on the floor

“Two mates…” He stumbles with his words. He hasn’t done that since he was a teen and I was helping my father with his fitting “The mother has blessed you.”

“Blessed or cursed.” I put the pins down.

“Cursed.” He questions

“The bond only snapped for me.” A small sad smile grows on my face. My mental shields are intact and stronger than ever and it's not like I can tell Rhys that he and Feyre are my mates.

“Have you told them?” He questions, holding a hand out to help me from the floor

“No. The two of them have already sealed the bond and have started their own perfect little family.” It feels like an Illyrian has punched me in the gut as I make this confession to him “I don’t want to ruin that for them.”

“So what are you planning to do?” He tilts his head looking at me in sympathy “ Because you seem to have wilted these past few months.

“I have a few things I am thinking about doing. I want to seek out a few friends in Day first before committing to it.”

“Committing to what Sweetheart?” he gazes at me with concern

“Breaking the bond.” And as those words leave my lips you can see the color drain from his face.

Tag list: @rachelnicolee @goldenmagnolias @jesssicapanigua @sweetorangeblossom @cat-or-kitten @alowint @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @coldpeachkitten @esposadomd @araneea92 @saltedcoffeescotch @persephonesalvatore

#acotar x reader #acotar #acomaf #acowar #poly! feysand x reader #poly!feysand x reader #poly!feysand #rhysand x reader #rhys x feyre #rhys x reader #feyre x reader #feysand x reader #feyre archeron x reader #unraveled ends #feyre acotar #rhys acotar #rhysand

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tleeaves · 21 days ago

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Rule(heart)breaker pt. II

Tokyo Debunker | Ritsu Shinjo x reader/MC Warnings: none Description: ritsu shinjo fails and try, tries again... and again... aaaand again. contains low grade angst and high-grade ridiculousness. slightly yandere vibes if you get real close and cross your eyes. Author's note: as requested, here's a part ii to this short fic idea here. longer than the first part and there's likely to be a part iii when I can get around to it. writing for ritsu kind of started as a joke since I also study law but now I'm kinda attached to this idea ngl. might eventually edit and upload this series to ao3 as a multi-chapter fic, we'll see. - T. Lee 🍃

It was Day Thirty-three of Ritsu Shinjo’s battle to get you back. He stood in his dormitory room, dressed in a matching set of pinstriped grey pyjamas ironed to perfection, and observed the corkboard he had set up on the wall. Notes, pictures, and red string wound around pins mapping out his trials and errors.

Everything began simple enough at first. A phone call the first day to ask you to reconsider your statement. You did not pick up. Nor would you for the next three days, at which point Ritsu considered his next step. He knew your class schedule by heart. So, naturally, he began trying to track you down between classes to make his case in person. By the end of that first week, you had called him nine colourful terms and flipped him off with three of those.

Ritsu Shinjo knew the risks of client abuses when working in the legal field. He knew the troubles of fickle associates and ruthless adversaries. No one prepared him for an unwilling business partner—let alone one that so swiftly appeared to detest him. A selfish and competitively ambitious partner, certainly, but not one he needed to keep who did not want to be kept.

It would be easier, he had reasoned, to merely acquire a more adequate person to work with who was less cranky, less preoccupied, and more enthusiastic. But Ritsu quickly found that to be impractical option. The use of you was that you were Darkwick Inspector. So, not only did he need you to reel in higher-ranked missions for Sinostra for the credit and sign offs, but he also needed an insider on all the other houses. You were, clearly, the prime person to keep close. And now he had gone and upset you—quite accidentally, of course—which placed Sinostra in a precarious position. Because during the second week, on exactly the Tenth Day of battle, you ignored the request to attend to Sinostra.

Ritsu had ensured the proper avenues from Vice-Captain Romeo S. Lucci to Captain Taiga Hoshibami (via a signature the captain was unlikely to remember giving out) to the heads of the houses and the chancellor himself were all followed. He dotted his i's and crossed his t’s, did it all by the book and followed the chain of authority for once. And somehow you had managed to worm your way out of the Sinostra assignment to take on a different one in Frostheim, a place you were much more difficult to reach when the likes of Jin Kamurai practically held you hostage.

It was affecting Sinostra’s progress. Ritsu Shinjo had brought this upon the house himself and now he needed to amend the mistake before Romeo’s wails of developing premature wrinkles over the matter actually manifested.

On Day Eleven, Ritsu managed to catch you on your way back to the cathedral, thankfully before closing business hours. He made his plea and even offered you an elegant fountain pen from his exquisite collection of stationery to gain favour. His father would approve of buttering up people with professional gifts.

You took the pen and promptly seized Ritsu’s hand to write “DICKHEAD” across the back. His fault, perhaps, for this being the one time he had not worn his gloves. He had watched you storm off (you kept the pen, as was your right, unfortunately, since he had already confirmed it was a gift and therefore equitably transferred ownership) swaying on the path, hand still aloft as the dark ink spelling out his crime against your good humour dried.

He tried coffees for the next series of mornings where he caught you on your way to 9 AM classes and mission calls. You were merciful enough not to spill any on him this time. But many likely poisoned the innocent shrubbery lining the academy’s pathways by the time he gave up that endeavour.

He really, really wanted to accuse you of assault, battery, or littering at the very least. Ritsu knew that to get on your good side though, his role now was not just an agent of the law but a savvy business partner. A partner would put their other partner first if it meant saving their business. And Ritsu was in the business of climbing the ladder, so he needed you. The temptation was difficult to fight when you threw the silver watch he bought you at his head.

He knew he should have opted for gold.

Third week in and he truly began to realise you changed. Ritsu listened back on recordings, paced a trench into the carpet of his rooms, and sorted through his appendices of photographic evidence to pinpoint exactly what it was and when it started. To his surmounting horror, the signs began well before you resigned.

When you first arrived at the academy, you were a timid honour student being dragged around by ghouls every which way with nary a peep made about it. The more familiar with the environment you became, however, the more pronounced your backbone grew. Ritsu felt with an odd sense of pride that you might have come into your own as an advocate like him—if you would only refrain from your more unruly tendencies.

On Day Eighteen, he gifted you a monogrammed handkerchief and kept his invoice for his dry-cleaning from the day of your resigning quiet. He could afford it, even if his pride and sense of equity told him you should be paying for the damages. Ritsu had managed to develop a behavioural chart for you, similar to the one he had for Taiga. That was how he knew the likely time to catch you in a more sedate mood, making you more susceptible to his gifts and pleas. Ritsu straightened up, pleased, when you accepted the handkerchief. You had not accepted his business offer, but he counted this as progress.

At least, that was until he found the handkerchief delivered to his rooms in Sinostra, decorated with dark lipstick marks that seemed to taunt him with its unwashed state. By this point, Ritsu could practically hear your voice saying, pay me for the dry-cleaning this time, asshole. Perhaps he should start a prediction chart for your responses to certain circumstances too.

Things were getting dire when you started disappearing for days at a time on more intense missions with other houses. You still had not returned to Sinostra. Romeo was hanging by a thread. Ritsu kept his cool, same as ever. There was no problem he could not solve.

Save for the fact that it became clear you were ignoring him. Calls, texts, summons, and waves on campus when he managed to catch a rare glimpse of you went unanswered. Worse still, you had other ghouls with you constantly now. That did not stop Ritsu from gathering intelligence though. Most students merely raised eyebrows and continued to ignore him when he recorded your conversations from around corners. This might have been considered a breach of privacy and perhaps even inadmissible as evidence in a court, but you were in a public space and he was not in a courtroom.

Day Twenty-nine and Ritsu found himself swallowing down an uncomfortable feeling. He was trying a bouquet of flowers today. That was professional. Many coworkers gifted each other flowers for various occasions. Ritsu figured this was not far outside the realm of associate-like behaviour.

You had just returned from another gruelling mission that landed you in the clinic. Ritsu carefully placed the bouquet at your bedside with a printed note. You refused to even look at him. If this continued for another month, your curse would be halfway in its progression already. Ritsu would never let the opposition see him sweat. But as he left your room, the one of six handkerchiefs he kept on his person was used to dab at his face.

Ritsu Shinjo was supposed to be perfect. He was going to be Japan’s top attorney. He had been training since early childhood for ruling the nation’s upper class with his knowledge of the law and how to reap rewards from their purses. He knew four languages, minimum, entirely fluently. He knew every classic opera, all manner of geography and jurisdictions, the top restaurants, and dressed impeccably. He got accepted into the most prestigious academy after making a deal with a demon.

If he did not leave this educational institution with the highest of accreditation, would all of that be for nothing? What was the point if he was not the best?

He needed the laurel crown for Sinostra with your assistance this year before either your curse turned you into an anomaly or you were freed from this place to return to your previous life. If Sinostra could come into the academy’s high graces again, it would make proceeding years easier for Ritsu to handle maintaining the house’s status on his own to ensure his graduation came from perfect results.

Five months were just about gone already. If something did not change, fast, he would be losing six, with only six more to go. What would happen the closer you came to the change? Would it be a gradual development or something that occurred all at once at the precise one year mark? If the former, would you still retain enough sound mind to work with Ritsu?

Would you become like Sinostra’s captain? Something worse?

And so here he was, Day Thirty-three and standing in front of his strategy board, breaking out into a cold sweat. Ritsu Shinjo was supposed to be unflappable. When it came to you, he was stumped. He had tried everything, from the direct approach, to notes, to gifts, to flowers, and even both a written and verbal apology. Every trick in the book.

What could he possibly be missing?

The door to his rooms burst open. Affronted, Ritsu took a half-step back, hand reaching for his compendium. “Vice-Captain? It is outside working hours and you are trespass—”

“Silence, YRT! You look to be working overtime anyway,” Romeo declared, slamming the door behind him. “This is GOOH, you need to FTI or so help me, I am ending your contract as Sinostra’s attorney!”

Ritsu blinked. “…GOOH? If you would please clarify—”

“GETTING OUT OF HAND, YOU SBA!”

Perhaps it was better not to ask and hinder the progress of the conversation. “I…” I, what? I have it under control? I will find a way? I, Ritsu Shinjo, paralegal, will resolve this in a timely manner? “How do you win someone over? Someone who hates you?”

Romeo’s irritation sputtered out a little, the creases on his porcelain skin smoothing. “Usually bribery.”

“Tried that.”

“Threats?”

“Futile, illegal.”

Romeo cocked his head to the side. “Have you tried locking them up?”

“That,” said Ritsu with a frown, “would constitute false imprisonment, which is also illegal, and is punishable by—”

“Whatever, shut up,” Romeo snapped, waving away the statement. “I thought you Shinjos were supposed to be morally bankrupt.”

Ritsu felt a prickle run up his spine. Holding his vice-captain’s gaze, he murmured, “No comment.”

“This is about that BB honour student, yes? She’s a woman like any other.” Romeo snapped his fingers. “Seduce her.”

“…I— beg your pardon?”

“You heard me! Seduce the honour student. That solves the part where she hates you, where she avoids you, and it will undoubtedly lead her back to Sinostra.” Wrinkling his delicate nose, Romeo added, “Just no risqué displays on the casino floor. I would rather not see that, nor do I wish to drive away the money.”

Ritsu opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened again. And fell shut. A peculiar heat buzzed over his skin. Finally, he said, “There must be another way. I will keep researching.”

Romeo scoffed. “At this rate, she’ll be an anomaly before she so much as looks at you again. If all other methods of enticing her to help us have already failed,” he explained, surprisingly patient, “then you must take more extreme action. People sleep with each other all the time to rise among ranks.”

“N— no one said anything about—”

“Shut up! Don’t you get it, you DTH? If you seduce her, she will become obsessed with you, will do whatever you say, and we can use her for Sinostra’s gain. It’s EAP.”

Ritsu wandered over to his desk chair and sat with the weight of his thoughts. What more did he have to lose if he tried this new strategy? You would reject his initial advances, undoubtedly, but perhaps if he investigated the best courting techniques and combined it with Romeo’s suggestion, it might be possible to soften you with something more personal than business. He supposed he had already tried everything else. It was nigh unreasonable how stubborn you were being. Yet…

“All right. I’ll do it.” Ritsu turned to his binder and his laptop to begin his research. “I will develop a plan and swiftly execute it within the next month. That should give Sinostra enough time to regain standing once I… have reacquired the inspector.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Romeo asked, dubious.

“Courting and seduction are thousands of years old arts, and I am something of a connoisseur of arts, naturally. I, Ritsu Shinjo, must move up my plan for a romantic partner. I knew this day would come eventually. It goes without saying that this need not be permanent, since I have different criterion—”

“Whatever, BSB,” interrupted Romeo. “Just get it done or you can forget about the contract.” The door slammed shut once again.

Ritsu glanced at his corkboard and then removed the sheet he had been writing on from his binder and pinned it up next to a picture of you.

The Girlfriend Strategy.

#ritsu shinjo #ritsu shinjo x reader #ritsu shinjo x mc #ritsu shinjo tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker #sinostra #romeo scorpius lucci #our favourite (and only) paralegal #shinjo ritsu #ritsu tokyo debunker #tdb #tdb fanfic #ritsu shinjo x pc

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lunchtimebedamned1997 · 6 months ago

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RadioStatic Week Day 1: Confession/Rejection

(look under the cut for the rest of the panels AND a fic link to the first chapter of the fic I wrote! This comic is directly pulled from a scene in chapter one >:3)

The Space Between Us Too CloseToo Far

Annnd the fic:

I'm so stupid proud of this, you guys have no idea!!! I absolutely busted my ass to get this up by day one of the event! I'm so exhausted and promise nothing else for the rest of this week (like I originally wanted to do XD). This comic took SO much longer than I was expecting it to lmao

The fic was something I was already writing before I heard about this fun little fandom event, and I just thought this scene from Ch.1 fit today's prompt sooo well! I had to draw it!

It's my first time trying to make actual comic pages, and I'm really proud of myself for how much I was able to push myself with this project - and actually getting it done in time despire - y'know - being disabled and feeling like crap recently LOL Anyways! This both kept me sane and eroded some of my sanity! We love contradictions in this house! But net-positive bc I got to draw some of my story XD

Happy Radio Silence week! I can't wait to take a look at what everyone else has been posting today!!! <3

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lunarmango · 4 months ago

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Flickering Lights

Demon Alastor x Human reader fic? ON IT. I'm so siked to make this a series and I hope who reads this enjoys this as much as I do. I wanna get into writing. (I don't write, I draw) and I was thinking of making a longer fic, the details were so hard to piece together. I really enjoy the concept of demon Al with human reader. So here we go!

Word Count: 2k

TW: None for now? Pretty mild stuff haha.

Chapter One: Moving in

New Orleans, Louisiana

1946

Where wandering spirits were said to roam, walk and explore more frequently, being an area where people would find it easier to communicate with them, or so you were told. You were convinced it's utter nonsense to be completely honest. The whole notion of spirits was so far fetched you just couldn't bring yourself to even fathom them. Though not opposed to being proved wrong.

It's been years, saving for a house. Your apartment was small, cheap and far too crowded with furniture and items you just can't let go of. From a suffocating apartment to a house. You were practically buzzing from excitement. Like, literally almost shaking.

A new chapter in your life.

When you walked in, you suck air through your teeth in anticipation, the cool air hitting your teeth invigorating you, fingers fumbling with the old metallic keys that jingled in response, finally able to slot the correct one in the door and push open the dark wood hastily, the hinges swinging and the door practically flying.

You winced at the loud thud when it slammed on the white painted brick wall. Taking a few deep breaths, you decided it was best if you didn't wreck your new house on the first day. You think you would actually cry if you did, and you were not willing to test that theory. Checking the wall where the door hit with a small grimace of anticipation, you close the door behind you, relieved to see the wall is fine, your face relaxing again as you take yet another deep breath through your nose.

House tour!

Kicking off your shoes at the entrance, you begin wandering from room to room, you take in the spacious kitchen and living room. Though it lacked a certain homey touch. But you were aware why. There was no furniture after all. You had a vision for the house. Just had to wait 3 days before you could make it happen and the furniture would arrive. You had big plans, that did not pair well with your lack of patience. You already had multiple shitty sketches of how you roughly wanted each room to look. The furniture is all you need, it'll arrive soon enough. Hopefully.

You're going to need to find a way to pass the time.

First things first, you still haven't explored the upstairs! Running your hand gingerly along the wooden railing as you hop upstairs, the hard floor creaking occasionally under your feet every few steps, you take a sharp left and step into the master bedroom. It was massive. You feel a grin etch at your face as you peek your head inside. You're definitely getting a king sized bed. With a nod you left the room, confident you were going to be a pro napper at least a month within getting your new bed.

You open the door to the bathroom. Spacious enough, room for a decent sized tub and shower. Although you never really saw the point in baths if you wanted to get clean. You step out and look into the spare bedroom. Maybe a potential study? That or the attic. You always were sure that the environment can heavily affect the quality of ones work.

Was such a big house going to make you feel small? Possibly alone? You scoffed to yourself. Who cares when you have such a house?! Expensive too. Ho ho you were going to have fun "subtly" showing off this house to your friends.

With a quick, dismissive peek to the spare room you turn on your heels, going up the stairs to the attic with cautious steps, the worn wooden panels making such loud noises in retaliation to your steps that you were afraid that they would give in. Your hand gently opens the rattly metallic doorknob and open the door, squinting only to see a small switch on the side of the door. You flick it on and hear the buzz of a weak warm light turning on above you, fully illuminating the room the best the small warm light can.

First thoughts? Dusty. Very Dusty. Every box, book and the long desk and chair at the end of the room practically black and gray from the abundance of dust. A sigh escaping your lips, realising just how long you were going to be cleaning for, a task you were not mentally prepared for yet. Making your way to the desk, you approached a large wooden desk, most of the surface blocked by a large panel with knobs, switches, dials and little doodads that slide up and down. The sliding doodads having small, mini light bulbs at the top of each. You look at the corners and edges of the panel, looking for an on switch or something.

Nothing.

It was probably unplugged?

Nevertheless, as foreign as the panel seemed to you, a surge of determination drives through you to figure it out. It seemed expensive. Whoever used this probably cared deeply for it, the text of the brand faded, showing the love and use the panel had been provided with. If it was so well used, you had to figure out just why it was loved so much.

To begin, you had to figure out just what it is. Turning it on seemed like the obvious option.

Crouching under the table to look to where the cables lead, you notice a microphone on the floor. Wrapping your hand just above the flat base of the microphone, feeling the coolness of the metal and the sandy texture of the dust between your skin and the metal, you try to lift it. You were suprised to find your hand faltering slightly at the sheer weight of the microphone, dropping forward onto your knees to provide a better position to pick it up in, using both hands to stand up and set it in front of the panel with more ease. It wasn't that heavy. But you didn't want to drop it. Wasn't this supposed to have headphones...?

Once more, you go down on all fours, looking under the desk, when no sign of somewhere to turn on the panel or headphones appears, you circle round to the back of the desk, finding a wire and an unplugged plug. With a small huff that caused far too much dust to fly in the air, triggering a cough from you. Slotting the plug in the panel above you hums to life and flickers on once more. A small hushed yes emerges from you as you slowly stand up, brushing the dust from your knees, then your hands.

You walk back in front of the desk, flipping some random switches for the hell of it, satisfying metallic clicks and clanks as a result of your tampering. Then proceeding to tap the microphone, you blow on it to rid it of the pesky dust, stepping back to let the dust fall.

You took a moment to appreciate just how expensive this radio setup must have been, so big and complicated it made your mind whirl just trying to decipher what each control did. You brush away some more of the dust from the panel, running your finger between the buttons, trying to look for labels, or some sort of guidance, only to find them worn out, white writing so etched and scratched at on the metallic reddish-brown surface that it was unreadable. A soft smile tugging at your lips in realisation of just how loved this equipment really was.

You’ve seen the basics of what a radio setup should look like, without having to remember the separate into bitty details of the control. Panels, a microphone. Where were the headphones? You look below the desk, bending at an uncomfortable angle to the shelves situated under the left of the desk.

Nothing.

Not like you could broadcast anything even if you wanted to. Why do they use the headphones? To listen to the sound of their own voice? How proud and snobby must one be to love their voice that much? An audible scoff from you. You know you wouldn’t be able to put up with anyone of the sort.

Using both hands, stabilising the microphone properly, you pick it up, with a smart smirk, looking at the empty wall you begin speaking to your imaginary viewers, mocking the accent radio people had to use to the best of your ability. “Hello my dear viewers! Welcome back to my boring ass show, talking about shit that probably serves as background noise” A snicker escapes your lips as your smirks stretches wider in amusement, gently putting the microphone back down.

Eager to make your made up show more believable, you move away from the desk, eyes scanning the worn wooden panels of the floor. Remembering you looking earlier you let out a hefty sigh. Were you really going to spend hard earned money for a few minutes of make-believe mucking about like a child?

Oh definitely.

Lost in thought, still staring at the floor, chuckling in thought a distinct noise snaps you out of the haze of your mind.

Click

You look over your shoulder to the direction of the noise, the desk, trying to place the exact location.

Another click

It was from the panel? You turn back to the panel, looking down on the panel as the clicks increase in frequency, switches being flicked, dials turned. A particular pattern caught your eye being the fact that during the abundance of alterations to the controls of the panel, no knob or slide was altered twice, almost if it was altering itself the clicking now a steady rhythm. What a ridiculous idea, as clueless as you were about the technology you were almost certain it wasn’t that advanced.

The clicks slowly come to a stop, one last slider slowly going upwards to a certain line before it stops completely.

“Eager to hear my voice?” You mutter under your breath, a dial slowly turning, one of your eyebrows quirking up in response. Spirits and ghosts don’t exist.

There’s always a what if.

What if they do exist?

What if you’re the first to fully realise this?

What if you’re living a ghost story?

After all, things moving on their own in the dusty attic of an old house was never a good sign.

Yeah no who were you kidding.

But just to make sure.

You bend at the waist, your lips as inch away from the crosshatched metal of the top of the microphone.

“Can you hear me?” You say in a teasing low purr, holding back a laugh in your lungs, helping to alleviate the tension you’re beginning to feel rising up in you, pressing in on the sides of your head. Jokes always help. Well. Not always. However you can’t exactly help it either.

A flicker of the small light bulbs, emitting a warm light above the sliding controls. You couldn’t help but still be sceptical. Your voice now has a newfound edge, the whole situation making you uncomfortable.

“You- can?”

Another flicker from the same small light bulbs.

A nervous laugh rumbling from your chest.

You had to figure this out, because you wouldn’t put going insane past you. Maybe a break from the attic would be good. Probably buy some headphones. As unsettling as the panel is, having the set incomplete irks you unnecessarily, and it was an enigma you couldn’t help but feel determined to figure out.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #alastor #radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #demon alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor

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manicpixiefelix · 5 months ago

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 24.

Summary: The night of the Henrys dinner has you experiencing the extremes of friendship, as the distance between you and Farleigh only seems to grow further apart, while you, Venetia, and Felix proceed to get arguably too close.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: SMUT; Felix/Reader/Venetia where the reader is the literal line between this being incest and this being just an incest-adjacent-but-definitely-still-taboo-grey-area. Drunk sex, oral (f receiving), reader's AGAB is never made specific.

A/N: 9442 words. HOLY SHIT. hello again friends, there has been so many different versions of the smut scene in this chapter, but im ultimately very happy and satisfied with what ended up in the final cut (I wrote this A/N and then rewrote the scene AGAIN (5th time I think I'm now at) and now I'm happy with the set up for it too 😌). that being said, i also rewrote the scene with Farleigh because I rewatched the Henrys dinner again and the original scene, while it would make sense emotionally in one sense, the scene I ended up with now I think works better, it still works emotionally but also it means he aligns both with the film and with the extra context the fic provides, yanno? if this chapter had you thinking or feeling anythings, you know i always love to know and hear them <3

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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The minute you step into the dining room by Oliver's side, Farleigh shoots you a withering look. Unfortunately he's already seated, a Henry, and a Henry's Wife on either side of him, and Oliver's in your ear quietly asking where he's meant to be sitting himself. All you can do is direct him to his seat, anxiety once again beginning to bubble in your gut. When you mouth an apology to Farleigh, he rolls his eyes, and turns to the Henry on his left with a fake smile. Fuck. It had been a long time since Farleigh had been genuinely upset with you, and even longer since you'd actually deserved it the way you know you do now. All you can hope is that you get the opportunity tonight, or at the very least tomorrow morning, to talk things out with him.

Before you can get too caught up in your thoughts, however, Venetia is slipping past you with a tight smile, pinching your ass as she goes. You hear Felix, half a step behind her and having seen the moment, sigh her name with exasperation, but she just turns throws him a playfully amused smirk before she's making her way to her seat by Oliver. It is a surprise to think they'd come down together, but Felix explains quietly to you that he'd felt the need to speak to her about Oliver, about what happened. The two of you take your seats together, Felix sounding exasperated as he explains that Venetia had said nothing had happened between her and Oliver; you know Venetia's watching the two of you, even as you make a point of fixing your gaze on the array of cutlery before you.

"Ollie was right," Felix muttered, fussing with the stem of his wine glass, clearly wishing it wasn't empty, "she was so pissed she doesn't even remember coming on to him- why 's she got to be like this, honestly?" At least he sounds more disappointed than angry. When you look up, chancing a glance over at the woman herself, you see her staring right back at you. Felix is still mulling over his empty glass, but the look in Venetia's eyes as she raises a single, perfect eyebrow at you says that she knows exactly what you're being told right now.

And that she knows you know she lied to Felix.

That woman has absolutely no remorse; the way these lies are really beginning to build is making you feel even more queasy than you already were. Instead of giving her the satisfaction of any kind of reaction, you simply avert your gaze, tipping your head to the side to instead look at Felix.

"I think it's because she likes seeing you pout," you teased softly, tone light in an attempt to bring up his mood. Felix's expression immediately shifts to something both embarrassed and faintly pleased, already anticipating your praise, "it's a cute look on you," you continued, wetting your lips, "at least I think so." There's a faint blush on his cheeks now, expression almost bashful. For a moment his gaze flicks to his sister, who's thankfully looked away as the staff have begun to serve drinks, but just as quickly he's looking back at you.

"You're shameless," he mutters, trying and failing to fight off a grin.

"And what, dear Felix, would I have to be ashamed of?" Lips quirking into a smug, little smile, you take quiet joy in the snort of laughter that escapes him. You're glad to see his mood has turned around considerably before you let your attention drift away, striking up a conversation with Henry of Suffolk on your other side.

As always, your planning pays off over the course of the dinner, engaging in lively conversation with the rest of the guests, masking your nerves with a bright smile and thoughtful bouts of small talk with everyone around you. With each name and detail you remember, you see those around you growing more comfortable and amiable with you just as they grew more intoxicated. Nobody goes overboard, of course, well, at least not in a way that would be completely unacceptable, but spirits are high and the guests are more than eager when Sir James excitedly informs them all of the wide selection of songs their karaoke machine has since Venetia had asked him to update it.

"Does this mean we get to hear you attempt Crocodile Rock again, Jimmy?" Lord Henry, Sir James' godson and always a little too enthusiastic for moments such as these, is the only person in the world who you think would ever call Sir James 'Jimmy'. He's done it once or twice before that you remember, but it still catches you off guard, and the laughter that escapes you is almost undignified, not that anybody notices. Sir James himself laughs along, as the rest of the table seems thoroughly amused by the idea, though he claims he may need to open another bottle of wine before he considers stepping up to the microphone himself.

Once dinner has concluded, several of the guests, yourself included, opt to head outside briefly to smoke before retiring to the larger drawing room the Cattons used to entertain groups like this. Felix declines your invitation, choosing instead to check in with Oliver as the evening was progressing. Considering Oliver had only just stopped looking like a deer in the headlights whenever someone tried to make conversation with him, you were sure he would appreciate a more familiar moment of kindness.

You, however, were afforded no such kindness. Stepping outside, your attention is immediately caught on Farleigh, perched on one of the railings by the stairs, pointedly having removed himself from the others who had also chosen to take in the evening air. Elegant and beautiful and so clearly full of disdain, his eyes narrow as you make eye contact with him. Pulling your own ornate cigarette case from your pocket, you join him, asking to borrow a light. Silently, he offers his lighter, and you thank him quietly, feeling his ice cold gaze boring into you.

"To what do I owe the pleasure," he sneered, voice low enough that only you could catch his words, "of you deciding to finally grace me with your presence." It stung.

"Farleigh," you sighed, gaze imploring as you finally met his, taking a draught from your cigarette. But he in unwavering in his irritation. Sighing, you let your focus drop as you tried to recall the lines you'd prepared earlier, "I am not merry, but I do beguile the thing I am, by seeming otherwise."

Farleigh snorts derisively, letting your words hang in the air as he finally looked away, raising his own cigarette to his lips. The way he smiles hold absolutely no warmth.

"You know he's lying to you," there's a casual cruelty to Farleigh's voice that you'd heard so often in your life, but so rarely directed at you, "I don't know what he told you and Felix, but he's lying, I know what I saw -"

"I know he's lying," you admit faintly, "I believe you, Farleigh, I know you wouldn't fuck with me and Fi over something like this," you kicked the stone steps idly with the toe of your fancy shoes, trying to keep your own voice just as light, "and Ollie knows it too."

"Know what?"

"That I know he's lying," finally you look up again, meeting his gaze but having no idea what to read in his expression, "that I believe you despite what he told us."

"Does Felix know?"

Farleigh knows he doesn't by the way you immediately go quiet. There's genuine disgust in his voice when he calls you spineless, when he tells you that your so blinded by love that you can't see that this can only end badly. Part of you believes he's right, but you still try to have hope despite that.

"You don't get it," you finally huff, scowling in an attempt to hide how hurt you were by his words, "and it's not that you can't, it's that you don't want to," you jab him in the chest for emphasis, cigarette between your fingers, "because it's so much easier for you to dismiss Ollie out of hand since you've never liked him, or even bothered to get to know him. Isn't it fucking easier for you, Farleigh, to hope we turn against him so you don't have to keep putting up with him?" Lip curling into a sneer, the vitriolic way you speak surprises even yourself.

"I'm not the bad guy for giving a shit about you," his voice is rising despite how he was fighting to remain dismissive and nonchalant, "and not trusting a fucking stranger -"

"This isn't you giving a shit about me," you couldn't help but scoff, wine drunk and more than able to match his bitchy energy with your own, "you give a shit about you, Farleigh; you and your fucking pride," you spit, finding yourself altogether tired of his ongoing attitude towards Oliver and how he was trying to now mask it as altruism, "what happens if it all works out, what then, Farleigh?"

"It's not going to~" Farleigh sings meanly under his breath with that same humourless smile as before. Despite being toe to toe with you, he'd been avoiding eye contact as best he could, until now. There's something in his eyes behind the icy anger that almost looks hurt. Farleigh's voice is a whisper as he leans in, nose to nose with you, "and when it goes badly, when you let him break your heart, and my cousin's heart, when you finally realise that he's fucking using you because nothing will ever be enough for him," Farleigh's lip curls derisively as you feels hot, angry tears stinging your eyes, threatening to spill, "don't you dare come crying to me that you 'loved not wisely but too well', because I know," for just a moment you feel pinned by the intensity of his gaze in this moment as he turned Othello's words on you yet again, "and I'm fucking warning you now."

He steps out of your space, sighing loudly, as if completely oblivious to the tears on your cheeks and how he's torn your heart to shreds. But then, as always, he knows you well enough to intuit exactly how to twist the knife.

"Don't look at me like that," he rolls his eyes, "you know I'm right," then, eyebrows raised, he even has the gall to ask if you're even going to finish your cigarette, which had gone out. Shaking your head weakly, your running entirely on autopilot as you pass it over to him.

As you stand there, the air feeling too warm on your skin, your collar too tight, the taste of smoke and ash suddenly sickening on your tongue, despair wells up within you, choking you too from the inside out. Farleigh's words play on repeat inside your head, and you know you should leave, shouldn't engage further, you weren't in your right mind to begin with, drunk and a mess of emotions. But one thought sticks out, loud above all the others.

"Everyone uses me, Farleigh," you choke out, "you- you really think that bothers me?" And you look to see him shocked in the face of your teary anger.

"What?"

"If Oliver were to ask for the world, I'd give it to him," you tell Farleigh with a defiant scowl, not bothering to lower your voice as you wipes your tears roughly, "I can afford it after all. When it comes to the people I love, I can afford anything, or did you you and your pride choose to forget?" Everyone around you has gone quiet, all eyes upon the two of you, but none of them matter to either you or Farleigh in this moment. Standing as tall as you're able, you square your shoulders. Without giving him a chance to reply, you take your anger and lingering sense of betrayal as you turned on your heel and stormed back inside.

Tomorrow you were sure you'd regret making a scene, regret your harsh words and arrogance, but you had no idea how else to get through to him at the time. If Farleigh was jealous because of how loving and accommodating you were to Oliver, he'd need to get over himself. There was nothing you wouldn't do, no price you wouldn't pay, for the people who made you and Felix happy, you thought he knew this. What in the hell could ever reassure or even convince him if, after so much of your lives together, all the years and moments and love shared already, didn't make it abundantly clear that that meant him too?

Pulling off your suit jacket the minute you step through the doors, you throw it into the hands of a confused member of the staff, just telling them to put it somewhere for Duncan to take care of. However, before you can even find Felix amid everyone gathered in the drawing room, you find your focus, and your arm, snatched by a mischievous looking Venetia. Considering she and Felix appear getting along once again, you decide you have all the time in the world to humour the girl who'd never once been afraid to ask you for something she wants. Perhaps she'll be able to take your mind off of Farleigh and all he'd said. At the very least she hands you another glass of champagne.

"You've been so cold to me these past few days," Venetia pouted where she was clinging to your arm. It seems in the dim light and in her current state she is completely oblivious to the fact that you'd just been crying, thank god, "if you don't sing something with me, I'll start thinking you don't even like me." She's wearing that beautiful, dangerous grin of hers that she always wears when she knows she's on the edge of pushing your buttons about something. But in this moment Venetia is mean and pretty, and you're feeling tipsy and indulgent, so you let yourself be coerced by the sight of her smile.

"Careful, pretty girl," you teased with a smirk, letting her drag you over to Duncan who had been granted the role of overseeing song selections, "I might start believing you want me around."

Surprisingly, Venetia looks up from the song book in her hands, as if surprised by your accusation.

"As if anyone else would be half as good to me; of course I want you around, pet," and then immediately turns back to poring over song choices. It hits you in a way you hadn't anticipated, and you know part of that was due to your altercation with Farleigh. Still, it was the kind of fond sentiment Venetia was so often shying away from admitting that sometimes you genuinely forgot how much she actually appreciated your place in her life. So often it seemed that she took you for granted, and you played along because it never outweighed how much joy and pleasure you took in making her happy, even if it was often at your expense. But Venetia was just as much a masochist, and quietly loved that you so often gave as good as you got.

Duncan's expression doesn't change from its carefully controlled neutral veneer while he watches you and Venetia flipping through the song book. For a moment you recall how often you'd begged as a teenager for him to let you join the service staff at Saltburn for events like this simply so you wouldn't have to be looked at or talked to. He'd of course never let you, nor had Elspeth when you'd gone to her with the proposal. Still, he'd taken you aside during your third Summer and asked what it was about the events that made them so difficult for you. He'd been putting together detailed dossiers on the events at the estate for you ever since.

You still think you'd make a good team member for the staff, but to you, Duncan was utterly irreplaceable at Saltburn.

"Oh, this one, don't you think, pet?" Venetia asks, tugging you once more to bring your attention to where she was pointing out a Fall Out Boy song. The one where the groom finds out his bride is a whore; the nerve on her after what she did two nights ago. Keeping your composure, however, you raise an eyebrow at her.

"Thought you weren't a fan of that tragic, emo stuff," you smirked, to which Venetia rolled her eyes, scoffing for you to pick one then, "what about ABBA?" You suggested knowingly, "everyone loves ABBA" Despite her attempt at remaining put out by you, her mood picks up when you at least tell her she can pick the song, and she's grinning with an almost childlike glee at the idea. Still, you know you don't have to worry too much, there's only one ABBA song you know she'll pick.

As Venetia's adding her song selection to the list, your focus finally drifts back around the room. You finish your glass and note that Farleigh's finally slunk on from outside, taking up brooding in an arm chair in a particularly dark corner of the room and refusing to look anywhere but his drink. Finally, however, you spot Felix in conversation with Oliver, his arm around the shorter man's shoulders where they've staked their claim on one end of the wide, ornate sofa. For just a moment his gaze finds you, and he gives you and his sister the briefest exasperated smile, like he knows exactly what you've been talked into.

There's still a few others who have yet to have their turn, so the two of you decide to get yourselves another drink -

"Grab one for me too, will you?" Felix calls after you from where he'd settled himself on the sofa.

"Of course, my darling, useless brother," Venetia practically sings back, swanning past him with an arm once more firmly tucked in yours.

"Thank you, Vee, I love you too," you think you can hear Felix rolling his eyes fondly. Still, Venetia's giggling as the two of you make your way to the drink caddy in the corner of the room.

Venetia snickers quietly, barking at you so low only you could hear as you poured Felix a glass of champagne after your own, and a third for Oliver too. But you don't have it in your heart to be mad, and grin as you knock your shoulder with her's.

"Watch yourself, Ven," you warned her playfully. Her laughter lights up the little corner of the room you both occupied. Your lingering reasons to stay mad at her regarding her tryst with Oliver seem to be disappearing faster as the night went on. It almost definitely has something to do with the drinks, but you can't seem to bring yourself to mind.

"Why would I need to watch myself when I've got you to do it for me again," and she gives a little twirl as if to emphasise, which becomes twofold when you catch her by the elbow to steady her as she almost over balances, "see?" Her voice is low and flirty, stepping into your space as she picks up her champagne glass, "so don't get all bitchy again," but her tone is sweet when she teases you, "I need my knight in shining armour."

"It's called consequences," you chuckled, though you still let her wind her arms around your neck in a gesture that would be far too intimate for even this secluded corner of this setting if most everyone else weren't also inebriated, "if you insist on jeopardising mine and Fi's happiness you'll have to learn to take care of yourself."

"But you like being good to me," her smile is sharp and she leans in, her forehead against yours. This rare, unashamedly needy side of Venetia was really quite endearing. Groaning, you allow yourself to give in for just a moment, kissing her quickly.

"God fucking help me, I do," you agreed with a vaguely frustrated huff. Venetia actually giggles, tells you this is why she loves you, and send more than happy with this result to let you both get back to the task you'd been at the drinks caddy for originally. It seemed no one had taken any real note of the intimate moment in the corner of the room anyhow, it kind of just seemed that that was how this night was progressing all around.

When you get back to Felix and Oliver, both with a drink in each hand, she drapes herself rather inelegantly on the arm of the sofa by her brother after she hands him his drink. Oliver seems surprised when you hand him one too, looking at you, leaning against the back of the sofa, with this wide-eyed look of gratefulness. The four of you watch with quiet amusement as one of the younger wives of the Henrys makes a decent attempt at Total Eclipse of the Heart.

"What'd you end up deciding on?" Felix murmurs loud enough for only your little group to hear, and Venetia giggles when all she says is the name of the band. Felix's smile grows wider, turning fond as he looks from her, to back at you. When he makes a noise of understanding, even you can't help but grin, despite how Oliver's voicing his confusion. All Felix can respond with is, "it's a very old, very stupid joke," which Venetia immediately scoffs at, reminding him that it's 'our song' in reference to the three of you.

As they bicker about whether or not it's stupid - you're of the opinion that it is, but that's part of the reason why you love it - you lean down to murmur to Oliver with a smirk;

"Does Your Mother Know?"

As the realisation hits him, a startled laugh escapes him, his hand coming up to cover his sudden smile. Felix turns to him, leaning his head against yours, asking Oliver now to weigh in on whether it was stupid.

"Dunno; does she know?" He grins in return, eyes shining in the low, golden light of the room. You, Felix, and Venetia all burst out laughing at that, earning a scathing look from the man who'd just stepped up to take the microphone, and the four of you loudly try to both apologise and shush each other while unable to fight off your collective giggles.

By the time you and Venetia step up to the microphone, you have no idea where your jacket is, the top few buttons of your fancy jumpsuit are undone, and you can't stop smiling. It's as if your earlier altercation with Farleigh is almost entirely forgotten. For a moment, everything's easy again, everything's okay and bright and Venetia is by your side as the two of you pass the mic back and forth between you both. It's the most lively song of the night so far, and you can see Elspeth laughing into her wine glass as she watches you both with fondness.

A song that had once been put on by Venetia herself in an act of malice, blasting it from her little, portable CD player when she'd caught you and Felix making out by the lake as teenagers, had since developed into the soundtrack of countless bright memories. The three of you had cheered when it had come on in a club in LA none of you were old enough to be in, it was always on road trip mixtapes, and had been played throughout various hotels all across the world as you'd been getting ready together to go out on the town.

It was your song after all.

All you could think in this moment is how much you hated when Felix and Venetia were on bad terms.

When the song ends, there's a smattering of applause. You pass the microphone over to the next singer as Venetia takes your hand and pulls you back over to Felix, who's regarding you both with amused exasperation. Oliver's gone to get himself another drink, Felix tells you as Venetia drapes herself on his lap, and you take the now vacant seat beside him.

"God I haven't heard that song in ages," Felix snorts, arm around Venetia to keep her steady as she gets herself more comfortable.

"We should go clubbing again," you insist, head resting on Felix's shoulder, tucked up against his other side, then, "Vee, you should come visit us at Oxford some weekend!" However both Cattons beside you scoff dismissively at the thought.

"God, I wouldn't be caught dead at some dreadful, uni, bar night."

"That's mean, Ven, they're fun!" Felix's dismissal immediately turns to playful indignance, "I'm more worried about your bursting into flames the minute you try to step foot on campus."

"Why would I burst into flames?!" Venetia's eyes went wide, but Felix looks equally as bright and shocked.

"Because that's what you said would happen when mum asked you if you'd ever consider enrolling after I got accepted!"

Venetia's mouth snaps closed, embarrassed smile and faint flush giving her away as her own words seem to be coming back to her.

"Oh yeah," she mumbled, "right," then, after a beat, she looks to you, "do you have any smokes on you, pet?"

"For you, Ven, always," you teased, feeling all kinds of contented and warm in this moment, by their side. Pulling your pocket book out of your pocket, you offer one to Venetia before apologising for not having a lighter. Felix tells her he's got it before she can even stand, and grunts as he tries to keep her balanced on his lap while reaching into his own pants pocket to pull out a little, ornate lighter. He flicks it open, holding the flame aloft for Venetia, who rolls her eyes as she lights her cigarette off of it.

"I still can't believe you have a formal lighter," she snickers.

"I only ever use it here," Felix grins to himself, gaze fixed on the silver lighter in his grip as he flips it open and closed, "honestly I don't even think I'll bring my suit back to Oxford this semester, I only wore it once, and Y/N knows where we can hire them."

"Of course they do," Venetia gives you a knowing smile, and you simply shrug, your mood unable to be ruined by anything, even canine allegations, in this moment.

"At least I'm consistent," you smirked, and Venetia reached over, her tone both saccharine and teasing as she scratches beneath your chin and calls you 'good doggie'. Felix groans at that, as he always did, pressing his forehead against her shoulder.

"Why've you've always got to ruin things, Vee?" He asked, exasperated, but Venetia simply leaned further into him, wrapping her arm around his shoulders with a blithe smile.

"I haven't ruined anything, Felix; do you think I've ruined anything, pet?" Venetia's sharp gaze turns on you, and Felix turns his face to look at you too. All you do is shrug; right now you were taking her degrading nickname as a compliment.

"I can't believe you put up with her," Felix snorts.

"Because you haven't tasted the dog treats she buys me," you counter without even really thinking, though the minute Venetia starts absolutely cackling and Felix looks at you in absolute, horrified disbelief, you clarify, "I'm kidding, oh my god, Fi, I'm totally kidding!" Which thankfully is enough to alleviate his concerns, and he's then laughing just as hard as you and Venetia.

The others are looking at you again, the three of you lost in your own little world, but you can't even begin to care. Everything in this moment is warm and familiar and right. Your anxiety over events stands no chance when you're drunk and laughing with the Catton siblings by your side.

These were moments you loved. These were moments where you felt loved, where this house felt like your home. These were your people, Felix and Venetia, Farleigh too more often than not, and you knew, if given time, you could make Oliver feel just as loved, just as home as Saltburn had long since made you feel. But Farleigh and Oliver were far from your mind tonight; Oliver hadn't returned, and Farleigh was keeping his distance from you, and Venetia had kicked her legs out over you as your focus drifted back to the guests providing entertainment, trying to be a little less shameless, as Felix had so rightly called you earlier, about your love for them both. That being said, at least you weren't the only one... Why Henry had thought taking off his jumper like his rendition of Apple Bottom Jeans was a strip tease was beyond you, but at least it was amusing.

"Fuck it, I'm getting another drink," Felix announced, gently tapping on Venetia's thigh to indicate for her to finally get up and move. When she mentions that she could use one too, Felix is already offering you a hand, knowing you'd be coming along too.

The three of you make your back back over to the drink cart in the corner, all tipsy enough to enjoy bopping along to Henry's questionable singing to the catchy tune, each collecting another flute of champagne. Gaze scanning the gathering, your eyes zero in on the what you recognise to be Farleigh and Oliver together on one of the sofas facing a wall adorned by several royal portraits. Something about the sight, after your earlier conversation with Farleigh, makes you uneasy, and you find yourself finishing your drink quickly, turning back to the siblings in an attempt to distract yourself. Venetia's more than willing to pull you in to dance with her for the moment.

But then you hear it, and your blood turns cold. There's something about hearing Farleigh's voice rise brightly above Henry's singing, bringing the embarrassing display to a close, that makes a strange, guilty kind of anger flare to life in your chest.

Turning back, you watch with a dawning almost horror as he volunteers a clearly reluctant Oliver for the next song, one he is choosing for him. Unfortunately you know Farleigh too well to assume it's anything other than some sort of trap for your poor friend.

And much to your chagrin, you're right.

Oliver stumbles awkwardly through the lyrics he clearly doesn't know in front of a less than lukewarm audience. He doesn't seem to realise exactly what he's singing, that it's all a cruel joke, until -

"I love you-" Oliver's voice falters, falls as the next words flash up on screen, "you pay my rent."

But Farleigh's not looking at him, even as Oliver calls him over, tries to salvage the situation, insisting with as much ire as he can despite clearly being embarrassed, that it's Farleigh song too. Farleigh's looking at you, something vindictive in his gaze before he turns away, agreeing without hesitation, stepping into the spotlight without a shred of concern despite the song and it's less than kind implications.

That spiteful fucking asshole!

"No," leaves your lips as an involuntary, furious gasp. You don't even realise you make a start towards him until you feel Felix's hand holding your arm firmly, as if anticipating you better than you can.

"That's..." Felix doesn't have the exact words for it, part of him not wanting to believe his cousin was truely being malicious, but you knew better. Still, clearly he was as disappointed as you were angry.

"Come on, it's -" but Venetia stops laughing and just sighs when both you and Felix turn on her with less than approving looks. She rolls her eyes, arms crossed delicately over her chest as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

"I'm so fucking done with this," you hissed furiously, stalking out of the room. As much as you love Oliver and want to reassure him, you're in absolutely no state to do so.

While you don't exactly expect the Catton siblings to give up the remainder of their night for you, there's still a swell of gratefulness when you hear Venetia's heels against Saltburn's floorboards as she trots after you.

"You know usually -" you begin to rant, absolutely seething with rage as you blew past several bemused members of staff ferrying food and snacks to the drawing room, "- and yeah, I'll own up to this - usually it's my fault that I don't have fun at events like this," you turned on your heel suddenly at the bottom of the red staircase, feeling particularly dramatic and petty in your drunken fury. Venetia catches herself before she can run into you, watching you, letting you rant with amusement in her eyes. Not that that deters you in the slightest, "he's so petty, so fucking petty and vindictive."

"You know how Farleigh gets," Venetia's voice is still warm, despite your fury.

"Yeah, he's entitled," you hissed venomously, "I love you all to death, but you really all can be so fucking entitled, yes, including you," you added without a moment of hesitation.

"What'd I do?" Venetia laughed brightly, but you narrowed your eyes at her. She knows what she did. In the next moment, as if suddenly remembering, she raises her hands in mock surrender. But there's a softness in her eyes as she gently lowers her hands to your shoulders, reassuring you that they all loved you too.

Behind her however, coming out of the drawing room, Felix is approaching with a less than enthused expression.

"Ollie won't talk to me," he's actually pouting, "says he's fine," clearly Felix doesn't believe him, "says he just wants to be left alone," clearly Felix doesn't like that either.

"Y/N's calling us entitled," Venetia supplies with a candid kind of amusement. While Felix's expression turns to confusion, you groan loudly at her antics and turn on your heel, throwing your hands up in the air with exasperation as you head back through the house towards your bedroom, fully retiring from everything that has happened tonight.

"What are we being entitled about?" Felix asks, trotting behind you with his sister in tow. You don't dignify it with an answer, but Venetia snorts.

"Them, I assume."

"Oh," Felix contemplates for a moment, before picking up his pace to match your stride, "I'm sorry, I didn't -"

"It's fine, Fi," you sighed, taking his hand as he walked in step beside you, "I'm mostly just mad at Farleigh -"

"How come you're all understanding with Feef, but I get my head bitten off?" Venetia stepped up to your other side, tone incredulous as she keeps up with you both, "you'd let him get away with murder!"

Felix sticks his tongue out at his sister with a petulant kind of glee.

"God, I'm so tired of taking sides," taking the steps up to the second floor, you huff a long, world-weary sigh, "I just want to forget this night ever happened, honestly."

"I can help with that," Felix's tone is laden with smug innuendo, and finally you feel yourself beginning to relax, giving his hand a squeeze. Beside you, Venetia is quiet, but you can tell she wants to say something. Apparently Felix can tell too, however, as less than a moment later he says, "come on, out with it Vee, what've you got a problem with now."

"Will I be called entitled again if I say I'd appreciate their company tonight instead?" Venetia bites back at her brother as the three of you come to the end of the blue room and step into the long gallery. Felix's grip on your hand grows just a little tighter; you know he's trying to come up with some kind of response that doesn't make him sound entitled to you too.

"Don't make me choose," you muttered finally when you get to your bedroom, forehead pressed against the door, "please, I just want to be good to you both, you know this," then after a soft sigh you hear yourself whisper, "I just want to be good."

After a beat, Venetia laughs airily.

"Careful about what you're implying, pet," but she actually sounds coy when she says it. It hits you a moment later what she means, and though you initially tried to deny it, Venetia can't help herself but continue, "I mean, I know our family's blessed with good genes, but -"

"Venetia, you're the one who asked if I think about Felix when I fuck you," you turned on her, feeling altogether flustered at the idea and desperate for her to stop talking. Venetia turns bright red, letting out a mortified shriek, but surprisingly Felix is grinning at you.

"Do you?"

"I..." but you can't look either of them in the eyes, "not usually -"

"Ha!" Felix immediately turns to shout in his sister's face, but despite this, Venetia lights up as if thoroughly vindicated.

"I knew it! I fucking knew it!" She crows with a delight neither you nor Felix had seemed to anticipate, "'He doesn't have a cunt, Ven'," she parroted your own words back at you from long ago in a mocking immitation, "god you were so fucking smarmy about it too, I knew you were lying!"

"I wasn't being smarmy, I was trying not to hurt your feelings!" You couldn't help but laugh, given the situation, however Venetia, head held high, barges right past you, opening the door.

"What hurts my feelings, pet," she tells you suddenly sounding incredibly matter-of-fact, making herself at home on the edge of the bed, looking at you both still in the doorway, "is that I'm pretty sure you're better when you go down on me while you're thinking about Felix," she gives her words a moment to settle in before emphasising - "like distinctly, probably measurably better."

When you turn to Felix, you're not quite sure exactly what you're anticipating, but it's definitely not for him to be looking as ridiculously smug as he does at that moment. You know he can tell how embarrassed you are by this all, but he clearly is taking it as a personal victory.

"For the record, I'm not shit at giving head when I'm not thinking about you."

That stupid, beautiful, smug bastard just grins wider at you.

"Obviously you're good," Venetia rolls her eyes, "we both know I've put too much time into this part of our friendship for you not to be, but," she pauses, wetting her lips as she waits for you to look back at her. When you turn back she's leaning back on her hands, wearing a surprisingly similar, pleased look as she very obviously leers at you. Of course you both already know the answer, but she asks anyways, just in the hopes of hearing you admit it; "I'm right, aren't I, Y/N?"

"Why does it even matter?" You tried weakly, unable to look at either of them as you made your way to the dresser to start removing your jewellery.

"It's a matter of principle," Felix, why, you think to yourself when you can hear his big, dumb grin in his voice. It's enough to remind you that you're all still rather drunk, but not enough for you to stop the conversation from heading in a very dangerous direction at full speed.

"No, Felix, shut up -" Venetia orders almost immediately at the sound of his delight regarding the implications she'd put forth about you, and he protests, but she ignores him, turning her focus back on you, "you're a slut for my brother, you've made that abundantly clear," she rolls her eyes dismissively, powering on despite how you were left reeling by how casually she'd said it, "who cares, I've made my peace with it, but -!" Eyebrows raised and eyes suddenly shining with a terrifying amount of glee, she grins at you, "if my theory is correct, then after tonight, Felix can hold it over my head until I die, and I get one of the best orgasms of my life."

Oh! Okay, this was a legitimate offer. Huh. Wait. Why did it already feel like you were the last one to realise she was being serious? Why did it already feel like you were the only one left to agree?

You weren't used to Felix and Venetia being on the same wavelength... Though honestly, if quietly, you really weren't complaining the more you think about it.

As much as you fucked around with them both, had spent a countless amount of time sharing casual nudity in the field together over the years with endless teasing and occasional curious questions here and there, and had spent more than a little time speculating about Venetia's desires on your own time, you hadn't... At least, not since you were all teens, and definitely never together like this.

Yeah, sure, there had been definitely quite a few times where you'd been with one of the siblings, or Farleigh, while one - or a few times both - were there, around. Sometimes it was accidental, sometimes it was something of a dare, or a twisted game, or a strange type of learning experience, but you were dumb, horny teenagers being dumb, horny teenagers.

But there's no youthful naivety in the way Venetia's looking at you now. Surprisingly, however, Felix speaks up in favour too.

"It does mean that you don't have to choose between us," he points out, voice gentle and warm as he approaches you. You've gone still by the dresser, conflicted desire pooling low in your gut as you spent more and more time considering it. Felix drapes himself over your shoulders, voice low and enticing in your ear, his gaze focused on yours in the mirror's reflection, "and I want the chance to make you feel good after the shitshow these few days have been," he murmurs, though he can't help but smirk as he adds, "we all know you get off on being good to us too."

"Are you sure? It's Venetia," you reminded him, giving him a last chance at an out even if you know he won't take it.

"Yeah, but I'm not fucking her," he points out flatly, "and it's not like it's much worse than what happened during that layover in Dubai a few years ago-"

"You two are absolute animals for that, god, I forgot about that," Venetia practically cackled as your eyes go wide as you too suddenly recall the moment Felix was talking about, "I still can't believe Y/N's into -"

"Shut up, Venetia!" You hissed through clenched teeth, mortified at the memory of what she'd witnessed when you and Felix had gotten back from the hotel bar and toppled into the bed across from hers in the little hotel room, "you promised you'd never bring that up, on pain of death." Venetia only laughs louder. Still, Felix had a point; somehow this was much less embarrassing. At least for you.

So it takes you only a few more moments of deliberation before you inevitably give in to your collective desire. Just for a second, however, before acting on it, you find yourself seeing right through Felix's intentions and seductive tone. He of course did want to be good to you, you knew that to be true, and you did get off on getting others off, but there was a key part that he was purposefully leaving out. He knows you see it; his expression is scrunching with amusement already as he rests his chin on your shoulder, anticipating your next words -

"You really wanna hold this over Ven's head, don't you?" At your words, your bright laughter, Felix immediately breaks, doesn't even try to deny it as he's laughing too.

"I really wanna hold this over her head forever and ever, yes."

"It's not like you'll ever tell anyone," Venetia points out archly from the bed. Upon consideration, you both realise she's absolutely right, and Felix's face falls for a moment, though you pat his cheek in consolidation.

"We'll know," you reassure him, and he's bright once more, ascertaining that as long as the three of you know it's worth it; you're the only three who would give a shit in the exact, weird way he needs you to anyways. Venetia blows a loud, petulant raspberry at you both.

Glancing over your shoulder, suddenly more than a little nervous despite your excitement building too, you see Venetia still thankfully grinning. Felix steps back from you, heading to sit down by her side. The two of them now regard you with eerily similar, evaluative looks.

"I feel like Farleigh once warned us something like this would happen," Felix says with a half smile, glancing at Venetia as he pulled off his bowtie.

"Which is why - again - we're never ever telling anyone about this," Venetia says firmly, which Felix snorts a quiet laugh at as he agrees, "especially not Farleigh," reaching up, she unclasp her own sparkling ensemble where it was tied at the back of her neck. As she does so, her gaze fixes back on you, on where you were now hovering with nervous anticipation. You could feel your heart thundering in your chest very suddenly - this is not where you had expected this night to go, not that you were complaining, it was just that you didn't quite know how to proceed. God you hoped at least one of them would set up and take the lead, because there was no way you could bring yourself to even consider taking charge in this moment.

Before Venetia can even get a word in, however, Felix speaks up, teasing you in a low voice.

"Thought you didn't want to choose?"

"I didn't- I don't," you assured quickly, feeling all tipsy and giddy and nervous and excited all at once, frozen to the spot when you can't be sure which one you should be acting on, "this is definitely the perfect solution to that," you giggled nervously, beginning to fidget, before suddenly looking at Venetia in alarm, head whipping around to look at Felix, "but I'm not getting off to the fact that you're siblings, for the record -" Felix makes a noise of vaguely horrified surprised, but Venetia just laughs.

"You can if you want," she teases coyly, "if it helps." Helps you get her off, you know she means.

"Fucking Christ, Vee," Felix mutters under his breath, but you can hear his amusement. This, thankfully, has alleviated your concerns, and you grin.

"So we're all- this is -? I just- I didn't expect- are you both -?"

"I'm rather excited," Venetia smirks casually, standing and turning away from you, sweeping her hair over her shoulders as an indication that she needs you to undo the zip down the back of her jumpsuit, "part of me does honestly wonder if all those whorish noises you both make are still real," she speaks as if you're not even here, even as your hands glide over her, helping her out of her clothes.

"Hey!" Felix protests as he's beckoning you over, "those weren't meant for you!" Venetia pouts for a moment when you leave her side, but gets over it quickly, draping herself, nude, back across the bed you and Felix share.

"Se ducing the street rat?" She asks candidly, to which both you and Felix both tell her to be nice, almost in synch. In response, Venetia fakes gagging and mutters that she hates you both. Then, after a moment of deliberation, she idly mentions with a vague air of disgust that she doesn't want to think about Oliver and Felix together.

"I don't want you thinking about Oliver at all, actually," Felix says cattily as he's undoing the buttons of your jumpsuit, to which she rolls her eyes and calls him possessive, "do you want to leave?" Felix asks her with a frank, unimpressed look, "you can go if you're going to be a pain; you don't have to be here, Vee."

Venetia groans as if putting up with Felix in this moment was quickly becoming a much bigger downside than she'd anticipated, but she does agree to stay and not to talk about Oliver. Felix's expression softens then when he casts an amused look to you where you've finished making quick work of undoing his dress shirt. Once he too has you unbuttoned, you shrug off the jumpsuit, letting it pool by your feel before you kick it away. His hands hold your bare thighs securely, all bickering forgotten in this moment as he gazed up at you with nothing but affection in the way he's regarding you. Leaning in, you kiss him, unable to fight back your own smile.

"But if it turns out you're bad at fucking and Y/N's been faking it with you this whole time, I will tell Farleigh," Venetia warns sharply, interrupting your moment as she seemed unable to help herself from needling the two of you even now. Which may have been her plan all along, you realise upon seeing her smile as you both arc up with indignation at the implication.

If Felix is fucking you absolutely senseless out of spite, you all know she'll still benefit from it.

It becomes something of a blur after that, Felix rolling his eyes as he undoes your buttons while Venetia refuses to help you out of your clothes before it's a rush of sweat and sex and breathless pleasure, moments to breathe and more wine. The Cattons push and pull and puppet you for their pleasure, much to your own, and you lose track of how it should feel wrong when it really starts to feel so fucking right.

Venetia was absolutely right; you absolutely loved how spoiled and entitled they could be, especially if it's you and your body they're acting so entitled over.

Finally, on your back, legs wrapped around Felix's waist, you're bracedagainst Venetia's trembling thighs as she desperately rides your face. All three of you seem to know she's getting closer, and Felix fucks you in deep, steady strokes. But he leans forward, his hand coming to rest firmly on the back of Venetia's neck as she's gasping and panting. He pulls her close enough that their foreheads press together, Venetia, incoherent and eyes squeezed closed, and his other hand gently hold her face, thumb brushing against her cheek.

"That's it, Vee, show them how much you appreciate them," Felix mumbled encouragingly, and Venetia gasps at the sound of his voice, winding her arms around his neck, bracing herself against him as she grew steadily closer to her peak.

"You're such a freak, Felix," Venetia whimpers, as if she wasn't a completely willing and enthusiastic participant in the events, "I can't believe -" but then you whimpered against her cunt, tongue fucking her desperately as you dug the nails of one hand into her thighs, fingers of the other finding her clit and setting a relentless pace. The change had her swearing and moaning, sharing desperate panting breaths with her brother, never quite crossing that gossamer thread into something they both couldn't justify, that line in the sand neither could talk their way into coming back from.

"Let them get you off, Vee," Felix murmurs, "if you're gonna call them a dog, let them be a good one for you," you let out an appreciative noise, at his praise, keeping up how insistently, thoroughly you were fucking her with your tongue and fingers. Venetia comes with her forehead braced on Felix's shoulder, him holding her close, fingers running through her hair as she gasps and shudders, her thighs twitching either side of your head.

Venetia catching her breath shuffles back, breathing hard as she sat back against the bedpost at the foot of the bed, giving Felix the chance to focus on fucking you properly himself. In the next moment he's over you, has your knees pressed against your chest beneath him before your head has even stopped spinning from the sensations of it all. The way he's smiling down at you, all amused and affectionate - god, he almost looks proud - while his cock is deep inside of you at this new, perfect angle, its enough for you to know you won't last much longer.

"It's actually really gross how hot I find you right now, pet," Venetia's smirking at you when you angle your head to look at her, your expression one of dazed bliss. She reaches languidly down the side of the bed to where you'd left your jumpsuit, fishing around in the pocket for your cigarettes. You hear Felix's warm laughter as he presses his face against the crook of your neck, but thank fuck he doesn't stop, because you're so damn close. You've lost the ability to speak, to even really think, so caught up in the way you're coming undone under their combined attention and affection.

"You always this pretty when you're about to cum?" Venetia's voice is low and sultry, reaching out to caress your cheek with her free hand. She's sitting by you now, leaning down on her elbow to drink in the sight of you like this, "or just when Felix is being especially good to you?" And she kisses you messily, a pleased moan escaping her as she tastes herself on your tongue. Felix gasps 'fuck' against your collar, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as the feeling of you cumming around him tips him over the edge too. Venetia grins against your lips as you whimper and gasp into her mouth, hand fisting in her hair as the pleasure overwhelms you.

When you let her go, she's smiling softly, her forehead pressed to yours as you pant, trying to catch your breath, reorient yourself.

"They're always this pretty," Felix finally says a little breathlessly. Venetia laughs softly, sitting up again, though she takes your hand. Felix gently lowers your legs back to the bed before he moves to stand; you can hear the grin in his voice even if you're still to dazed to even sit up. It's with absolute bliss that you gaze up at the ceiling of stars you'd painted for him, watching the faintest traces that are still glowing.

"I think you're just always good to them," Venetia teases fondly before she gives your hand a squeeze, looking down at you, "he is, isn't he? He's such a loverboy when it comes to you, it's sickening, truly," but there's no bite to her words. There's a pleasant fog in your mind leftover from all the sensations you're still coming down from, so all you can do is beam up at her, nodding.

And when Felix laughs, you feel it light up in your chest.

"Can I borrow a robe?" Venetia asks idly, finally dropping your hand; she too stands, "my point has been well and truly proven, and I think I've had enough of you both for tonight." After Felix tosses her a robe, he offers you a hand to help you to your feet; he sounds somehow both proud and sheepish when he apologises after noticing how your legs are trembling.

With her sparkly ensemble and shoes in hand, Venetia's left the room before you even make it to the bathroom to clean up.

"Oh God," in the shower, Felix seems to be hit by a realisation that leaves him more than a little mortified, "I hope Ollie didn't hear any of that." The thought hadn't even occurred to you, and for the barest moment your expression mirrors his as your hand comes up to cover your mouth. Then, after another moment of consideration, Felix's seems to become more thoughtful than concerned as he utters, "actually," he deliberates, "is it weird that I think Ollie would be just as into that as we were?" He has a point, and you snort a laugh, shaking your head, and Felix's embarrassed laughter joins yours after only a moment more.

Unfortunately, as you would find out the following morning, not only was Oliver completely oblivious to the vaguely taboo tryst that had happened in the room attached his own, but it somehow wasn't even the most scandalous thing that had happened that night.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x you #oliver quick x y/n #venetia catton x reader #venetia catton imagine #venetia catton x y/n #venetia catton x you #saltburn imagine #saltburn x reader #manic writer #head heart hand fic

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staybabblingbaby · 1 month ago

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Soulmate Garden AU Ch.3 (Daffodil) a2d2

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 3,060

Notes: Happy very late birthday to my dearest moot @thatgirlangelb! Thank you for always letting me babble away in your DMs <3 You give me so much motivation to write whenever we talk, I swear over half of BFP wouldn't be written without you. You're a magical and special human being and I hope life treats you so incredibly well <<<333

This chapter is on the shorter side, but it's longer than I was expecting it to be? That seems to be the trend for SG lmao. This one actually came out pretty smoothly and there weren't as many small edits as usual. Ofc I say that and then I'll come back in 4-8 business days and absolutely abhor it lmao. I tried to make it pretty obvious who Reader encountered in this chapter before the little reveal, but y'all'll have to lmk how I did. I tried to do it with actions instead of descriptions bc I'm rlly bad at describing body shapes.

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader, allusions to past domestic violence?

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Prev Part | Next Part (Coming Soon <3)

Taylor spends all of the next morning bugging you about your soulmates.

It’s mostly friendly teasing, you know. A fanboy excited that you’re connected to his idols and a friend who wants you to feel more at ease in a difficult time.

It’s still annoying as hell.

Over breakfast, “Listen, I know men ain’t shit, but these ones have benefits! For me. Maybe give them a chance?”

While you brushed your teeth, “I’m all for independence! Feminism and all that. But they’ve got crazy money.”

Through the door while you were getting dressed, “They’re dancers! I’ve never met a dancer who didn’t know how to use their hips.”

Even as you were walking out the door for work, “They produce their own music, they might even write songs for you!”

You finally turn around to face him, the lucky bastard still in his pajamas since he was smart enough to get the day after the concert off from work. You place your hands on your hips and cock your head to stare him down.

Immediately he starts to stumble and sweat, your quirked eyebrow a hint to your waning patience.

“I-I just- I mean- I was just sayin’-”

You roll your eyes at him and quickly slug him in the shoulder. Ignoring his yelp of pain, you relieve him of his stuttering misery.

“Listen, I know you’re excited because I’m your Idol’s soulmate and whatnot, but I don’t even know them.” You chide him. “Besides, only Bangchan is for sure my soulmate right now. For all we know the other seven are completely unrelated.”

Taylor just gives you a flat look for that. Neither of you believed in coincidences very much, and you knew as well as he did who your remaining soulmates were.

“But you could know them,” Taylor counters, “Soulmates are a lifetime kinda thing.”

“Exactly why I don’t want to meet them right now!” You nod as if to agree with your own point, “We said we’d let fate do it’s thing and we’re gonna let it.”

Taylor opens his mouth to start bargaining with you again, so you cut him off before he could annoy you too much.

You and Taylor didn’t fight much. You’d quickly learned each other’s limits way back when you'd first moved in. Unfortunately for him, you'd woken up with a migraine this morning because of everything that had happened the night before.

He was lucky he still had a head.

“And anyway, what would I even do? Track down their hotel? Chase down their plane? Email JYPE? I’m sure they have fans claiming to be their soulmates all the time. Bangchan didn’t even seem to notice the bond forming, they’d probably file a restraining order.”

Taylor finally deflates at your argument. He’d know even better than you what kind of environment surrounded celebrities and their soulmates.

“I’m just saying,” He whines, “that you don’t have to run from them when you meet them.”

You feel your ears burn with embarrassment at the reminder of how you’d panicked last night.

After you’d dropped the Bangchan bomb on him and closed your door to get to bed, Taylor had thrown it right the way back open to interrogate you. You’d spent another hour explaining the whole harrowing tale before he’d finally let you go to bed.

It was a good thing your hours were as flexible as they were, you’d have been waking up seconds after you’d gone to sleep otherwise.

“I wasn’t gonna run!” You mutter petulantly. Taylor just raises a brow at you. You’re getting tired of how communicative his face is.

“I wasn’t!”

“If you run,” he smirks at you, eyes glinting meanly, “You owe me twenty bucks. If you don’t, I’ll owe you.”

You pout and protest, but end up shaking the devil’s hand anyways. Letting fate do it’s thing included not fleeing when you were confronted by it’s design.

You leave the house a grumpy mess, Taylor seeing you off with a blinding smile.

The rest of your day goes about as swimmingly as the start of it.

You’re already grumpy, irritated, and hurting. Your soul mark prickles at your side every now and again, as if annoyed at you for ignoring it.

You hope Bangchan isn’t experiencing the same thing, the poor guy deals with enough.

Work goes as smoothly as you always expect it to, which is not at all. There’s always some emergency to deal with, another fire to put out. Always started by someone higher than you on the corporate ladder so you can’t even yell at them.

The relief you feel when your lunch break rolls around could power a city.

You leave the building with haste, avoiding all of your coworkers as you went. It’d be a tragedy to be flagged down with more work at this exact moment.

You make your way out to mix with the crowds of L.A, letting the flow of people carry you to your destination a few blocks away: A quaint little coffee shop at the mouth of an alley.

It's quite possibly your favorite spot in the whole city. Decked out with a jungle of plants, walls crowded with framed art from a variety of local artists. The lighting was always warm and natural, large windows at the front making the tiny space feel so much larger than it was. You could even buy the pieces on display if you wanted, prices carefully stuck onto the frames.

Your point being, the vibes were immaculate.

You also swear they put something extra in their coffee. No other place carries you through your day in the same way.

When you enter your little midday safe-space, greeted by the charming bell above the door, you’re faced with a busier interior than you’re used to.

Usually at this time of day you can march right up to the counter to chat with the barista while they make whatever caffeinated atrocity your brain cooks up that day. Today, though, it seems like half the city’s population has decided to give your little spot a go.

You’d normally be happy for them. More business; more money and all that. But today the low din of chatter filling the air just scrapes across your brain like a rusted spoon. Your headache from this morning had only gotten worse throughout the day, and you wished you could just call it quits and go home.

Unfortunately for you, you have bills to pay and only so long of a lunch break. The walk here ate up enough of it for you to suck it up and join the line.

When you join the que you’re basically halfway out the door, practically plastered to the back of the man in front of you. He doesn't seem to pay you any mind, yapping away on his phone in quiet Korean.

You study the back of your new line neighbor with bored interest. Your eyes trace the slopes of his shoulders, drifting down to his waist, before moving back up to gaze at the back of his beanie’d head. You notice the straps of a mask around his ears and wonder how the person on the phone can hear him with his voice so muffled and low.

Apparently the person on the phone can’t hear him very well, because soon he’s raising his voice a bit more. It has you wondering if his tone is just naturally that soft, or if he’s just conscious of the space he’s in.

Soon enough you’re two people closer to the counter, halfway into the coffee shop now, and your line buddy has entered into a full blown argument with whoever he has on the phone.

He’s speaking way too quickly for your barely conversational Korean to keep up with- not that you’re trying very hard to- but you can guess from the keywords “Jagiya”, “Soulmate”, and “coffee” that it’s the usual lover’s quarrel.

From the sounds of it, it was a very “We’ve already talked about this” sort of conversation as well. Poor guy. You hope his soulmate and lover get cool with each other soon.

The conversation goes on as the two of you inch closer to the counter. You’re fully invested in the drama at this point, absorbing what little bits you can to rehash with Taylor later. Your own mini soap-opera.

After a bit more back and forth with what you assume is his partner, he begins resorting to some very creative threats to express his displeasure.

You wonder if this guy might be a bit too comfortable speaking a foreign language around English speakers, because if he didn’t sound so damn fond while he was doing it you might’ve needed to tip the police off to a potential murder. Via tissue, if your line neighbor had anything to say about it.

That sends you down a path of your own creative murder options, wondering what sort of other common items your murderous que friend might use. Stabbing their partner through with a straw, maybe? Perhaps a fork, if the straw proved too flimsy.

You can’t see his face from where you’re stood, but you’d bet it’s the face of someone who stabs. Just one of those “don’t mess with me, I can and will put whatever I’m holding through your nearest body part” type of looks. You can feel it in your bones.

You're shaken from your revery as the line moves forward and the potential murderer snaps at his phone for his partner (presumably) to put a "Lixu-yah" on the line. This sparks another argument, and though you can only hear one side of it, it seems that the desired "Lix" is unavailable. Bummer for stabby-guy.

You might be entertaining yourself too much with a stranger's conversation. You can’t feel too guilty about it though, this is the best mood you’ve been in all day. You’d entirely forgotten about your headache there for a minute. Laughter really does heal all ills, you suppose.

It's a bit of a relief when it becomes Stabby's turn and he hangs up with a grumbled declaration of love. If they were fine enough to say their 'love you's then they’d probably make it through whatever soulmate-related rough patch they were going through. You silently wish them luck.

When your stabby friend (who doesn’t know he’s your friend, but you’re endeared now) steps up to the counter it becomes very clear why he’d asked for a particular person to be handed the phone. You assume this “Lix” must have been an English-speaking friend of his, his own halting English giving him trouble with placing what seems to be a behemoth of an order.

He manages the first part of his order alright, a whopping five drinks already, when he finally reaches the limit of his English vocabulary and begins trying to describe what you think might be a shaken caramel macchiato with some extra bits.

He and the barista go back and forth for several moments, a mix of pantomiming, alternative words, and guesses from the poor flustered barista. You watch him grow more and more frustrated, though he remains very soft spoken and polite about it.

Finally, after another moment of watching them struggle, you can't take it anymore.

You gently tap the stranger on the shoulder, earning a startled little jump. He turns to you with weary eyes and you confirm that there’s a mask covering the lower half of his face. With his beanie pulled low over his eyes, you wouldn't have been able to even tell the color if you hadn't been just that bit shorter than him.

As it is, you get lost in deep pools of brown for a moment before you manage to collect yourself.

"Hi," You chirp in Korean, "Do you need help?"

The man seems to war with himself for a moment, clearly stuck between stranger danger and relief at hearing his native language. After a long moment he accepts your offer.

"Yes, please." He gestures back to the counter where the barista is also clearly relieved by your intervention. "I have a large group and they enjoy making my life difficult."

"No problem," You assure him, "where were you at in your order?"

He takes a moment to check a note app on his phone and begins to slowly relay the final 3 drinks in his 8-drink order. It takes some time, even with you translating, but the energy is a lot less frantic.

He's finally able to pay and you catch him give the name 'Lee' for the order. You wonder if it's his first or last name.

He thanks you for your help as he moves off to the side, and you just give him a small smile and a nod in return. You quickly order your own drink, waving off the barista when she also thanks you. This place was haven enough for you to owe them six times over, anyway.

You and Stabby Lee end up waiting next to each other by the pick-up counter. You feel a bit awkward, having entertained yourself with his private conversation, and end up idly rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet with nerves.

He must have realized you’d heard his entire conversation, right? You hoped not. As fun as it had been, you really hadn't meant to invade his privacy.

Besides, the only serious thing you’d heard was the soulmate thing! You defend yourself in your own thoughts, pursing your lips and nodding your head to your invisible argument. The rest of the argument had seemed to be about a vacation plan. The threats didn’t start until someone said “Zipline”.

You thought that was kinda valid. Heights weren't for everyone.

His name is called before yours, but just for one of the simpler drinks from his massive order. He takes a simple iced americano over to the table with the creams and sugars and begins to doctor it to his liking. Your name is called shortly after and you take your red-eye over to do the same.

The two of you quietly shake and stir your drinks for a moment before he speaks.

"Thank you again for your help," he says, "I really do appreciate it."

You're kind of enchanted by the softness of his voice, now that's directed at you. You’re becoming convinced that this really is just his usual tone. He's speaking normally, but you honestly feel like he's murmuring directly into your ear. He could be a hypnotist or something. An ASMR person, at least.

You wave away his gratirude as you pour unholy amounts of creamer into your drink. "No worries!" You dismiss, "I should be thanking you for the chance to practice my Korean."

"Your Korean is very good." He compliments quickly. You laugh a bit and shake you head.

"I doubt it's that good, I'm really put of practice. It's been a while."

"No, your pronunciation is great." He flashes you a bit of an eye smile to show his sincerity and you find yourself even more charmed by a perfect stranger.

You chuckle bashfully as he finishes up his drink, turning to lean against the table so you can continue to talk. You can't help the way your eyes are drawn to the way he moves, enchanted by the simple action.

"I'll make sure to brag about it everywhere." You assure him, earning yourself another eye smile and a soft chuckle.

Good heavens, you think you might be halfway in love.

"Please do."

Scratch that, you might be all the way in love.

You do your best to contain your smile and push down the blush on your cheeks. You don't think it works, if his amused gaze is anything to go by. It’s not your fault this random guy has rizz for days!

"Well, I gotta scoot." You finish turning your drink a pale tan and shoot him your best 'excusing myself from an ended conversation' smile. You're kind of sad you probably won't run into him again after this.

"I wish you good luck getting that monster order to wherever you're going." You say, shooting the pick up counter with it's growing mountain of beverages an amused look.

He huffs another little laugh and you swear your heart skips a beat. "Thanks, you take care." he offers you a tip of his cup and you tip yours right back.

You do your best to scootch past him in the tight space between the tables and the little counter, but don't quite manage not to bump him on your way. Your elbow meets his forearm and you apologize as you wiggle through.

You're already two steps out the door when the pain of flowers blooming across your right side registers in your brain.

Your face scrunches up and you let out a hiss of pain, the hand not holding your coffee automatically going down to press down where it hurts. Your eyes naturally follow it, and when you finally process what just happened your head snaps back up to the glass door. It's still swinging shut.

You meet eyes with your second soulmate behind the glass, his gaze just as wide and startled as yours.

For a moment, you’re lost again in the depths of his stare.

For a moment, you can almost smell something sweet and floral.

For a moment, you feel peace wash over you.

And then sunlight bounces off the swinging glass, breaking eye contact between the two of you. Spell broken, your soulmate moves, takes just a single step toward the door, and memories of shattered glass and echoing yells ricochet across your brain with all the power of a rocket engine.

You turn tail and book it.

By the time Minho exits the coffee shop, drink abandoned on the counter, you're already lost in the mid-day crowd. A glimpse of your bright blue sweater is the last thing he sees of you before you're gone.

He reaches behind himself to gingerly rub the sore parts of his back and pulls his phone from his pocket.

When you get home that evening, you slam a twenty down on the counter in front of Taylor and storm off to your room without a word.

Perma Tag list: @mbioooo0000

#skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #skz fanfic #w.i.p fic #skz fic #w.i.p #baby writes #SGAU #Soulmate Garden AU #Soulmate AU #skz soulmate au #stray kids soulmate au

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stxrvel · 2 years ago

Text

the outbreak pt. 2

summary: you've kinda been into therapy and turns out it worked?

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +4k

warnings: nothing really, i think. this is actually kinda fluffly. i was in a good mood.

note: i didn't planned on publishing the second part so soon, but i had a lot of free time and a mind running wild. still didn't liked that much how this chapter turned out tho. hoping i could make another part to see what happened to my girl wanda! see you guys in the next fic, love yall. the feedback is always appreciated! thank u for reading.

(if a part 3 never appears, just know this is an open ending)

part 1, extra: 1.5

“So, how've you been doing these past few weeks?”

“You don't have to make small talk to me, Natasha. I enjoy the silence.”

“I ask genuinely. I barely even see you in the halls of the Complex. We only really talk on missions and we've had three since that happened.”

“Don't worry about me.”

“I just want to know how you're doing.”

You turned your head to look at the woman sitting next to you. The uncomfortable leather chair you two were in did nothing to appease the constant headache you'd been having these past few days. Natasha watched you with an arched eyebrow and her hands in her lap. You knew she was right, everyone was always right when it came to you. Apparently Bucky was right when he said everyone knew but you, and that spectrum extended to everyone always seemed to know how you were doing if only by the movement of your eyelids.

That's why you had begun to avoid people.

You spent more time in your room and in the Complex gym, doing research assignments for Fury that involved leaving the building, the three missions with Natasha (fully mandatory and against your will) and sometimes in the lab with Bruce when he needed someone to hold his canisters full of chemical liquids.

Fury and Bruce were the only people you tolerated lately. No funny looks, no awkward questions, no innuendo; just what they needed and goodbye.

But, that time, you did have to go out with Natasha. You weren't given the option to come on your own and it was understandable. A little bit. Even though you were trying to make amends for what you had done, not only on the mission a few months ago but also for what you had done to yourself for years, you didn't know that recovery meant you had to have a watcher on you at all times.

And what's worse, that watchman came with a bird.

“I'm fine, Nat,” you replied to her liking finally.

A short laugh from across the room caught your attention.

“Tell that to the tantrum you threw Fury so we wouldn't come with you.”

You gave Clint Barton a hard look, almost lying on the other longer couch as if he were admiring the earth from a cloud. He had one arm over his eyes which he had raised slightly to give you a mocking look, and one leg bent so that his foot was on the couch.

“I didn't throw a tantrum.”

“Fury, please, I know how to take care of myself. I don't need two bodyguards behind me all day. I'm fully capable of getting there and back on my own.”

Clint's poor imitation of your voice caused you an undercurrent of irritation, but you easily made the decision not to let it come out against him. It turns out that sometimes you could just shut up instead of exploding against others, crazy, right?

“First, I don't talk like that.”

“That's right. Lousy imitation, Clint,” Natasha had your back.

“Second, I only asked him once to let me come alone. I didn't beg him like a fool.”

“Sam told me otherwise,” Clint countered and you frowned. You felt the smile on his mouth.

“Sam's an idiot.”

“Sam's on Bucky's side,” Natasha mused.

And then, an awkward silence.

That was something you hated and still couldn't get used to. When people would say Bucky's name around you, the atmosphere would get strangely tense and suddenly everyone would go silent. It felt strange at first, but when Wanda did it you understood what was going on.

“Stop doing that,” you grumbled with a grimace. “I'm not fucking marble. I'm not going to crack from hearing his name.”

“We didn't say anything,” Natasha spoke again, her innocent little dove expression getting on your nerves.

Count to ten, Y/N, don't forget…

“You guys always go silent after you say his name like he's going to spontaneously explode. We're adults, you know? There are things to get over.”

“Wow,” you heard Clint mutter.

“Shut up, bird.”

Clint made a negative, game-like sound when you gave an incorrect answer.

“Three points off. Natasha and Clint are in the lead,” the man snorted as he rose from his position on the couch. You couldn't do more than give him another look, waiting for him to evaporate into thin air.

Natasha stirred next to you looking around at her surroundings, the dark colors of the room almost absorbing all the natural light coming through the few windows that were in the building.

“You haven't talked to him yet?”

“No.”

“Do you plan to?”

“I don't know. Maybe not.”

“Why?” Clint inquired, suddenly more interested in the subject.

“Because I don't feel like I give a s-”

Clint made the sound again.

“Two points off.”

“Clint,” Natasha reproached him with her tone of voice and the aforementioned only flashed her a smile. “It's been several weeks since you were last together. And you've had a lot of improvement-”

“That's debatable.”

“… don't you feel ready to talk to him?” Natasha questioned, completely ignoring Clint's intrusion into the conversation, again.

“I really don't know,” you admitted. “She told me I'm on the right track too, but just the thought of seeing him again after all those things he said… that I said…”

You sighed. Your gaze focused on the dark floor, a bluish-green hidden behind a black carpet with red, the most horrible carpet you had ever seen in your life.

“It scares me. I don't think I can do it.”

The woman let out an affirmative sound from her throat and the room became silent once again.

You almost let your mind begin to wander into memories, conjuring up the times when you felt like you were on top of the world when you were really about to hit rock bottom. But you quickly focused on where you were and what you were going to do there.

You were going to pick up Wanda. You had wanted to do it alone because it had been several weeks since you had last seen her. The last thing you told her was that you were going on another mission with Bucky and that you hoped it wouldn't end as badly as the argument you had that half the building heard. After that, she left.

She had made the decision to come and talk to Stephen Strange and had told you a few days before you left on what would be your last (official) field mission. She left the Complex the day after you left and all you had heard from her since then was that she was fine, that Strange hadn't locked her in a dungeon and that she was learning many things about her magic, especially how to control it to have power in things like her dreams. You still didn't know what those lucid dreams she had been having for a while had been due to, but judging from the letter you had received yesterday where she asked you to go to the Sanctum Sanctorum, it looked like she had gotten some kind of response.

When you told Fury what you were going to do, he didn't hesitate for a second to say that he would ask the Wonder Duo to accompany you. Clearly you balked, not as many times as Sam and Clint implied, but you didn't expose any more complaints to the Director's authoritative voice.

So, there you three were. Waiting for the wizards to appear from somewhere as you waited in one of the most horribly decorated rooms you'd ever seen.

“Sorry for the delay.”

The new male voice that echoed in the room startled you. You cringed and turned your head every which way until you came upon Strange's figure standing at the entrance to the room, not far from where you three were standing. Natasha and Clint remained unperturbed and you suppressed your desire to complain about the intrusion. You were the only one who hadn't heard him coming, apparently.

“Y/N!” you heard Wanda's voice.

You shot up from the uncomfortable couch the moment you saw her emerge from behind Strange's body. Quickly, you met halfway and melted into a big hug. You shifted from side to side trying to keep your strength and tears held back because of how much you had missed her.

“You look great!” was what she said to you the moment you parted.

“Don't lie to her, Wanda,” Clint exclaimed, and shortly you heard Natasha hiss in his direction.

“I've had better days.”

“I can't believe the day is here already! You have to tell me everything. What happened on the mission? What happened with Bucky?”

Again, the unpleasant silence.

“Why are you two making those faces?”

Wanda was watching the Wonder Duo right behind you and you couldn't help but let out a big exhale.

You turned to look at the only person who really gave a damn about your life.

“Thanks for everything, Strange.”

The man nodded in your direction. “It was my pleasure. Hopefully everything will be better from now on.”

Wanda waved goodbye to him as you turned around and pointed the other two people in the room toward the exit.

The other goodbyes were short and you were soon finding yourselves exiting through one of the portals opened by Strange, where you met the entrance to the Complex head on.

“Ah, magic. It makes life so much simpler,” Clint commented before starting to walk in the direction of the common room.

Natasha had the decency to bid you farewell and followed the bird's path at a tight pace.

“I thought they were going to join us,” Wanda mused, watching their figures walk away.

“No, they were just my nannies.”

“Nannies?” you saw her frown.

You watched the grimace on her face and almost have the urge to ask Sam to come give her a rundown of what had happened in the last few weeks since that last mission, but you mentally pulled back and offered a small smile to the confused woman in front of you.

“We have a lot to talk about.”

---

“Have you eaten today?”

The haze that clouded your mind slowly disappeared, your head barely registering the movements your body made to stay conscious. The soles of your shoes were too hard for your liking and you'd had to go sit down while you waited for Wanda to return. You didn't know how long it had been since that, but it seemed to be long enough for Steve Rogers to approach the cafeteria table where you were sitting with a tray containing the day's food.

“You look like you could use some of this.”

The blond gently pushed the tray until it was on your side of the table, and the smell of beef stew didn't take long to reach your lungs. It smelled good, to be honest. You looked down at the food and moved your hands to grab the silverware.

“Thank you.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm just waiting for Wanda. She went to talk to Fury.”

“I saw her coming in. She said she had a lot of things to tell.”

“She told me exactly the same thing.”

“And did you get to talk about anything before she left?”

You glanced at the fork in your left hand before looking up and meeting Steve's unconcerned face. You had learned very quickly that it wasn't too hard to get to know the captain in your position as opposed to how unreachable he looked to the rest of the population. He was a rough and tough man, but he would do things like bring lunch to a female shipmate who had a blank stare and sit down and try to chat with her.

He was good. Steve was good.

But he wasn't sneaky.

“If you want to know the verdict, talk to Strange. He's a close friend of Tony's.”

The man only sighed, his shoulders slumping in time with his breathing as if he'd been in alert mode all day.

“I didn't mean to sound so…. opportunistic.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You didn't sound opportunistic, Steve, you're just bad at trying to hide your curiosity,” you expressed with a small smile, but the man didn't look convinced by your words. “She's fine. She looks fine. She sounds fine. Whatever they had done, talked about or practiced, it surely paid off. I don't think you have anything to worry about.”

“She looked really scared before she left. You didn't see her. She asked me several times to communicate with you because she didn't know if it was a good idea to do that anymore.”

“She asked you that?”

“Yes. But the mission was very delicate, we couldn't risk it.”

You nodded in your direction, your gaze wandering back over the food.

“I just want her to be okay,” Steve mumbled and you almost missed the way his face contracted. His blue eyes found yours. “She's been through too much throughout her life and now this. It's like a joke of the universe.”

“She'll be fine. She has us. If she needs strength, she'll have plenty.”

Steve smiled, and then you took your first bite of beef stew.

You grimaced.

The blond frowned.

“Was the smell better than the taste, again?”

You nodded with your mouth full. Your hands went to the glass of water in the corner of the tray and you didn't hesitate to down the meat with all the liquid in it. You were almost never lucky enough to taste good lunches in that cafeteria.

“FRIDAY,” you heard Steve say.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Can you order a 12-inch tuna Subway on whole wheat bread with all the vegetables except the bell peppers and olives, please.”

“Right away, Captain.”

“That wasn't necessary,” you turned to the man as his gaze focused on yours.

“You can't go without eating.”

“I would have been able to place the order.”

“Mmm, really?”

“Of course! Do you think I waste the opportunity to spend Tony's money every chance I get? Even, I would have ordered more.”

“Oh, seriously?” Steve had a mischievous grin on his face and you furrowed your brow at his strange expression. “FRIDAY, make it three.”

You half-opened your lips.

“Sure thing, Captain.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“What's with the attitude? It's Tony's money, isn't it?”

You hadn't heard that kind of boldness from Steve very often, and when it happened it was a complete event to witness. The man was a stickler, everyone knew him that way. He didn't understand the word rest and most of his free moments were only used to keep reconsidering attack strategies. Steve wasn't one to let loose and go with the flow very often, but when he did it was something to be enjoyed.

“You know he doesn't mind, right?”

And the moment was over.

“No? I thought he still hated me from lying to him about the book.”

“Uhm…” Steve fumbled over his words and you were amused at the way his features scrunched up. “He doesn't hate you. He was just angry. Besides, it's been a long time, he probably doesn't even remember that.”

“I think he's going to remember that until he dies.”

“Steve.”

You froze in place.

Abort mission. Abort mission. 911. Mayday, mayday, mayday.

Steve looked over your shoulder and then back up at you, your eyes on the embroidery of his brown jacket. You tried to keep your expression composed and sent him a smile of assurance that even you couldn't believe. But you couldn't do anything else. You couldn't break down at that moment. Besides, he would most likely ask the blonde to come with him and Steve would go. You wouldn't really have to deal with anything.

“He's really coming,” you heard Steve mutter in your direction.

Your face scrunched up in confusion, and you watched his expression of poorly disguised panic. You had told Steve only once, days ago, that you weren't ready to talk to Bucky at all. And, apparently, he had made it his problem too.

“Are you busy?”

You heard Bucky so close that a shiver ran through your body. It had been weeks since you'd last heard his voice. On that mission.

“No, I was just talking to-”

“Captain.”

But what was this, the all-call-Steve-at-once festival?

You sank back in your seat when you recognized the Director's voice. If he was there, it meant Wanda must be coming with him, and judging by the contractions in Steve's face, going from confused to incredulous to dumbfounded to flushed, your friend was most likely waving him out of there.

“A word, please,” Fury spoke again, and Steve barely let a second pass before he sprung out of his chair like a spring. He gave you a look and you could almost see the apology written in his eyes.

“Buck, I'm sorry- I mean, wait here for me.”

“What?”

“I won't be late, I promise.”

“I can wait for you in the living room…”

“No,” Steve contradicted him sharply. You caught a glimpse of his stiff expression out of the corner of your eye. “Wait for me here, can you?”

You didn't hear an answer, but you guessed it was positive when you saw Steve's face a little more relaxed. He looked back at you and barely gave you a nod before he started walking toward the exit. You turned in your seat to see him, and barely caught a glimpse of Wanda's triumphant face before she hid behind the back of a naive Fury as she saw your gaze on hers.

That woman really had no idea…

The chair Steve was occupying shifted and Bucky appeared in your field of vision. He was looking anywhere in the cafeteria before he was looking at you. And well, that was good, it gave you time to analyze what you had missed in those weeks without any communication.

He clearly looked calmer. Even though you two were forcibly put in an uncomfortable situation, he didn't seem to mind too much. He looked a little tense, you could barely make out a twitch in his jaw, but other than that he was pretty relaxed.

You didn't know how to interpret that.

The last time you had thought about seeing Bucky again (which was that very morning when Natasha brought it up) you thought that one of you would run away without even a second's notice. It seemed that the only one too scared about that reunion was you. Surely Bucky hadn't thought about it for a single moment since the last time you were face to face.

And his hair. He had cut his hair much shorter than last time. Its ends were directed to the ceiling and you could no longer mess it up if you ran your hands through it. It would rearrange itself in seconds. His eyes were still the same, clear and bright as the clear sky, his expression just as stoic and unperturbed, his body leaning slightly to one side with his hands clasped in his lap. Almost everything about him remained the same except for his hair.

And except he couldn't look you in the eye.

You looked down where the tray with the stew was still intact. You didn't have anything else to distract you with so you grabbed a vegetable and popped it in your mouth.

Turning your head away, you missed Bucky's gaze on your face analyzing the grimace of disgust you were trying to hide.

You swallowed hard and grabbed the water bottle so that it almost slipped through your hands. It was empty.

You almost threw up on yourself.

“Are you okay?”

You met his gaze and froze. His wary eyes were on your face.

“Yeah.”

“Doesn't look like that food is good.”

“Because it isn't.”

You shook your head and pushed the tray away from your personal space once and for all.

“Why don't you order something else?”

“Steve already ordered me something.”

“Oh.”

And silence.

You usually enjoyed the quiet moments, when no sound flooded the surroundings other than your own breathing and the ramblings in your head. You could really enjoy your solitude and the quiet it brought with it. But this silence didn't come with solitude, it came with tension, strain, uncertainty.

You didn't know if you felt you should say something or if you felt you should run away. If you stayed you didn't know what to say to him and if you left you didn't know under what excuse.

Bucky's light eyes met yours again after wandering his gaze for a while around the room.

“Wanda's back,” was what he said.

You nodded.

“We came with her this morning.”

“Yes, Steve told me.”

“We don't have to do this, you know.”

His neutral expression turned chaotic for a moment. Then he went back to being unflappable as if nothing.

“We don't have to do what?”

“This. Talk like it's nothing. It's awkward.”

“Ah. You find it awkward?”

You furrowed your brow at his genuine curiosity. For a moment you thought he was being sarcastic, but his eyes detailed your expression intently, waiting for an answer.

“Don't you?”

“Why should I?”

“Can you stop answering with questions, please.”

Bucky averted his gaze. He repeatedly ran his hands over his jeans.

“I'm sorry. If it makes you uncomfortable I'll keep quiet.”

“Still, you don't answer my question.”

“It's not awkward for me,” he finally said, his slightly tilted head pointed in your direction. “It's just normal small talk. Between two people.”

You hummed a nod and your head moved in sync.

“It's easier for you to pretend nothing happened.”

Bucky shook his head, attentive. He narrowed his eyes and it didn't go unnoticed the way you tensed your shoulders as the words left your mouth.

“I never said that.”

“It's just what I can glimpse.”

“What you think you see is not true. I'm not trying to feign insanity.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot you're an expert at knowing what I think,” the words left you before you could process them and give them the proper filter, and you were sure Bucky had noticed the way your composure wavered for barely a second. If he had, he chose to ignore it.

You saw him twist his lips and lower his gaze, as if he suddenly felt distressed even though he wasn't the one who should be worried about something like that.

“You're angry.”

“And why would I be, according to you?”

“Maybe you were expecting a different reaction from me. You don't like what I'm giving you.”

You let out a laugh. “I never thought arrogant was your type.”

Bucky took in your gesture and mimicked it. Seeing a smile on his face after so long brought back images you thought you had sent far out into the ocean of your mind. Maybe you didn't feel your heart racing as it had so many times before, but you definitely felt something different from the fear and dismay that normally accompanied his memory. Even though you didn't want to accept it, you couldn't help but stretch a little towards that new sensation.

“I was joking. I have no idea why you're mad.”

The small smile on your face disappeared, and you allowed your head to wander down the paths of self-healing and self-improvement. Perhaps it was situations like these that your therapist always referred to. Stealthy confrontations that you usually used to avoid like rain, were the perfect moments to divulge a kind of self-reflection and improvement. To, perhaps, make known the emotions and thoughts you used to suppress and keep to yourself, the reason you had ended up that way to begin with. That was supposed to be what people normally did, to talk about their feelings…

So you just let it out.

“I'm not angry. I think I feel… embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed about what?” Bucky cocked his head to one side, his eyes scrutinizing your face as if trying to figure out if you were being serious or not.

“For confronting you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Bucky. Here's to having you face me and confirming once again that you were right,” you rolled your eyes and took the moment to look anywhere in the cafeteria but into the blue eyes that wouldn't leave yours. “You were always right, I guess. No one else stood up to me like you did and I still lied to you looking you in the eye, wouldn't you feel the same way?”

The movement he made as he shrugged his shoulders drew your gaze, and met you with such a frightening familiarity that you felt old memories and feelings creeping up from the back of your mind to return to the surface. His calm gaze and tension-free body was what you had always been used to, and at that moment it was what you were seeing.

You didn't know how much you missed him until you saw it again.

“It's possible, yes.”

“The point is, knowing that doesn't make it any less complicated. In fact, it's a little harder to cope with. Being aware of the embarrassment… makes you more embarrassed.”

Bucky let out a short laugh. Your gaze didn't leave the way his corners turned up and then how his shoulders moved and his chest contracted in sync with that laugh. You hadn't noticed until that moment the change in the atmosphere around the two of you, much lighter and cozier, not at all hostile and toxic compared to the last few times you were together after the argument.

Mmm, maybe you were liking all that stuff about therapy. To be honest, up until that point you had discerned very few results, although some were quite important. Like, for example, you were able to keep your mind clear of self-destructive thoughts for longer, or that you could look at your past actions and reflect on them, determining clearly what things you were doing wrong and why it was wrong to do them. And there were many, many of them. Not just with the people around you, but more so with yourself.

However, in that moment, having Bucky in front of you and having been able to not only carry on a conversation for more than a minute with him, but also having been able to admit to him how you had felt and show true regret for what happened, you were able to understand that the change was much bigger than you had initially sized it up to be.

“It's serious. It complicates the process for me. That's why I didn't want to see you.”

He nodded without wiping the smile off his face. You could sense the understanding emanating through his gaze and, by the way he straightened his body, you knew he was going to give voice to the thoughts going through his head. Bucky usually kept his opinion of people to himself, he wasn't one to go around highlighting qualities in others unless he was asked or it was necessary for him to say so. Because of this, you could learn to tell when he was going to keep quiet about it and when he was willing to let it all out.

“Still, if it makes you feel any better, I can see you've come too far. Six months ago you wouldn't have said that to my face. I probably would have heard it from Sam who heard it from Clint when he eavesdropped on some conversation of yours with Wanda.”

You were really glad about what he just said, but…. what the fuck?

“Clint eavesdrops on our conversations?”

Bucky went blank. His features froze and the tension emanating from his body enveloped you both.

“Well… I only heard it once. Clint had said he'd upgraded the device for his hearing and was hearing three times as many things as he should. Among those things, he could hear you talking to Wanda in the next room.”

“I don't believe it.”

“There's nothing to tell you for sure that he did it again.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“Mmm, two years, I think.”

“Did he ever say anything to you?”

Bucky didn't answer for a few seconds, his gaze seemed lost in yours, with a solidity and strength too forceful for your tolerance. You suspected the answer was positive, but received the opposite.

“He only told me what had happened. He never told me if he understood anything he heard.”

“Uhm, you're good at getting out of tight spots.”

He gave you another one of those smiles that felt like home.

“I've had years to practice.”

The silence that followed his words was much more welcoming than before. You seemed to be able to move around the masses of air so freely that all the tension in your body could disappear in a gentle breeze.

“I'm sorry this was uncomfortable for you, but it was good to see you. And hearing you.”

“It wasn't that uncomfortable.”

“You're squeezing your legs under the table.”

You looked down, surprised, though you shouldn't be. Bucky had always been good at reading your body language. It was almost like it was his way of communicating. And yes, you were.

“You rocked from side to side. Your hands never stopped clenching in your lap. You were uncomfortable.”

“Still, I don't regret what I said.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

You had a duel of glances and you longed for that comfort you had been missing for so long. During those almost seven months of barely seeing him and not speaking to him, you had learned to appreciate the little moments in life. And you were surprised to think that before you thought you were living your life as you were doing at that moment, the present, but you were not. You learned the cruel difference between existing and living, and it wasn't hard for you to deduce why you had had such complicated moments in your life some time before.

You had never lived anything. You went through your life as a tourist and many times you weren't even in the picture. You tried so hard and constantly to convince yourself otherwise every day that it ended up tiring you out emotionally, and in the process taking everything out on the one person who tried to reach out to help you.

“Buck!” Steve's exclamation echoed throughout the cafeteria, just on time.

You turned to see him in the doorway, his raised hand gesturing for the man in front of you to follow him. Bucky stood up, but didn't leave before turning a glance at you with a warm smile worthy of summer.

“I hope to keep hearing from you more often.”

“We'll see if you're worth it.”

984 notes · View notes

jooniperbonsai · 10 months ago

Text

Thanks For The Sub (ksj) | Chapter One

Pairing: Camboy!Seokjin x Gamer!Reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Chapter One length: 11-14k 18,371 (OOPS LOL)

Release date: Fri. January 19, 2024.

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, camboy au, gamer au, comedy, crack, slow burn (?), coworkers/boss/friends to lovers, an exploration of adults in their late 20s/early 30s

Summary: After a clip of you sucking at video games goes viral, you've become somewhat famous, with thousands of subscribers now tuning in each week to see you play. Overnight, you've gone from a sexually frustrated grad student who reads smut in her room to a gamer girl (or rather, a not-gamer girl). This would have been the perfect job, except it was never the job you wanted. Desperate for money to pay for grad school, you bounce between your new gig and working at a local restaurant to pay the bills, where your hot coworker-now-boss Seokjin plays many of the lead roles in your sexual fantasies.

Seokjin, two years post losing his fiancé and job within the same day, is tired of the rut he's dug himself into and wants to start over. Now 30 years old, he's stuck managing his family's restaurant where he harbors an insanely inappropriate crush on you on top of carrying one hell of a secret: Seokjin is also known as Jin, a successful gay-for-pay camboy on the streaming site Worldwide Handsome.

When the stress of the upcoming semester and the pressure to stream becomes more than you can handle, you seek out some much-needed stress relief online, only to discover a man who looks a little too much like your boss is staring right back at you.

Warnings for Chapter One: Swearing, cheating (not between main characters), big age gap between lesser characters that can be uncomfy, sex work, gay sex work when the worker is actually not gay (but everyone is chill about it), <- allusions to queer fetishization bc of this, feelings of shame and guilt, feelings of failure/depression, improper restaurant safety procedures, the existential crisis of your late-20s/30s that we all seem to go through, off-handed references to kpop culture including fanfics because I'm a clown and need to call us out sometimes, silly literary tropes, references to pregnancy (NOT reeader), boss-employee power dynamics, allusions to queer BTS members or relationships, cameos of au Seventeen Members (Wonwoo and y/n are besties). NSFW sex stuff: big dick Seokjin (of course), Seokjin with rolled shirt sleeves and cutting things in a kitchen, Daddy Dom Seokjin makes himself known, blindfolds, camming (obviously), f/m masturbation, lots of dirty talk, sex toys, degradation kink, praise kink, sexual fantasies at the worst moment, kink exploration, a lot cum (sorry), I mention the omegaverse as a joke, a sparkly pink dildo, seokjin has a massive collection of toys and he intends to use them, seokjin and reader are constantly horny, reader is kind of inexperienced, implied exhibitionism kink, implied voyeurism, implied public sex.

a/n: it's here (and longer than I intended but oh well!) this fic is inspired by a combination of fics from the lovely writing community on here, the copious amounts of smut I read, a dabble of my friends or my own experience, & the high drama of kdramas. I felt really compelled to write this fic after rereading "tip 143 (for ∞ seconds of love)" by minilouvre on ao3. I feel like the camboy/person trope is so fun to explore and I wanted to try my own take on it with our Seokjin, who doesn't seem to get as many fics written about him but absolutely deserves it. I also wanted to create space for a fic that explores the weird transition of late 20s-30s that both BTS and I (and maybe many of you) have experienced in the last few years. I hope you enjoy! I keep my inbox open, so lmk your thoughts!

xo - h

That’s it baby cum for me.

Such a good little slut for Daddy.

Wish that dildo was my cock.

Fuck this is so hot.

The tip jar was going wild. The mute button tapped long ago, tonight was by far the most successful night camming Seokjin had ever had. He would definitely be able to afford that new gaming PC after this.

Thank god. After three hours streaming, he was getting tired of riding the glittery pink dildo. It was cute–a Christmas gift from one of his loyal subscribers– but admittedly, he hadn’t prepped well enough before putting it in an hour ago, and when he let out a pained groan as he sank down on it, he immediately knew he would be feeling it tomorrow, and maybe the next day.

His only consolation was the five new top-tier subscriptions he’d received while experiencing searing hot pain. He’d clearly appealed to someone’s kink. Well, there was always something for everyone.

Seokjin knew this well. Today was his two-year anniversary since his first livestream on Worldwide Handsome, an international gay live cam site. During those two years he had seen just about every kink requested, from wax play to autoerotic asphyxiation to something called the omegaverse; he’d sifted through the internet and researched enough on each request to decide which ones he’d be willing to perform, and which kinks were too much outside of his comfort zone.

Now, with an apartment full of gifted costumes and drawers full of just about every type of sex toy known to the human population (and perhaps even some aliens if those toys held any accuracy), it was obvious that Seokjin was a knowledgeable and successful camboy who could fulfill so many men’s fantasies.

Except for the fact that Seokjin wasn’t actually gay.

Which is, as it turns out, also something people are into.

Two Years Ago

It wasn’t that Seokjin ever intended to be a gay sex cam worker, much less a camboy at all, but two years, four months, three weeks, and twelve hours ago, Seokjin hopped on a plane after finishing a week-long conference in Los Angeles. He’d booked the first flight out, eager to come home to his fiancé.

During the week, he hadn’t heard much from her. He understood, of course. She’d mentioned before he left that during that week she would be busy catching up on work and finalizing a really important project with a looming deadline. She’d been stressed about it the morning he left, practically shoving him out the door with his suitcase.

But he missed her desperately, especially with the distance between them, and he was hoping he could regain some of that intimacy by trying phone sex. They’d been having less sex recently, probably from the stress of work, but he still craved her every single day, just like he did when they were in college.

For most of his and Soon Yi’s relationship, they were insatiable. In college, they were known for being embarrassingly public in their displays of affection, with Yoongi once catching them in the kitchen at a party with Soon Yi’s hand down Seokjin’s pants and Seokjin’s hands up Soon Yi’s shirt. At first, Seokjin wondered if he always felt so horny because of his raging hormones and the fact that Soon Yi was the first person he’d had sex with. But even three years later, on the night he’d proposed, they had to leave the restaurant he rented out so they could have sex in the car.

Soon Yi was charming. She matched Seokjin’s wit, always ready to keep up with a joke and take it to the next level. She fit in effortlessly with his group of friends, remembering their birthdays and always showing up with a tiny treat for them, even if they hated celebrating. His parents adored her the moment they met her. She was frequently fawned over when she visited his work to bring him lunch or to just stop by and say hello.

When his boss, Mr. Choi met her during the company’s annual gala, he told Seokjin she was enchanting, she was the moon that lit up the evening sky. Mr. Choi was also incredibly drunk when he said this, but he wasn’t wrong.

Soon Yi glowed through Seokjin’s darkest nights like the moon.

That’s why when she denied every video call request he made during his trip, Seokjin knew something was wrong. He felt desperate and needy, something he’d never experienced during their relationship.

As he laid in his hotel bed, touching himself to their memories, a strange need overtook him: he wanted to remind her that despite all the work stress, they always got through everything together and ultimately, being intimate might help with reconnection.

So at the end of his boring conference, he flew back, planning on surprising her when she got home with a delicious meal and sexy massage. Maybe he’d even use those silly novelty heart-shaped handcuffs Jungkook got him as a gag gift.

He was ready to rekindle his love for the moon.

What Seokjin wasn’t ready for was the fact that when he walked through the door of his house, the only moon he saw was that of Mr. Choi’s naked ass as he thrust into Soon Yi on the dining room table.

As it became immediately apparent, Soon Yi’s “work project” was clearly what was playing out before him as he watched the only woman he’d ever been in love with writhe in ecstasy underneath his much older work superior.

It would have been one thing to lose his fiancé, but in witnessing this entanglement, Seokjin also knew he’d lost his job. Due to the blur of his memory, his brain trying to erase what he’d seen, he wasn’t entirely sure when they realized he was home. However, by the time he had grabbed another duffel with some fresh, non work-related clothes from his dresser–after he breezed past his unmade bed that probably didn’t smell like him anymore–Soon Yi and Mr. Choi were half dressed and sheepishly waiting for him near the entry.

Seokjin couldn’t bring himself to look either of them in the eyes as he stated his resignation letter would be on Mr. Choi’s desk the following morning.

When he arrived at Jimin and Jungkook’s apartment to crash, that’s when reality set in. What would he do now? He had no house to live in, no job to make money from, and he just lost the love of his life.

His head was splitting from the idea of car payments, a mortgage under his name for a place he wouldn’t be living in, having to tell his parents, calling the wedding venue and paying that awful cancellation fee on top of not getting his deposit back. The extra zeros in his bank account were depleting fast and it wasn’t like he would be able to sleep on Jimin and Jungkook’s couch forever.

After two weeks of dodging family phone calls, desperately applying to every job that didn’t sound like a scam, waking up in the middle of the night from the lumpiness of the couch or Jungkook’s horrible snoring, Seokjin felt like he was out of options.

“I’m going to call my parents and tell them. Maybe I can work at the restaurant for the time being while I wait for callbacks. I have some money in my savings for my own apartment. I just can’t keep doing this,” he said.

“Hyung, are you sure? You know that we don’t mind you being here as long as you need. Really, it’s not an issue.” Jimin was gentle as always, the concern on his face knitting his eyebrows together.

But Seokjin knew he was avoiding the inevitable, so when he nodded and then called his parents, their warm voices on the other end felt like a sign he’d made the right decision after all.

The next week, Seokjin began working at his family’s restaurant, filling in for shifts that were short, typically in the kitchen. Chopping and prepping the food for the chefs, dish washing, and anything that kept his hands busy were welcome distractions from the painful reminder of what awaited him outside of the restaurant.

Soon Yi was pregnant. Seokjin found out one day when he stopped by to grab a load of his things to bring to his new apartment. While both he and Soon Yi agreed to sell the house, it appeared she was taking longer than him to pack. He figured this was because she would be moving in with Mr. Choi, who lived in the penthouse of a luxury apartment complex downtown.

During their meeting with the real estate agent, Soon Yi had scribbled her new contact information and mailing address onto some forms with Mr. Choi’s details. Wealthy people always operated on their own timeline, one where they could hire a moving company to have everything neatly packed and stored within hours.

Seokjin, however, was limited to an ongoing loop of back and forth where he crammed his car full of silverware, lamps, and his MapleStory figure collection Soon Yi once mocked him for collecting. As Seokjin continued to pack away his belongings, he saw it. In the guest bathroom outside of the kitchen, there were two positive pregnancy tests in the garbage can.

Soon Yi was pregnant and the father wasn’t him. The last time they’d had sex was three months ago. She would have known by now if that were the case.

A wave of nausea rushed over him, and somewhere between bouts of gagging and wiping tears from his eyes, Seokjin realized that things were truly over.

Two months passed, and still he couldn’t find a job. While the restaurant gig was taking care of some of his bills, it was only a matter of time before Seokjin would be unable to take care of himself. At 28 years old, he’d have to move back in with his parents, which was next to impossible in terms of space, not to mention the fact that his brother and wife were living with them while their apartment was being renovated to better accommodate a life transition of their own: they were expecting their first child.

Given his semi-recent discovery, being around a pregnant woman was something Seokjin didn’t particularly want a reminder of.

“I don’t know what to do. Something has to give,” he said one day as he sat in Yoongi’s living room. A thick coat of snow was covering the earth outside, though from the sweat running down the back of Seokjin’s neck, you would never be able to tell. Yoongi always kept his home at the exact opposite of the climate outside, trying to quell the possibility he would have to experience any physical discomfort if he dared to ever leave his house, which he rarely did.

His friends all sat around him, quietly sipping their whisky or beer while the flashing light from the TV casted a kaleidoscope of colors across the coffee table. Hoseok nudged Taehyung, who’d fallen asleep at some point between the long pauses in conversation. Seokjin couldn’t blame him.

It was late, much later than the invitation Yoongi extended typically lasted, but this meetup was different. Everyone had always known Seokjin to be optimistic. From a goofy dad-joke-making 18 year old until now, he’d consistently been a source of light. When Taehyung’s grandmother died a few years back, it was Seokjin who made him first smile again with a spot-on impression of his own halmoni as they slurped bowls of naengmyeon.

His hair was shaggy and unkempt, his smile fading quickly from his face after cracking a joke. His jokes were also darker, less silly and eye-rolling and more self-deprecating and sarcastic. It was like his life was draining from him before their eyes, and it was becoming nearly impossible to stomach.

But concern doesn’t always lead to action, which is why they were sitting around in Yoongi’s living room hoping the whisky would give them some inspiration to find a solution to Seokjin’s problem that he wouldn’t immediately turn down. They’d scoured job sites together earlier, and anything in Seokjin’s former profession only led to him suggesting his next boss better be a woman or else he might have to keep his future girlfriend away from corporate events or dining tables. Other careers in his field were met with similar disdain.

Seokjin wasn’t always this way. In college, he didn’t know what kind of job he wanted or where he wanted to end up, so he majored in acting, hoping that it would lead him where he would eventually develop some sense of passion.

In a sense it did. During an internship with an entertainment company shortly after he graduated, his attention to detail, natural charisma, and flexibility showcased a skillset he didn’t even know he had, which resulted in him being offered a position in their corporate headquarters the following fall. He’d been there ever since.

But Seokjin didn’t want to return to the same life he’d had. So much of his life up to this point had been the same, and it clearly didn’t work out for him, so why continue on? The only issue was that he once again felt like he was 18, trying to decide on a path to follow when he didn’t even know who he was anymore. Nothing was appealing to him.

“What about video game streaming?” Namjoon suggested. “You love games, and you have all the equipment. You used to talk about doing that all the time.”

“Yeah, hyung. You’re also really good at talking and stuff, so it would be fun to watch you do it!” Taehyung perked up at this suggestion, shaking off his sleepiness to contribute to the conversation. “I’ve seen how much streamers make with all their sponsorships and stuff, they don’t even have to work another job!”

The energy in the room picked up slightly as they waited expectantly for an answer.

Seokjin grunted. “Okay, look. I would love to do that. That’s my dream job. But you’re forgetting something important. Those streamers didn’t just jump on the internet one day and then got thousands of subscribers and sponsorships to pay their bills overnight. Some of them took years to build up their following before they even started making money off of it. A lot of people actually lose money from game streaming. And I need money now. I don’t have that kind of time!”

Taehyung deflated, settling himself back into the couch next to Hoseok, who gave him a tender pat on his thigh.

“But what if…what if you did a kind of streaming that made you money pretty much right away?” Jungkook offered quietly.

Seokjin glanced over at his youngest friend, who was holding his empty whisky glass in his hands instead of looking at him.

“What do you mean? Is there some kind of gaming livestream service that does that?” Now Seojkin was curious.

“Um, well, not for gaming, exactly. I was just thinking. Um, you could always do like an OnlyFans or something? I have a friend who does it and she sometimes makes $1000 a night. And that would take care of–”

“You mean being a camboy? Jungkook, seriously? Listen I know we’ve all had a bit to drink, but that’s a ridiculous idea.” Seokjin snorted. “Besides, the market is flooded with people doing their own sex work. Maybe your friend is just really pretty or something to make that much from it, but I highly doubt I would make any money off OnlyFans because no one would even see me!”

Jungkook nursed his bottom lip between his teeth as he was dismissed, his body mirroring Taehyung as he fell back into the couch cushions.

“Hyung is right,” Jimin added finally, having spent most of the night settled quietly next to an even quieter Yoongi. “He wouldn’t make much money on OnlyFans. All the men on there are either ugly or buff, and Seokjin-hyung looks way too gay to appeal to that market.”

Yoongi, who was sipping his whisky as Jimin spoke, spluttered into the glass as he lost his composure, falling into a fit of laughter. From the other side of the room, Hoseok joined in, clapping and gasping for air between laughs.

“Excuse me? What the hell does that even mean? Yah, stop laughing! It’s not funny!” Seokjin fought the smile that was trying to form on his lips. Okay, it was a little funny.

“Well, hyung, isn’t it obvious? Remember that one time we went to a gay bar and all those guys I tried to pick up tried to pick you up instead?” Jimin sighed as he glanced at Seokjin before reaching across the coffee table to grab a handful of cheese balls.

“We’ve been over this. They weren’t trying to pick me up. They just told me I was really handsome and had fuckable lips. And they’re not wrong!”

“Wait when did you guys go to a gay bar? Where was I?” Yoongi cleared his throat, finally recovering from his laughing fit.

“You didn’t want to come, remember? I don’t know why you’re asking this, you never want to go anywhere. Anyway that’s besides the point. Seokjin-hyung and I went to the gay bar and he stole all of the guys I was hitting on because they wanted to make him their baby girl!”

Hoseok wiped a tear from his eye and chuckled. “Yeah, no, hyung I’m sorry but if Jimin is being passed up at a gay bar for you, you clearly give off that vibe. I can see it. You look all soft and plushy and like you would be the perfect bottom.”

Seokjin tried to fight off the heat that was creeping up his neck into his ears, but after a few glasses of whisky, and the ungodly temperature of the room, it was a failed mission to avoid being flushed.

Jimin shot a glare at Hoseok, who shrugged. “What? I meant it as a compliment!”

“Well, thanks I guess. Now I know I look like I’m gay. That doesn’t seem to solve my problem here!” Seokjin looked over at Namjoon for backup, but all Namjoon seemed to be able to do was give him an apologetic smile.

“No, I know, I know. We got off topic.” Jimin said, “Sort of. Listen, like I said before you wouldn’t be successful on OnlyFans, just because of what they market. But you could always market yourself differently. And I’m thinking, if you really need to make money fast, you could always work with what you’ve got going for you.”

The entire room went silent.

“Wait,” Namjoon said, “you don’t mean…” His eyes flitted to Seokjin and widened in alarm.

Slowly, everyone shifted as they realized what Jimin was suggesting, Seokjin evidently being the last one.

How was he supposed to work with what he had when what he had was apparently drawing a different crowd of people from the one he was interested in? What did Jimin mean by marketing himself differently? Was he supposed to just stream on websites that were exclusively for gay men?

Oh. That’s exactly what Jimin was saying.

“Wh-Jimin what the fuck? You mean I should be a gay camboy? I know we just talked about me being attractive to men, but I’m not interested in them that way!”

Jimin huffed. “Well obviously I know you’re not gay. Otherwise we might not be in this situation.”

Seokjin winced.

“Sorry, that was unfair. It’s just…hyung, you’ve been so not like yourself lately. And you’re right, something needs to change. I know you’re not gay, but this still could help. Haven’t you heard of gay for pay? Like in porn and stuff a bunch of straight actors will fuck each other or some gay guy because it pays more than straight porn. It’s the same thing.”

“Only you don’t have to actually fuck anyone. Maybe you should remind him of that,” Yoongi added.

“Right, exactly! Look, you don’t have to do it. But it could help you get by and pay bills in the meantime until you find something else that you want to do. And there’s a lot of sites where you can stream even once and get a direct payout the next day. It might be worth a shot.”

Seokjin thought about it for a moment. It didn’t sound completely awful. From what he’d seen from the times he saw cam sites out of curiosity, most of what happened was masturbating and talking to people. And he didn’t hate people. But something about it made him nervous.

“I don’t know if I’d be okay with being watched. That seems embarrassing.”

“Oh please, the number of times you and Soon Yi fucked basically in public is astronomical. You’re practically an exhibitionist,” Hoseok teased.

“That was different! I was with her! Now it would be everyone watching just me up close and personal. Namjoon-ah, talk some sense into them. This is crazy, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know if it actually is, hyung,” Namjoon said lightly. “Jimin-ah and Hobi have made some good points. And I think…I think if you weren’t even just a little bit curious you would have immediately said no instead of going back and forth with them over it like how you flat out said no to the other stuff. Maybe you’re feeling a bit shy because it’s been a little while and you are trying to heal through the breakup and stuff, but you also don’t have to do it or you can do it once and change your mind after if you want.

“It just doesn’t seem to me like this is the worst option for you. You get to talk to people, you can maybe have fun. You don’t see the people on the other side anyway, so if you wanted to pretend they were girls instead of guys you could, or turn off the comments probably? It’s not real sex though. And even if it was, is that so wrong? It’s not like you would be cheating on Soon Yi for doing this. I mean-”

“Thanks Hyung! I think we get it!” Jimin interjected, raising his eyebrows at Namjoon as if to say shut the fuck up.

Seokjin felt his stomach sink. Is this why he was panicked at the thought? It wasn’t real sex, but it almost felt like he would be doing something wrong by doing this. Not morally against himself, but someone else. Maybe he was still hanging on to Soon Yi in ways he didn’t fully realize.

He felt almost like a heavy weight was pressing on his chest and forbidding him from moving on. What would happen then if he tried doing this for himself? Would the weight still feel the same? He wanted to know.

“Ah, fine, I’ll think about it.” He looked over at Yoongi, who looked relieved that the conversation was nearing its end. “You have anything to add to this? A final voice of reason?”

Yoongi snorted as he jumped up to stretch. “Nah. Except, as your former roommate, ‘Seok’s got a point about the exhibitionism thing. You were way too into showing me your dick all the time and walking around naked when we roomed together.”

The room erupted into laughter, Seokjin himself joining. This time his smile didn’t immediately fall from his face.

Slowly, everyone else stood, bodies unwinding from furniture and each other. While Jimin ordered Jungkook and himself a taxi, Seokjin waited with him.

“My only issue is, how do I pretend to be gay? Won’t they know I’m not?”

Jimin scoffed as he nudged a sleepy and tipsy Jungkook into his shoes. “I don’t know hyung. You have an acting degree. Use it.”

A few weeks later, Seokjin held his first stream, nervously engaging with the handful of viewers trickling in and tried to deflect the discomfort he felt in his new spotlight.

“Um, hi everyone. My name’s Jin. Thanks for coming. You can probably tell, but this is my first time and I’m really nervous. I hope you enjoy the show.”

Seokjin decided to shorten his name for his streams to help him feel like he was embodying a different persona, someone named Jin who may actually be gay. It wasn’t a big change, but it was nice to give himself some separation from Seokjin, the guy who was doing gay for pay to afford a new life.

Unfortunately, Jimin’s suggestion for Seokjin to act wasn’t as easy to implement as he’d hoped. Within the first half hour, viewers of his stream had noticed he was still nervous, and started asking him questions to get him to unwind, and hopefully undress.

“Ah, yeah, uh, anal. I’ve done it once or twice, it’s nice.” It wasn’t a lie, he’d tried anal a few times with Soon Yi and did find it nice, but he also knew that this wasn’t what the question was asking.

“Do I have a boyfriend? No, I’m single.”

Slowly he began undressing, the heat of his half-truths causing him to feel like he was burning up.

“Are you really gay? Well, what kind of question is that? I’m here aren’t I?”

That question seemed to satisfy his audience for another half hour, until a new thread of people trickled in, asking him the same questions. He was running out of ways to answer.

I don’t care if you’re straight. You’re still hot.

When he read this comment, he exhaled deeply. And from that one reaction, a flurry of others joined in.

Yeah, idc either. You’re still so pretty.

So hot if u were straight. Maybe I’d convert u. ;)

I’d let you put it into my ass and let you pretend it was a pussy.

For some reason, these comments began to fuel him. The attention was kind of nice. It reminded him of how he used to feel.

Maybe he didn’t need to act gay to get what he wanted. Maybe he could just enjoy the pleasure of the compliments and company and see what happened from there? The weight he had been carrying around in his chest was feeling a bit lighter, and the comments were helping distract him from the pinches of guilt that he was doing something wrong. Because he wasn’t.

Here, he was Jin, a sexy, flirty guy who could shine in the sky of his own making.

Jin, the moon.

That’s it. He was the moon.

Present

“That’s it, give it to me. Please, I’m gonna cum.” Seokjin hoped the words he moaned at his camera were true. He was so tired, and he wanted to be free from the stupid dildo.

Lately, Seojkin has been having a hard time cumming on stream. He wasn’t sure why. For so long it had never been an issue, but streaming had begun feeling less like a fun way to relieve stress and more like an actual job.

Never before was he so popular with his stream, and while it’s nice to see a larger deposit being made into his bank account each week, every time he came home from the restaurant and knew he was scheduled to do a cam show, his stomach knotted up with dread.

The last time he felt this feeling was a little over two years ago, when hopping on planes to fly to mundane conferences or sitting in board rooms for morning meetings consumed all his time. Even during the period he was jobless, there was a tiny part of him relishing the fact that the work-related dread was over.

And it returned with a vengeance. Seokjin tried everything, ventured into new kinks and even the game features of the website with the hope that he would feel the rush he used to love from streaming. But nothing really worked. It was now just his job.

He didn’t even want to stream for so long tonight, but because it was his anniversary, he wanted to make sure he ended on a good note to thank his viewers.

One thing Seokjin’s viewers loved was seeing him cum. It was the part of his stream when he always earned the most tips. Jimin had been right.

If Seokjin knew anything now, it’s that he had many assets worth using to finance his life, and his pretty face coupled with his big dick seemed to work for him.

But even as he stroked himself, precum dripping down the head of his cock, and even though he was riding the dildo in a way that would hit his prostate and finally give him an easy out, he could feel the edge pulling away.

“Fuck,” he grunted. He was losing it. He doubled down, rocking his hips to see if hitting a different sweet spot would do the trick. But it was to no avail; his cock was softening.

On his nightstand, his phone pinged, which only could mean one thing. Seokjin always turned his do not disturb mode on during his work hours, only allowing phone calls from his family or one alert from an app to pierce through the silence. This one was the alert.

It meant Y/N was online and you had just started a live stream of your own.

You were one of this month’s top gaming streamers, bringing in more viewers than Seokjin had ever received during his top months of streaming. You were popular not because you were good, but because you were the exact opposite.

You were awful at most games you played, jolting at jumpscares over and over, losing in first rounds of Fall Guys or Dead by Daylight. One time you jumped into a game of Fortnite and were eliminated by a potty-mouthed child the second you landed. Your jaw hung open as the tiny, high pitched voice called you a bitchass before falling into a fit of laughter that had Seokjin himself in tears.

You were inspiring. Sexy. You received dozens of comments every stream about how pretty you were or how great your laugh was, which you often didn’t read out loud but always offered a humble nod and show of thanks when you did. There was something about you that hit up the world around you, and though he wouldn’t so much as utter it out loud, Seokjin had a massive crush on you.

But Seokjin was also sort-of-not-really your manager. Unlike all the people pining over you in your comment section wishing they knew you in real life, Seokjin actually did. He saw you three times a week at his family’s restaurant that he was strong-armed into managing while his parents took the opportunity to finally travel and see other parts of the world.

Seokjin stayed, not because he needed the money. Not that his pay was all that much anyway.

Camming was incredibly lucrative for him, cementing his income in a way that allowed him to pay rent in a very nice apartment downtown. Seokjin was also someone who had always been smart with his finances and knew how to invest in the best trends.

When his house with Yoon Si finally sold (after four months of her taking her sweet time to gather her last belongings and sign off on him putting it on the market), Seokjin took his cut and applied it toward a better streaming setup and some lower level stocks…and a special edition MapleStory figurine to celebrate the new chapter in his life.

Seokjin’s family never seemed to question how he was able to afford his fancy apartment given how much money he made at their business. Well, they did ask once, but Seokjin orchestrated some simple lie saying he worked in cryptocurrency, and that seemed to be enough of an explanation for his family. No one wants to know how crypto works, which in the end worked in his favor.

He’d planned to leave the restaurant about 8 months ago, but then you showed up one day asking about a job. The restaurant was within walking distance to your university, where you were getting your master’s degree in early childhood education. While the program you were enrolled in had some funding, you’d told Seokjin’s mother you were a student and in need of work. The following Monday, Seokjin walked in and found you with an apron tied around your waist, your bright eyes and smile shining back at him. He couldn’t bring himself to leave after that.

A few months after you’d started working there, Seokjin and you had become somewhat friends, sharing stories about past jobs (minus some key details on Seokjin’s part), student observations you had to do for school, and your interests. You mentioned casually you were a livestreamer for gaming, never alluding to how popular you actually were.

Eventually, Seokjin convinced you to give him your username, batting his eyelashes dramatically and promising he would be your cheerleader. For some reason, that seemed to work, and later that night, Seokjin tuned in to your stream, one man among the thousands. From that moment on he let his crush become a safe thing where, like his own viewers, he could fantasize from behind a screen. Maybe soon he would actually ask you out on a date, taking your coworker relationship and transforming it into something more.

And then a month ago his parents left, leaving him with the roles and responsibility of manager. Which meant he was an authority figure who could arguably do whatever he wanted. Similar to how his boss in a way was an authority figure who could get whatever he wanted. That idea turned Seokjin’s stomach sour. He could never do anything about this crush now, not while you worked underneath him. It was too familiar and distorted, and he never wanted you to be in the position he was once in. It was completely inappropriate.

But try telling his dick that.

Two days ago, Seokjin witnessed you in the kitchen bending over to pick up onion peels that had fallen to the ground. You definitely weren’t aware, but your skirt had ridden up a bit while you were working, and that meant he could see a tiniest delicate trim of lace on your blush colored panties.

And despite the fact that Seokjin was 30 years old and had believed he’d gotten past his boner-in-public-just-from-seeing-underwear era during his teen years, he was evidently wrong. Because those panties and soft looking curve of ass didn’t just belong to anyone; they belonged to you.

This wasn’t the only time he got hard for you at work. Sometimes on days when there were no customers, he would watch you study at one of the tables, where you were prone to stretching your body after long periods of staring down, trying to unknot the tense muscles caused by sitting almost completely still as you tried to comprehend what you were reading.

During those stretches, you would often let out the most sexual moans and sighs as you felt relief and it was enough to have Seokjin tucking himself under his belt like a horny school boy. God, what he would do to hear you moan underneath him, because of him.

He thought about recording you stretching. He was addicted to your voice, your soft sighs. It would be so easy to just “leave” his phone in the booth behind you. Then he could hear it forever while he imagined what else made you moan. Did you like your nipples sucked? Did you sigh when you were being stretched open and felt full? How did you taste?

And then Seokjin pulled himself together and realized how sickeningly perverted he was to be thinking about you like this as he stood hard and aching in the middle of his parents’ fucking restaurant.

He wanted you. So much so that now as he worked his cock in his fist, he let himself fall more into fantasy, one where you were watching, curious about the many toys and gifts around his apartment, wondering how you could reach the limits of what you wanted and needed to make you scream. He imagined that across town, you weren’t firing up your computer for a night of cozy games, but rubbing your pussy at the same speed he was stroking himself, wet and begging for him to cum all over those gorgeous tits, that wet tongue–

Seokjin groaned as he came, his entire body trembling as a thick load erupted all over his hands, chin, and chest. Normally he could control the direction to minimize the mess but this orgasm caught him a bit off guard, almost completely lost until it crept up with a burning need and coated him. He hadn’t felt that good in a while.

As he panted and focused his eyes back onto the screen, his comments were flooded with praise and tips, viewers exclaiming how this might have been his best orgasm they’ve ever seen, which was saying a lot considering some of his subscribers had been with him from the very beginning, and there had been some pretty fantastic orgasms.

He wouldn’t deny it, though. He felt looser in his joints, calm washing over him and breaking apart the bitterness that was in his gut from how lackluster streaming had been recently. He wiped his chin with a grin and reached for the towel next to him, ready to wrap up his show. As he delivered his thank yous, one comment drifting through the chat stopped him dead in his tracks. His post-orgasmic high was crashing as panic flittered into his stomach.

Did you guys hear him moaning a name as he came? Who the fuck is Y/N?

She had to leave. If the king couldn’t overcome his malice, she knew she couldn’t stay. No amount of love she had for his son was going to make him see that. She’d told him she loved him despite the scar that ran over his left eye and down his soft cheek. She vowed to be good enough to marry him, do whatever it took. Yet the king and queen had laughed at her, had their guard hold his foot on her back so she couldn't stand up from her deep bow.

Laughed as they stood from their thrones to welcome the guest’s arrival: the consort for their son. The prince stood with them, silent as he followed them through the open doors. Quiet like how he used to be back in the first days of when she met him last summer. In memory, she couldn’t even fathom how he was anything like the man she’d grown to love. Yet, looking up from the pulp of the floor, she’d seen him return to that man.

Hadn’t the days she’d spent walking those palace gardens with him been enough? They’d stood together under the plum blossom tree in the middle of winter and he’d promised that he would love her even while the buds were hibernating.

“We can watch them become flowers together in the spring,” he’d said.

He had taken her to his bed that night. Used his sensuous tongue to lap at her sweet nectar. He devoured her heart and soul. Climaxed with her and held her through the heavy snow.

Where was that man now? She didn’t know.

She waited until well after nightfall, when even the latest bird twitterings were silenced by the call of sleep. She knew she couldn’t bring much, but she managed to slip into the kitchen after dinner to pull together a few scraps for the road. Where would she even go? The nearest village was at least a two-day walk and if he sent his men for her, she knew word would spread before she’d even arrived.

Unless he didn’t send anyone for her, she realized, her stomach dropping with nausea. He wouldn’t send anyone for her. She knew this. It’s why Prince August stood in the throne room, lethal as ever, even with no sword in his belt. August. Sugar. Whichever person he decided he was in the moment. Her nickname for him didn’t matter anymore. He wasn’t sweet. His desire for power showed the bitterness in his heart. He had given in to his parents’ wishes, despite the times he swore he would never give them the satisfaction.

He was cruel. But even worse, she believed he wouldn’t be. She was a fool.

It was the darkest part of the night when she left the servant’s quarters. She’d miss the ladies and all their kindness, but she knew she couldn’t serve August his breakfast in his bedchamber after this. After knowing that the sheets she once laid in with him were now being laid in by someone else.

She took the back route, near the interior of the garden, ducking behind the ornamental shrubs and skirting past the watchpost the guards usually abandoned at this hour with ease. All that was left was to make it through the courtyard and she would be free.

She padded her way along the path. A light breeze of the pre-dawn was catching, fluttering the branches of the newly blossoming trees around her and blowing petals in their wake. She caught one in her fingertips and fought a sob. Plum blossoms.

Should she take one with her? For the memory? So that she could always have a part of him with her?

No, she decided. It would be too much to remember this. Once she passed through those gates, she would not be the same woman she was. Holding her breath, she let the petal go, hoping wherever the wind carried it, it would find the peace she too was looking for. It swept to the end of the courtyard, over the gate that was now her future.

This was a sign, she mourned. Not all promises were meant to be kept.

With a final look at the place she’d learned to call home, the man she’d learned to call home, she opened the gate, ready to forge into the unknown.

“Petal,” she thought she heard his call, his nickname for her. Though when she turned around, he was nowhere to be found.

She must’ve imagined it, wished for the impossible. As she took steps through the gate, she looked out at the world around her, the plum petal a few feet in front of her. Maybe she would take a piece of him with her, after all. It was too tempting not to.

She moved, trying to ignore the tug she felt back toward the palace, the invisible string of fate she thought that tied her to August trying to tangle her back in. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t go back.

She bent down, clutching the petal tenderly in her palms and letting the first tears fall.

“So that’s it, hm? After all that, you weren’t even going to wish me goodbye.”

She rose swiftly, whipping around to the voice’s owner.

There, leaning against the outer palace wall, was August.

The alarm on your phone chimes, pulling you from the book in your lap. You’ve been reading all afternoon, the sun now taking its final bow before plunging the world into darkness. Soon you’ll have to turn the lights on, then it will be time for work. On your only day off.

You groan, stretching your neck as you allow yourself to come back to reality.

To some, it would be hard to call your job “work”. Many people dreamed of being professional game streamers. Who wouldn’t want to be paid to sit online, play games, and talk to people?

You don’t. That’s the problem.

Your ascent into gaming stardom was a fluke. About 9 months ago, you were in between semesters for your grad program and looking for ways to unwind. Your oldest friend, Wonwoo, was a pretty successful streamer who often hosted game nights to play with his viewers and friends.

You frequently watched his streams, letting his soft voice be the perfect background noise as you studied and formulated the next lesson plan or behavioral assessment. You’d known Wonwoo for what felt like forever at this point, being his first subscriber, first moderator, and first kiss (not in that order). But your middle school kiss outside of the convenience store never led to anything more than that, as desperately as you’d wanted it to.

Once he moved across the country, you let your crush die with the distance. The years turned faster and your twenties were spinning by with the revolving door of lovers you’d watch him pine over, cry over, and in one case, almost marry. Streaming then became one of your main forms of connection, and your role as his moderator tied some part of you to him out of loyalty. To imagine him as anything other than a friend now feels ridiculous.

But that loyalty you have is also to a fault. When Wonwoo’s usual streaming friends bailed one night during a tournament, you subbed in…for a game you didn’t even know how to play.

And to make matters worse, this was a game that required talking to each other on-stream, which meant you not only sucked major ass at this game, but Wonwoo’s 700 viewers that day were also subjected to your constant frustrated squeaks, swears, and embarrassed maws as you tried to key-smash your way to victory but ended up throwing the entire team’s game with your incompetence.

Wonwoo wasn’t mad, though many others were. He knew what he was getting into when he agreed, and his streams operated with very few rules: no hate, no spam, and we are in this to have fun. And he did have fun. By the time the first round was over, he and most of the chat were losing it over your commentary.

As he wiped tears from eyes and took in a breath, he read his comments. “‘Damn, I never heard a chick threaten someone with a plunger like that before’. Yeah, I’ll give it to you, Y/N, you got really creative with your insults in that. Hey, PartyShitty thanks for the sub! ‘I can’t BREATHE’, yeah I’m still trying to get it together. W00000000000000000ziiiiii–damn that’s a lot of zeros in that username–thanks for the 5000 points! ‘Is she hot’ uh, I mean, I don’t—

“Oh shit, LetsGetIt15, thank you for gifting twenty subs! ‘Please, Y/N, start your own channel. I’ll be the first subscriber.’ Actually, no, I’ll be. But really, that's not a bad idea.”

Wonwoo navigated the rest of his stream with ease that night, but after it was over, he called you to try to convince you to start your own channel.

“It could help with school at least! Or you could get that special edition of that one book you like with the dragons or the blue alien porn stars or whatever it is.”

“They’re neither of those things, they’re actually–”

“Whatever they are! The book that has people fucking nonstop and some plot. You know, the special edition cover that you keep talking about in your close friend story that you won’t buy?” Wonwoo said. “The point is, if you start streaming you could finally buy it and then stop talking about it and I won’t need to see sections about how hot you think their alien or fairytale or demon whatever cocks are.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his exasperation. “That won’t stop with me getting that book, just so you know. And if it bothers you so much, I can take you out of the close friend story. I didn’t even know you looked at my stories that much.” You didn’t know he still used Instagram at all actually. He very rarely posted. He mostly lived on his Discord channel talking about games with his subscribers or other friends.

Regardless, it was nice to know that he was trying to be aware of your interests, even if it was incredibly embarrassing. Although the copious amount of smut you read wasn’t something you always wanted to broadcast to the public, you’d still made some friends from online book communities over the last few years and enjoyed keeping them in the loop of your reading list.

Also, Wonwoo had a point. Streaming could help paying some of your school expenses…or get you more books. You told him you’d think about it, and while you weren’t completely in love with the idea of streaming, it did provide you with some steady income until you landed your job at the restaurant.

After that conversation, you haven’t discussed smut or cocks since, and you’re honestly relieved, not because Wonwoo is hard to talk to about things, but because you are. Which is why streaming always feels a little uncomfortable and your position ironic, because you can barely have conversations successfully unless you really know the person to ramble about your interests to, or you can occasionally eke by with small talk.

But streaming requires the spotlight being on you in some way at all times. It’s your face that is fixed to the corner of the screen, monitoring your every reaction. It’s your voice that echoes into the mic and responds to your chat. Sure, you have mods and some streamers don’t interact with their chat at all, but you don’t want to be like that. You’ve been on the other side before, and know that most people are just lonely and looking for connection. .

From the moment you decided to do this, you were aware that because you were now a “gamer girl” you would be subjected to the three extremes of the comment section: chronic oversharers who tell strangers all their personal baggage perhaps in the hope that you will assume some role of therapist to them, people coming to insult your gaming (which is the point so that can’t impact you) or physical appearance, or sexually explicit comments.

Over the months, you’ve seen many things flitting by on the screen, deleted in haste by your trusty mod squad, but it doesn’t stop the fact that you still see them.

Those things you can handle. They are impersonal and a direct copy-paste of the same thing.

But when people compliment you? That makes you want to bury yourself under your covers and never come out. Because the compliments are always personal and touching a part of you that is authentic.

The people in your chat want to know you. They want to know what kind of music you like, your favorite foods and books. They ask if you have a boyfriend or girlfriend or partner, compliment your hair or the shirt you’re wearing or your gaming setup. It feels intimate. Almost like you could find these people and touch them and let them know you.

But they can’t. Because the only thing that drew them to you, the part where you’re this funny, positive gamer chick who sucks at video games but is down for whatever, isn’t real.

Spring Day Streams Y/N is a persona. You don’t stream because you’re her. You stream because you have to be her in order to survive.

And now she’s taking up more time. Last month’s streams landed you Streamer of the Month, which thanks to the exposure, brought dozens of new subscribers and thousands of points, and that helped take care of some of your expenses for the new semester. Some. You’re still behind on your credit card bill.

Also, more people means more expectations for streaming. So you’ve kicked up your streaming schedule from twice weekly to three times a week, with you occasionally hopping onto Wonwoo’s channel even if you aren’t streaming to mod.

When you aren’t glued to your computer, you’re usually at the restaurant, in a cramped kitchen where you do the prep work, often alongside him, your sexy coworker-but-now-boss, Seokjin.

The man you are quietly obsessed with. You can’t think about Kim Seokjin without thinking about all the positions you want him to fuck you in.

Which is also why you’ve been devouring books lately. When you’re home, you throw all your energy into the escapism they provide, especially ones where you can get yourself off to whatever fantasy Seokjin effortlessly slips into.

For every hot mob boss, corrupt CEO, longterm best friend, dragon-rider, fairy, demon, alien, ghost, or hockey playing love interest you can find, Seokjin is sure to fill the role. A hot merman looking for someone to help him grow legs and something else? Seokjin. A Grinch who inherits his family’s Christmas tree farm and discovers how much he loves to ho ho ho? Seokjin. A god who tears apart the underworld to find his lost lover, and then during the reunion fucks her on the throne of Satan while she wears the crown? All Seokjin.

Unfortunately, his transition from co worker to boss has made your fantasies all the more dirty.

It’s been incredibly difficult for you to handle the fact that any flirtation you two previously shared in the months before he was your boss can no longer continue. But it’s also incredibly hot.

Fantasies of him eating you out on the counter have been replaced with the fantasy of him shoving you in the back office and fucking you on the desk while wearing one of those perfect-fitting dress shirts he often parades around in.

And when he rolls up the sleeves to help in the kitchen? Fuck, it’s humiliating how wet you get.

The entire thing is pathetic really. He’s just standing there half the time, lecturing everyone on proper kitchen hygiene and ensuring one of the cooks doesn’t use expired seasonings for his eomma’s secret sauce.

And you’re standing next to him clenching your thighs together because when you’re this close, you can just make out the freshness of his cologne and feel the heat of his body close to yours.

When someone fucks up, he has a tendency to take over, chopping with unmatched precision and self assurance, trying to keep his voice even and usually failing as everything builds in intensity until he’s accidentally speaking at a million miles an hour and lecturing until his face turns red.

If someone were to pass by the shop, they’d probably mistake his shouting for anger, but you’ve come to understand Seokjin is just passionate about things. Usually when he comes down from his tangent, he’s embarrassed and apologizes, and not long after the entire staff is laughing along with him as he cracks a joke at himself for his inability to tone it down.

Which to you makes him even hotter. Seokjin is able to see his faults and work with them, not against them. He holds himself accountable. He’s nothing like the haughty men you’ve gone on brief dinners with after downloading dating apps for the hundredth time while you’re drunk. He’s actually funny, knowing the right way to use humor and tell jokes, never at someone else’s expense, and definitely without being disgustingly crude.

All those clowns you suffered through drinks with always made comments and digs at other women or referenced their cock like they were setting up some goofy scene from porn and you would find it hilarious and endearing.

Seokjin isn’t like that at all. He probably refers to his dick as a penis and would blush to high heavens if he knew how horny you are for him. He’s unwound you, and he has no clue. Maybe if it hadn’t been literal years since you’ve last had sex you could tone it down.

With working all the time and going to school, it’s already been hard to even go on singular dates here and there. And since the prospects were frankly awful, sex is just something that has had to go onto the back burner for a bit, but you seemed to scorch the fucking pan by forgetting to turn the heat off and now you are burning and hungry.

With a final sigh, you put the book down, annoyed that you didn’t have time to finish it today or at least get to a good part where you could insert yourself into the role of the palace servant and Seokjin as the Prince. Based on the reviews, there’s sure to be a hot sex scene coming up involving using a sword in a particular way that has piqued your curiosity.

In a moment of depravity earlier, you’d snaked one hand down the front of your panties to rub a few damp fingers around your clit to take the edge off.

You check the time on your phone, already aware that you don’t have time to cum before streaming. You already hit the snooze button twice. The spicy stuff will have to wait.

Defeated, you stand up, turning on the lights in your apartment as the sun finally fades away and the dark creeps in. You eat a bowl of cereal while doing your makeup, what little of it you want to put on. Finally, you fire up your PC, trying to ignore the irritation you’re already experiencing from being so high strung and unsatisfied.

The second this stream is over, you’re going to make sure you cum until you pass out. Until then, it’s time for work.

“At what point am I supposed to become good at this again?” You ask Seokjin as you attempt (and fail) to julienne carrots.

When you arrived at work at an ungodly hour this morning to prep for the weekend rush, Seokjin had already started the coffee.

Your empty cup now idles next to your scrap pile of too-wide carrot blocks that’ll have to be pulverized by the blender and repurposed in another recipe.

Seokjin chuckles as he buzzes about the kitchen, reaching tenderly around you to grab your mug for a refill.

“That all depends on how much you practice.”

“So should I expect a large carton of carrots to be delivered to my home this evening with the instructions to have them julienned by Monday?” You tease, as you split another carrot down the center, half of it flinging off the prep counter and onto the floor.

Seokjin smirks and bends down. He picks up the carrot and deposits it into the garbage bin. “Two cartons, actually. Given how many carrots we’ve lost already today, I need to make sure at least some of our inventory lands on the customer’s plate and not just into the trash.”

“How considerate of you,” you chide, and put down the knife, reaching out to accept your newly filled coffee mug. Seokjin’s hands are red from the constant washing and chopping of potatoes, which you recently learned he’s allergic to.

As well as garlic, and you’ve already voluntarily peeled and minced that for the day. That much you can do without guidance, but anything besides your imprecise chopping is on the list of knife skills Seokjin wants you to improve upon.

This is fair, given how dangerous your previous cutting methods have been. Once Seokjin saw the way you tried to stab at a watermelon, it was over. Now you often come in an hour and a half early before each shift to practice.

And to also be alone with Seokjin before he is forced from the kitchen to deal with other duties.

“Thank you,” you say, as you take the first warm sip and shiver. It’s freezing outside, and it’s only supposed to get worse.

There’s snow forecasted for the weekend, which could mean one of two things: everyone stays home and avoids driving, or they all leave the house in one show of silent agreement and fill every nook and cranny of the restaurant to order bowls of sundubu jjigae or crisp and hot pajeon.

Seokjin predicts that because a warm front is moving in afterward, people will utilize one of the only days of snow you’ll likely get this winter to gather together.

Valentine’s Day is soon, and the city has started to prepare. Storefronts have begun switching out new year sale signs for pink and red heart motifs, with spas and restaurants offering couple specials. The perfumeries have moved from campaigns advertising the perfect Christmas gift to ones of sexy, decadent colognes sure to transform a man into his inner beast.

And then there’s the chocolate. It’s like the air in the neighborhood the restaurant resides in smells different, less greasy and grimy and more sweet. Everywhere you turn there’s pastries, cakes, bonbons, crepes, chocolate dipped nuts and other confections that just looking at makes your teeth sore.

With the district washing itself in a pink glow, more and more couples have been braving the cold, landing in the restaurant after weighing themselves down with shopping bags.

You’ve seen what’s in them, often tripping over or kicking at least one bag each shift while you attempt to bring an order to the table and spilling the contents. This year seems to be popular for matching couple outfits. You’ve seen a lot of pairs in their early twenties wearing or recently acquiring sweaters that have the same characters or color combinations. With the temperatures dipping into a bitter chill this week, some have elected to wear cute but inconvenient sets of mittens that allow them to hold hands as they stroll.

When it snows in the city, the world gets quieter, cleaner. Even if people shuffle around in the bustle of novelty experiences, how they show their love, from brushing the snow off each other’s coats or taking kissing selfies in front of snow fallen trees, it always makes you feel a little softer, a little more at peace.

Snow is really romantic.

“What?” Seokjin asks, which alerts you to the fact that you’ve been staring at him as you let your thoughts run, a dopey grin splattered across your face.

“Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about how much I love the snow.” You break eye contact, feeling the heat of embarrassment flood your cheeks.

“Ah, yeah. It’s supposed to start soon,” he looks at you thoughtfully before looking back down at the tofu blocks he’s draining.

A silence falls on you, the once normal pause now becoming a bit awkward.

“What do–”

“I just–”

You both stumble over each other, trying to fill the unnatural pause you’ve reached, which has you laughing and Seokjin cracking a wide grin.

“What were you going to say?” he asks, and then motions for you to get back to your carrot desecrating.

“Ah nothing. You were going to ask something?”

You slice a carrot, this time less match stick and more shaved. Damn.

“Oh, um. I was going to ask you what you like about the snow. That thought kind of came from nowhere and I was trying to follow.” His voice is careful, as if he’s trying not to offend you. Is he nervous?

Your mouth draws into a thin line. Can you risk saying what you were just thinking? Is it inappropriate to talk about romance in front of your boss, who you’ve thought about kissing in the snow at least three times a day? You don’t want to make him uncomfortable. You’re aware of the ways in which Seokjin’s new position of authority weighs on him.

While he’s always had more authority due to being the owners’ son, it isn’t like Seokjin walked around the place with a power complex before his promotion. You two had become something akin to friends in the months you’ve worked together, falling into occasional flirty banter as you shuffled around each other to mop floors or wash dishes.

You know he used to work for a large company a few years ago but quit to help his family with their restaurant. You also know he loves MapleStory and is always showing you his newest splurge from their online shop or the latest piece to his collection.

He doesn’t have any pets, but sometimes debates getting a dog and then when shown support, he dismisses it with boisterous laughter, talking about how he doesn’t have the time and if he ever wants to get a dog, he will have to buy a house. Usually once he lands on discussions of a house, he gets a little more quiet, perhaps a bit sad.

He has an older brother who has one child and another on the way, a major reason for his parents’ decision to travel now, before the new baby arrives. His brother and brother’s wife have visited a few times while you were working, but Seokjin’s mother had mentioned that her son and his wife recently moved into a new house outside of the city, and with the new addition joining sometime in the spring, it can be a bit exhausting to pack up the car for a few hours of visiting time.

While you haven’t experienced Seokjin as an uncle, you know how much he loves being one, excusing himself from the front of the shop to Facetime with his nephew from the back office, where you can hear his voice carry with high pitched impressions and jokes or random songs he babbles to the youngest Kim.

Knowing him in this way feels a bit awkward now that he’s the one signing your paychecks. Since his transition, he’s been a bit more formal with you, you assume trying to be respectful and professional.

You understand where he’s coming from, but you miss the past connection you two had formed. And that seems to dictate your response.

“I like how romantic snow is. How it not only makes the lights twinkle more, but how people do cute things in it. Snowball fights, drinking hot chocolate, building snowmen. They change their behaviors for the snow. To celebrate love in it. Last time it snowed here, I saw one girl push her boyfriend into a snowbank.”

Seokjin laughs as he begins popping the tofu blocks into containers. “That sounds awful,” he says.

Your heart plummets. “Oh,” you squeak.

His head darts up to catch your expression and his eyes flash. “Oh, no no! Not like that. I mean, being pushed into the snowbank. That poor guy was probably soaking wet and freezing after that!” He waves his knife in his hand wildly with his gesture and then quickly deposits it into a sheath before stepping over to your workstation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

You recover. “Oh he was. He also got his revenge by pulling her in with him. And she wasn’t even wearing a coat.”

You watch Seokjin’s tense shoulders relax. His broad frame is so close now, towering over you. He smells a little like the earthy starch of potatoes, but you like it.

“I, uh,” he says, his voice becoming more raw. “I like the snow too. You’re right, it is romantic in a way. The snowflakes getting caught in your hair, you huddle closer to someone to share body heat, it’s nice.”

As if on cue, your bodies inch a little closer to each other. Seokjin reaches his arm forward, brushing along yours as he grasps one edge of the workstation to lean in.

“Yeah,” you reply lamely.

You blink up at him and he smiles back. You both sit there for a moment, neither of you moving, just studying the other’s expression.

Then, he leans in.

Your breath catches, and his other arm lifts up above you on the other side, caging you to the workstation.

Your eyes close from the intensity. He’s so close that you feel the fabric of his rolled shirt sleeve graze against your cheek.

All it would take is him leaning in and searing his lips onto yours and you would fold for him. You know this.

This is what you often fantasize about, the two of you in this position. That’s the power he has over you, his smooth seduction, your willingness.

If he asked you right now, you would strip down and bend over this workstation, let him fuck you with your nipples brushing against the cold steel of the counter, carrot shavings squishing against your face as he impales you with his cock.

It would be so easy, he just needs to ask you.

“Y/N,” he says, a bit more distant now, but you shudder at how roughly he says your name.

“Mm?” you hum, forcing your eyes to reopen. Seokjin has pulled away from you. How long has he been just looking at you standing here with your eyes closed?

“Turn around,” he says.

Wait, what?

You stare back at him blankly. Is he reading your mind?

Seokjin rolls his eyes and laughs, holding up the package of dried seaweed that was above you on the shelf. He tosses it on the counter behind him.

“Are you still here or did I lose you? I said turn around.” You freeze, confused.

He did all that to reach above you for some seaweed? Is he fucking with you? And what does he want you to turn around for?

“Wha–”

You open your mouth to ask but Seokjin moves in, his hands on your wrists as he takes you and spins you around so you’re up against your workstation, his stomach resting on your back as you stand sandwiched against him and the cold counter. You clench your thighs, suddenly aware that you are wet.

Fuck.

“You need to focus,” he says low in your ear. You take a shaky breath.

Focus. How are you supposed to focus when you imagined this exact scenario exactly one minute ago?

“I, what?” Your words fail you as you stand there, stunned and aroused but also completely confused about what he wants from you. This entire situation is a mindfuck.

Seokjin’s hands leave your wrists and make their way to your hands as he moves you like a puppet.

“Y/N, were you even paying attention? We just went over this. God, I swear, I’ve told you. You need to be present in the kitchen space. You’re lucky I resheathed the knife for you while you were on another planet. You could have easily gotten hurt.” Seokjin scolds you overhead.

Oh. You look to the right and see the kitchen knife you were using back in its protective shell and not where you left it, which, come to think of it, was incredibly close to where your hands were now on the counter under Seokjin’s. Yikes.

“Sorry,” you mutter, feeling a prick of shame seeping through the fog. Seokjin isn’t trying to fuck you against the counter; he’s trying to make sure you don’t cut your finger off.

He tuts above you, his grip still firm as he directs you to the uncut carrots and chopping board.

“Tsk, honestly. You’re ridiculous. What am I going to do if my best girl is hospitalized after losing her hand because she’s too busy daydreaming about snow storms instead of having basic kitchen awareness? You know, I could send you home over this. Make you unable to come back until you rewatch those kitchen safety videos with the fake blood and awful actors. Seriously.”

You shiver at his words. He’s so busy setting up for a rant, you almost miss it.

“Your best girl?” You ask lightly.

Seokjin stills, your joined hands hovering over the cutting board. “Oh, uh. You know what I mean. You’re the best….girl we have on staff. You know.”

You don’t. You’re far from the best girl on staff. Seha has a degree in culinary arts. She’s usually the one who has everything prepped days ahead with perfectly formed cuts. She manages the kitchen cleanliness with rigidness. She even barks orders at Seokjin when he’s in the kitchen because he isn’t as clean as her.

If she wasn’t out with the flu, none of this work would even need to be done. Maybe Seokjin is getting sick too. He’s been feverish looking and a little uneasy around you all morning, and clearly he’s now being delusional.

“Ah,” you concede, and give your hands a shake to urge him to continue.

“Right, anyway. You’re getting better at your cuts, but I’m losing money quickly with all your sacrifices to the floor goblins. And we don’t have much time left before the others start coming in, so let’s finish this up.”

You let Seokjin guide you, literally hand-over-hand, as he restructures your positioning on the knife and angle of the blade to slice through the carrots a lot more cleanly and easily.

“That’s it, good. You’re doing such a good job,” he breathes.

You feel his exhale along your spine. God, you’re a pervert. He’s just trying to help you better yourself, and all you’re thinking about is how dominating he seems right now and how much you want to please him.

God, if he calls you a good girl you know you’re going to moan audibly. That’s how bad he’s got you.

You keep working, and once you get the hang of it, Seokjin’s grip loosens, allowing you to finish the bag by yourself. But his hands are still on yours, even if you’re the one in control.

After a while though, it’s becoming too much to handle. Him bent over you like this is limiting your range of motion, making it hard to wipe the sweat on your hands or move your scrap pile further down the counter.

He’s also a human furnace, the space between you still so limited that you’ve begun sweating under him.

In one particular cut of carrot, the sweat caused by the joint heat of your hands causes you to lose your grip, shooting it down onto the floor.

Reflexively, you reach down to grab it, but with Seokjin still attached to you, it proves to be an immediate disaster.

You throw your body into a bend, which forces you back, your ass grinding directly into Seokjin and being met with something very large.

You gasp and Seokjin grunts, swiftly releasing your hands, which are actually balancing you in your bend.

You fall forward, smacking your head into the edge of the counter as you go down.

The kitchen echoes with an embarrassing clang as your forehead ricochets off the metal.

“Fuck,” you groan, a sharp pain shooting through you..

You scramble to recover, one hand going to your head as you steady yourself, rubbing the soreness. Seokjin flails above you, panicked.

“Oh shit! Y/N I’m so sorry! Oh my god. Are you okay? I shouldn’t have let go, I just was–” Seokjin rambles as you stare up at him, trying to get him to steel himself.

“No, fuck, ouch, it’s okay! I’m okay. Seokjin, can you please just get me some ice and help me up?” You aren’t sure you can get yourself up as your vision swirls from the heat of the pain. You really went down hard.

Seokjin ceases his flailing and shouting, leaning down and picking your body up off the floor with impressive strength and carrying you to a clean workstation in the center of the room. He sits you on top of it, making you now almost his height.

Holy shit.

Once sure you’re not at risk of flopping over, he walks over to the ice maker with a clean kitchen cloth and folds some ice cubes inside.

You reach for the cloth, but he refuses to hand it over.

“Yah! No. Please let me do this, I can see the bump forming already. I’m the one who caused your injury.” He gingerly lays the cold cloth against your head. You wince.

“‘Snot your fault,” you pout, trying to ignore the pain. “It was an accident. No one caused it.”

Seokjin sighs and places his free hand behind your head, discouraging you from angling away like you’ve subconsciously been doing.

“It is my fault. I let go of you. After just lecturing you about kitchen safety. God, what kind of example am I setting? I’m really sucking at this boss thing.”

You reach up, placing your hand on Seokjin’s wrist to remove it from the ice. But he doesn’t relent. You keep your hold.

“Seokjin, you’re not a bad boss. God you’re literally the opposite. Everyone here loves you. You’ve only been the manager for a little while. Give yourself some time. And keep in mind both of your parents ran this place, and now it’s down to just you.”

You feel the tendons under his wrist adjust, his grip a little looser. Seokjin’s wrists are soft and tan, a thin coating of hair trailing up his forearms and under his sleeve. Your grip loosens too, and you let your thumb brush back and forth through the hair.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t supposed to be the manager. My brother was supposed to manage the restaurant when my parents were ready to retire. That was always the plan, anyway. But things change. When they were getting their apartment ready for my nephew to arrive, I think they realized how tight space can be living in the city. We grew up in an apartment complex not too far from here and it always felt like we were on top of each other.

“Which, we kind of were. My brother and I shared this tiny room that had bunk beds, and we lived that way until he went away to college. I used to always smack my head against the ceiling when I was a teenager and woke up in the middle of the night. My forehead would get huge bruises on it, probably a lot like the one you’re going to have on your head.” He frowns.

“I guess my brother didn’t want to see his kids living like that either. I never minded it so much, but maybe that’s because I was the younger one. Not having any privacy during puberty or dealing with me during puberty was probably a nightmare for him.”

You shoot him a sympathetic smile. “It was nice of you to take over on his behalf then. I know you used to work for major companies in the business district downtown. This must have felt like a sacrifice.”

Seokjin’s arm falls away from your head, your soft caress pulling away with it. He sets the cloth down next to you. He worries his bottom lip into his mouth and then shakes his head.

“No, it was never like that. I’m sure eomma filled everyone and their brother’s ears with stuff about me. ‘Seokjin is our business minded son! He’ll make a great leader!’ ‘Seokjin is talented in the kitchen and spent his whole life working for us. We trained him well!’ ‘Don’t worry about him abusing his power. He knows exactly how it is for everyone!’” Seokjin’s says, his voice inotating the same pattern of his mother.

“Well, she wasn’t wrong. You are all those things,” you argue, lacing your fingers in his. You know it’s not necessarily appropriate behavior between a boss and his employee, but at this moment, you’d argue Seokjin needs a friend more than anything.

“I’m not, though, Y/N. I didn’t sacrifice anything to do this. It wasn’t some great act of loyalty where the son with a promising future gives up his dream for his family business. In fact I had to beg my parents to let me work here! Because I, their failure of a son, lost everything and had nowhere else to go! And the shit I ended up doing to even keep myself afloat…I’m not a great leader. I’m nothing more than a fraud.”

Seokjin rakes his free hand through his hair.

“I had a good life before this Y/N. A good job, a nice house, a fi-...just..I was living a dream that I no longer have for myself is all. But at the time I was on top of the world and now I feel like such a fucking failure.”

Seokjin looks like he’s falling apart, eyes darting madly as he shifts around, suddenly transforming into nothing like his usual cool, goofy self.

You need to stop this from getting worse. To distract him and stop him from talking himself into a pit of despair. If Seokjin’s mouth is occupied somehow, he can’t continue with all the negative self-talk.

A stupid idea flashes in your head. You don’t even think before you roll with it.

“Jesus, I can’t even manage properly. I messed up Mino’s paycheck a few weeks ago and I’m still not sure how it happened. I’m just not–”

Your lips connect with Seokjin’s, your legs wrapping around his waist to tug him closer as you move your body against his. Seokjin returns the kiss in earnest, parting his mouth to welcome your tongue as you lap the words out of his mouth.

His plush lips feel so soft against yours, his taste a bit bitter from the coffee you both drank earlier, but you find yourself craving more of it, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth with the hope that maybe you can absorb it.

Seokjin groans in response, gripping your hand tighter, his other settling on your lower back as he pulls you closer. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear every atom in your body is vibrating at a higher frequency from his touch. You want to feel him everywhere.

You break the kiss, and see Seokjin’s eyelids are heavy, almost like he’s drunk. You’re about to move back in, to tongue along his sweaty, long neck, suck on his protruding Adam’s apple.

That’s when you hear it. The slam of the back door as your coworkers arrive.

Seokjin jolts back, breaking the hold you have around his waist with your legs.

His mouth looks a little red and swollen. And his eyes are wide, panic flashing across his face.

“I–I’m sorry!”

Before you can reassure him, tell him that you’re the one who should be sorry, you started this, who crossed this line between boss and employee by kissing him, Seokjin bolts from the kitchen.

You sit for a minute, stunned, and then look around, taking in the scene around you. The carrot shavings all over the counter, the discarded one still on the floor. Your knife is unsheathed again. There’s containers of tofu and seaweed just abandoned in a pile next to a large pot.

And you can feel the puddle forming under you from where the ice has begun to melt. What the fuck just happened? What mess did you just get yourself into?

The rest of your shift, you’re anxious. Especially because you’re short-staffed due to the weather forecast, which has led to three call-outs from people who commute from across town. That means you’re performing multiple roles: taking orders, bussing tables, seating customers, and getting appetizers, drinks, and side dishes ready for each group of people coming through the door.

Seokjin was right in his prediction; you guys are slammed. And because there’s less staff, that means Seokjin is orbiting around you, following behind with cleaning rags as you finish bussing or running into you in the narrow doorway as you both attempt to fetch an order from the kitchen. You’re both flushed and sweating, the hairs on the back of your neck now matted down.

Your mind is swirling around that kiss and its consequences, but you don’t have time to lose focus; the minute you finish one thing, you’re pulled into another task for a temporary distraction.

Only to be thrust back into the reminder of this morning when Seokjin lightly caresses the small of your back as he squeezes behind you to grab more plates.

If either of you ever need a break, you don’t say so, only pausing in between rushes to pee, take a bite of something, and chug water before you’re thrown back out into the mess.

Finally, after you elect to work a double, it’s closing time.

“Y/N!” Seokjin calls you from the front as you scrub the grime off a stack of dirty dishes.

Your pulse quickens. You’re the last one here. The storm kicked up an hour ago, and since you live the closest, you shoved your coworkers out the door so they could get home before the roads were a mess.

You dry your hands on your messy apron, pulling out your phone and wincing at the slew of missed calls, texts and notifications. You were supposed to stream again tonight with a bunch of other girl gamers as a part of a “Galentine's Day” collab, playing dating simulation games as a warm up before jumping into some first person shooters.

You’d reached out to cancel once you saw the stress tugging at Seokjin’s face, his jaw set, his brow constantly furrowed. While the other streamers were completely understanding, you still have a ton of notifications from your social channels asking if you are okay and some texts from Wonwoo and a few other friends asking the same.

You’ll fill them in later. But now, you have to face Seokjin.

He’s sitting at a freshly wiped-down table, counting the drawers and preparing the deposit slip.

He ushers you over and gestures at the stack of cash, silently asking you to verify his numbers. You comply, the room silent less the shuffling of bills or coins under your fingertips and your habitual mouthing of the numbers to ensure you don’t lose count.

He nods at your final calculation, jotting the number down on the sheet and placing the bills together. You turn and begin to head back to the kitchen.

“Wait,” he says, and you freeze.

Your stomach is quickly turning into a bundle of knots. You suck your lips into your mouth as you spin back around, Seokjin’s eyes meeting yours.

“I…” Seokjin takes a deep breath before continuing. “Listen. I’m really sorry about this morning. Today’s just been a whole mess and I really shouldn’t have been airing my frustrations to an employee like that. It was inappropriate and immature. I know better than to behave this way.”

Did you say your stomach was in knots? You mean it’s filled with heavy, sickening lead. “Oh, right. Uh, don’t. I mean, I started it. I just…you were panicking and I didn’t know what to do and I thought maybe this would help.”

Seokjin’s brow furrows, a frown on his face. “Why are you apologizing when I’m clearly the one in the wrong here? Ah, no let me finish! I’ve always prided myself on my professionalism and ability to keep personal matters out of my work. And I failed in doing so, which takes advantage of you since I’m your superior. You not only felt a need to comfort me but also stop me from spinning out. I’m truly sorry Y/N, about the oversharing and the um, kiss. I definitely gave into my emotions in a moment of weakness. Please forgive me, I promise I will never touch you again. This won’t happen again.”

His head droops and he looks down, clearly ashamed.

Oh. So he doesn’t want this. Which, why would he? He’s right in that he’s your boss, and clearly Seokjin values his reputation and his job because they’re a reflection of not just him, but his family. Why risk that with someone like you?

You swallow the lump in your throat along with any response. There is the boundary, you know better than to cross it.

As you move again, Seokjin rises from the table. “Y/N…you know what? You go home. The storm is really coming down.”

“But, there’s still mopping and all those dishes left,” you croak. Your voice is so hoarse from being dehydrated and talking all day that you barely recognize it as your own.

“Don’t worry about those. You look and sound exhausted. It’s not your job to take care of everything. Go home, enjoy your romantic snowy trek,” he smirks, “and get some much needed rest. You’ve more than earned it.”

When you arrive home, your body slugs onto your bed, finally giving into the fatigue you’ve ignored all day. Your feet ache, your stomach now settled enough from your walk that you are starving. And you smell awful.

As much as you want to fall asleep, you know that you at the very least need to eat something.

With a groan, you rise, hobbling to your kitchen to make some instant ramyeon. The collab stream is now over, you learned this while finally checking your phone on your way home and seeing a thank you message blasted out by one of the streamers. Oh well.

You suppose you could get back to your book, see what Prince August and his lover are getting up to in their reunion, but that seems like more brain power than you’re willing to give.

You elect to eat, then take a shower, rinsing the grime of the day off you. When you step out of the shower, you see an ugly looking bump and purple bruise on your forehead.

That’s right, you’d already forgotten about your injury from earlier. You touch it lightly and recoil from the sharp pain. Damn, maybe you should’ve checked to see if you were concussed earlier. You didn’t realize you hit your head that hard.

You decide to ice it before bed, crawling under your covers and trying to rest while you play back your day.

How you started is so significantly different from where you are now. When you woke up, you were eager and excited to be around Seokjin, to learn new skills and feel light and warm in his presence. Now, the idea of going back to work in a few days, to have to muddle through the rejection you got tonight and try to get back to a baseline makes you feel nauseous.

Seokjin wants to make this all water under the bridge, and you want to do that for him. But it’s nearly impossible when he’s, well, him. He doesn’t understand how much more difficult it’s going to be to look at him because you’re not walking around with a face like that: perfectly balanced and delicate features and a full, delicious set of lips.

God, he really did taste fantastic. You wonder what would’ve happened if you two weren’t interrupted. Would giving into his emotional need for comfort have given you more? You know it’s wrong to think about, because you're the one who took advantage of him, not the other way around.

He can say he took advantage of you with his power imbalance or whatever, but you’re the one who was seconds away from licking down that thick neck or grinding back onto that massive cock.

Fuck, that’s right, Seokjin is huge under all those clothes and your ass got to experience rubbing against it today. And maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but he seemed like he was a little hard.

If Mino and the others had been just a little later, you might have seen it. They might have walked in on you on your knees as you choked on it, Seokjin’s moans and whines echoing in the kitchen.

Because now from kissing him, you got a taste of those little noises he makes. And the memory has you becoming slick and needy.

It’s late. Too late to read your smutty book, especially since you’re not at the next smutty scene yet. August and his beloved are just reuniting. You’re sure it’s bound to be good, but you don’t have that kind of patience right now. You need to cum, to get your ideas about Seokjin and what he firmly set as a boundary out of your head once and for all.

Which means you need to give your fantasy of him out of your head too. You shove the ice pack you’ve been holding to your head aside, ready to relieve some tension.

You reach under your shirt and gasp when the chill of your icy hand plucks at one of your nipples. Yes, you need more of this.

You touch the other one with your other hand, disappointed that it’s warm. And then you get a fantastic idea. You grope around for a moment until you feel the cold cloth housing the ice cubes from your freezer and pluck one out. It melts quickly in your hand, but the cold water is stimulating as you feel it run down your forearms, a droplet or two rushing down and reaching the heat of your armpit. You pull the large shirt you use as pajamas up further with your other hand, fully exposing your chest and stomach to the chilly air of your apartment.

The ice cube drips over your navel. You hiss as the new sensation floods your core with warmth. Some of the water pools in your belly button, a satisfying dampness taking over your body. Then, you drip the melting ice cube onto each nipple and relish how erect and sensitive they’ve become from your arousal.

Your breasts are plush, something you love to grab and tug as you play with yourself. They’re heavy, the weight of gravity tugging them down instead of staying up as porn once made you believe was possible.

You can understand why people sometimes get caught up playing with tits all the time. They’re arguably fun to play with.

As the ice cube warms and shrinks, you become more curious, taking it between your fingers and swirling it directly over each nipple, a shock of cold hitting them and your hips bucking in pleasure. More. Whatever you’re feeling right now, you need more of it.

You rip your sleep shorts and panties off in desperation, splaying your legs open and aiming yourself up so the last drips of the ice cube can fall directly onto the folds of your pussy, a few dribbles landing right on your aching clit.

Heat, that’s what you actually feel. Fire and ice swirling together in a decadent and hot pleasure. You reach over and grab another cube, this time skipping the teasing and touching the ice right to your clit. It’s a lot. Too much. Not enough. The pain shooting through your clit is also full of so much pleasure and you don’t want to stop.

You rock against your hand, rubbing your clit with your fingers as the ice melts, mixing the wetness of the water with your own, getting you messier, hotter, hungrier.

The memory of Seokjin holding the ice pack flits through your head, how cold his one hand was as it held yours, similar to the chill of your own hand as you grind it against your pussy. You need something inside of you. Now.

And unfortunately for you, all your toys are currently dirty. When you finished streaming last night, you made good on your promise to fuck yourself until you passed out, which means your collection of dildos and vibrators are now discarded in a pile next to your bed that you’d intended to wash after work today.

You insert a finger and sigh. It’s not enough. The angle is too awkward and you can’t get far enough in. Seokjin’s hands are much larger than yours, capable of pumping his long fingers deep within you, to get to the part of your core that is aching. If he were here right now, he could be itching that scratch, a smug look on his face as he comments on how soaking wet you are for him and commands you to cum.

Ugh. You said you wouldn’t think of him, yet here he is again, stirring up inside your fantasies. You can’t give in, you need to distract yourself, look at another face so you can feel motivation.

You remove your fingers, wipe them on the damp washcloth next to you, and reach over on your side table for your laptop.

You don’t watch a lot of porn, finding the videos often too fake, but you’re desperate. You scroll through the website, quickly losing some of your arousal as you click through pages of straight porn, the ones you know that will have some awful plot, or the woman has some nasal and fake moan that kills your buzz. Or the guys are so ugly, proving that porn always has the male gaze in mind.

You just need to cum. Today has been awful enough, and knowing you have to stream tomorrow again is already causing you to wind up. No, this is necessary stress relief. An unwinding. Make it dirty and to the point.

You click over into the other categories. You need just a man, someone else who isn’t Seokjin. You hover over the male masturbation tag, still disappointed. Then you see a banner ad for a camming site: Worldwide Handsome, Hunks From Around the Globe. That, you think, seems more promising.

Live cams are interactive, more with immediacy. Usually the guys on them are hot or gay or both and just ready to jack off for money and give in to some dirty talk. Even the gay camboys don’t always care if women are viewing. Money is money.

You click the banner, praying this doesn’t immediately give your computer a hundred viruses that will delete all your coursework you’ve saved to the harddrive.

Luckily, it’s a legitimate website, much like OnlyFans, just with the emphasis on queer men from every country. You might just be saved.

There are so many categories to choose from: couples, kinks, trans, bisexual, furries, just chatting, BDSM, interactive games, private rooms. It’s a little overwhelming. You select the “solo” tab, which, of course, has the most videos under it, and begin exploring.

You click on one that seems promising, but quickly exit out because the user has fallen asleep and it feels too intimate.

In another, the streamer is yelling at his chat for outting him to his parents, and you exit out of that as well.

You’re about to give up when you refresh the page, but then a recently started stream catches your eye. It’s quickly gaining views, and has a little “1” next to it, probably to indicate that this streamer is the most popular one in his category.

The title for the stream is Unwind with me. Late night play with Daddy which makes your core throb a little with promise. The thumbnail is black, which is a little odd, but you’re curious who this “Daddy” is and how he plans on helping his viewers unwind. Because that is exactly what you need. In his associated tags, there’s a tiny banner at the bottom that urges you forward “all genders welcome”.

You click the link, and the video itself is black, but there’s still hundreds of comments fluttering through the chat. Is your stream broken? This sometimes happens when you stream too, but after a quick refresh you realize that the screen isn’t black. There’s a little bit of light pouring through whatever is covering the camera, detecting some movement through the veil.

“You don’t know how stressed I am today,” a low voice groans.

Whoa. You lean closer, tapping the volume button on your laptop to the max and leaning back. God, whoever this guy is, he sounds hot. This might actually work to get you off and get over Seokjin.

You balance your laptop on your knees and roll your hand down your stomach and between your legs, finding your aching clit and sighing as you delight in your touch.

“I know we don’t always play games like this baby. I know you usually like it when I beg. But I can’t play like that today. It’s been so long since I got to fall back into what I desperately, absolutely need.”

His voice is so seductive yet also comforting in a way that’s familiar. You feel more of your arousal dripping out of you, and you scoop it up to swirl it around your clit, feeling a little twinge of that white hot pleasure return to you.

“And what I need is to take the edge off, to remind all of you who is in charge. Some of you have been very, very bad lately. Haven’t I given you enough? A two-year anniversary stream? I gave you all my cum didn’t I? All of it.”

The chat is going nuts, comments replying with “yes Daddy” accompanying tips that vary from twenty bucks to one thousand dollars spilling in. You check his timestamp. He’s only been live for five minutes and he’s already getting this much? Even your most successful streams take hours to reach a little over a thousand after royalty cuts.

To his credit, though, if you had a grand to drop on him, you just might, and that’s going by his sexy voice alone.

“I let you watch me spill from my cock, let you see me touch myself. And you were greedy. Don’t think I don’t know what you did. I saw your questioning comments, trying to shame me for muttering someone’s name in pleasure. But I’m not ashamed. I’m proud.”

Fuck, what you would do to have this guy moan your name. You feel your orgasm approaching and rub yourself harder, a soft squelch echoing through your room.

“You took what I gave you for granted, you fucking whores. And now, you need to be punished.”

You’re so close, the little peaks of pleasure starting to build up higher in intensity.

The mystery man stops talking, and you along with the chat, begging for more.

“Please,” you moan at your screen.

Suddenly, you hear it, a wet, slick sound. Fuck, is he touching himself?

“It’s been a long day. All day, I was working and I was so horny because some people in this world can’t stop fucking teasing me, tempting me to punish them, just like you.”

You feel the tremor of your first orgasm, but it’s not as sharp, more like a hint of what is to come. You pinch your clit between your fingers, sighing a little bit at the relief of pressure.

“You’ve all been very bad. And until you show me you can be good, I’m going to pump my cock and not let any of you see. You think you can do that? You think you can be my good little subs and prove to me you’ll behave?”

Oh god. Fuck. He’s insane, he’s so hot and insane, and you’re also insane, nodding along. The condescension is so hot, and it reminds you of earlier in the kitchen, when Seokjin scolded you for not being safe with the knife. His voice got rough just like this guy. And it makes you feel so needy and desperate.

Please, you beg silently, just like how you did this morning. I’ll do anything.

Almost as if he knows this, you hear a moan carry through your speakers. You assume he’s reading the comments and tips with promises to behave. You clench around nothing, really wishing at least one of your toys was clean for you to use to feel less empty. You’re never falling asleep without washing them again.

“Good, that’s what I like to see. Now remember, you don’t get to cum until I get to cum. Go ahead and play with yourself for me, get yourself all worked up. And then be good and listen. I’ll tell you what to do next.”

Whoops. Well, the first one didn’t count. You aren’t satisfied.

He groans, signaling that he’s stroking himself again, rough jerks you can hear from the way his hands are sliding over his (you assume) lubed cock.

“You want to see me cum? You want to earn it all over you? You know what you have to do, my pretty little subs. Work for it. And not a penny less.”

In a frenzy, the tip jar continues to buzz in the bottom corner, the graphic of coins depositing into it glitching out a bit as it fails to keep up with the volume of tips. While he’s the most popular streamer on this site, it’s not as though the website is the only one of its kind, and that means that his couple hundred viewers are putting in the work and the cash.

You watch the numbers rise next to the tip jar as his subs showcase their double entendre: both his subscriber count soars and his comments flood with loyal submissives.

Please, Daddy. Please let me cum.

I’m sorry Daddy. I’ll be good, I swear.

Remove the blindfold please! I need to see your big cock!

Ah, it’s a blindfold. Of course.

The graphic of the jar changes, exploding and sending animated dollars and coins across the screen. This is wild. His viewers have already met the milestone. They’ve just raised ten grand in less than 15 minutes. That has to be some kind of record.

He tuts and the sound of it punches your gut. Why does he sound so familiar? “Tsk, that wasn’t so hard, was it? I knew you could do it. You want my forgiveness that badly, huh? Okay, I’ll give you what you need. I’ll forgive you.”

Your pussy is throbbing. You’ve had to scale back the touching, feeling a weird sense of obedience to this camboy that you can’t describe.

There’s a ruffling sound and the camera jolts before light pours into view, a blur of shapes and colors you can’t make out greeting you until it comes into focus and you’re met with a massive, leaking cock.

“Holy shit,” you moan, finding your footing on your bed and moving your resting hand from your inner thigh back to your clit.

The camera is framed from the user’s toned abs down to just the top of his thighs, showing off his heavy, tight balls and red, angry tip.

“Is this what you’re begging for?”

Yes, you shudder a breath. Yes.

Large hands with long knobby fingers run along his thighs, one sweeping under to cup his balls while the other works his shaft, thumb sliding over his slit to rub precum around the tip.

“Alright, then.” He begins pumping, smooth, tight jerks that have him squeezing his length and encouraging more strands of precum to leak out. He falls into a steady rhythm and you mirror the pace on your clit, gasping for breaths as you become all the more sensitive now that you have a visual to follow.

“My face? Oh, no. You didn’t earn the right to see that. Don’t start with me. If you want to see my face when I cum, you have to reach the next milestone. You know the rules.”

You don’t know the rules, but you hope someone else will be desperate enough to reach it for you. You’re dying to know what he looks like.

Almost instantly, the money animation explodes on the screen again. A $5000 tip. Jesus Christ.

“Ah, of course mapl3stor33, I should’ve known it was you. Always so good to me. Because of you I got to get that new collector figurine. Thank you. Well everyone, because of mapl3’s generosity and mmm…loyalty…fuck. I guess I’ll let you get your full fantasy. Let you see my face as you imagine you get to make a mess of me, milk my fucking cock all over you and let me make a mess of you.” He’s moaning as he speaks, pausing between sentences to pump himself harder as he gives “Maple” a proper shout out.

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment. It’s one thing for you to create the fantasy, but him acknowledging it with some judgment, as though you’re not good enough to even fantasize about him, it’s leading you quicker to your undoing.

His pace builds to a heavy, slick rut. His hands are slightly red, almost like how yours looked after washing the dishes before Seokjin kicked you out.

Wait. Red hands. His look similar to Seokjin’s, with the same knobby long fingers. And the figurine and Maple…like, MapleStory?

There’s no way. No, you’re clearly just losing it with your fantasies. This one is taking it too far.

“Fuck, yeah that’s it baby. Touch yourself. Be good for me. Where do you want my cum? Oh, you dirty slut, fuck, yes. Okay, I’ll cum all over myself. Just for you. Shit. Almost, come on.”

Your fingers are still following his lead, unable to stop, so close to finishing, to the release.

He moans, his hands blurring as he strokes fast and hard, jerking into himself. And that’s when you know. You heard that moan. You caused that moan.

With a final solid, slightly whiny grunt, he backs up. His face coming into frame, and the first strands of thick white release cascades across Seokjin’s chest as you focus in on the pure bliss washing over him, his head thrown back and mouth shaped into a delicious “o”.

“Oh, fuck. Take it, take my cum. Yes, that’s it. That’s my best girl, so good for me. Such a good girl.”

The second you hear the praising fall from Seokjin’s mouth, he takes you over the edge with him. Your body rockets into your orgasm with a heavy clench of your core, feet losing their solid hold below you as you begin to shake and succumb to the feeling.

You’ve unwound, the tension of your body unfurling as you’re cast out to sea, your body bobbing along each wave with a newfound euphoria. Out here on the water, the world is silent except the ring in your ears. You bask in the peaceful ebb until you feel a tingling in your fingertips and toes calling you back, forcing breath back into your lungs with a heavy pant.

Once you recenter, you gaze back at the stream, confirming that this is the smiling and grateful Seokjin you just saw three hours ago.

He called you a good girl. He came all over his sweaty chest. And he’s the top streamer on a gay sex cam site.

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