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eoieopda · 18 days ago

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triple-dog dare | lsm

“Bambi.”

The sternness of his tone surprised both of you, so much so that when you snapped to look at him, both of you froze. Your moon-sized eyes were further proof that your childhood nickname still rings true to date, although your being the deer made him the oncoming car in this scenario.

He didn’t love that analogy.

Recovering quickly, he pulled the Ace from his sleeve: the surefire way for one of you to get the other onboard:

“I triple-dog dare you to come with me.”

pairing: lee seokmin x reader summary: when you're left off the guest list to seokmin's parent's thirtieth anniversary party, you're content to keep your questions to yourself and stay home. seokmin, on the other hand, is not content. in fact, he pulls the one card he knows will always win. au: childhood best friends to lovers genre: fluff, angst, smut type: one-shot rating: 18+ only. minors do not have my consent to interact. wc: 13k cw: pov switches, complicated sibling dynamics (seokmin’s), there is in fact one (1) bed, halmonis gone wild, stupid childhood nicknames, fingering (v), oral sex (m receiving), multiple orgasms, implied penetrative sex (p in v). reader notes: afab, uses she/her pronouns, wears a dress/heels to the party, is implicitly an only child. the setting is intentionally ambiguous, so she's not implicitly korean and/or asian. there are no descriptions of body shape/size, complexion, etc. a/n: thank you to the incomparable @daechwitatamic for beta-ing this! it's been a long damn time since i've written anything, so this might not have seen the light of day without jo, the hype-man. on that note, i suck at summaries; just read the fic, lmao. svt masterlist. svt permanent taglist. multi permanent taglist.

For being the walking disaster that he is, there have been shockingly few moments in Lee Seokmin’s life where he’s needed to shove his oversized foot into his oversized mouth.

Prior to the incident at your apartment, the last time he’d embarrassed himself like this was when he’d asked his oldest sister, Soyeon, in earnest whether or not she was pregnant, only to learn that she was just bloated; and he’s just an ass.

To your credit, you’re far from cruel when he slips up, but that almost makes it worse. You visibly deflate when he asks his well-intentioned but ill-fated question, rather than letting him have it the way his two siblings would have done.

The day in question went like this:

He asked, “Did you reserve your room yet for the 31st? If not, we can double up. It’ll be a lot cheaper.”

And you blinked, stunned like you’d been slapped. “Have I what?”

It dawned on you both at that moment that, for whatever reason, his parents’ thirtieth anniversary party was in fact news to you. Two things then happened at once: you tried to hide your surprise and the twinge of pain that comes with being excluded; and he racked his stupid brain to find any explanation for why you had to feel either one of those things.

The best option he found was to gently toss his middle sister, Seonmi, under the metaphorical bus.

“Seonmi’s been working on something special for them. You know how she gets,” he waved dismissively. “So obsessed with finding the perfect napkins — ” He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. “— and creating custom cocktails, that she misses the forest for the trees.”

You didn’t look convinced. Likewise, you didn’t look any less uncomfortable.

Fuck.

“I’m sure it was an honest mistake.” To drive his point home, he reached from his spot on your couch to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. “I have a plus-one, so it’s not like it’ll be a logistical problem. You belong there as much as we do.”

And he meant it, wholeheartedly.

All his life, the running joke has been that Soonyi and Minseok Lee have four kids: two biological daughters, a younger son, and his otherwise unrelated twin, who spent more time sleeping on his top bunk than in her own home next door.

The way he saw it — and the way he’s sure his parents would see it — is that no family gathering is complete without you. That’s a hill he’d die on if need be.

You shifted in your seat, which caused his hand to slip off your knee, whether or not you meant for it to happen. Glancing uneasily out your window, you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, mumbling, “I don’t know…”

Seokmin frowned. You didn’t see it, though, and therefore weren’t moved by it. Instead, you cycled through your anxious thoughts at high velocity. If he was still touching you, he’d be worried that your sparking brain might catch him on fire.

“What if it’s not a mistake? I mean, what if it’s a couples thing?”

He couldn’t even classify these questions as rhetorical because he wasn’t meant to hear them in the first place. Though you asked out loud, each one of them was for your ears only. From his half of the couch — miles away — his frown deepened, unbeknownst to you.

“You know, Seonmi follows me on Instagram; she’d know that Kai and I broke up a few months ago. Maybe she doesn’t want me to feel awkward? Even if I went, and I didn’t feel weird about that, her expecting it to be weird might make it weird, right?”

Fuck.

You’d spiral all day if Seokmin didn’t stop you. As much as he loves how thoughtful you are, he knows better than most that you have a tendency to take it too far, inflicting that relentless consideration on yourself until it wounds.

“Bambi.”

He didn’t love that analogy.

Recovering quickly, he pulled the Ace from his sleeve: the surefire way for one of you to get the other onboard:

“I triple-dog dare you to come with me.”

Begrudgingly, you’d conceded, just like Seokmin hoped you would. You sat with him while he figured out travel plans to the mountain resort, helped him visualize what the hell he needed to wear to an event like this. When the time came, you sent him half the cost for the room he booked, even though he repeatedly insisted that you didn’t need to chip in.

Now, that unsolicited sum sits untouched in his Venmo balance. You sit next to him on the night train out of town.

Sit, he thinks, is a bit of an understatement. You’re barely upright, so exhausted from your work day that his shoulder and side are bearing most of your weight. His arm went from tingling to numb an hour ago, but Seokmin doesn’t mind. There isn’t a burden he wouldn’t carry for you, up to and including you yourself.

Besides, he’s not worse off for being left to his own devices. In fact, he keeps himself thoroughly entertained by taking selfies of the pair of you. The aftermath will stay securely in his camera roll — largely because you’d kill him if you saw how squishy your face is, pressed against his coat, or how your little pout trembles slightly, almost as if you’re trying to talk through your sleep — but he still finds it worth the risk. This mochi-cheeked version of you is one of his favorites.

When Seokmin has amassed enough silly photos to comprise a dossier, he tucks his phone back into his pocket with a self-satisfied smile. You’re still out cold, so you don’t stir at his subtle movements or the sound of the concession trolley rattling your way down the aisle.

The girl manning said trolley is significantly outweighed by the thing itself. She hardly looks old enough to have graduated high school, he figures, and he can’t imagine how it is that she’s working at this hour — or how she got stuck doing this job, when it takes all she’s got to maneuver the giant metal contraption through all the train cars.

“Anything, sir?” She asks politely, albeit slightly out-of-breath.

Even though she’s speaking to him, her gaze is directed squarely at his hat, leading him to believe that she may also be too shy for her job. Nonetheless, it’s been two entire hours since his dinner, and he’s on the brink of starving to death, so he coughs up a few bills in exchange for several different snacks.

She could do him the kindness of assuming his massive pile of food is for sharing, but she doesn’t. She gestures to you and whispers, “Anything for your —?”

Seokmin intercepts the question, knowing exactly where it’s headed: in the same direction as the million others like it that he’s heard over the years.

“— parole officer?” He supplies with a smile, “No, this nap is fueled by a lot of crab rangoon. She’ll be out for the duration, I fear.”

Both halves of his response seem to stun her, which means he has to cover his inevitable laugh with a fake cough.

This bit of yours will truly never get old, although the implications that prompt it did a long time ago. It was a stroke of genius on your part, dodging inaccurate references to your relationship status by offering up something too absurd to converse around.

“You two make such a cute couple,” an Uber driver once told you.

“He’s not in a relationship,” you’d politely corrected him. “He’s in witness protection. I’m duty-bound to keep him and his identity safe.”

The silence turns awkward, so Seokmin thanks the girl and gives her a smile he hopes says, “you’re allowed to run away from me now; I won’t take it personally.” She bows her head a little too eagerly, then skitters off with a grimace, like she pulled something in her neck.

Alone again with you, he wiggles gently upright in his seat so that you can rest more comfortably against his pectoral, rather than his shoulder bone. Even though you’re still asleep, Seokmin swears he hears a quiet mmpfh, as if you’re expressing gratitude. He bites his lips to keep from smiling, knowing that smiling in your proximity is one step away from laughter: the only thing you’ve never been able to sleep through.

Instead of giving into the urge, he murmurs, “You should get paid royalties whenever we use that joke. Being as smart as you are should pay off.”

Now, he knows he’s not simply hearing things because you’re just barely loud enough to overcome your own mumbling.

“Agreed,” you sigh on an exhale before slipping to sleep off again.

“Well?”

There are two beats between his first question and his next: the unfilled gap you’ve left in the conversation and the cab’s trunk shutting firmly. “‘s that cool with you?”

Seokmin stares at you, staring at him. His expression is soft, like your lack of responsiveness is something to be fond of, rather than annoyed by. It’s unexpectant, too, leaving the door wide open.

You blink. “Sorry — I — What did you say?”

Hitting him when he least expects it, you shift your suitcase from your dominant hand so you can gesture properly to the bright, poorly crocheted bucket hat flopping over his forehead. “It’s a bit hard to hear you. That hat is so loud.”

His quizzically raised eyebrows drop in an instant. Likewise, that airy smile of his flattens into a straight line.

Bullseye.

“Is it me that you hate?” He asks, tone dead serious as he points his finger towards his own chest. “Or is it the very concept of whimsy?”

You’re too busy biting back a grin to protest when, without being asked, Seokmin reaches out and takes the handle of your suitcase into his own hand, as well as the garment bag you’d draped over your arm. Before turning away to abscond with both sets of luggage in addition to his own, he shoots you an incredulous look. It dissolves entirely before his face even disappears from view.

“This is an objectively delightful hat,” he mutters, nonetheless, in furtherance of the bit.

He spots a member of hotel staff standing on the sidewalk directly outside the hotel’s double doors and pleads his case to them. “She made me this hat, you know,” he announces, gesturing back to you with a nod.

The valet’s uniform hat casts a shadow under the lamplight, but it doesn’t do enough to hide the expression on their face. It is abundantly clear — even in the dark — that they didn’t hear a single word Seokmin said before he offered up that bit of trivia, seemingly apropos of nothing. They muster up a customer-service smile that doesn’t reach their eyes and tell him it’s a wonderful hat. Meanwhile, you roll your eyes from behind because nothing either of them just said is true.

That hat is the byproduct of delusions of grandeur and innumerable skeins of color-conflicting yarn. You made it for yourself, believing that you were the kind of cute and kitschy person who could pull it off; and inconsolable weeping Christ, were you wrong. It was — no, is — your greatest fiber arts failure.

Frankenstein’s floral monster would be in a secondhand shop somewhere if you’d had any say in the matter. It isn’t because you didn’t. Seokmin “rescued” it from the “to donate” pile on your bedroom floor. Since then, he’s worn it at every — public — opportunity, season be damned.

Admittedly, he’s exactly the kind of cute and kitschy person who can pull it off, but you’ve decided out of sheer pettiness to keep that appraisal to yourself.

You take your time catching up to him, both because his long legs make it hard to keep pace; and because the room is reserved under his name. After all, he’s the welcomed guest, not the reluctant party-crasher. The receptionist is already handing him a white keycard when you finally reach the desk. Seokmin holds it up between his index and middle fingers, closed-eye grin sparkling in a matching shade of ivory.

Though the journey up to your shared room is long, the real trip is being confined to an elevator with mirrors for walls.

No matter how hard you try to avert your eyes, you manage to keep finding some new, horrible angle of your stale, post-train state. It’s torture. Three versions of you stare back with deep, dark undereye circles; and all you can think about is how dull your complexion is — especially in comparison to Seokmin, who may as well be bioluminescent with the way he glows from the inside out.

It’s joy, you know, his primary state of being and something he radiates like no other. He’s happy to be here, happy that you’re here, and happy to be happy. Whether or not he means it to be, it’s infectious. Now, you feel yourself starting to smile, too.

Despite your quiet observation, you must have missed him looking at you. Seemingly out of nowhere, he carefully sets down your belongings, raises his now-empty hand, and cups the right side of your jaw. Unaware that you’ve frozen solid, he swipes his thumb carefully over your cheek, tilting his own head to the side and frowning.

“I got you bad, huh?”

You blink.

“The zipper on my coat,” he explains, laughing. “Looks like it took a bite out of you when you used me as a pillow on the train.”

For reasons you can’t possibly explain, the only word to roll off your tongue is a sheepish, “Sorry.”

For a second, Seokmin is just as confused as you are about whether you’re needlessly apologizing to him or his coat. He chuckles quietly at how easily distracted you both are, then he gets back to the point: “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

Your response comes unnaturally quick. Your pulse does, too, when you finally make eye contact with him. After clearing your throat, you give him a half-hearted smile, ignoring whatever medical event you seem to be experiencing. “I didn’t know it was there until now.”

He hums in acknowledgment, then rescinds his hand. You watch in silence while he re-encumbers himself with your luggage and turns back to face the elevator doors, which open almost immediately.

Seokmin steps out easily, like the weight of your respective burdens doesn’t mean a thing. “I’d say this way, please, but I’ve already forgotten the room number,” he admits with a sheepish laugh. “The keycard’s in my pocket.”

You take his cue and reach into the front, right pocket of his coat for the keycard. As soon as you see the room number, you snort.

“You booked room number 218 because that’s your birthday, and then… what? You forgot your own birthday?”

“I’m deeply flawed.” He sighs, put-upon. “Now, let’s go, Bambi. It feels like you packed a week’s worth of bricks.”

There’s no time to point out that you never asked him to carry your suitcase or bag for you in the first place. Likewise, there’s no opportunity to ask exactly how many bricks is a week’s worth. He’s on the move again before you can blink, energy evident in each step regardless of how late it is.

Once again, you follow Seokmin’s lead. Despite the signage, which is clearly visible on the wall, he walks confidently in the wrong direction, prompting you to grab him gently by the elbow and steer him the opposite way. His smile doesn’t falter; he plays it off as if he was just testing how closely you’re paying attention.

It takes several turns down several additional hallways before the pair of you reach your target. When you come to room 218, you tap the keycard against the reader, causing the lock to click open. You turn the handle, push the door open into the room, and step awkwardly out of the way so your personal bellhop can get by.

“This is what I was trying to tell you when you so viciously insulted my favorite accessory.” Seokmin nods his head towards the center of the room. “All of the rooms Seonmi included in the reservation block have a king-sized bed — singular. The rooms outside the block are criminally overpriced for ski season.”

It’s far from the first time you’ve doubled up, so you shrug. “Just like old times, right? Like, when you thought your house was haunted, and you forced your way into the top bunk with me?”

“First of all,” he says as he sets both of your suitcases down and places one hand on his hip, the other pointing at you. “We were six.”

After locking the door behind you, you toe off your shoes, smirking at him from over your shoulder. “What’s your second point?”

“It was haunted —” He insists. Then his stern expression melts into something smug, the way it always does when he’s about to blatantly rewrite history. “— and you asked me to come up there because you were scared.”

A laugh slips out of you automatically, but you selflessly decide to let him have this. Crossing to him, you pat him on the bicep, patronizingly simpering all the while, “You are the brave one.”

Even though you’re both cowards, and he knows it, he pockets this little victory with a pleased hum and a grin.

Turning away from him, you make a beeline for the closet area near the door. There, you shuck off your coat and hang it up, out of the way. While you do, Seokmin passes you both your garment bag and his. From there, the pair of you work in efficient silence: you, pulling your respective formal wear from their bags and smoothing out any wrinkles; him, tucking away your extensive collection of toiletries in the bathroom.

When everything is in its place, you turn back around and notice for the first time how beautiful the room actually is. Though the shades of the floor-to-ceiling windows are almost completely drawn, the snow-covered mountains are at least partially visible through the gap in fabric. If you had the time, you’d spend all day tomorrow sitting on the forest green, velvet chaise directly in front of the window, staring at frosty peaks so massive, they feel close enough to touch.

To your right, an electric fireplace heats the room, while a portrait-framed television hovers on the wall above the mantle, flipping through famous artworks as a screensaver. In between flashes of Van Gogh’s Almond Blossoms and Klimt’s The Kiss, you catch a glimpse of Seokmin’s smile reflecting on the black screen.

Awestruck, you turn to him and sigh, “Don’t let me get used to this.”

He jerks his thumb to his right, gesturing towards the bathroom. “Don’t judge me if I steal one of the bathrobes. They’re probably more expensive than half the shit in my apartment.”

“I won’t, but they’ll bill you for it when they figure it out,” you warn him. “On that note, do you need to shower or anything before I start my skincare side quest?”

Seokmin shakes his head, causing the crocheted abomination to flop. “All yours. My hair’ll get weird if I don’t deal with it tomorrow before we head out.”

And with that mental image of his insurmountable cowlick, you quickly grab your pajamas and shuffle off towards the bathroom.

The first few seconds after you close the door are spent gawking at the insanely intricate, geometric tile pattern in the walk-in shower. Thinking of how much time it must’ve taken to lay each one of them, you set to work on your own tedious task: your ten-step regimen of cleansers, toners, serums, and moisturizers. Seokmin says otherwise, but you don’t think any of them truly make a difference. As stupid as you know it is, the routine itself is therapeutic, even if your skin is no more bouncy and glowy than it was before.

When it’s all said and done, you emerge from the bathroom to find your best friend stretched out on the half of the bed nearest the door with his eyes fixed on his phone screen. It’s the side of the room he always chooses, claiming that it’s to protect you from any intruders, but you know the truth: he’s too much of a freeze baby to sleep near the window, and he knows you like it cold.

“Feeling refreshed?” He mumbles to the best of his ability; his sweatshirt hood is pulled up and drawn so tightly that it squishes his cheeks and chin, restricting his movement.

Chuckling quietly as you go, you pad over to your half of the bed and slip under the comforter. Like a moth to a flame, the other occupant sends his last text, tosses his phone to the side, and scoots closer to you, eager to siphon whatever extra body heat he can. His head winds up on your shoulder, while your cheek rests against the top of his head.

“Before you tell me that I look it, I’d encourage you to stare long into the abyss that is my under-eye circles.��

When he laughs, it’s merely a puff of air from his nose. “You never look as tired as you feel,” he says distractedly, fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “Pretty miraculous, given how little sleep you get.”

That comment warms you up so thoroughly, you wonder if he can feel it. Then, you wonder if that was the point. You intend to tease him for that, but then it dawns on you how fidgety he’s being. It’s rare for him.

“You okay, Thumper?”

It feels silly, using that nickname after so long. Your clumsiness stuck around for the ride, continuing Bambi into perpetuity; but he grew out of his companion name when he hit puberty, and his giant feet were suddenly proportional to the rest of him.

He’s certainly no bunny, nor is he a child, but the low ebb of anxiety rolling off of him reminds you of the scared little neighbor boy you used to know. It fits, even if it is silly.

At first, Seokmin begins his explanation without peeling his gaze off his restless fingers. “Apparently, Seungcheol and Mingyu are in town.” Then, his eyes slowly lift up to find you peering down at him. “They want to meet up to go snowboarding before we leave.”

Ah.

There it is: the top-secret look in his eye that only you can decipher. The one he’s been practicing for years, at your insistence, for moments like this, when he needs to be talked into something. When he needs to be brave and avoid missing out on something he’d love, solely because it freaks him out.

You respond the same way you always have; the way you once pinky-promised you always would: “I triple-dog dare you.”

He sighs deeply, neither fully resigned nor relieved, but then he nods. His head knocks slightly against your shoulder as he does. “I’ll do it.”

And that’s that; it’s settled.

Or so you think.

A beat passes in silence, until Seokmin suddenly pipes up again, “But you’re going to have to hold my hand on the chair lift, or I’ll pass out and fall to my death.”

“Deal.”

You grab his hand now in consideration of your promise and scratch affectionately at his palm. Surprisingly, his thoughts haven’t made him clammy. His skin is even softer than usual, likely due to the expensive hotel lotion he’s undoubtedly now harboring in his suitcase. Tongue firmly in cheek, you look at him sideways.

“Just — leave the hat in your suitcase, okay? The snow will be blinding enough.”

Seokmin’s been dressed and ready for at least thirty minutes, but you’re still standing exactly where you have been for the last forty-five. Face pinched, you turn this way and that in front of the mirror, smoothing fabric that’s already wrinkle-free, apparently for the hell of it.

“I’m oh-for-three.” Your exasperated sigh is punctuated by your bare, right foot stomping on the carpet. It doesn’t make the impact you likely hope it will, at least sonically. It does, however, speak volumes about how close to the ledge you are.

“All of them looked good,” he says earnestly. “I think this one is my favorite, though, if that means anything.”

Apparently, this is the wrong answer. Your wild-eyed gaze lifts from your own reflection until you’re staring him dead in the eye through the mirror.

“Why did I even pack this?” You ask, “Do you see this?”

Suddenly, you lift a manicured hand to point at your neckline, from which he’d admittedly been averting his eyes. “This is too much cleavage for a family function, isn’t it?”

As quickly as you glanced at him in the first place, you go right back to fussing with your dress, thankfully missing the way he swallows thickly.

Fuck, now he’s staring — but you’re the one that made him look in the first place — and he can feel heat rising to his ears, a dead giveaway. His sudden silence does enough to communicate his struggle. He has no idea how to respond without vaulting over the boundaries of your friendship.

Is it hot in here?

Deciding to rely on his usual tactic, he jokes his way out.

“If you think I’ll ever side against tiddie…” He forces a grimace, shaking his head gravely. “Then you really don’t know me at all.”

You laugh loudly, and whatever one-sided tension filled the room snaps like a twig. Better still, the smile you give him stays on your face while you reassess your dress. Seokmin takes it as a personal victory that you commit to his choice, rather than cycle back through your options for the second time.

While this means that you’ll both be able to hit the open bar sooner rather than later, the biggest upside is that he no longer has to keep excusing himself to the bathroom so you can change again, and again, and again.

You finish up quickly, tossing on jewelry, and then turn to him. His shoulder keeps you steady while you slip into your devilishly high heels. Seokmin pays them little mind now, however; his attention is drawn to the accessories you’ve chosen. Sure, they match perfectly with the rest of your outfit, but that’s not what strikes him. It’s the fact that everything you’ve picked was gifted to you by his parents at one point or another.

Unable to stop himself, he reaches out and gently taps on one of your dangling earrings. “Eighteenth birthday,” he muses to himself.

Then, both his gaze and his hand lower to your necklace. He skims his fingertip along the delicate, gold chain, inadvertently making you freeze up. “Christmas 2019?”

You shake your head slightly, though it barely counts as movement.

“Ah,” Seokmin corrects himself. “2020.”

Sensing that he’s somehow made you uncomfortable, he reels himself back in and clears his throat. “Shall we?” He asks, furnishing you with a bent arm to loop yours through.

You take his cue, link your arm to his, and sigh, “I suppose we shall.”

The walk to the elevator is quiet, in that neither one of you says a thing. Seokmin can hear the gears in your head turning, though, without any conversation to drown them out.

You step inside that glorified, mirrored box; and for a few minutes, he lets you work through the thing he knows ruined your sleep last night. That is, until he hears your breathing come a little quicker than usual.

“Hey.”

It was supposed to be a jumping off point. He was going to go from there and reiterate that you belong here with him. The plan was to reassure you for as long as it takes to get you to believe it, but you look up at him almost helplessly, and his Etch-a-Sketch brain is wiped clean in an instant.

The very best he can do is smile and offer a single word: “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whisper back, eyes twinkling.

Your plagued frown curves slightly back in the right direction. The creeping shroud of doom lightens, if only a little bit.

“That’ll do, pig.” You swat his arm, but he says it again, emphatically, “That’ll do.”

Halfway through you scolding him for quoting Babe at a time like this, the elevator door reopens, ready to regurgitate the pair of you out onto the ballroom level.

Unlike the lobby, which sits only one floor below, this floor looks like it was ripped straight from the pages of a fantasy novel. Everywhere he turns, there’s something new — and vaguely elven — to look at. Fairy lights hang in perfectly spaced arches from the lofted ceiling, delicately illuminating the exposed, wooden beams above. The chandeliers — plural — are crafted out of antlers of some kind, cutting between rugged and highly refined.

As stunning as it all is, Seokmin’s mind snags on a single conclusion. You’re the one who voices it, though, much to his surprise.

“This is the most Seonmi thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” you whisper to him, all without taking your eyes off the extravagance in front of you. “Is this a dress rehearsal for her wedding next year?”

He bites down on his lips hard to keep his laughter to himself. Of course, you’re dead on. Nothing about this space feels like his parents, who are supposed to be the sole focus of this entire event. He already found it odd that they agreed to such a big to-do in the first place — especially when it would require their loved ones to go out of their way, literally and financially — but this is….

“Am I being petty, or is this kind of… selfish?”

Petty, no.

Psychic? Probably.

“You’re right, and you should say it.” Seokmin nods and withdraws his arm from yours so that he can drape it properly around your shoulder. “This way to the beer, please. We’ll need it.”

Merely four steps in the direction to the bar, and a screech rings out from somewhere neither of you can locate. In fact, Seokmin’s head is turned the opposite way when someone launches themself at you, damn near ripping you from his hold.

“Oh, my god! I knew you’d come!”

Soyeon’s relief in seeing you is palpable. Seokmin can practically feel his bones being crushed as she hugs you tight, swaying from side to side. He catches a glimpse of your expression, which barely peeks through the curtain of his oldest sister’s hair; you’re far happier now than you were in the elevator.

His sister kisses the side of your head. “I missed you so fucking much. I love my residency program, but I hate how far away it keeps me.”

A solid minute passes by like this. When it starts to get unbearable, Seokmin clears his throat, hoping to remind his sister that she hasn’t seen him in months, either; and he’s also standing right here.

Instead of greeting him, Soyeon shoots you a wry smile. “Who is he today? A fugitive you’re harboring?”

In tandem, the two of you appraise him with thoughtfully narrowed eyes. See, this he didn’t miss: being both of his sisters’ least favorite younger sibling.

“Oh, no, though I can see why you think that.” You shake your head, then reach out to pat his shoulder patronizingly. “If anyone asks, this is a foreign diplomat, and I’m the interpreter he can’t understand a word without. Best not say hi to him; he won’t know what you’re saying.”

Soyeon nods, though Seokmin wonders if she truly gets what you’re trying to achieve. Not quite, he realizes a moment later. Instead, she covers his chin with her hand so she can squeeze both his cheeks at once.

“He’s adorable,” she coos. “Doesn’t look old enough or mature enough for diplomacy, though.”

Seokmin rolls his eyes. “Well, we can’t all be doctors, can we?”

Again, in tandem, all eyes on him widen with feigned shock. Between overlapping gasps of “he does understand!” and “someone’s been studying!”, he shakes off his sister’s touch and scowls.

“If you’re going to keep bullying me, can you at least do it at the bar? That way, I can numb my suffering with booze.”

At this, Soyeon drops the charade and pulls him into a hug like a vice grip. She holds him so tightly that his vision starts to get spotty. It’s not until he gently pats her back, begging for air, that she lets him go.

“I missed you too, Thumper,” she swears, prompting you to snicker.

Now, he’s annoyed for a completely different reason — one that makes even less sense to him. That nickname hasn’t bothered him in the last decade, so it shouldn’t now. Then again, the only person who’s called him Thumper since middle school is you.

The rules are different for you, if they exist at all.

“And I promise to catch up with you later, but I’ve got five thousand questions for Bambi, and the answers aren’t half as juicy with you around.”

Just like that, his plus-one is subtracted.

As much as you love Soyeon, she’s no Seokmin. With him, talking is easy; he never rushes to fill silences, doesn’t steer the conversation with a white-knuckled grip.

On the contrary, his oldest sister comes forward with a pickaxe, smashing through small talk while she mines for the wild stories she thinks she’s missed out on since moving away.

You don’t blame her, really. If you spent all your hours in a hospital, only sleeping in the lulls between other people’s trauma, you’d probably become just as intense — the human equivalent of a cracked-open fire hydrant — in the search for closeness, too.

In the thirty minutes you sit with her, you brief her on all the cliffhangers you’d left her with the last time you saw her.

Yes, you’re still stuck with your lease in the same apartment; and the old lady next door still regularly sets off the building’s fire alarm by accident.

No, you decided not to stay with Kai and haven’t spoken since the breakup; he needed more of your time and energy than you wanted to sacrifice for him.

No, Seokmin still hasn’t gone out with anyone that you know of in months. In fact, it’s been so long since either of you have touched on this topic, especially compared to how little time he and the last girl were together, that you can’t even remember her name.

Beyond that first, limited fact, you keep your mouth shut about the rest. It’s not your business to share; and it wouldn’t kill her to ask Seokmin about himself for once.

The longer you spend with her, the more frustrated you find yourself getting, although you keep this fact to yourself, too. Soyeon and Seonmi have both spent their lives fussing about Seokmin, talking about him like he’s some helpless baby, without doing much to get to know him.

That’s it.

If you were at all confident that Soyeon would take the initiative, you’d let her find all of this out on her own. She won’t, you know, but maybe it’ll sink in if she hears it from you.

“Seokmin’s doing really well, now that you mention it,” you offer, though she barely mentioned him in the first place. “He got promoted last month; he’s now lead architect on that massive commercial lot downtown. Apparently, it’s still a secret, whatever it is they’re putting there. Must be something special.”

Seokmin is something special, you all but yell inside your head.

Soyeon’s eyes brighten.

Nobody loves secrets quite like she does. You wait for the barrage, anticipating all the questions to which you’ll have to respond with “seriously, I don’t know,” but they don’t come.

Instead, she puts her drink back on its coaster, reaches out, and squeezes your wrist with her slightly chilled hand. “I’m grateful that he’s always had you, Bambi. If he didn’t, I don’t know if he’d lean in to opportunities like that.”

The look on her face tells you she means it. Maybe that’s what makes your stomach sour: that she can sit there, hearing of Seokmin’s accomplishments, and still find a way not to credit him for them.

Anger ignites inside of you. The flames lick up your esophagus, ready to explode, and you suck in a breath with every intention of letting her burn.

But then an arm slinks around your waist. Seokmin’s head bumps slightly against yours until you’re cheek to cheek.

“I hope I’m interrupting something.”

For a second, you think his slight tipsiness caused him to misspeak. Tilting your head to the side the best you can, you look at him out of the corner of your eye and catch his very subtle wink.

Soyeon opens her mouth, but Seokmin makes his wish a reality.

“Sorry, sis,” Seokmin says, entirely unapologetically. “I just found out that the band takes requests; and I’ll be goddamned if Bambi and I don’t show you clowns the meaning of dance.”

It takes no encouragement whatsoever for you to slip off your stool, get to your feet, and inch your way closer to his side. Then, like a starting gun was fired, the two of you bolt clumsily away from the bar, with you shouting “sorry!” over your shoulder as you go.

Your heels skid against the dance floor when you finally reach it, but Seokmin steadies you before you can eat shit in front of god and everyone.

“You’re way too expressive, you know that?” The fact that he’s out-of-breath doesn’t keep him from laughing. “I could’ve seen that grumpy turtle face of yours from space.”

Unintentionally, you prove his point, drawing your eyebrows together and frowning. “I do not —”

“— Also, I lied,” he interrupts yet again.

This, coupled with the everything else going on, leaves you too stunned to speak.

“This band is all trot, all the time. They don’t take requests — trust me, I tried — but if you stay here with me long enough, we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Seokmin doesn’t wait for you to answer because he knows it’s a yes. He doesn’t wait for you to assume your position, either, and instead holds your left hand in his right before placing your right on his left shoulder. This close, you feel the urge to tell him how handsome he looks with his hair parted off his forehead. You don’t, however.

The music swells behind you. Seokmin leads, and you follow, swaying slowly and moving across the floor.

“Two birds?” You remember to ask, one eyebrow arched.

His right arm lifts. “Spin,” he whispers. You step under his arm, then twirl. While you’re facing the opposite direction, he continues, “There. Do you see it?”

“Oh, my god.”

You do.

The bar stool you were just occupying is now filled by Seokmin’s great-uncle, Hajoon, while his new and much younger girlfriend, Yunhee, hovers near his shoulder. Even from this distance, you can see the look of abject distress on Soyeon’s face, totally unhidden by her attempt to seem engaged.

You return to your position in front of Seokmin, your hand accidentally landing on his bicep, rather than his shoulder. Flustered by the deceptive bulk there, you immediately scoot your palm back to where it belongs.

He leans in so that only you can hear him. It doesn’t feel necessary at all, given how loud the band’s horn section is, but you don’t recoil this time.

“They had me trapped over by the appetizers,” he explains, low voice making you shiver involuntarily. “Every time he started a story with when I was your age, I wanted to point out that Yunhee hadn’t been born yet.”

You can’t help the laugh that erupts out of you and therefore can’t pull your head away from Seokmin’s ear in time to save him. Instead of wincing or complaining, he looks at you and breaks into laughter of his own as soon as your eyes meet. The effect doubles, and before you know it, both of you are teary-eyed.

“How the hell did you get away from him?”

It’s a feat you've never once managed. Uncle Hajoon’s inability to read a room is equal parts due to his horrible hearing and his tendency to never stop talking. Even if he did leave space in the conversation for you to excuse yourself, you’d never successfully get the message across.

Seokmin lifts his arm again but not for you. He takes his leave to spin himself, simpering as he goes, “That’s where Yunhee came in handy, actually. I didn’t know she had it in her, but she’s not as much of a dud as we initially thought.”

“Oh?”

“She told him that I should be able to dance with my girlfriend, and he shouldn’t keep me any longer.” He shrugs. “It didn’t seem like the time to correct her.”

All the heat in your body goes straight to your cheeks. Nonetheless, you attribute it to the dancing and choke out, “No royalties for me, then.”

“Not this time.” Seokmin shakes his head. “I said that Soyeon was trying to catch up with everyone and would love to hear his stories.”

You bite back a grin. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“Maybe.” He smiles with every single one of his teeth. “But you’re free.”

“Surprisingly so. I haven’t felt the Eye of Sauron on me at all yet.” Just in case your statement serves as a jinx, you glance around the room for Seonmi. The tension you’ve been keeping in each one of your muscles slackens when, once again, your radar is blip-free.

“Dinner was supposed to start ten minutes ago. If I had to guess, she’s either leaving a scathing Yelp review or personally waterboarding the chef as we speak.”

“Both at the same time,” you counter, earning a wry smile. “She inherited your mom’s self-assuredness. If she believes she can, she will.”

After the pair of you dance through two more songs, the band breaks, and the hotel’s battalion of waiters come in, bearing domed, silver trays. Seokmin takes off in a hurry for your assigned table in the far corner of the ballroom, so famished that he barely remembers to tug you along behind him.

Through the meal and all its complimentary wine pairings, you do your best to focus on the conversation. Seokmin introduced you to the few people sitting with you that you haven’t had the occasion to meet yet. While he does what comes naturally to him, charming them with ease, you struggle for the first time to pay attention to him.

A few tables over, Seonmi sits down with her fiancé, joining the company of her parents; Soyeon and her date are there, too, leaving Seokmin out by design. Like an insane person, you can only watch her, rather than Seokmin’s blatant theft of bites from your plate. She laughs at whatever jokes her mother cracks, but you’d recognize that look of veiled angst anywhere. She isn’t happy, you realize. You can’t avoid the feeling that you’re the reason why she isn’t.

Time passes, somehow too quickly and too slowly. The plates are emptied, then cleared away by the wait staff — except for your half-empty glass, which is your third. Much like the other guests at your table, the joyful buzz you’d been feeling so far leaves, too.

All that’s left is you, Seokmin, and that ominous, storm cloud you can’t seem to shake.

“You’ll probably feel better if you talk to her.”

He’s always more observant than you give him credit for. You snap out of your zoned-out stare across the room in order to look at him. You frown. “I doubt it. She already looks pissed. Me parading my presence here despite her isn’t going to help anything.”

“Bambi,” Seokmin sighs, not impatient but gentle. “She’s not exactly warm, but she has always liked you. There’s literally no reason why she wouldn’t be happy to see you —”

You open your mouth to argue.

“— that happened over twenty years ago, and you really need to stop feeling guilty about it —”

You close your mouth, cross your arms self-consciously, and sink in your seat. Despite yourself, you glance over at him and catch the way he’s looking at you. He doesn’t need to say the words out loud for you to hear them.

It’s either the unspoken dare, his reassuring, soft-eyed smile, or all the blasted merlot that does you in. You’re not sure which of the three was the coup de grâce, and as you slink off towards her table, you realize it doesn’t matter. For one reason or another, you’ve decided that fear isn’t going to get the better of you this time.

Seonmi somehow senses you coming. Even without the band underscoring your movement, your timid steps across the mahogany parquet should’ve been impossible for anyone to pick up on.

Must be an older sister thing, you think, being doomed to keep a perpetual eye on others.

She doesn’t say anything when you slip into the chair next to her, which doesn’t bode well but isn’t a deal breaker, in and of itself. The important thing is that she doesn’t get up to leave. You tell yourself that this is a good sign. The knot in your stomach begs to differ, however.

Say something.

Say anything.

“Everything’s… lovely, Seonmi, seriously.” You gesture around you, smiling, but she only gives you a cursory look. “You’ve really outdone yourself with this one.”

Seonmi takes a sip of her cocktail — something bitter, the petty voice in your head assumes — and lets the corner of her mouth rise slightly. If it’s the closest thing you’ll get to a smile, you’ll take it. She hasn’t granted you a proper one in the decades since you got gum in her favorite Barbie’s hair.

“Thanks, kid,” she sighs, setting the drink back down on her personalized, cardboard coaster.

You can’t remember the last time she called you “Bambi”, let alone your real name. Just like Seokmin, you’ve always been a child to her. Apparently, you always will be, no matter what you do.

Her grip around the glass remains rigid, not unlike her overall posture. Condensation weeps under and around her manicured fingers, uninhibited. You watch those droplets soak through the coaster’s design, darkening her parents’ initials and wedding date, while you mull over whose turn it is to talk.

Ultimately, as is usually the case, Seonmi makes this decision for you. Without so much as a glance at you out of the corner of her eye, she muses, “It was a lot of work, getting all the details ironed out.”

You pick up on the subtext immediately. One of those details would’ve been the guest list; another, the invitations. Seokmin assumed it was all an accident and said as much to you no fewer than a hundred times, but this little comment from his sister blows his assurances to smithereens.

Your exclusion wasn’t an accident at all.

Suddenly, somehow, the room is twenty degrees colder. You shoot a panicked glance over to where Seokmin was just sitting, wanting nothing more than to slink back to his warmth with your tail between your legs; but he’s not where you left him. In fact, he’s nowhere to be found.

Fuck.

“Ah,” is the best you can do.

And then the two of you sit awkwardly in silence while the seconds age in dog years.

You should’ve brought a drink over with you so you’d have something to do with your hands. Or your phone — except you left it on its charger, you idiot — or a time machine, so you can revoke your bullshit decision to walk over here in the first —

“He deserves that, don’t you think?”

The combined suddenness of her voice and the switch in topics makes you jolt ever so slightly. You try to pass it off, to pretend that you’re simply adjusting the skirt of your dress, but your efforts go unnoticed. Seonmi is too busy pointing casually ahead, drawing your focus to the center of the dance floor.

Like absolutely no one else is watching, Mr. Lee twirls around his laughing wife, his heart-shaped smile beaming so brightly that it almost hurts your eyes. The love of his life has to hold one of her hands over her mouth to keep her laughter from bursting out; the other hand is raised with the rest of that arm, allowing her husband to spin himself underneath. When he’s halfway through, she surprises him, drops her arm down, and embraces him fully, giggling all the while.

It almost makes you tear up — Mr. Lee’s unabashed, silly love, and how much it reminds you of his spitting-image of a son; the way Seokmin’s mother’s eyes sparkle in the same blissful, radiant way his do. Maybe the same can’t be said for his older sisters, but it’s abundantly clear where Seokmin came from. It’s even clearer where he should end up.

“Yes,” you breathe, and it almost sounds like a laugh because of course, he does. Before you can stop yourself, you ask, “Is that really a question?”

No, you realize too late, it’s bait.

Without batting an eye, she counters, “Is it really so hard for you to let him have that?”

Seonmi turns her head to look you dead in the eye. Confusingly, despite her words, there’s nothing in her tone or gaze that reads like malice. If anything, the slight furrow of her brow shouts concern.

Your mind is spinning too fast to keep up with. Whatever her next move is, you’re too dizzy now to see it coming and too disoriented to follow it. With the knot in your stomach tightening further, you stammer, “Is — what?”

“God,” Seonmi drops her face into her hands. “You don’t get it, do you?”

A fish on dry land, all you seem to know how to do is open and close your mouth. You may not be literally flailing, but with the state your mind is in, you may as well start.

“Seokmin loves love.”

She says each of these words slowly, like she’s trying to hammer each nail through a thick skull.

“It’s the one thing he’s wanted most since he was a kid, yet I can count on one hand the number of short-term relationships he’s been in. He doesn’t ever bring anyone home to meet us; he doesn’t bring anyone to weddings, or parties, or holidays; he just brings you.”

Of course, you’ve been right there through all of his situationships. He’s always scant on details when they end — and you’ve never pressed for any — but you know better than anyone that nothing has stuck long-term.

You’ve never thought about how odd this really is, but with Seonmi spelling it out for you now, you can’t come up with a single, good reason why someone as objectively incredible as Seokmin can’t make these things work — or why, even as you rack your brain, the only constant you can find in his life is you.

She glares now, as if she’s daring you to speak; as if you’ve got anything she’d deem worth adding. The bulldozer revs up again, whether you’re ready or not: “You’ve always been the only person he saves space for, whether or not there’s a place for you, and he has no room left in his life for someone to love him like that —”

Seonmi points again to her parents, who are circling slowly on the dance floor, talking softly to one another.

“So, what is it? Do you truly not see what he’s missing, or are you choosing not to because you like his attention?”

Your eyes burn with tears, but you can’t let them fall, and you can’t wrap your head around why that is.

Who are you hiding them from: Seonmi or yourself?

The longer she stares at you, the muddier it gets. You don’t want her to be right. You don’t want to be the kind of person she’s describing; but there’s something awful whispering in the back of your mind, saying that you might be.

You’ve left every relationship you’ve been in, telling everyone who asks in the aftermath that you like being on your own better. But that’s bullshit. It’s not your own company that you keep when you’re single; it Seokmin’s.

He makes sure that you never spend a day feeling alone, that he’s always available over the phone in the rare times he’s not physically with you. As his best friend, he treats you better than every single one of your exes ever has. Like you’re worth more than anyone else will credit you.

What kind of friend are you if you feel relieved whenever his relationships expire?

Seonmi’s hand drops, landing half-heartedly clenched on the tabletop. Just the same, her voice drops until it’s almost a whisper.

“I am begging you,” she pleads, eyes narrowing desperately as they search yours. “If you don’t want him, someone else will. Please just — get the hell out of their way.”

By the time you reach the elevator, all you’re left with is a blur. You’ve already forgotten how the conversation ended, or which one of you was the first to get up. If she said anything else to you, it was drowned out by your own hammering pulse and a looping chorus of voices validating your biggest fear, stating in no uncertain terms that you don’t belong.

You’re shaking when you reach your floor. Heels clicking under unsteady footsteps, you make for room 218; and as you go, you shove your hand into the well-concealed pocket of your dress for the keycard Seokmin forgot to grab himself on the way out earlier.

He’s certainly not in the room when you finally step inside, although you have no clue where he’s gone. It’s for the best. The door closes behind you, and with no one to see it happen, you burst into tears.

All rational thought flies out the window, shaken off by the tornado of utter confusion tearing through your brain. You grab your suitcase, needing nothing more than to be anywhere else, and begin haphazardly throwing your things back inside of it.

Why did you still come with him, knowing it wouldn’t end well? It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve told him no; he would’ve listened if you truly meant it.

If you didn’t mean it when you initially tried to squirrel your way out of this, why not? Was it just your friend asking sincerely that won you over without a fight; or was it because you knew, deep down, it’d hurt to see him bring someone else?

Why would it hurt?

The answer to that will crack the foundation of everything the two of you have built, but only if you admit it to yourself. It can’t threaten you if you don’t say it out loud, don’t make it real.

So, you won’t.

You’ll bury it deeply enough to forget about, repour the concrete, and tiptoe through the rest of your life with your best friend still at your side.

That is, if your friendship survives the weekend — rather, your sudden departure from it — at all.

“Halmoni, it’s time to go back to your hotel, okay?”

He coos this, as if he’s pleading with a toddler at bedtime, because that’s exactly what it feels like to wrangle the drunk, 80-year-old clinging to his arm.

Physically, she needs to hold onto Seokmin to keep herself steady. Mentally, she’s ready to run and has made several attempts to do just that when she thinks his guard is down. It’s no wonder the hotel staff cornered him and begged him for help; she’s too wily for those who don’t know her.

The manager had at least done him the courtesy of hailing a cab. It sits out front, warm and waiting, while he shepherds his grandmother through the lobby.

“— and another thing!” She slurs.

There is never not another thing. She shouldn’t bother concluding her sentences in the first place; she’s never done talking.

“I told your sister — I said, Sunny —”

Seonmi, he dares to presume, although he doesn’t dare to correct her.

“— you can’t have stuff like this —” She gestures animatedly, albeit vaguely around her. “— in places like this and expect retirees to pay for it! I said — oh, what did I say? — Ah, I said, ‘find me the cheapest motel in the area, or I’ll be staying in your room with you’ —”

Her kitten heels hit the brick outside with an angry thwump.

Seokmin can’t help himself. “She didn’t go for that?”

“No!” His grandmother squawks.

The driver sees the ball of a woman wobbling his way and quickly exits the cab, skirts around it, and flings the back door open for her.

“I can’t imagine why, halmoni,” he lies through his teeth, which shine down on her in his best, least sincere smile. “You’re a blast in a glass.”

She roars with laughter, even while two grown adults work together to pour her into the backseat without bumping her head on the doorframe. “Glast in a blass!”

“Exactly. Can you —?”

He gives up before he finishes voicing his request; it’s no use. Instead, he bends down to hug her and finagles the buckle of her seatbelt while she’s too distracted to fight him off. That click is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, after the clunk of the door shutting her in.

By the time Seokmin turns to the cab driver, his grandmother is fully slumped in her seat, pilled peacoat rising and falling with every wine-laced breath.

“I am so sorry.” He sighs, which devolves into a sheepish laugh, and fishes all of the cash out of his pocket. No tip could possibly cover the emotional toll of this ordeal, so he does his best and gives the driver everything he has.

The driver’s eyes widen. Seokmin gets the impression that he doesn’t quite understand the task he’s undertaking.

Poor bastard.

Seokmin continues, “My grandfather is at the inn already; he didn’t feel well enough to come here, but he’ll be ready to get her inside once you drop her off.”

“Sounds easy enough.” The driver smiles and holds out his hand to shake.

Seokmin reciprocates, and he declines to explain just how wrong that assessment is. He thanks the man and chirps a quick goodbye to his grandmother before rushing back inside.

Walking into the ballroom, he hopes to find you and Seonmi laughing about whatever misunderstanding had gotten in your way before. At the very least, he expects you to still be sitting next to each other at the same table. That would be good enough, he thinks; he could assist in repairing the situation from there.

The problem, it seems, is beyond his help. Neither one of you occupies the same table. If his quick scan tells him anything, you’re not even in the same room.

No matter which way he turns, he can’t spot you. His sister, on the other hand, is near the far corner, having what looks like a nightmarish conversation with their parents. There are approximately five billion things Seokmin would rather do than get in the middle of that, but you don’t have your phone on you, and he has no other way to find out where you went.

Above the heads of the two women, Seokmin’s father catches sight of his approach. They lock eyes; there’s something insane in his father’s gaze. The older man shakes his head, mouthing “no.”

Seokmin stops short, raises his hands with the palms up to get across his confusion, and mouths back, “Bambi?”

In response, his father extends a single finger and points upwards. He then makes a shooing motion with his hand. His wife and daughter are so engrossed in their argument that neither of them catches the pantomime or Seokmin’s quick exit, back the way he came.

On the elevator ride upstairs, Seokmin worries. The most likely explanation is that you went to find your phone so that you could find him – but you haven’t texted or called him in the time he’s been looking for you, so he supposes it isn’t likely after all.

Maybe, he thinks, the wine caught up to you. You’re not as strong a drinker as you think you are. While he walks down the hallway to room 218, he steels himself. Even though you both hate it, he’s ready to hold your hair if he walks in and finds you with your head in the toilet. That dress looks too good on you not to be expensive; he’d rather talk you out of your embarrassment tomorrow than have you shell out for dry-cleaning.

You didn’t deadbolt the door behind you, which strikes him as odd. In fact, you didn’t even close it properly; it isn’t latched. All he has to do is tap on it for the door to open.

“Bambi?” He calls out before stepping inside entirely, thinking it’s only decent to confirm in advance that he’s not an intruder. “Sorry for disappearing. I had to pour my grandmother into a cab – it was exactly as awful as it sounds.”

The faint rustling sound he hears isn’t coming from the bathroom, which is both dark and unoccupied. Part of him wants to take this as a good sign, but the rest of him wonders if he’s walking in on a burglary. That flicker of fear is followed by a stupid sense of validation:

You always laugh at him when he cites this as his reason for choosing the bed closest to the door; you claim it’s statistically unlikely. Finally being able to say “I told you so” after a robbery wouldn’t make either of your belongings magically reappear, of course. That said, it might make him feel a little better.

But the figure rooting through your suitcase isn’t a bandit at all. It’s you with your coat on.

“Um,” he starts, unintentionally startling you. “What is….”

His question peters out when you look up at him. There are broken mascara tracks down your cheeks, as if you tried to wipe them off without actually looking at them. Above them, your wide eyes are wet, like you’re seconds away from crying all over again. Even worse, you’re trembling.

Seokmin’s only instinct is to reach for you. Before he can wrap his arms around you, you jerk away from him. “Please don’t.”

So, he stops, though he doesn’t understand why. This is quite literally the only time in your life that you’ve pushed him away.

“What’s going on?” Ideally, he’d project calm at a time like this. He just sounds desperate. “What happened with Seonmi?”

“She — um, she didn’t — It wasn’t that bad; I’m just… You know how sensitive I get when I drink wine.”

Like a switch flips, a half-hearted smile takes over the bottom half of your face. It’s not real; if it was, your eyes would light up and crinkle at the corners. Whatever that look is, it’s bullshit.

Seokmin gestures to your suitcase, where everything you brought with you has been unceremoniously shoved. “Sensitive enough to, what, run away? No. I’m not buying it. She said something — or did something — to make you this upset. Bambi, what happened?”

His urgency is selfish, he knows it. Seonmi’s always been way too intuitive for her own good. There’s no way she hasn’t noticed the way he looks at you when you aren’t looking; how god-awful he is at acting platonic.

He tries — has been trying, for a long time now — to shake these feelings off because he knows you’re not emotionally available. Because he knows who he’s supposed to be for you, and how devastating it would be if he threw your friendship away.

That devastation is right in front of him now; and it’ll push you out of his life forever if he doesn’t shut it down. He has to get in front of it.

You strike first, though. “Seokmin, why didn’t you bring anyone else?”

There are two ways for him to interpret that question: with the emphasis on anyone, meaning not you; or as an escape route. For your sake, he chooses the latter.

“She gave me a plus-one, not a plus-two,” he says softly.

Despite his tone, it must hit you like a punch. You nod curtly, once. “Got it. Basic math. Thanks, Seokmin; that was never my strongest subject.”

Foot, meet mouth.

You immediately set back to work, reaching for the lid of your suitcase to close and zip. Before he thinks once, let alone twice, his hand darts out and flattens against the mesh inner pocket on the top, preventing you from doing so.

“No.” He shakes his head firmly. “Not happening.”

You don’t scowl at him the way he expects, nor do you even stop to look at him. It’s far worse than that; your eyes start swimming, focused helplessly on your suitcase.

When you speak, your voice cracks. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place. I knew that this invitation shit wasn’t an accident; I knew I wasn’t welcome to —”

“— You came anyway.” Seokmin doesn’t mean to snap at you, but the point is moot. Softening at the edges, he quickly continues, “And I’m glad that you did because I don’t want to be here with ‘anyone else’.”

It’s not the whole truth, so it may as well be a lie. You know him too well for him to get away with it; it was stupid of him to try. Your head turns, and the slight narrow of your eyes says it all.

I triple-dog dare you to tell me the truth.

This fork in the road has two dead ends. His only options are to do just that or double down and lie straight to your face, while you see straight through him. Either option pulls the pin, he figures, so it’s no longer a question of who gets hurt; it’s who gets hurt worse.

Seokmin jumps on the grenade.

“I don’t want to be with anyone else!”

It comes out too loudly, startling you. In a way, it’s angry, too. He wishes could project that anger onto Seonmi for starting shit, as usual, but the person he’s maddest at is himself for putting you both in this position.

For the first time ever, he can’t decipher the expression on your face. He’d shove his foot into his mouth to try and keep himself quiet, but his adrenaline is firing on all cylinders, and he can’t seem to stop shouting.

“And I’m really fucking sorry to say it because I know you don’t want to hear it, not from me or anyone else. So, you can leave, alright? I’m not going to stop you.”

The force of the surprise almost knocks the air out of him, so quick that Seokmin can’t process what’s happening until his back is flush to the wall behind him — until your hands, flat against his white button-up, curl to grip the fabric, and you kiss him so hard that he sees stars.

You’re surprised too, it seems. When you pull away, chest heaving, you freeze in the same way he does. Eyes searching the other’s, unsure of what to do now that twenty-plus years’ worth of boundaries have been blown to bits.

You whisper, “Are you still sorry?”

Of the five million feelings swelling inside of him — fear, kind of; joy, yes; fucked up by your blown-out pupils, definitely — regret isn’t one of them.

Actually…

He cups your face in his hands like water from a spring, drinks down the sight of you in this new and perfect light. “I’m only sorry that it took me this long to tell you,” he confesses before kissing you back twice as hard.

You’d ask Seokmin to pinch you and prove to you that you’re not dreaming, but the fear you feel at the thought of waking up is too overwhelming.

Even if it wasn’t, he can’t help you, can he?

His hands are far too busy.

Your pretty dress is long gone now, having been shucked off and tossed somewhere out of sight. In its place, it’s Seokmin’s body that now drapes over yours, warm in touch and tone, like molten gold.

His middle and marriage fingers curl inside you, working you up again; and all you can do is cling desperately to his hair, whimper, and wait for the fall.

“I take back what I said earlier,” he murmurs between nips and kisses at your neck.

You can’t ask him to elaborate. You’re too close to careening over the edge for the second time tonight; too busy babbling fucking nonsense.

His simper against your throat reverberates all the way down, lights up your every nerve in tandem like a switchboard. “Only an idiot would tell you to be less expressive.”

The pad of his thumb swirls over your clit; its movement synchronizes with his middle finger inside of you, targeting your weak spot. He presses down on that spongy patch of nerves, and your hips buck involuntarily, a hallmark of your body begging for you while your words fail.

“You were right, though.”

You summon all your concentration. “I’m always right,” you counter. Seokmin pulls his mouth away from the underside of your jaw just to look at you pointedly. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

He picks up the pace of his ministrations, pulling no punches. You’re teetering on the ledge with no real ability to lift your own neck; your head crashes back against the pillow as you wail, clenching and gushing around his fingers.

“I do know how sensitive you get,” he snickers before slipping his fingers from you and sweeping down to kiss you sweetly.

The ringing in your ears has barely subsided, but you’ve decided not to take anymore of his teasing laying down. Slipping your fingers from his hair, you move your hands to his shoulders; and with whatever muscle control you still maintain, you flip him off of you, onto his back.

“How long —”

You climb over his lap and straddle him, placing your palms flat against his chest. It’s as much a show of dominance as it is a carefully disguised trick for balance.

“— have you been waiting to say that?”

Caught red handed, Seokmin shoots you that trademark, heart-shaped smile. His cheeks were already flushed from the effort he just expended on you; that perfect pink only deepens when he blushes and laughs, “What, you think I can’t come up with killer lines in the heat of the moment?”

You scratch your nails gently down the lines of his abdominal muscles. “Nope,” you purr.

Sitting up on his elbows, Seokmin tilts his head to the side and narrows his dark eyes at you. You’re nowhere near used to seeing him look at you like this, like you’re something to be devoured. The feeling of being wanted so badly makes your stomach flip.

“Give me some credit, won’t you?” He asks, voice low. “You’re a knockout; you’re naked in front of me for the first time; and it’s a miracle I can talk at all when I feel this concussed.”

When you lean in, he licks his lips expectantly. You’re close enough to kiss him, of course, but you stop a few millimeters shy of your mark and watch him fight the urge to pout. His eyes search yours, almost pleadingly.

“Is that why you’re still not naked?”

Seokmin’s next move is to reach for the black briefs he’s still got on, but you stop him, encircling each of his wrists with your hands.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut with a patronizing shake of your head. “You’re fired. I’m in control now.”

If the little sigh he lets out is any indication, he is very much on board with your self-promotion.

He takes your cue and reels himself in, allowing you to move further down his body, your fingertips hooking under his elastic waistband and tugging as you go. When his length finally springs free, you duck your head to take him into your mouth, beyond eager to feel his weight on your tongue.

“Oh, my god,” he groans, eyelids fluttering, while you swirl your tongue around his head. “Feels s-so —”

The rest of his sentence gets stuck in his throat; you take what you can of him down your own throat, working whatever remains with your hand.

Seokmin wants so badly to watch, you know he does, but he’s sensitive, too. His head tips back, eyes closed and mouth hanging open.

It’s messy, the spit dribbling down your chin and the sound brought forth by the suction of your mouth around him. The obscenity of it all spurs you on. Nothing inspires you quite like Seokmin’s breathy whines and low moans, though. Above all else, it’s his reaction to you that slicks the inside of your thighs.

You’d give him the ending he deserves, right down the back of your throat, but you feel his fingertips graze your shoulder, beckoning you to look up at him.

Voice rough, he pleads, “Come here.”

With his steadying hands on you, you move back into your original position with your bent knees on either side of him. You immediately spot the indent his teeth have left on his lower lip, which is now slightly swollen. Delicately, you brush your thumb over the mark. “Oh, you’re a goner.”

Seokmin looks at you pointedly. Though you tease, you’re even worse off: drunk on the taste of him, as much as the sight of him underneath you, wanting you just as badly.

“Alright, alright,” you concede. “I am, too.”

The hand you use to wave dismissively at him then reaches down between your thighs, fingers wrapping around his cock and lining it up with your entrance.

“But I’m taking you down with me.”

And you do.

So thoroughly that you barely recall him staggering off to the bathroom when all is said and done, the wash cloth he returns with to clean you up, or the way you slump into his waiting arms before promptly falling asleep.

You sleep so soundly, in fact, that you don’t stir when the sun blares through the open curtains. Likewise, when Seokmin carefully maneuvers himself out of the tangle of your limbs and places your head on a real pillow instead, you’re none the wiser.

What finally gets to you is the clatter of the expensive, hotel-issued shampoo clattering against the floor of the shower, echoing off the tile like a sonic boom. You sit bolt upright in bed, staring bleary-eyed in the direction of the bathroom.

As if on cue, Seokmin pokes his head out of the doorway to see if you managed to sleep through the noise. Damp hair splays over his forehead, hanging just as loosely as his lazily-knotted bathrobe. If you weren’t still too sleepy to function, you’d love nothing more than to grab him by that tie and drag him back to bed.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Bambi,” he coos, though his mouth is full of both toothpaste and a toothbrush in a distinctly greener shade of blue than usual.

You merely point at his mouth with a half-powered look of distress, otherwise unable to put your suspicion into words. He doesn’t get it; he glances down at his chest, looking for what he assumes is a stray glob of paste.

When you finally do speak, it’s a prayer: “Please tell me that’s not mine.”

Seokmin blinks at you, then down his nose at the toothbrush he’s using. He cocks his head to the side, opens his mouth to assure you it isn’t, and finally, when the realization makes his eyes widen, he groans.

You wail, “Noooooo!”

Memories of your last trip together clash before your mind — specifically, attempting to navigate a drug store in a foreign language while you shopped for the replacement toothbrush Seokmin is currently holding.

Ears bright red with embarrassment, he ducks back into the bathroom. Immediately, you hear a rush of water from the tap, which nearly drowns out his feeble cry of “I’m sorry!”

“I know it’s an honest mistake, but how do you make it twice?”

You collapse back onto the pillows and bury your face in your palms; and you stay that way, even when you hear him padding softly over to you. The mattress shifts under his weight as he makes his way, one knee at a time, until you feel him looming over you. His hands reach out and gently pull yours from your face.

Before you can get any ideas, Seokmin flattens himself on top of you; a weighted blanket, smelling like vanilla and spearmint. He folds his arms across your chest and props his chin up on the top of his right wrist, bright eyes sparkling as he peers up at you.

Suddenly, you find it very difficult to be annoyed with him. The worst part is that none of this is by design. He always just looks at you this way, not to get out of trouble but because you’re you.

Your hand reaches out of its own accord and brushes the remaining damp strands off his forehead. When your touch lingers, Seokmin leans into it, warming your palm with his cheek.

“Hey,” you say, after failing to come up with anything better.

He beams. “Hi.”

“Why are we awake at this hour?”

That smile of his evaporates slowly, giving way to a grimace you’ve seen before. “Seungcheol and Mingyu want to meet up at the ski lodge before the post-brunch crowd gets there,” he explains. “And I told my parents we’d get breakfast with them first, since yesterday was… well, mostly a disaster.”

“And it will conveniently provide you with time to think of a way out of snowboarding?” You chuckle quietly and pat his cheek.

Seokmin shakes his head firmly, then stretches his neck enough to kiss you.

“No,” he mumbles defiantly against your lips. “I never back down from a triple-dog dare.”

630 notes · View notes

oddinary4bts · 9 months ago

Text

Chasing Cars | ch 1 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Hoseok x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, curses, jungkook is lowkey a cocky asshole but we love him, mentions of ghosting (reader to Hoseok), mentions of frosh week, mentions of Nabi spraining her ankle, a frat party, beer pong, Sam Hwang, peach, explicit content: overhearing someone having sex, female masturbation, sex toy (vibrator), praising, nipple play, hickeys, dom!Hoseok, sub!reader, degradation, Hoseok likes being called sir (lmao), whip (sorta, with a belt), choking (with a belt), safe word, oral sex (male receiving), mouth fucking, balls fondling, jerking off, spitting in the other's mouth, Hoseok does not believe in aftercare (rip)

☆word count: 11.8k

☆a/n: CHAPTER ONE!! LET'S GET THIS JOURNEY STARTED BABY!!! thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, January 17th

If there is one thing you’ve figured about Jeon Jungkook, it’s that he is an insufferable prick, yet an endearing one. As your older brother’s best friend, Jungkook has taken a liking to teasing you, treating you like his own little sister. It was weird at first – the day you met him, you were struck by his looks. Who wouldn’t be? Jungkook is tall, has a sleeve of tattoos, and he rocks an eyebrow and two lip piercings.

It took you all but three days to realize that he is a too full of himself asshole. And had you known what you were signing up for when Taehyung suggested that you move in with him when his friend Jimin moved out to live with his girlfriend, maybe you wouldn’t have accepted.

You love Taehyung. He’s an incredible brother, has always taken care of you when you were younger and your mother was never home to do so. You love him enough that you didn’t mind moving in with him even though there was a third party you didn’t know.

Jungkook, that is.

It’s been months now. Months of living with Jungkook, of waking up to his insufferable smirk and even worse teasing, whenever Taehyung is not around. Because, of course, when your brother is here Jungkook is an angel, never once saying anything to you that could be taken the wrong way.

Thing is, Taehyung has always dreamed of studying abroad, in Paris. Has always wished to experience the French lifestyle, to wake up to eat croissants and gaze at the Eiffel Tower in the distance. So when he got the opportunity to do his winter semester over there, of course he jumped on the chance.

You’ve been living alone in the same apartment as Jeon Jungkook for less than a month and you already wish May to be at your door and for Taehyung to come back.

It’s late. Sometime close to two am, and the bed creaking in the room next to yours, the one banging into the wall, has been keeping you up.

Or maybe the intermittent high-pitched clipped moans are what are keeping you up. Because, mind you, the walls of your apartment are paper-thin. So paper-thin sometimes you think you’re in Jungkook’s room while he’s ramming some girl he probably doesn’t even know the name of. Sometimes, you think you can almost picture him. Almost see the muscles of his back move under his skin as he jack-hammers into yet another girl, almost see his powerful thighs slap on hers each time he pushes in, almost see his fucked-out face when he comes with that loud grunt of his…

You miss Taehyung being around because Jungkook wasn’t as loud then. Still brought girls home every Thursday like clockwork, but made sure he wasn’t loud enough for the whole building to hear him. With Taehyung gone, Jungkook has stopped caring, and you have been suffering the consequences since then.

In truth, it hasn’t been that long. Less than three weeks, and you’ve heard Jungkook fuck like four times? You reckon it could be a lot worse… but he could also be respectful and not fuck people when you’re trying to sleep because you have a nine am class the next day.

The first time it happened, you were mortified. You listened to music, hoping you wouldn’t hear it anymore but, the thing is, his headboard bangs against the same wall your headboard is against. So you still felt it, and you suffered through the whole ordeal hoping you would disappear through the floor.

The second time it happened, you were annoyed. You considered knocking against the wall to tell him to shut the fuck up – or rather to tell the girl to shut the fuck up – but you resisted. Solely because you didn’t want to stir shit with Jungkook. You considered asking Taehyung to tell Jungkook to be more respectful, but it sounded childish and stupid so you eventually let it slide.

The third time it happened, you were… aroused. Maybe because it had been a long time since you had sex – the last time being in late November with Hoseok, a guy studying in the same major as you, though he’s Jungkook and Taehyung’s age. Yet, even though you felt aroused, you focused on all the ways you were going to murder Jungkook the next day.

Today… today the arousal is winning the game. It’s been making your heart run wild, and your grip on your sheets has your knuckles turning white, skin stretched taut over how hard you’re clenching your fists.

And when you hear Jungkook say something that definitely sounds like “Good fucking girl”, you lose it. You’re too aroused, dripping from just hearing him, and you need to have the coil inside of you snap if you want to be able to sleep tonight.

With all the sounds emerging from his room, you doubt Jungkook is going to hear you. So you shamelessly rummage through the top drawer of your night table, searching for your vibrator, smiling in victory when your hand closes around it.

You’re wearing PJ shorts, and you quickly rid yourself of them as the girl lets out a short-clipped moan that makes you think you’re listening to porn, and not to your roommate fucking.

Though you reckon sex with Jungkook really does sound like porn.

You lie back in bed once you’re rid of your shorts, taking a hold of your vibrator. You turn it on, adjusting it to your favourite setting. You feel strange doing so, like you’re doing something you really shouldn’t be doing, but you can’t help it.

The second you press the vibrator on your clit, you forget all about how what you’re doing is wrong. All you can focus on is the pleasure that radiates through your body, and your eyes close tightly, images of Jungkook swirling in your brain.

When the girl moans again, and Jungkook tells her that she’s ‘taking it so well’, your free hand shoots to your breast, pinching your nipple through the fabric of your t-shirt. It’s not enough, and you’re quick to move it under the shirt. You pinch hard, and you let out a breathy sound as your thighs instinctively close on your wrist.

Jungkook’s headboard starts banging against the wall even more, and your brain produces an image of Jungkook between your legs, fucking you until all you can think is his name. It has you pushing your vibrator inside of you, and you lightly moan again at the pleasurable intrusion.

You let go of your nipple, moving that hand to your clit instead, and your fingers expertly start drawing circles on it. You listen to Jungkook’s grunts all along, to the girl’s moans, and maybe you’re a little too blissed out to realize they’re done, but when you reach your high you can’t help the broken moan you let out, a little too loud for the paper-thin walls of your apartment.

As you’re coming down from your high, you realize the apartment is eerily silent, and you swallow the lump of awkwardness that’s formed in your throat. You wipe your vibrator with some tissue, knowing you’ll have to actually clean it on the morrow, but you don’t want to kill the silence of the night just so you can put your vibrator back in its hiding spot right away.

But you’re not stupid, and you know you need a trip to the bathroom anyway. You put your PJ shorts back on, grab your phone to use it as a flashlight so you don’t bump into a wall on the way to the bathroom, and you tiptoe all the way over there, hoping to be as soundless as possible.

You have to walk in front of Jungkook’s room to get to the bathroom, and then halfway across the living room. You notice his door is closed on your way, and you peacefully make it all the way to the bathroom. You quickly pee and clean yourself up, washing your hands before you open the door.

Which, you reckon might have been your demise. Because when you open the door of the bathroom, it’s to let out a high-pitched startled yelp at the sight of a shirtless Jungkook on the other side. The sound of the faucet must have hidden his footsteps.

You stare at each other for a few seconds, and in the dim light, you’re pretty sure Jungkook is smirking.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks after the silence has started to stretch into awkwardness.

You clench your jaw, gaze dropping to the ground. “You were disturbing my sleep.”

He chuckles, cocking his head to the side. “Was I now?”

Your eyes shoot back to his face at the low huskiness of his tone, and you wish with all of your heart that you had the courage to punch him in the face. But you don’t, so all you reply is, “You need to start fucking your hookups somewhere else.”

His smirk falls into a pout. “I won’t go over to the girls’ places. But I can make sure they’re more silent next time.”

Your brain can’t help but wonder if he means ‘they’ as in he was fucking two girls or just they as in generally referring to a single person.

You obstinately remain silent for a moment, holding his gaze with surprising defiance. “Please do,” you finally choose to say, and the smirk makes its way back to his features.

“I promise,” he says, voice low once again, and you hate how it has something tightening inside of you once more.

You hate it so much that you escape, wishing him good night as you walk around him. You feel the warmth of his body on the way, and you’re thinking about ways to stab him in the back when he says, “Sleep well, peach.”

Saturday, January 19th

You’ve taken to referring to last Wednesday night, or early Thursday morning, as The Incident. At least that’s what you call it when you talk about it with your friends, Ria and Nabi. Ria, who’s always had some sort of a crush on Jungkook is absolutely flabbergasted each time it’s mentioned, and Nabi thinks he’s proven that he’s the biggest asshole in college.

You relate to both, and mostly agree with Nabi.

You’re supposed to go to some party later tonight. Ria convinced you to pre-drink at the girls’ dorm before you go, considering it’s closer to the party than your apartment, and the three of you are sitting in a circle on the floor, with music playing in the background. Needless to say, Nabi has been complaining ever since you got there, because she doesn’t usually do parties, and Ria is so excited she’s got you convinced that tonight will be the best night of your life.

Almost.

“Shots?” Ria asks as if you haven’t already taken two shots each.

She’s holding the bottle of tequila up, a red flush to her cheeks and mischief lighting her gaze. You don’t find it in you to say no, because you know that without the tequila Nabi is never going to make it to the party.

“Let’s do this,” you say, offering her a smirk as Nabi hides her face in her hands.

“You girls are going to kill me,” she complains.

“Come on,” Ria says, playfully pushing her on the shoulder. “Maybe that cute guy you like is going to be there!”

Nabi has had a crush on someone from your major, Kim Namjoon, ever since you met her at the beginning of Frosh week last semester. He’s a tall guy, with dimples whenever he smiles, and you can see why she’d have a crush on him. Thing is, Namjoon has been dating someone ever since then, and Nabi has just been suffering in silence.

You still remember the moment you saw the crush bubble to life. It was day three of Frosh Week, and Namjoon was in charge of your team, along with Hoseok. You, Nabi, and three other first years were winning the relay race, figuring out the puzzles so quickly you had a good advance on the other teams. In a leap of happiness, Nabi jumped over a small stone wall on campus. One of her feet got tangled, and she ended up spraining her ankle.

Namjoon had been right by her side, asking her if she was okay. And Nabi has been in love with him ever since that day, though she’d never dare say it aloud.

“I don’t like anyone,” she grumbles, but the way her cheeks flush red is telling.

“Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon,” you singsong, offering her a shit eating grin.

She retaliates by saying, “When’s the last time you’ve fucked Hobi? Didn’t you say he was the best lay of your life?”

Your mouth falls open in surprise, and Ria lets out a loud laugh.

“We stopped fucking in November, you know that!” you burst, feeling yourself turning crimson. “And it’s not like I have a crush on him, I stopped because it felt like he had a crush on me.”

Nabi has a winning smile on her lips. “And what’s so bad about that?”

“I mean…” you trail off, shrugging your shoulders. “The sex was good, but I didn’t feel like dating him. Simple as that.”

“Why not?” Ria asks, tequila forgotten. “You never told us.” She adds a pout to her sentence, trying to get you to explain.

There’s no explanation. You just didn’t feel like it. You tell them as much, but Nabi doesn’t buy it. Ria, on the other hand, lets out a sound that has both you and Nabi startling.

“I know why!” she explains.

You cock an eyebrow. “Why?”

“You live with fucking Jeon Jungkook, of course you don’t want to date Hobi. Especially after The Incident.”

You laugh, as it’s just as ridiculous as you expected it to be. “Not at all. Jungkook is Tae’s best friend.”

Both your friends look at you, as if what you said was the stupidest shit they ever heard.

“What?”

“What does it change?” Nabi asks with a small voice.

“Well,” you let out, because you don’t really know. It’s just weird to you, and you don’t know how to explain it. “For one, I’m pretty sure Tae would kill him if he ever laid a finger on me.”

“Tae is in Paris,” Ria innocently says.

“Irrelevant,” you say, chuckling. “He’s going to be back in just a few months.”

“A lot can happen in a few months,” she adds, wiggling her brows suggestively.

You roll your eyes before reaching out between the two of you. “Give me the tequila.”

“I’ll fuck him if you don’t,” she teases, and she cradles the tequila to her chest. “As a matter of fact, maybe I’ll try to fuck him tonight.”

“Have fun!” is all you answer before making grabby hands at her. “Now, give me the alcohol, let’s get plastered before we get there so we don’t have to drink the crappy frat booze.”

*****

The frat house hosting the party is wild. Has always been – you’ve always found they go too far with most of their parties. But they also host the most memorable parties, and you know tonight will be a blast the moment you set in to see the strung LED light, shining different patterns of colours around the main room. A table in the corner is stacked high with every bottle of hard alcohol imaginable, and there are three coolers you assume are holding beer or something of the sorts.

One of the guys – Dave? – shows you three where you can leave your coats, on a bed in the upstairs bedroom, and then he walks you to the alcohol table, offering to pour you some shots.

Nabi giggles, because by the time you left their dorm, she got quite drunk, claiming she needed it if she were to run into Namjoon after what you and Ria had said. She accepts the shot she’s handed, though half of it has spilled on her hand by the time the guy gives you yours. He puts salt on your hands, carefully, as Ria makes fun of Nabi, and you look around, scanning the crowd. You recognize a few people from your class, along with the usual party crowd of your college. You smile at two guys you’ve spoken to before at least once, before resuming your attention on Dave (?) as he hands you a slice of lemon.

When the four of you are ready, you lick the salt, knock back the shot, and then bite in the lemon to chase the taste of tequila away. It’s cheap tequila, and even with lemon the taste lingers while you prepare vodka cranberries for you and your friends. And though Ria loves dancing, you and Nabi win as you choose to head to the kitchen, where you know the music isn’t usually as loud.

The first thing you notice when you enter the kitchen is the beer pong table in the middle. Jeon Jungkook is currently playing, along with Jimin, another of your brother’s friends. As he sees you, Jimin raises his glass, offering you a wide grin, and then he punches Jungkook in his side before motioning to you.

Jungkook notices you then, and he offers you a smirk as he eyes you up and down. You feel shy for half a beat, though you know you look good. You’re wearing a green corset along with a pair of black leather pants, and you know the two pieces of clothing hug your body perfectly. Plus, Ria did your makeup, and Ria never fails when it comes to makeup. So you wait as Jungkook looks at you, hoping the foundation Ria put on your face is thick enough for him not to see you blush as The Incident inevitably comes back to your mind.

You look away, and then you see Hoseok hovering by glass sliding doors, along with Namjoon and their other friend Yoongi. Hoseok is busy with a conversation, and when he bursts out laughing you can hear it clear as day.

Why didn’t you want to date him? You don’t know. You actually really don’t know, because he ticks off all the boxes. But something was missing, you presume, and sometimes you hate yourself for it.

He must have sensed your attention, and he turns his head towards you. You don’t miss the way his smile falls a little, and he nods once in recognition. When you smile, his mouth closes to offer you one of those awkward tight-lipped smiles, and your gaze drops away to the cup in your hand.

Of course, Ria has a nefarious plan in mind, because she hooks her arm with yours and Nabi’s, pulling you towards the trio of guys. You’re fully aware that it’s mostly for Nabi, and that it’s stupid because last you’ve heard, Namjoon is still dating his girlfriend, but you let your friend pull you towards the men, gaze still stubbornly hiding in your cup.

You watch the liquid slosh around as you stop in front of them, and Namjoon greets you. Hoseok falls eerily silent, and Yoongi asks you all how you’ve been doing.

You only join in the conversation when you’ve taken a long sip from your cup to ease your nerves. Not that it really helped, but you reckon just standing there in silence would probably make things more awkward than anything else.

“Nabi is pretty drunk,” Ria is saying when you finally look up from the cup.

“Am not!” Nabi insists, voice slurred. “Or maybe just a little.”

Namjoon laughs, while Yoongi chuckles. “As long as you don’t fall and sprain your ankle again, I think you’re alright.”

“Won’t fall again,” Nabi promises. “Not with these two with me.” She says that motioning to you and Ria, and it somehow brings Namjoon’s attention to you.

“I saw your essay on the synthesis and control of energy metabolism,” he tells you, a dimpled smile on display. “It was pretty good.”

You can’t help but slide your eyes to Nabi, who wrote a far better essay on human health and bacteriophage in your opinion, and you don’t miss the way her gaze drops to the ground.

“Thanks,” you reply to Namjoon nonetheless.

He’s started TA-ing to help out Seokjin, one of the biochemistry grad students. All of you are biology students, except Ria and Yoongi. Ria is in administration, and Yoongi studies music, his concentration being piano and producing.

There’s an awkward silence, and you glance towards Hoseok, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. He’s good-looking, even though he’s simply dressed in a T-shirt with some graphics on the front and a pair of discoloured jeans. Knowing him, he probably has a crazy jacket upstairs, because you know he’s good when it comes to fashion.

It’s what attracted you to him in the first place.

“How are you?” you ask him, and you notice Yoongi’s pointed gaze on you. It’s disapproving, you think, but the question left your mouth without you even wanting it to.

“I’ve been great,” Hoseok replies, though it’s a little colder than what you know him to be.

You nod, gaze dropping to the ground as Ria strikes a conversation with the three others, clearly trying to give you and Hoseok some space. It has the two of you just standing in aimless silence, until the sound of whooping behind you attracts your gaze to the beer pong table, where Jimin and Jungkook are celebrating a win. “I’m…” you trail off as you turn back to look at him. “I’m glad. How are your classes?”

He sighs. “They’re harder than first-year classes.”

You don’t miss the ghost of a teasing glint in his eyes, and you immediately latch onto it. “Oh, please, you struggled in molecular biology. I got A+ in the class.”

He chuckles, and you physically relax. Because you haven’t really talked since you ended things in November, finals coming in the way of partying and other events where you would run into him. So you didn’t know before today where you stood with him, and you’re relieved that he doesn’t seem like he’s holding a grudge.

“You weren’t in Lester’s class,” he points out. “Even Namjoon almost failed Lester’s class.”

You gasp in fake outrage. “No way! And now he’s the biochem TA.”

“I know,” Hoseok says, slightly shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

The renewed complicity between the two of you is easy, you realize, and when he suggests playing a game of beer pong, you immediately agree. Or maybe you only agree because you don’t know where Nabi, Ria, Yoongi and Namjoon went, only that they aren’t next to you anymore.

Jungkook and Jimin are still undefeated at the table, and when Jungkook catches sight of you moving closer, he winks before shooting.

You’re not surprised when the ball goes right in a cup, leaving only one on the table. Jimin laughs as their opponents claim Jungkook cheated, and Jungkook shrugs his shoulders.

“You should know better than to call me a cheater, bro,” Jungkook says, and he runs a hand in his hair.

An infuriating small strand falls in his big doe eyes, but he seemingly doesn’t care. He glances at you once again, eyes trailing between you and Hoseok.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks when his gaze settles back on you.

You don’t miss the way his eyes dip to your cleavage before moving back to your face.

“I’m here to beat your ass,” you reply, and you offer him a shit-eating grin.

He laughs, and he sets his attention on Hoseok. “I hope you’re good, bro, because she’s just declared war.” And then he looks at you, smirking that insufferable smirk once more. His doe eyes narrow threateningly, and you find yourself wishing you had never heard him fuck before.

Because all your brain can picture right now is how you came to the sound of his grunts a couple of days ago.

“What?” you can’t help but say, though he looks away from you as the two other guys shoot, completely missing the three cups left in front of Jimin and Jungkook.

You notice Jimin looking at you with an eyebrow cocked, and the smile on his lips means nothing good. You furrow your brows, because you know how much of a gossip he is, but thankfully enough for you, he has to throw.

You watch as he does so, landing it right in the last cup. Jungkook of course throws right in the cup too, claiming the victory for them as the two other guys grumble and leave the table, leaving the place free for you and Hoseok.

You meet Hoseok’s gaze, offering him a small smirk. “I hope you’re ready to get fucked.”

You only realize how crude your words sounded, especially considering your history with him, when he starts laughing, that contagious laugh you’ve always found cute.

“I mean, I’m a pretty good shot,” he says once you’ve calmed down. “Are you?”

You wince. “Once in a while I’m good,” you answer truthfully. “Most of the time I suck.”

“Well hopefully you’ll be good tonight,” he teases, gently nudging you with his elbow.

You offer him a determined nod, before turning to face Jungkook and Jimin. You quickly put the solo cups back in position, as Jungkook watches you with a half-smile on his lips. You don’t know what to make of it, so you ignore him.

A small, tiny, minuscule voice at the back of your head tells you he probably knows about The Incident, but you ignore it entirely like you’ve been doing for the past few days.

Turns out Hoseok really is a good shot. He lands all of his shots, but of course, it has to be the day you suck. You don’t land any, up until the redemption that brings you back into the game when Jungkook and Jimin are about to win.

It makes you scream in happiness, and you throw your arms around Hoseok’s neck, right as his hands lay flat on your waist. He pulls you close, laughing in your ear until you let go, and you have the decency to feel bad.

You’re pretty sure you broke his heart in November, and you’re pretty sure you’ll only end up breaking it again. But there’s just something in the way Jungkook is staring from the other side of the table, smile gone, that makes you want to cling to Hoseok. So you do, and when he stands behind you to help you with your next shot, you let him put one hand on your hip.

Your gaze meets Jungkook’s, and you watch as his eyes dip to the fingers on your hip. He cocks his head to the side, wets his lips, and then an infuriating smirk lights up his features dangerously until you feel like you need to look away or else you’ll combust. So you glance at Jimin, who is just smiling prettily because when is he not, and then you focus on the lone solo cup you have to aim for.

“What you want to do,” Hoseok says, leaning so he can speak in your ear. You’re infinitely aware of how his pelvis brushes your ass, and your breath catches in your throat. He continues, “is to throw in a parabola. That way you won’t hit the rim of the cup”. He grabs your wrist, lifting your hand. “From this height, it should work.”

You nod, because you don’t think you can answer, especially not as you can hear Jungkook snickering from where he’s standing. Instead, you really focus on the cup, and when you’re about to throw, Jungkook speaks up.

“Put it in, baby.”

Your brain short-circuits, and it’s no wonder you miss by a good, few inches. Jimin is a giggly mess next to Jungkook, Hoseok can’t resist his laugh, and all you can do is glare at Jungkook’s satisfied smile.

“What the fuck?” you let out.

He winks at you. “Gotta learn to not get distracted, peach.”

You hate the nickname. He knows that you do, and it’s the reason why he’s been using it for months now. Ever since one late night where you played Mario Kart together with Taehyung and Jimin, and you kept choosing Princess Peach as your character. When you went in the kitchen to grab a drink, Jungkook followed you and teased you about it, and now the nickname has stuck.

Though evidently never in front of Taehyung.

You wish you had a snarky retort in you, but all you can do is think about The Incident, and pray he can’t tell that your cheeks are burning up because of him and not because of the alcohol.

You end up losing the beer pong game, and you cringe internally as you watch Hoseok dapping Jungkook and Jimin up. You begrudgingly congratulate them, as Jungkook teases you for the loss.

“Would have thought your brother taught you better than this,” he says, nudging you with his elbow.

You roll your eyes, glancing at Hoseok, but he’s striking a conversation with Jimin.

“Tae and I didn’t spend all that much time together, Jungkook,” you remind him. “You know I just moved in with you guys because you needed someone after Jimin left.”

Jungkook shrugs. “You seem pretty close to him.”

He falls silent, pulling at his piercing as you glance at his features. You’ve left your liquid courage somewhere on the table, and you really wish you had it with you right now. Only so you could avoid the sudden wistful look in Jungkook’s haze, though it disappears so quickly you think you might have imagined it.

“He’s really protective of you,” he comments as you too remain silent, not knowing what to say.

You chuckle, because if there is a thing that is true, it’s that your older brother is an overbearing asshole. “That he is,” you agree, and you both laugh.

“Hey, do you want a drink?” Hoseok suddenly asks, and you realize that Jimin has disappeared.

You’re pretty sure Jungkook is eyeing him up and down when you reply, “Please, I need a new drink.”

Hoseok beams, and you make to move towards him when Jungkook grabs your arm to stop you. Your eyes widen, The Incident flashing in your mind, but his tattooed fingers let go of you as you throw him an inquisitive look.

“I’m not drinking tonight,” he admits. “I came with my car, thought I’d offer to drive you home.”

At that, your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline in surprise. “What?”

He shrugs, corner smile back on his pink lips. “As long as you don’t get sick, that is.”

You ponder for a time, because you were supposed to sleep over at Nabi and Ria’s dorm tonight. You reckon heading home would probably be better, especially now that Hoseok has caught your attention again.

Maybe you can give Jungkook a piece of his medicine.

“Ayt,” you tell him, moving closer as a secretive smile moves on your lips, brought up by the evil plan that is just starting to form in your brain. “I’ll find you later?”

Jungkook looks down at you, tongue pushing on the inside of his cheek as he tilts his head to the side. A smirk moves on his lips and he glances at Hoseok before settling his doe eyes back on you.

He looks nothing like a doe when he says, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

And then he’s the one that walks away, and you can’t breathe for a few seconds as Hoseok waits patiently, either unaware of the situation or not caring. Though you know he knows Jungkook is your roommate – he probably just thinks Jungkook is being nice.

You inhale deeply, before turning to look at Hoseok as you let out your breath. “So, drinks?”

He smiles, genuinely, nodding his head as he offers you his hand to take. To your surprise, he pulls you close to him, and the way his gaze looks down on you makes you all too aware that you used to fuck him, and he used to fuck you good.

“What are you drinking tonight?” he asks, head dipping so he can ask the question in your ear.

“What do you want?”

His smile turns a little dangerous, and he looks over your head to the doorway to the living room. “Shall we?”

You laugh, nodding your head enthusiastically, and you let him pull you behind him. He guides you to the drink table in the living room, where he makes you a rum and coke as you scan your surroundings. You spy Ria and Nabi dancing, and you only understand why when you notice that Namjoon is nearby too, with Yoongi who’s just standing to the side, scrolling on his phone as if bored.

You know Hoseok likes to dance. That’s how you first kissed all those months ago, so you don’t hesitate to ask if he wants to join your friends after you’ve both drank a couple of sips from your respective solo cups. He obviously agrees, and you take his hand to guide him to your friends. You’re painfully aware of how Yoongi raises his head when you get closer, eyes dropping to your entwined hands. He furrows his brows disapprovingly, and you wonder if he’ll speak up.

If he’ll speak up and ruin your plan for you.

He doesn’t, instead meeting your gaze as if daring you to do something. It makes you feel bad for a split second until Hoseok lets go of your hand to rest a hand on your hip as he nestles his lean body against your back.

“You know,” he says in your ear, and you look away from Yoongi, refusing to acknowledge his challenge. “I always wondered why you ghosted me.”

You gulp, and you follow his lead as he makes you sway your hips against him. Ria whistles and your eyes widen a little as if to say ‘please not right now’.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and it’s true. “I didn’t really mean to ghost you, just got busy and…”

He laughs, and you’re surprised to hear it ring true. “Y/n,” he says. He leans even closer, and his lips brush your ear. It makes goosebumps rise all over your body, right as he continues, “You can say you got scared. I gave you plenty of reasons to be scared.”

Because you had agreed on no feelings, and he still had developed some, hadn’t he?

“I’m still sorry, ghosting you was shitty of me.”

He chuckles, and you’re starting to recognize the man that he is in the bedroom. His voice is low, husky, when he says, “Should I punish you for it?”

The Incident and Jeon Jungkook are thousands of miles from your thoughts when his words settle in, making heat pool at your core.

“You’d still want to do this?” you ask, breathlessly.

He nibbles at your earlobe, and you instinctively tilt your head to the side to give him better access. He kisses under your ear, tongue darting out to taste your skin, and this time Ria fully hollers in front of you.

You glare at her, only to see that she and Nabi are having the time of their life watching you.

“I haven’t been able to forget how good your pussy feels wrapped around my dick,” Hoseok replies after he’s sucked a hickey on your neck. “Trust me, if I can fuck you again, I’ll do it.”

You don’t hesitate when you turn around, resting your forehead against his. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

And you know you would. Especially considering how tense he was when you first talked to him tonight.

“Sweet of you,” he comments, and a smirk grows on his lips. He pulls away from you, taking a sip of rum and coke. “I wasn’t catching feelings for you, if that’s what you were worried about.” He pauses as his face falls fully serious. “You just don’t like when people treat you right.”

You’re insulted. You really are, yet… he isn’t entirely wrong. The minute a guy gets too close, you dip – you blame that on the fact your father abandoned you and Taehyung when you were still kids.

“Is that why Yoongi is glaring at me?” you ask, a little colder than intended.

The message still passes, and Hoseok shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t care what Yoongi thinks. He always thinks he knows me better than I do but, trust, he doesn’t.”

You’re surprised at just how bitter Hoseok’s sentence sounds. You always thought Yoongi and he were best friends. It’s strange to think that maybe they aren’t, or at least maybe they aren’t close enough to be.

“Anyway,” Hoseok adds when you remain silent for a little too long. “If you’re willing to fuck again, I’d be down. I haven’t found another pussy like yours since the last time we fucked.”

Which coincidentally is the last time you had sex with anyone. You’re not surprised Hoseok fucked some other people after you – with his easy charm, you know he can have anyone wrapped around his finger pretty easily.

And if he wants to participate in your evil plan so willingly, who are you to tell him no?

“The night’s barely started,” you point out. “But maybe you can come back to my place later?”

You’ve never invited him over before, because if there’s a thing that scares you more than anything in this world, it’s Taehyung hearing you having sex with some guy. But now that your brother is in Paris, you figure it doesn’t matter.

Plus, if you want Jungkook to get a taste of his own medicine, you have to bring Hoseok home.

“Deal,” Hoseok tells you, and he seals the deed with a searing and unexpected kiss.

You still kiss him back, hungrily, your body remembering just how good Hoseok can make you feel. You just have to make it through a party – with Jungkook driving you home, you know it’s likely you won’t leave until the party is starting to dwindle down.

When you pull away, Hoseok licks his lips once, as if wanting to remember the taste of you, before saying, “I’ll find you at the end of the party”.

You nod, and begrudgingly let him leave when he walks over to where Yoongi is standing, now joined by a baffled Namjoon, who glances between the two of you a couple of times. You ignore him, instead focusing on Ria and Nabi as they drunkenly pull you away, laughing wildly.

“What the fuck was that?” Ria asks in between two sets of laughter as you emerge in the kitchen. “I thought you said you didn’t want him anymore.”

You don’t want to jinx your plan, so all you can think to do is shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. “It just happened.”

In a weird moment of soberness, Nabi says, “Please don’t lead him on. He’s a decent guy”.

You tell your friends what he told you, and they both seem taken aback, yet they don’t question it. After all, the amount of alcohol in your blood is enough to make it so it’s a little hard to think profoundly, and inhibitions have flown out the window before you even got to the party.

After the conversation is over, your two friends insist on playing beer pong, claiming that they need you to encourage them. You recognize Dave at the table – you think that’s his name – and you all cozy up next to him as you ask to be next. You linger behind, mostly because you’ve noticed someone you’ve been avoiding ever since you got to college last semester, and you hope he doesn’t notice you.

Maybe he’s one of the reasons why you’ve been struggling with people treating you right, like Hoseok mentioned. Because Sam was your first love, and he played you immensely.

If he notices you, he doesn’t look like he does, instead keeping his arm tightly wrapped around the girl next to him. You don’t know her, and you wouldn’t even care if you did – you stopped caring about Sam a long time ago. But you’re still a little put off at the sight of him, and when you catch sight of Jungkook and Jimin by the backyard’s sliding door, breathing in some fresh air, you decide to join them.

Which, you reckon, is a very stupid idea. Because they are Taehyung’s friends, not yours, but they feel safer for you than being in the vicinity of Sam Hwang right now.

“Weren’t you sucking face with what’s-his-name just a second ago?” Jimin asks straight away as you stop next to them.

You snort in your cup, taking a long sip from your drink. “Maybe,” you say once you’ve swallowed.

“Tae would have killed him,” Jimin jokes, looking at Jungkook.

You don’t miss the way Jungkook’s gaze is focused on a spot on your neck, and you rub it mindlessly.

“Good thing he’s in Paris,” you point out. “And I can trust you two to not tell him?”

You say it like a question, though you know it’s useless. Jimin is the biggest gossip you know, and you expect Taehyung to be scolding you by the time you wake up tomorrow morning.

Though that attracts Jungkook’s attention to your face, and he meets your gaze with that same infuriating smirk he was sporting earlier.

“Lips sealed,” he says, uselessly because both of you know that Jimin is the real danger.

Before anything else can be said, Jimin points towards the beer pong table. “Didn’t feel like playing with your friends?”

You shrug, taking another sip of rum and coke. “They don’t need me.”

“Pretty sure you’d be a liability anyway,” Jungkook teases.

Jimin and he laughs at your expanse, and you’re stuck glaring at Jungkook, right as The Incident takes the forefront of your thoughts again.

You wish it would stop haunting you. Wish it would leave you alone, because you feel like it was the cataclysm to a series of bad decisions. The first event of a butterfly effect that is threatening to push you over the edge of the cliff.

“I did get the redemption shot,” you point out, and Jungkook playfully nudges you again.

“Doesn’t count, your little boyfriend got all the other shots for you.”

Your gaze widens. “He’s not my boyfriend!” you quickly defend.

Admittedly a tad too quickly.

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, wetting his lips before playing with his piercing. “Of course not.”

You narrow your eyes at him, though you remain silent because you feel like saying something else would be far too incriminating.

“Leave her alone,” Jimin jokes. “She did her best.” And then his gaze settles on you, and you balk at the mischief burning in his eyes. “Not her fault if her best sucks.”

“Bruh,” you let out, and you all burst out laughing.

After that, the conversation moves on easily, as you ask Jimin about his girlfriend. He starts gushing about the girl – he always does whenever Sera is mentioned. He tells you about her latest publication, and Jungkook looks bored out of his mind by the time something catches his attention, and he walks away from you and Jimin.

You watch him leave, somehow disappointed, but you entertain the conversation with Jimin for longer still. And Jimin is fun to be around, easy to talk to, and you don’t realize but an hour has passed before he glances down at his phone.

“Shit, I gotta go,” he admits. “I told Sera I wouldn’t be home too late.”

Your solo cup has been empty for half of the hour, so you raise it and say, “Go home, I’m going to get a refill.”

He hugs you goodbye, though you both walk together towards the living room. You part ways as you head to the drink table, once again scanning the room in search of your friends. They are nowhere to be seen, so you set on exploring the house after you’ve made another rum and coke for yourself.

You find the stairs, and you head upstairs thinking they might have needed to settle in a calmer environment. Knowing Nabi, it is to be expected, yet you don’t find them anywhere upstairs. There’s a closed door leading to what you think is a bathroom, but you refuse to look in there.

You almost let out a startled yelp as it opens, and Jungkook steps out, pretty lips swollen red as he leads a girl behind him. At the sight of you, he lets go of her hand, and she looks between the two of you curiously. As both of you remain entirely silent, she furrows her brow but then dips, running a hand through her visibly tangled-up hair.

You can easily imagine what she and Jungkook were doing just a moment ago.

“Really?” you tell him.

His tongue pokes his cheek, and he laughs. “You asked me not to fuck at home anymore.”

You purse your lips, actually surprised that he took your word into account.

“Didn’t expect you would respect it.”

He doesn’t fake the offence that paints his features. “I’m not an asshole, peach.”

The nickname is said condescendingly, and you reckon you should feel a little bad. Because you’re still set on bringing Hoseok home tonight, no matter if Jungkook decided not to fuck anyone at home again.

“Sorry,” you apologize, not knowing what else to say.

Silence moves between you, and Jungkook leans against the doorframe, arms folding on his chest. He watches you carefully, as if he’s never really seen you before and, frankly, you wish he’d looked at you like this before.

It’s a treacherous thought, and you push it away as best as you can.

“Jimin went home,” you tell him, feeling the need to fill the silence with something, anything.

Before he can reply, a group of people move upstairs, talking loudly. Jungkook pushes up from the doorframe, walking towards you.

“Do you want to go home too?” he asks when he’s right next to you.

He’s tall. You have to tilt your head back to be able to hold his gaze, and damn you, you’re hypnotized. You don’t want to look away, don’t think that you can.

“You already want to go home?” you answer, wetting your lips, and his eyes drop to your mouth.

He scoffs, as if it’s an inconvenience, before shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not drinking, I don’t see why I’d stay longer.”

Right.

“Why aren’t you drinking anyway?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He smiles, with no hint of that infuriating smirk for once. “Got morning shift at the library tomorrow.”

The fact he works in a library still makes no sense to you. Though he’s claimed it’s because that way, it’s easy to approach all the pretty, intelligent women who don’t go to parties. Easy targets for a fuckboy like him.

“Ah,” you let out. “Well…” you glance at the group of people as they get out of the room where the coats are. When you resume your attention on Jungkook, you’re struck thinking he’s moved even closer. “My friend is supposed to sleep over, can I go find him?”

You say it innocently, and you don’t miss the way Jungkook frowns slightly. “Who?”

You force Hoseok’s name out, mostly because the way Jungkook is looking at you right now is making you want to disappear through the floor.

“Ah, the guy you played beer pong with,” Jungkook comments. “Thought he wasn’t your boyfriend.”

You furrow your brows. “He isn’t.”

A smirk grows on his lips. “Then why are you bringing him home, peach?”

Your own smirk is easy to come to your lips as you reply, “I’ll let you imagine.”

“Your brother wouldn’t approve.”

As he licks at his piercing, you can’t help but look down at his lips. “Good thing you’re not my brother then.”

He doesn’t reply, only looks over your head as you hear the unmistakable laugh of Jeong Hoseok. It makes you take a step back, and you turn to see Hoseok appearing at the top of the stairs. To your surprise, he’s accompanied by Ria, Nabi and Namjoon, but Yoongi is nowhere in sight.

Namjoon is helping Nabi walk, as she’s clearly gotten even drunker since you abandoned them downstairs. You wince at her sight, knowing she’s going to be a nightmare tomorrow.

Ria catches sight of you and Jungkook, and her gaze widens.

“Here you are!” she shrieks. “We were looking for you everywhere.”

You don’t miss the way Hoseok looks you up and down, and you thank your stars for making this so easy. “I was thinking of heading home,” you tell the group, and you glance over your shoulder to confirm it with Jungkook.

He’s got an unreadable expression on his features, one that makes you think you’re going to enjoy your payback way too much.

When you look back to the group, it’s to see Hoseok cocking an eyebrow as if to say ‘Am I still coming?’ You nod, and you take a few steps towards him, interlocking your fingers with his. Ria watches as if it’s a scene from her favourite movie, and you all enter the room with the coats.

You find yours in the mess on the floor, fast enough to catch sight of Jungkook as he’s waiting outside the door. You recognize his coat in the mess, so you grab it before bringing it to him.

“Here,” you tell him.

He chuckles. “Thanks, peach.”

Hoseok is next to follow, and the two guys eye each other before you hear Namjoon say, “Are you sure you’re fine with getting her home?”

You look into the room – Nabi is now lying on the bed, laughing to herself.

“Hopefully, yeah,” Ria answers. “I’ve already called an Uber.”

Namjoon is watching Nabi with a strange expression on his features when he says, “You guys are still at the dorms?”

“Yeah, we are,” Nabi slurs. “Where else would we be?”

Namjoon chuckles, and he glances your way. You immediately look away, right as he says, “I’ll come with you guys, then.”

Your thoughts head to his girlfriend for a few seconds, feeling bad for the girl, though clearly, Namjoon is just trying to be a gentleman. When you see Jungkook and Hoseok waiting patiently for you, you forget all about Nabi, Ria, Namjoon and his hypothetic girlfriend, especially as you see the not-so-genuine smile on Hoseok’s lips, and the dark look in Jungkook’s gaze.

Maybe your plan was a little too evil after all.

*****

The night is cold outside ─ arctic ─ and you wish you were drunker. That way, you’d barely feel it, but no, you’re forced to a shivering mess as you walk behind Jungkook towards his car, which he was forced to park a few streets over because of a recent snowstorm. All that can be heard is the sounds of your shoes crunching in the snow and the distant buzz of the highway. Up above, the stars twinkle in the night, and smoke moves from your mouth to create a cloud over your head.

You hate winter. Always have, and always will. Especially when it’s so cold you feel like your face will fall off, and you reckon tonight is one of the coldest nights in a while.

Your eyes trail to Hoseok, and you smile in relief – at least your bed won’t be cold tonight.

You finally reach Jungkook’s car, and he unlocks the doors, the sound reverberating through the cold air. You sit in the back seat with Hoseok, pushing Jungkook’s gym bag to the side, and Jungkook is quick to turn on the engine, blasting the heater on. He meets your gaze in the rearview mirror as he waits for the engine to be warm enough to actually start driving.

For a moment, you forget Hoseok is next to you. All you can focus on is Jungkook’s gaze. Where it’s usually wide, big and innocent, his eyes are narrowed now, as if he’s eyeing you. Judging you, even. Judging your choices, and you think he’s full of shit for it – he’s the first one to fuck around whenever he has the opportunity, after all.

A moment later, he deems the car finally ready, and he looks away, focusing on the street instead. He turns up the music on the stereo, and you watch as he taps his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat. You do so until you feel Hoseok’s hand landing on your thigh, which attracts your attention to him.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Hoseok says, not too loud, but clearly Jungkook hears because his fingers stop tapping on the wheel.

You smile, glancing down at Hoseok’s lips. They look chapped from the cold, yet when he smiles that bright smile of his back, you can’t help but think they are still inviting.

“Please don’t judge the state of the apartment,” you whisper, leaning closer to him. “This idiot doesn’t know how to –“

Jungkook slams the brakes, and you whip your head towards him as the aftershock sends you back into your seat. His eyes are gleaming with barely concealed mischief, and the infuriating smirk graces his lips.

“Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t seem apologetic at all.

You roll your eyes, but that kills the conversation until you arrive at your apartment, which thankfully isn’t too far away from the party. Jungkook parks out front, and you all file out of the car, walking up the stairs to your door. You unlock it while the two men stand next to you, and you’re not sure what’s colder – them, or the actual winter night.

You’re not sure you want to know the answer either.

Warm air wraps you in its embrace as you open the door and step in, and you quickly shut it after the two men to make sure the cold doesn’t come in too much. By the time you’ve turned back around, Jungkook’s already halfway to his bedroom.

“Good night,” he says over his shoulder.

For some reason, you expected him to be more of an ass about the situation, but you’re reduced to thinking he actually doesn’t care all that much. You watch him until he disappears in his room before your eyes slide to Hoseok.

He’s been observing you all this time, and the moment your eyes meet, he smiles.

“We can hang our coats in the closet,” you tell him as you unzip yours, and he follows your motion.

You grab a hanger for him, handing it to him before taking off your coat and hanging it. Once that is done, you head towards your room, pit-stopping in the kitchen to grab glasses of water. You reckon you didn’t expect him to be so silent, and it makes you slightly uncomfortable.

Even when you’re in your room, and you’ve plugged in your fairy lights, Hoseok still doesn’t say a thing.

“You good?” you ask him, doing your best to calm your sudden nerves.

Was it a good idea to bring him here after all?

He grins, nodding once. “The apartment isn’t as messy as you let it sound like.”

Not expecting that at all, you let out a small laugh. But he isn’t wrong – out of the three of you, Taehyung is by far the messiest. And now that he is gone, Jungkook and you have managed to keep the apartment tidy and clean, though sometimes Jungkook does leave some dirty dishes around.

“Oh,” you let out, and you chuckle. “Yeah, we cleaned this week.”

Last Wednesday, actually. Right before Jungkook had his pussy appointment, it turns out.

Hoseok looks around, and you gaze at his honey skin for a time. It looks warm in the lights, and his smile is still just as blinding when he offers it to you.

“Like your room.”

You scan it as if you haven’t lived here for months now. You’ve brought most of the stuff you had at home – except your collection of plushies. Polaroid pictures of you growing up are hung on threads over your desk, which is a little messy from the project you were working on yesterday. Your laptop lays there unattended, screen black, and you walk over to shut it absentmindedly.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” you tell him, and you don’t have time to turn around for him to put his hand on your hip like he was doing earlier at the party.

You take a long swig of water, before putting the glass down on your desk. Hoseok imitates you, and then his other hand finds a home on your waist.

“Feels like you,” he whispers, head dipping down so he can say the words in your ear.

You shiver, eyes fluttering shut, as he moves your hair out of the way before kissing on the hickey he sucked on your skin at the party.

“Yeah?” you breathe out.

He nods, and you feel him move against your neck. He pulls you closer, and your breath itches in your throat when you feel his dick against your ass.

“Fuck,” he curses. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you again for so long.” He nibbles at your earlobe, and one of his hands moves to your neck, holding you firmly into place. “But you had to run away, thinking you knew me. Baby,” he pauses, as his fingers dig in your arteries, making your head swim with the lack of oxygen, “you don’t know me at all. And I’m going to fucking punish you for it tonight. Understood?”

He releases his hold on your neck, and you suck in a sharp breath. “Yes.”

“Mmh?”

You know exactly what he wants, and it makes your insides boil again. “Yes, sir.”

He smirks against you, before biting at the skin of your neck. “You’ll be a good little slut for me?”

You nod, entirely unable to form a sentence. You’ve completely forgotten that the goal of tonight is to make Jungkook pay for how he’s been having loud sex. All you can think about right now is the man behind you.

“Then turn around, baby. Strip out of your clothes.”

You obey, mostly because Hoseok brings out a submissive part of you that just craves to do what he wants. Yes, you’ve always been more on the submissive side. But with other people, you can’t help the brat in you.

You fear being a brat with Hoseok would be a very dangerous game to play.

You don’t break the eye contact as you take off your clothes, slowly. He doesn’t look away from you, though he wets his lips as if the sight of you is making him hungry.

Hoseok has a duality you have rarely seen before. Where he is an incredibly sweet person in his regular life, his bedroom self turns into a demon, a force to be reckoned with. No wonder sex with him is always so good.

When you’re finally naked, panties pooling around your ankles, Hoseok offers you a smirk. He doesn’t say anything, but he slowly undoes his belt, before motioning for you to get closer.

Only one step separates you from him, and then you’re standing right in front of him. He raises his hand, making you tilt your head back, and then he captures your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You can’t help but moan when he swats the belt at your side, the leather making your skin tingle. He pushes his tongue in your mouth, and your hands instinctively grab onto the hem of his shirt.

“Nu-uh,” he tuts, making you let go of it. “Get on your knees, baby.”

You drop to your knees, eyes darting to the bulge in his pants once before he makes you tilt your head back again. You gulp, right as he wraps his belt around your neck until the buckle is pressing against your skin. He doesn’t make it tight enough to hurt, but your hands still shake a little at being so vulnerable in front of him.

“You remember the safe word?” he asks.

“Red.”

He nods appreciatively. “And if you can’t speak, you tap my leg, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck you look so good like this.”

Not knowing if you can touch him, you just smile up at him, wetting your lips.

“Want to get a taste of me?”

You already know where this is going to lead. Hoseok fucked your mouth more than once in the three months you had casual sex with him. So you answer, “I want you to come down my throat.”

He smirks. “Good girl.”

With his free hand, he unbuttons his pants, before pushing them down his legs. He doesn’t step out of them, instead palming himself through his boxers. You watch the imprint of his dick, salivating at the sight, especially as precum is already wetting the fabric.

Hoseok doesn’t have a particularly big dick. But whenever he fucks you, it feels like he’s the biggest you’ve ever had, mostly because he knows how to use it. Knows how to move and snap his hips in a way that makes you think you’re seeing into the future. It also makes it so sucking his dick doesn’t hurt your jaw too much, so you’re able to do it for a longer period of time.

Tonight, you have an inkling that you’ll be doing it for a while.

He pushes his underwear down, freeing his dick. Your eyes drop to it, not surprised to see the angry, swollen tip. He looks like he’s about to burst, but you know it’s a trick of the eye – Hoseok has more stamina than one would think.

Holding the base of his dick, he brings the tip closer to your face. Your mouth falls open, expecting him to push his cock in, but he instead taps your cheek with it.

“I want to ruin you,” he says in a low voice. “I want you to never be able to fuck another guy because you still think of me.”

You gulp, tongue darting to wet your lips. He gets the cue, and he brings his dick to your mouth. You don’t hesitate before licking at his slit, the salty taste of his precum filling your mouth. You then wrap your lips around the head, giving a tentative suck as your tongue plays with the underside of it.

He grunts, cocking his head to the side. And then he starts pulling on the belt – just a little, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it so it’s a tad harder to breathe. He’s usually pretty safe in his sex practices, but you feel like this could be dangerous.

You only then understand what he really meant by punishing you, and it makes your pussy drip on your thighs.

You moan around his dick, before slowly pushing forward until he hits the back of your throat, and your eyes water. You swallow around him, keeping the gag reflex at bay as he circles his hips. You pull away from his cock to move to his balls instead, still not using your hands as you lick at the spot between them, licking up his dick at the same time.

“Hands on me, baby,” he commands.

As per usual, you obey. One of your hands moves to fondle his balls, and the other wraps around the base of his cock so you can jerk him off as you suck. And then you get to work, eyes shutting as you concentrate on pulling grunts out of him.

He doesn’t let you do it for a long time. He’s quick to pull on the belt more – it’s a leash more than a belt, is it? – which makes you pull away, lips parted as you struggle to suck in some air.

“Eyes on me,” he tells you. “I want to see you cry as you choke on my dick.”

When he guides his cock back towards your mouth, you keep your eyes on him, ever so a good girl, and you let him thrust in your mouth. The first two times he does it, your gag reflex doesn’t show up, but the third time you gag, spit rolling on your chin as he pulls away. A line of drool connects his tip to your mouth, and it breaks as he once again taps his cock on your cheek. Tears water your eyes, and he watches you blink them away, slightly shaking his head in disapproval.

You know that was your last chance when he pushes his dick in your mouth again, establishing a steady yet hard rhythm that has your gaze blurring. You moan against him, right as he grunts, whispering filthy curses entwined with mentions of your name. And when he starts going faster, the sounds of you choking get louder. It’s indecent, pornographic, and tears roll on your cheeks as he throws his head back, grunting loudly.

“Fuck, baby.”

He stops at the back of your throat, looking down at you. He wipes some tears on your cheeks as you swallow around him. His dick twitches inside your mouth, but you know he’s not about to come.

Soon, perhaps, but not just yet.

“You’re okay?” he asks, because even though he’s pretty rough, he always does care about his partner too.

He lets you pull away to catch your breath, releasing his tight hold on the belt too. You breathe raggedly, throat feeling raw from the intrusion.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

“Good.” He licks his lips, offering you a dangerous chuckle. “You’re going to let me come down your throat?”

You nod, and he taps the tip of his dick against your sealed lips. You don’t remember shutting your mouth, so you open it wide again for him. He pushes forward, slowly, until all of it is embedded in your mouth, head pushing against the back of your throat. He remains unmoving long enough for you to gag, and then he pushes forward even more before pulling back.

When he starts fucking your mouth again, you know he’s chasing his high. So you fondle his balls, moan around his dick, try not to choke whenever he hits the back of your throat. Evidently, you still do sometimes, and tears roll down your cheeks by the time he growls, “Open your throat up for me, baby”.

You moan one last time, as he pushes all the way to the back of your mouth, grunting loudly as hot spurts of his cum fills your throat. As his dick twitches, he pulls out a little, and you know better than to swallow right away. So you patiently wait as he finishes, before fully pulling away.

He grabs your jaw, and forces you to tilt your head back. “Open up.” You do, and he spits on top of his cum before saying, “Swallow”. You do that too, and the next time you open your mouth, it’s fully empty. Only then does he let go of your jaw, and he also quickly takes his belt off from around your neck, letting it drop to the floor.

It falls with a loud thump, and you breathe in deeply for the first time in a while. Your throat aches, and you massage your neck where the buckle left an indent in your skin. Concern grows on his features as you chuckle awkwardly, getting up from the floor.

Your knees are already hurting, and you know you’ll have bruises by the time you wake up tomorrow.

“Is your neck okay?” he asks.

You drop your hand, and his fingers ghost over the spot. “Yeah,” you reassure him. “It’ll be okay.”

“Good.” He smirks, and then he captures your lips in another heated kiss. One of his hands moves between your thighs, and he feels your wetness, groaning in satisfaction. “You’re dripping for me,” he says as he pulls away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

“I am.”

He licks at your mouth, before saying, “Too bad you won’t be getting some tonight, mmh?”

And he moves his hand away from your core to settle it on your waist instead.

“What?” you let out.

At this, he laughs, and it’s a little mean. “You think I’ll make you come when you’ve ghosted me for a few months?” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “Nah, you’re going to have to work for it, baby.”

You want to curse him, but somehow it just turns you on further. “When can I see you again then?”

He ponders for a time, pulling away so he can meet your gaze. “What about next weekend?”

You’re disappointed, but you try not to let it show. “Any chance you’d be available during the week?”

“Maybe,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “Will you be nice and not touch yourself until then?”

You bite at your bottom lip, nodding once.

“Then yes, we can hang out this week,” he concludes. He frees your lip from your teeth with his thumb, before gently tapping your cheek. “But I’ve got to go now.”

It surprises you. Back when you were friends with benefits, you always stayed the night at his place, so you expected him to stay tonight. But he immediately steps away from you, putting his clothes back on quickly as you just stand there, naked and awkward.

“You’re leaving?”

He glances at you as he’s putting his belt back on. “Yeah, won’t have you think I’m into you like that again.”

It hurts just a tad little bit, but at the same time you agree with him. Not sleeping over is a good way to avoid feelings, so you decide to throw on a pair of sweatpants and a sweater so you can walk him to the front door.

Hoseok kisses your forehead once when you get there, before grabbing his coat. You watch as he slides his arms in it, draping it on his shoulders before he bends down to put his shoes on too. When he straightens, he offers you a hug and you gladly embrace him as he wishes you good night.

You’re somehow confused as you shut the door behind him, and you stay there for a few seconds, almost expecting him to come back. He doesn’t, and you’re left heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth, only so you can get rid of the taste of him, and then you head to your bedroom.

And as you lie awake in bed, the only thing you can hope is that Jungkook didn’t hear you after all. You’re ashamed of what you did, but you’re far too tired to think about it deeply. All you can do is stare at the wall in front of you, hoping that sleep will take you.

It doesn’t, not until the early hours of the morning, when the sun is starting to kiss the horizon, turning the sky to liquid gold.

Teaser | Chapter 1.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

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starsinthesky5 · 8 months ago

Text

you are in love II || joe burrow x reader

description: you and joe navigate life once you move in together. everyday feels like a dream with him

a/n: requested part 2 to my first fic :) this was super fun to write!! i am so sorry for how long this is LMAO. i just couldn’t stop writing this one and it felt good to write all this because of my first ever fic. writing has been so much fun and thank you all so much for the love and support <3

also, i can say with a fact that joe is joe-ing right now and im so-

no thoughts head empty 😁

part 1 part 3

warnings: smutttt, language, y’all are horny horny…

word count: 12.3 k (again, i am so sorry HAHA)

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

February

The sounds of rumbling thunder woke you up fairly early Saturday morning. Your eyes fluttered open as you looked over at the clock, it was 8 am, a little too early for your liking. You felt a pile of weight on you and looked down to be met with your adorable boyfriend wrapped around your torso. His head was lying on your chest and his arms were loosely wrapped around your waist, and he was fast asleep. Joe usually wasn’t a clingy sleeper, you were, so this was a little peculiar for him. Sure, you guys would cuddle all the time, but you would usually stay like that throughout the night, or you would end up on his chest. But last night it seemed he had moved onto your chest, and you weren’t complaining because you felt so warm and cozy.

You raked your fingers through his dirty blonde hair, which he had been growing out, so pulling on the strands was even more fun than it usually was. You looked around the room, taking in your surroundings. You were in Joe’s bed, which was now yours, and were in his room, which was also now yours. You looked over to the TV table in front of you, which was decorated with numerous photos of you and Joe from over the past year that he had filled his room with. Some photos from your adventures together, some photos of you both before his football games, and some photos that only the two of you had seen from special moments in your relationship. When you first saw all the pictures he had in his room, your heart soared. You didn’t think he was such a softie but he loved to display your relationship anywhere and everywhere he could. There were a few boxes scattered throughout the big room. You were in the process of moving your stuff into Joe’s house, so there were a lot of things around the room at the moment.

“This is the life,” you whisper to yourself as you press a light kiss to his forehead, which ends up waking him. He moved around a little before opening his eyes and you immediately shut yours so he wouldn’t notice that you’re the reason why he woke up. You stayed incredibly still as he lifted his head from your chest, pressing soft kisses around the exposed skin of your collarbone because of your tank top before moving up and pressing a few soft kisses to your lips.

“Morning, Baby,” he says, pressing another kiss to your soft lips. His raspy morning voice and bedhead look always made you spiral. There was no reason for him to be this hot this early in the morning.

You opened one of your eyes to take a peek at him, then both. “How did you know I was awake?”.

“I’ve been awake for the past 20 minutes,” he laughed. “I just didn’t feel like getting up and waking you up. But it seems like you’re awake,”.

“That I am,” you say, giving him a lazy smile.

“Ready for another day of moving into Casa Burrow?” He says as he gets up and moves next to you, pulling you into his chest.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” You say while patting his chest as he begins to play with your soft hair.

“Unless you can come up with a better name, then yes,”.

“Casa Burrow it is,” you smile as you press a kiss to his neck.

He lets out a sigh before pulling you closer so that you are on top of him, just like how he was on you earlier.

“What’s with the sigh?” You ask.

“I don’t wanna get up,” he groans. “The rainy day vibes and this comfy bed are making it really hard to want to be productive today,”.

“Just be glad we’re doing this after the season’s over and not trying to do it during the season, shit would be so chaotic,”. Although Joe had mentioned you living with him in December, you had slowly moved your stuff in but had been officially living with him since the end of January. You wanted to wait till the season was over so that it wouldn’t be too much for him to handle.

“That is true,” he says.

“Well, we have to be productive today if we wanna get rid of all these boxes,” you giggle while looking up at Joe. His icy blue eyes met yours and instantly set off fireworks in your belly. He looks absolutely sexy right now and you needed him, which gave you an idea.

You moved your legs so that they were straddling his hips and sat up. His hands naturally navigated around your waist. “Butttt, we don’t have to be productive until a little later,” you tease while moving your hands across his bare chest.

“Oh yeah?” He smirks. “What are you suggesting we do in the meantime?” He asks while slipping his fingers into the bottom of your tank top.

“Hmm, maybe a rep of our favorite workout,” you say as you press a slow and sensual kiss on his lips.

“Sounds good to me,” he whispers as he peels off your tank top. A few minutes later, both of your clothes are on the floor and you’re caught up in a messy heated kiss.

Your wetness was seeping onto his impressive erection as he moved your hips so that you were grinding down on him.

“Mmph, Joe,” you whimpered into the kiss. His hand navigated to the back of your head, pushing you deeper into the kiss. You moved your hand so that you were cupping his face and started to suck on his bottom lip, making Joe moan into the kiss. A few seconds later, you pulled away and sat up.

“You ready?” You smiled.

“Always,” he said as he patted the sides of your hips.

You lined yourself up with his cock, your core was slick with arousal which made it easy for him to slide inside. You let out a loud moan as he moved deeper and deeper into your core, eventually reaching the hilt. “Joey,” you moaned.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he grunted.

You pressed your palms against his chest and started to move your hips, getting straight to business. At first, you moved slowly but eventually picked up the pace. Sounds of skin-hitting skin filled the room as you started to ride him faster and harder.

“Y/N, you feel so good,” he moaned as he dug his head back into the pillow. He was having the time of his life right now. The love of his life was fucking him into oblivion and looked absolutely gorgeous while doing so. Your hair was disheveled but flawless. Your ample breasts were bouncing with each movement, giving him the perfect opportunity to play with them. He moved his hand to your right breast, giving it a soft squeeze before running his thumb across your sensitive bud.

“Fuck,” you moaned as you threw your head back. You leaned back, placed your hands on the sides of his legs, and began to slide up and down his length, causing another moan to come from his lips.

“You like that?” You teased, knowing exactly what you were doing by saying that. His eyes widened at your question. That was often something Joe would say during sex, and it always drove you crazy because of how hot he sounded while saying it. Now it was your turn to make him go crazy.

He immediately sat up and reached out for you, grabbing your waist and flipping you over so he was on top. He was still inside you and started to thrust into your wet heat.

“Hey,” you said breathlessly. “It was my turn,”.

“Nope. I wanna make you feel good and that’s my thing,” he said, referring to your teasing while pushing his face into the crook of your neck and sucking on the soft skin. You felt as if you were floating on a cloud of ecstasy. Every caress, every touch, every kiss sent shivers down your spine and made you moan with delight.

You didn’t have the energy to argue with him so you just laid back and let him go at it. You moved your hands into his hair, pulling at the strands so he would move his head from your neck and back to your lips. You pulled him in for a short kiss before you let out another moan. You could feel the pleasure building inside of you, begging to be released.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you whimpered. Joe began pounding into your core, harder and harder with each well-placed thrust. Your breath came out in short gasps as he pushed you deeper into the bed with each strong thrust. You looked down to where you two were connected, watching as Joe’s impressive length left an imprint on your lower belly each time he thrusts into you.

“Just like that,” you moan and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Every thrust caused a wet squelching sound to fill your bedroom along with both your breathy moans.

“You’re so good,” he moaned as he began to slow his thrusts, allowing you to take control once again. You mustered enough energy, grabbed both his upper arms, and pushed him to the side so you were back on top.

“Holy Shit,” he moaned as you started bouncing on his cock. “Fuck, I love you,”.

A smile crept up your face, “I love you,” you moaned as your hands went back to his chest. He began to thrust up into your pussy as you felt your walls begin to tighten around his cock.

“You’re doing so good my love,” He whimpered as his grip on your hips tightened. You leaned down and continued to move your hips, your pace getting faster and faster until you felt the rubber band in your belly snap. “Cum for me baby,” he says, feeling your walls clench around his cock. Your head dropped down to his neck while he continued to thrust into you as you reached your high, his arms wrapping around your back, holding you so incredibly close.

“Joe, F- Fuck,” you whimpered into his ear, feeling your high just as he was about to reach his.

A few rough thrusts later, you felt him shoot his load inside of you, “Fuck, Y/N,” he cried out. You pressed kisses around his collarbone as you lifted your head from the crook of his neck and moved a few of his messy curls out of his eyes. You press a few more kisses around his face before finding his lips and pulling him in for a soft kiss. Both of you spend a few minutes catching your breaths and whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears. “You are unreal,” he says, giving you a lethargic smile.

“I don’t think I can walk,” you whisper as you drop your head into the crook of his neck.

“That’s always a positive sign that the workout worked,” he laughs.

“Look at us being productive,” you giggled.

“I thought the whole point of this was to not be productive,” He said as his hand slid up and down your back.

“Well, it was. But with us, procrastinating is pretty much impossible. We’re workhorses in our own right. Star QB and multi-award-winning singer-songwriter? Yeah, procrastination is not in our dictionary,” You smile before getting up and carefully moving off of him. He lets out a soft groan as you leave him bare and cold on the bed.

“Mmm, Come back,” he says, making adorable grabby hands towards you.

“Ah ah ah,” you shake your head. “Time to be productive for real, we got a lot to do today,” you say as you throw a towel toward him before grabbing your own.

“Is this an invitation to shower with you?” He hopes.

“Nope,” you laugh. “Give me 15 minutes and then you can go. No funny business for right now,” you wink as you grab some clothes and walk into the bathroom. You shut the door, smiling softly at what your new life was looking like.

Sure you’d miss LA and New York, but it wasn’t goodbye forever. You just needed somewhere grounded where you could spend the majority of your time, and both of those places were definitely not it. You loved those places and everything the cities had to offer, especially for your career, but it just got too suffocating for you. Meeting Joe was like a breath of fresh air you so desperately needed. And now being with him, spending every day with him, felt like a dream.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Joe was staring up at the ceiling. Normally he would do this when he was bored, but this time he wasn’t bored; his thoughts kept him occupied. Thoughts about you, specifically. Now that you had moved in with him, he was giddy at the thought of getting to wake up to your beautiful face every morning and kiss you goodnight every night. He was so excited to be able to have you with him all the time now, getting countless ideas of what you guys could do together around the city and Ohio.

A little later, you come out from the steamy bathroom, drying your wet hair with a towel. Joe was sitting up on the bed, looking through one of your songbooks. He looks up and immediately closes the book as if he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“No no, go ahead,” you giggle as you take a seat on the fluffy ottoman next to the bed, which happens to be one of your many new additions to his home.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” he says.

“You’re not prying, Joe. Besides, if I remember the book correctly, that one is filled with shit about you,” you say as you grab the book and open it up.

“Really?” He says as his face turns red.

“Mhm,” you smile as you flip through the pages.

“So is this where you write your songs?” He asks.

“Mmm, kind of? I consider this as an anything book honestly. There are some pages filled with full verses and songs, but some pages with just 2 lyrics on them and some thoughts,”.

“Ohhh, cool cool,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“Here, let me show you,” you say as you get off the ottoman and back onto the bed next to him, opening the book to a few pages.

—

3rd album–

song title: slut!

And I break down, then he's pullin' me in In a world of boys, he's a gentleman

08/03: he just knows exactly how to calm me down when those anxiety inducing thoughts fill my head. he never complains when I shut down, instead he comforts me and tells me it’ll be alright, nobody has ever done that for me. he’s the sweetest boy gentleman I have ever met.

3rd album–

song title: daylight

And I can still see it all (In my mind) All of you, all of me (Intertwined) I once believed love would be (Black and white) But it's golden (Golden) And I can still see it all (In my head) Back and forth from New York (Sneaking in your bed) I once believed love would be (Burning red) But it's golden

12/14: he told me he loved me. and i said it back. everything he touches turns to gold, including me and our love. it’s golden.

3rd album–

song title: I can see you

Chorus: 'Cause I can see you waitin' down the hall from me And I could see you up against the wall with me And what would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you

Bridge: I could see you in your suit and your necktie Passed me a note saying, "Meet me tonight" Then we kiss, and you know I won't ever tell, yeah And I could see you being my addiction You can see me as a secret mission Hide away and I will start behaving myself

07/05: i met a guy last night.

—

“Damn, that last one was pretty short and simple,” he laughs.

“That’s because those feelings didn’t need to be described in depth. The song pretty much sums up the things that filled my head that night,” You laugh as you close the book and place it back on the nightstand.

“I can see that,” he says, a little shy after reading the things you had said about him. “Someone was a little worked up,” he laughed.

“You mean feeling like I wanted to jump your bones right then and there? Well when I spend the entire party next to this gorgeous, sexy, and hilarious quarterback, that’s a given,”.

You look over at him and see that he’s trying to hold back a huge smile, “Awww, is someone feeling shy?” you tease.

He turns his head to meet your soft eyes, “The way you write about me, about us,” his hand cupping your cheek. “You’re so talented. I mean, I’ve never seen anything like this before,”.

Your heart flutters at his praise as you run your fingers over his thigh. “I love you,” you say.

“I love you so much,” he says before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss on your slightly swollen lips.

“So all of those were for the new album?” He asks as he gets off the bed, wandering into the closet to pick out some clothes. He opts for his usual black sweatpants and a white Nike tee.

“Yup,” You say as you get up and walk over to the stack of boxes titled ‘room’. You pulled out a few more picture frames that had photos of you and Joe. You turned around and saw that he already had tons of photos of you both around the room so you weren’t sure where to put yours.

“We can probably put those in the living room if that’s cool with you?” He asks as he walks back out to the bedroom.

“Fair enough, I completely forgot how many photos you had already,” you chuckled.

“Can’t help it, we’re too photogenic and our photos always come out amazing. It just fits. Anyways, back to the album. So should I expect my comment section to be filled with ‘Oh my god is this song about you’ in a few months?” He smiles.

“Probably. It’s been a great 8 months of kinda hiding from the public but I think it’ll be blatantly obvious that we’re together together once I fully pop out at these games and start posting from here,” you giggle.

You and Joe had a pretty private relationship. There was no real confirmation that you two were dating, however, there were rumors and speculation which was a given considering who he was and who you were. You had shown up at the games in January and people did notice, but nobody knew what was going on for sure. Now that you had moved in together, it would become pretty clear to everyone that you both were in a serious and committed relationship and it wasn’t just a momentary fling.

“We’ve hid long enough, besides it’ll be great to actually have you next to me at all the events and stuff from now on. I can’t with the randos trying to flirt with me, they gotta know I’m already spoken for,” he smiles.

“I’ve been looking forward to marking my territory,” you tease. “Anyways, go shower,” you say, lightly pushing his chest.

“Trynna get rid of me?” He teases.

“Mmm not really. Just wanna get the smell of sex off of you,” you laugh.

“Well I’ll be smelling like sex again later,” he says, staring deep into your eyes once again.

“Then we’ll shower again. I’m gonna head downstairs and make some breakfast. You good with smoothies?” you ask as you walk backward to the door.

“Yes ma’am,” he says.

“Perfect,” you smile back.

“Have funnn,” he sing songs before heading into the bathroom.

An hour later, You and Joe are sitting at the kitchen island together, drinking your delicious fruit smoothies, and talking about some more house stuff. The sounds of thunder and heavy rain fill the house as you talk.

“Mmm, this smoothie is so good,” Joe groans. “Your smoothies are always the best,”.

“Thank you,” you say, taking another sip of the fruity beverage.

“So with the house, since I just moved in a month ago, I wanna do some renovations and since we’re living together, I want your input too,” he says, putting his smoothie down.

“Okay, what do you have in mind?”.

“I was thinking we re-do the backyard area in time for summer, maybe add a pool-house and re-do some of the landscaping,”.

“Ooo,” you say. An idea fills your head as you think about the backyard, “Can I plant a garden in the spring?” You ask eagerly.

“Anything you want. It’s your house too,” he smiles.

“Yay! What else do you have in mind?”.

“I was thinking about redoing our bathroom too, just to make it more up to our liking. The same with the basement. I was thinking we could make it into a game room/hangout zone,”.

“That sounds amazing,” you say, finishing up your smoothie. “We can put a bunch of football stuff from over the years down there, put a bunch of cool stuff on the walls, all the game equipment can go down there too,” you say. “Full-on man cave,”. You get up and place your smoothie cup in the sink before walking back over to him, taking a seat on the counter, your legs dangling.

He shakes his head before saying, “Nah, not a man cave. I want you to have your stuff down there too. We can put a bunch of ‘you’ related stuff on the walls too if we’re gonna make a football wall. I was thinking since the basement is absolutely massive, we could build a little home studio for you down there,”.

Your stomach fills with butterflies as your eyes soften. “Really?”.

“100%. Like I said, this is your place too,” he says while getting up and putting his cup in the sink.

“You’re amazing, you know that right?” You said, making grabby hands towards him. He walks over to you as you spread your legs open. He moved in between them as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. His warm body acting has a cozy blanket for you.

“You’ve told me that many times, so yes, but I don’t mind hearing it again,” he laughs. You two are wrapped up in a warm hug, when suddenly a loud bang fills the house, causing you both to jump.

“Mmm, I just love the rain,” you say. It was true though, you loved rainstorms. Something about the pitter-patter of the rain against the windows made you so incredibly relaxed. The gloomy weather was tranquilizing.

“And I love you,” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek before moving out of your embrace. “Now let’s go unpack,” he says, putting out his hand to help you off the counter.

You spend the rest of the morning unpacking the last few boxes you had lying around in the living room. A lot of decor and personal additions to the house were left, so you were carefully placing them around the house. The majority of the unpacking of the important things already happened so now you were just finishing up.

“What’s in this box?” Joe asks, tapping the top of it.

“Those might be all my music-related awards and stuff,”.

He grabs the box and walks over to the shelf around the corner without saying anything. You let go of the box you were holding and follow him to see what he was up to.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

You watch as he puts the box on the floor, opens it up, and pulls out a few of your awards.

“Putting them on the special display shelf, obviously,” he laughs.

“But this is yours?” You say looking over at the shelf. This was where Joe displayed all his football accolades. A few football awards from high school, and a bunch from college, including the natty and his ring. Under those was his AFC championship trophy and his Comeback Player of the Year award, the spot next to it was specifically reserved for the Lombardi he’d be looking to add in the next year. A few various awards from other football-related things were also around the case.

“It’s ours,” he corrects, placing your Grammy for Album of the Year on the shelf.

“Right, ours,” you smile. Joe always made sure that you knew that this was all yours just as much as it was his. You were a little hesitant around the house just because you felt that it was his and you were mooching off of him, but he made sure to correct you every time.

You let him decorate the shelf with your various accolades, stepping back and watching him work his magic.

“And I think that should be it,” He said, looking into the box to see if he missed anything. You walked back over to him and hugged him from behind, “It looks great, Joey. Thank You,”.

“You’re welcome, Babe. How many more boxes do we have left?” He asks, walking over to the living room, you still holding on to him and moving with him.

“Mmmm, I think maybe 3 more? The boxes upstairs in your-”.

“Our,” Joe interrupts.

“Sorry, Our Room shouldn’t take that long to unpack since there’s like 4 more boxes with just clothes and some other random things. We can probably do those tonight,”.

“Sounds good. And it looks like we’re almost done over here too,” He says, looking over at the 2 boxes left.

“Yup,” you say while letting go of him. “There’s like 3 more in the basement that we can do after,”.

“If we’re down there, we should play a round of ping pong,” he says, opening up the last two boxes which had a mix of kitchen stuff and living room decorations.

“You’re on, Burrow,” you giggle as you reach over to empty the boxes.

He grabs your hand and softly pushes it away, “I got these. You should find a spot for our sexy photos that we couldn’t fit in our room,” he smiles.

“Sexy? You’re funny,” you laugh as you walk over to the couch to pick up the photos. There were 3 photos you had to find places for.

“But it’s true,” he says while carefully placing a few wall accents around the room. “We’re both hot therefore the pictures are sexy,” he says looking back at you. The first one was a photo of you two from your brother’s Wedding, you both were sitting at the table together hand in hand, a huge grin on your faces from the many cocktails you had, but also because of the pure happiness you felt with each other.

The second photo was taken by your Mom, a sweet and innocent one. You had brought Joe to your family’s house for the first time, a few weeks before the start of the season, and fell asleep in each other’s arms while watching a movie together. Your family had come home to the two of you in your own world, and you remembered a special conversation between you and your Mom about you and Joe.

Flashback to last September

You sat down on the porch chair next to your Mom with a glass of your Mom’s freshly squeezed lemonade, taking a sip of the bitter yet sweet drink. You had been looking forward to some 1 on 1 time with your Mom since Joe had gone out with your Dad and Brother to get stuff for the family get-together party you were having tomorrow night.

“Mmm, just like how I remembered it,” you groan.

“Glad you like it, sweetie,” she smiles, taking a sip of her lemonade.

“It feels good to be home,” you say.

“It’s good to have you home. And it’s great to have Joe here as well. You both looked cozy today,” she smiles.

“Dang, straight to it,” you giggled.

“Well, when I come home to my daughter asleep and cuddling her boyfriend on the couch, looking absolutely lost in their own world, yes I’ll get straight to the point,” she says, patting your thigh.

“And your point is?” You say, taking another sip of your lemonade.

“You look happy. Truly satisfied,” your Mom says, her eyes filled with joy. “The happiest I’ve seen you in a long time,”.

You look down at your hands, fidgeting with the bracelet Joe had given you with both your birthstones on it. “Yeah,” you smile. “I am,”.

“He’s a really nice boy,” she adds. “Very kind, respectful, caring, natural, handsome. You seem so relaxed around him too,”.

“Momm,” you say while covering your face with your hands.

She laughs as she watches you struggle to hide your blush and smile, “But most importantly, he adores you. The way he looks at you reminds me of how your father looked at me when we first started dating. The look of pure & young love,” she says.

“He is great isn’t he?” You say, falling back into your chair and staring up at the blue sky. “He’s like a breath of fresh air on a stuffy humid day. He just gets me on a level no one ever has before and he treats me like I’m the only girl in the world,”.

“I can’t wait to show him around town and do the things I used to do out here with him,” you add.

Your mom stays silent for a few seconds, prompting you to turn your head to face her. “What?” You laugh. “What’s with the stare?”.

“You’re in love,” your Mom teases, giving you a sincere smile.

Your eyes widened as she continued to stare at you. “Mom, we just started dating,” You told her.

“And? What have I told you, Y/N? When you know, you know. We all know and it’s about time you realized it too,” she laughs.

“You just met him this week,” you said, slightly surprised that she was saying all this to you.

“I know but I’ve never seen you this way about a boy before, this time around it’s different. I see the way you look at him and the way he acts around you. It’s extraordinary. None of your previous relationships have had this effect on you. Also, might be my personal bias since we’re a football family, but Joe is my favorite,”.

You stopped to think about what she was saying and she was right about it all. You really haven’t been this way about a boy before. He made you feel things you’ve never felt before and in the short time you’ve been together, he’s made this better than any of your previous relationships. It was a different effect this time, and it was all because of him.

End of flashback

The third photo was from a vacation you took last August to the Florida Keys after you saw your family, you’re both in a hammock on the beach, you are sprawled out on Joe’s large body as his left arm is looped around your bare stomach and his right arm is holding up the vintage camera to take a photo of you both. He’s pressing a kiss onto your cheek as your hands are reaching up to grab the camera. He captured the perfect photo, both of you in your most natural state as you were caught mid-laugh and his lips were pressed against your skin with a smile.

Flashback to the end of October – Bengals bye week

“I needed this,” you sigh as you lean against Joe’s bare chest. You both were curled up together on a hammock on the beach in front of the house Joe had rented for the week. You spent the afternoon in the water together and took a little break before preparing for dinner.

“It was nice that we could do this during the bye. I can’t remember the last time I spent a bye week somewhere other than the couch,” he says, sliding his hand up and down your upper thigh.

“Which, by the way, will change,” you say while looking up at him.

“Well, that’s good. I need more downtime, especially with my favorite person,” he says, pressing kisses to your bare shoulder.

“Joe,” you laugh, throwing your head to the side.

“What?” He says, still pressing kisses along your shoulder and now neck. His arm loops around your waist and moves his fingers around the soft skin of your abdomen.

“That tickles,” you giggle. He begins to move around in the hammock, causing it to swing back and forth. “Joe, we’re going to fall,” you scream.

“I got you,” he assures as he holds you tighter. He reaches down onto the sand to grab the Vintage Camera you’d been using to take pictures during the trip and brings it up to him.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, still laughing because his soft fingers were still moving around your sensitive stomach and that was where you were most ticklish.

“Taking a picture obviously,” he states, turning the camera on with his free hand and turning it to face you.

“Absolutely not! I look like I got hit by a bus,” you say while you try to reach up for the camera but he pulls it away further from you. Of course, he had long arms.

“You look hot,” he says, pressing more kisses along your skin, a huge smile on his face. “This bikini is really making it hard for me to not keep you in bed all day," He couldn’t be happier right now. He was lying on the beach with his adorable, smart, talented, and gorgeous girlfriend. He couldn’t believe that this was real, that you were real. The night you first met, he thought you were a figment of his imagination but that turned out to be false as you were 100% real and 100% stole his heart.

“Lies,” you say while making grabby hands at the camera. He manages to snap a few photos while you’re actively trying to grab the camera out of his hands, but you eventually accept defeat and smile for the camera.

He lowers the camera after a few moments to take a look at the photos, his hand now sliding up and down your belly. He swiped through the first few photos and grinned. “These are perfect,”.

You lifted your head a little higher to get a glimpse of the photos and smiled at the funny yet adorable picture. His lips pressed to your skin, you caught mid-laugh, and an invisible cloud showering you both with love. The photo captured you both in your most natural state and it was beautiful. “Hm, I guess I don’t look that disheveled,”.

“Not at all, but you will later once we’re back in that gigantic bed and under those covers,” he whispers in your ear, sending chills down your spine.

“Oh really?” you ask, turning around in his arms so that your stomach is pressed against his.

“Mhm,” he says as his hand navigates to your ass, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Well, we have a little more time till dinner. Why don’t you make me look disheveled so that I can get presentable, and then make me look disheveled again after dinner?” you tease, ending your sentence with a slow and needy kiss. You feel his arms snake around your waist while he moves to get off the hammock. Laughter fills the air as your legs wrap around his body as he gets up off the hammock and carries you inside, your cheek pressed against his shoulder as you soak in the moment.

End of flashback

“Hey, you alright?” Joe asks as he rubs your shoulder from behind you; he snapped you out of your daze which you didn’t know how long you were in.

“Yeah, I was just caught up looking at our sexy photos,” You smile.

“See I told you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“Now I just gotta find somewhere to put these,” you say, looking around the room to find a spot.

“Here, let me,” he says, grabbing the photos from your hand. You watch as he places one on the TV table, then one in the kitchen, and places the last one on the table by the door.

“That wasn’t so hard,” you said as you sat on the couch to take a breather.

“Not at all,” he smiles as he takes a seat next to you. He places his arm behind you and his hand rests on your shoulder, running his thumb up and down the side. You drop your head into his chest and snuggle a little closer to him, making his hand move down to your waist.

“You okay?” He asks at the sudden closeness.

You crane your head up, “Mhm, I just wanna be close to you,” you smile as you press a few kisses to his clothed chest.

“Fine by me,” he says softly. “So, you enjoying this so far?”.

“Enjoying what?”.

“Living with me? I hope it’s everything you wanted,” he says.

“It’s everything and even more,” you say, running your fingers across his chest. “I needed somewhere less suffocating and loud, and this is it,”. You lift your leg up and move so you’re in his lap, his hands letting you do what you want before returning to your waist. “I needed somewhere that felt like home and well, home is where the heart is. And my heart is with you,” you say.

He looks at you for a few moments, his heart racing and his smile growing bigger by the second. Joe was so happy that you felt this way with him and was relieved that you didn’t regret your decision. He needed you by his side and you needed him as well.

You had never lived with any of your previous boyfriends, but this time around something was different. It was more promising than your past relationships. Living with him was like putting on the “big girl pants” for real and felt serious. You already knew you both were serious about each other, but this doubled down on that.

He pulls you in for a hug, wrapping his big hands around your waist and pushing your head into the crook of his neck.

“I love you,” he mumbles as he presses a kiss to your head.

“Love you too,” you laugh.

You stay wrapped up in each other's arms for a few minutes, discussing what you should do for dinner tonight and eventually deciding on cooking together.

“Now let's finish unpacking so we can be free,” you say, moving out of his embrace but still around his hips.

“Orrr, we could stay here? Maybe lose a few clothes while we’re at it,” he smirks.

“Laterrrr. We have a little more to do and then I promise you can do whatever you want,” you say, moving to get off of him.

You watch as Joe throws his head back into the couch cushion and lets out a dramatic sigh.

“Someone’s horny today,” you tease as you walk backward to the basement door.

Joe turns his head to you, seeing you walk away, gets off of the couch, and slowly follows you, “Well when I have this gorgeous, enchanting, kind, adorable, and incredibly sexy girl in my house, it’s kind of hard not to be,”.

You raise your eyebrows as you walk closer to the door, “Damn. Where is she? Must have missed her,” You question as you grab the door handle.

“Right in front of me,” Joe laughs, moving closer. You quickly open the door and run down the stairs, Joe closely running behind you.

“Joe,” you laugh as you run through the basement and try to escape him, but his fast reflexes make it difficult. You make it to the couch in the basement and turn around to see where he is, but bump into his large body in front of you. His hands wrap around your waist and his lips crash down on yours, you melt into the kiss. You always turned into putty when you were in his arms, so this wasn’t new.

His hand travels to your neck, pulling you deeper into the rough yet passionate kiss. You let out a soft whimper when you feel his other hand travel down to the waistband of your shorts, prompting you to pull away.

“Joe, we have a few more boxes,” you pant, breathless from the kiss. You stare at his glossy lips covered in cherry lip gloss, wanting to press your lips against his again but knowing you have things to do.

“10 minutes, please,” he pleads.

You stare at him for a few seconds, watching how impatient he is and feeling a little bad that you made him like this. “Fine, we have all the time in the world for the boxes,” you replied and Joe wrapped his arms around you as soon as you finished talking, launching you both onto the soft couch.

“Joe,” you laughed as he threw the pillows onto the floor. “I don’t know what we’re doing in 10 minutes but have at it I guess,” you giggle.

“10 minutes to make you feel good, obviously,” he scoffs.

“Anddd what about you?” You smile as Joe pulls your shorts down, pressing kisses to your inner thighs.

“Later,” he says as he begins to suck on the plush skin of your upper thigh. You let out a soft moan as you feel his lips on your skin and his hand moving up to cup your breast through your shirt.

He lifts his lips from your thigh and begins to pull your panties down, which happens to be extremely damp. “Damn, wonder what made you so wet?” He smirks.

“He’s sitting right in front of me,” you say as you move up on your elbows, watching him closely.

He flashes you a smile and starts to peel your panties off, taking his sweet time. You fall back against the couch pillows and feel Joe’s hands spread you open a little more. A few seconds later, you feel his tongue lick a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, sending shivers down your spine. You let out a quiet moan as you push your hand into his hair, pulling on the soft strands. His tongue flicked against your clit in slow, deliberate strokes. You let out a moan as waves of pleasure washed over you, your fingers tangling in his hair as he worked his magic on you.

“Please don’t ever stop,” you moan as Joe’s free hand moves under your shirt to cup your breast. He looked up as he continued to use his skillful tongue to send you to heaven, and saw you struggling to keep your eyes open. He moves back down to your folds and all you can hear are wet slurping sounds from below and your breathy moans.

“J- Joe,” you struggled to moan as you were seeing stars.

His hand moves back down to your thigh and down to your leg which he throws over his shoulder. He spends a few minutes fully attacking your soaking folds with kisses and delicate nips, before moving back up to your clit and sucking roughly on the sensitive bud. The movement of his tongue was sending you over the edge.

“Mpmh, Joee,” you moan as your back starts to arch. Joe softly pushes you back down and then you feel one of his fingers enter your core, sending you into overdrive. You feel him pump his finger in and out of your slick core as you continue to moan his name.

“F- Fuck, Y- You’re so good,” you smile as you start to feel the pleasure building in your belly. He looked back up as he continued to please you and saw your content smile. Only he could make you feel like this, and the thought of only him being able to do this to you forever made him even more ravenous. He sucked on your clit even harder and added another finger into your core. You pulled harder on the strands of his hair, earning a grunt from him that sent vibrations throughout your body. Your free hand gripped the couch as you felt like you were floating on a cloud of euphoria.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moaned. Joe’s hand moved back up to you, searching for your hand. You let go of the couch and grabbed his hand, his fingers entwined with yours.

Your head filled with thoughts of pleasure and the fact that you were the only girl who could make Joe act so lustfully and passionately. He was all yours and you were all his.

And then, with a final flick of his tongue and pump of his fingers, you shattered into a million pieces, your orgasm crashing over you in a wave of ecstasy. You cried out his name over and over as you rode the waves of pleasure, your body trembling with the force of it all.

“Joe, Fuck I- I can’t,” you moaned as your legs shook, not being able to finish the sentence or think about anything.

Joe didn't stop until he had milked every last drop of pleasure from you, his mouth and fingers relentless as they drove you wild with desire. He stayed down for a few more minutes, lapping up the mess you had made, and when he finally pulled away, a satisfied smirk on his face.

You spend a few minutes catching your breath and you recover from your orgasm. Joe went into the bathroom and grabbed a towel to help clean you up, and after that helped you put your shorts back on. He was lying on your chest right now, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, and you were twirling his hair with your fingers.

“That was-” you say.

“Intense?” Joe laughs.

“I think intense is too small of a word to describe that,” you snicker.

“Well, whatever it was, it tasted and felt like heaven,” he smiled, pressing a few kisses onto your chest.

“Glad you enjoyed it as well. But I think it’s time to do what we actually came down here for,” you say as you slowly move back up on the couch.

“I think I agree with you this time. We still have to play that round of ping pong,” he says as he gets off of you.

“I hope you’re ready to get your ass kicked, Burrow,” you tease as you start to stand up, feeling the aftermath of both what happened this morning and what happened just now. You started to walk towards the boxes, an evident limp in each step, and Joe noticed and walked over to you immediately.

“Hey, Hey, take it easy. I can unpack the boxes, you go sit on the couch,” he says as he rubs your arm.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“Absolutely. Just direct me to where you want everything and relax,” he smiles.

You walk back over to the couch, grab a throw blanket, and get comfy as you watch him open the boxes.

“I was thinking that those two walls over there can be the personal accomplishment type walls we were talking about earlier,” you point out.

“Ooo, I like that. Both are facing each other so it’s perfect,” Joe says as he puts your Nintendo Switch right next to his on the game console table.

“I can work on that later. But I was thinking for yours, we hang up each of your 4 Jerseys, Athens, OSU, LSU, and the Bengals, and put stuff from each era on a little table underneath the jerseys. Maybe even hang up a few photos,” you say as Joe continues to unpack the boxes.

“Interior designer also on your resume?” He says, looking up at you with a smile.

“Maybeee,” you grin.

Joe continues to unpack the rest of the boxes, and you direct him to where you think the various pieces of decor and knick-knacks should go. He leaves 1 box alone as it has a lot of your awards, music memorabilia from over the years, and other career-related items. He said that he would use this to build your little wall of accomplishments, insisting that you two do each others.

“Is it finally time for Ping Pong?” You smile as you look over and see Joe grabbing the paddles and the balls.

“Hell yeah,” he smiles. You get up from the couch and make your way over to the table. “You’re on,” you say, getting your game face ready.

A few minutes later, you and Joe are caught up in an intense game of ping pong. You started off pretty calm and relaxed, softly hitting the ball back and forth. Until Joe decided to trash talk and try a trick shot on you, sending the ball on the side you weren’t standing on, allowing him to score.

“I am not about to lose,” you said as you slammed the ball back onto Joe’s side of the table, but he still managed to get to it and bounce it back.

“I never lose,” he shrugs as he launches it back to you.

Joe's reflexes were too much for you to beat as he always managed to hit the ball and make you miss. But you resorted to certain tactics that caused him to miss occasionally, a teasing glance or occasional trash talk that got him worked up. Joe was very good at ping pong, no doubt about that. But ever since you met, he managed to teach you all the ins and outs of the fun game and made you a better player than you were before. Whenever you two would hang out, whether it was in LA, New York, or Cincy, you managed to end up at a ping pong table, playing your favorite game.

“Ya know, for a man that usually wants to be the best at everything he does, you’re not trying hard enough to be best at this it seems,” you tease, hitting the ball back to him. Your trash talk causes him to look at you and miss the ball completely.

“Fuck,” he whispers, picking up the ball off the floor.

The score was neck and neck a few minutes later and you were still going at it and no sign of stopping in sight.

“Just give up, Y/N” he smiles. “We’re going to be here all evening,” he says, hitting the ball back over.

“Fine by me. I’m not losing, I told you,” you say hitting it back over the net.

By the time the final round of the game rolls around, you’re fully locked in and determined to beat him. You attempt to recreate Joe’s trick shot, and you succeed, causing Joe to be slightly taken aback. The ball flies at his side of the table hard and fast, completely missing Joe and his paddle, and you get the final score.

You throw your paddle down onto the table and jump up and down, “I told youuuuuuu,” you yell. “Guess you do lose,” you tease, pointing at him and laughing.

Joe drops his head in defeat and softly laughs. “Damn, using my own move against me,” he says.

“You did teach me everything I needed to know to be good at ping pong,” you shrug. “You created your own competition,”.

“That I did,” he sighs.

A little later

After your game of ping pong, you head back upstairs, the storm from this morning still raging outside, even harder than before, causing darkness to flood through your home.

“Damn, it’s dark as hell up here,” you say, walking over to the patio door to take a peek at the storm.

“Looks like it’ll be storming all night,” Joe says as he checks the weather on his phone.

“We should probably get to making dinner then, just in case the power decides to go out,” you say, turning around and walking to the kitchen.

“Good idea,” he says, following you into the kitchen.

You switch on a few of the lights and get to work. You had decided on making Chicken Parmesan with garlic bread. Joe wasn’t much of a cook, but he would try to help you whenever you decided to make something. For tonight, you left him in charge of marinating the chicken and grilling them on the stove while you made the sauce and boiled the pasta. He walked over to his phone, connected it to the speaker, and played some music to lighten the mood while you were cooking.

A half-hour later, the chicken is grilled and the sauce is made. All that was left was the pasta to be done boiling and the garlic bread you just popped into the oven to be ready.

You walked over to the pot of pasta, stirring it around as you heard the song change to “Real Love Baby”, one of your favorite love songs in the entire world. Joe looked up from the chicken that he was putting the finishing touches on, realizing that one of your favorite songs was playing, and walked over to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. You smile as you feel his warm body pressed against yours.

“Our hearts are free, so tell me what’s wrong with the feeling,” he says in your ear.

“I’m a flower, you’re my bee,” he says, swaying you back and forth.

“What’re you doing,” you laugh as you turn around in his arms.

“Singing, duh,” he deadpans. “You’re not the only one with the vocals,” he says while grabbing your hand and leading you to the open area by the dining table.

“Dance with me,” he says.

You raise your eyebrow at him, slightly confused since he rarely slow dances with you. “Are you sure?” You asked.

“100%,” he says, pulling you into him and resting his hands on your lower back while you're wrapped around his neck.

“I want real love baby, oooh don’t leave me waiting,” he sings, swaying you back and forth. Your heart feels like it’s about to explode as you hear him singing a song that is so special to you.

“I’ve got real love maybe, wait until you taste me, I want real love baby,” you sing back, staring lovingly into his soft eyes.

“There’s a world inside me, got the preacher's music, just it for a minute and gone,” he sings back, taking your hand and giving you a little twirl. You felt at ease in the moment. It was just you and your boyfriend dancing around in your home, away from prying eyes and interlopers’ glances. A special memory just for the two of you to forever remember.

You sway around to the song for a few more moments, laughing at the scene and softly pressing kisses on each other's lips. “I’m in love, I’m alive, I belong to the stars and sky,” you say, singing one of the last lines of the song before pressing another kiss to his lips.

As the song ended, you wrapped your arms around his neck a little tighter and stuffed your head into the crook of his neck. “Thank you,” you mumbled.

“For what?” He asked, rubbing your back slowly.

“Dancing with me. That was romantic and sweet,” you smile against his neck.

“I should do that more often then,” he smiles.

You lift your head out of his neck and press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re romantic enough, trust me. It’s just nice to have these spontaneous moments of intimacy. Keeps me on my toes,” you giggle, walking over to take the garlic bread out of the oven and turning the stove off.

“Well, another spontaneous moment is on its way. Why don’t we eat dinner at a candlelit table? I have some candles in the cabinet I can set up,” he says as he goes over to the drawer to take out a few candles.

You shake your head, heart fluttering at his sweet gestures and ideas, and shoot him a grin. “Sounds perfect,”.

Joe was always doing little things like this throughout your relationship and you adored it. Whether it would be random flower deliveries to your house or thoughtfully planned dates, he always managed to go above and beyond for you whether it was random or well-planned gestures. He wasn’t like any other guys you dated. The tough shell he had on the outside was not at all like who he was deep down, and you were lucky enough to see it all the time.

You plate dinner as Joe gets the table ready, lighting a few candles around the table and turning the lights off when you sit down. The warm glow of the candle made a cocoon around you two, protecting you from the darkness that flooded your surroundings.

“You’re too far away,” Joe says as he looks at you from across the table. He takes his chair and scooches it around so that he is sitting next to you, rather than across.

“That’s better,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you pick up your fork and dig into the delicious food.

“Mmm, you did so good with this chicken,” you point out. “Can’t cook my ass,” you laugh as you take a sip of your water.

“I learned a thing or two from you,” he says, taking another bite of the pasta.

“Mm, well whatever you learned paid off because damn, this is good,” you say, chewing on the well-seasoned and cooked meat. You grab your glass of water, take a sip of the cool beverage, and remember something you wanted to talk to Joe about.

“So this is my first official official off-season with you,” you say, putting down your water and looking up at him.

“Yes it is,” he says, putting his fork down and looking at you.

“So how does this work? Since usually I’m not with you for the entirety of the time you have off”.

“Usually I have some training during the early months and some events to go to each month. OTA’s are in May, but we have time before that and camp,” he replied.

“Ah, right right,” you nod.

“Since you’re with me now, you’re definitely coming to the events with me,”.

“I’d love to. Someone has to keep you company,” you say, grabbing his hand and rubbing the soft skin.

“For real. I hate going to like half the events I need to go to because I don’t like talking to randos for hours on end. If you’re there, I can just stick with you for the entire event,” Joe laughs.

“I’ll have to come up with an escape route for each occasion,” you joke.

He lets out a soft laugh before continuing the conversation, “We’ll be taking obvious trips to LA and New York so you can do your thing and I also have training in LA so it works out. As for vacations, we should prob get on planning those out,” he adds. “I was thinking of a trip to the Keys like we did last year, while we’re in LA we can rent a house in Malibu for a little, and I was thinking we go to Italy in April for a week and maybe Greece if you’re down,”.

You stay quiet for a few moments, still processing how he’s already thought everything out. Joe didn’t really go out of the country for vacations, and you’d learned that about him pretty early on. So him suggesting these vacations to you took you by surprise, but it was a pleasant surprise.

He notices your wandering facial expression and your quietness. “You alright?” He asks, sitting up in his chair.

“I’m amazing and this all sounds like a dream,” you smile. “You’ve really thought everything out, especially with these trips. I didn’t think you’d wanna go somewhere so far,”.

He pauses for a few seconds to collect his thoughts, “Now that you’re in my life, I want everything to be well thought out and serious. I love you a lot and I want you to be as happy as humanly possible,” he says, his body language telling you everything you needed to know. “You like traveling and I don’t want you to give that up for me. Maybe I just needed the right person to go with to enjoy it, and who better than my favorite person,”.

Your heart felt like it was going to explode into a pile of pink dust at the thought of how much he cared about what you wanted. “I think if I was happier than I already am, I would actually explode,” you joke. “But seriously, this is perfect,” you say looking around the room. “This house, this dinner, these vacations, and you,”.

“I’m glad you feel that way,” he says. His eyes are filled with joy and adoration. Joe was truly happy with you and you with him. None of his previous relationships had made him feel so complete and comfortable. Something about you made him see what forever could look like, and he loved what it looked like.

After a few more minutes of talking about off-season plans, you both wrap up your dinner, you blow out the candles and Joe clears the table. You put the leftovers in the fridge as Joe loads the dishwasher. After you’re done, you’re standing in the kitchen, the look on your faces mirroring the tension that was building in the room.

“Soooo, whatcha wanna do now?” Joe asks as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“Hmm, I know it’s night time but people workout at night right?” You innocently tease.

“You wanna hit the gym? Right now?” He asks, very confused.

“Not that kinda gym silly,” you say as you walk closer to him. “I think we should go to the gym upstairs, ya know the one with the comfy bed? I think we need to do another rep of our favorite workout,” you tease as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Ohhhh,” he realizes as a smirk appears on his face. “I think you’re right. I’d hate to miss a workout. It’s not good to break routine,” he says as his hands move down to cup your ass.

“Well then, let’s get to it,” you say as Joe hoists you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist.

Joe’s soft lips meet yours in a fiery and sloppy kiss as he starts to lead you to the stairs, but you pull away so he can see them and not fall because you were kissing him. You move down to his neck and start to suck on the soft skin, marking him up and leaving a few pretty purple spots that’ll be visible in a few hours.

You’re so caught up in pressing kisses on his neck that you don’t even notice that you’ve made it into the bedroom. “Wait, I didn’t change the sheets from this morning,” you say, moving back into his view. Your fingers find themselves in his hair again, softly scratching his scalp.

“Already ahead of you,” He laughed. “I changed them after I showered,”.

“Could you be more perfect,” you ask, pulling him into another heated kiss, one you both grin into. He lowers you down onto the soft sheets before pulling away to take his shirt and sweats off. “Damn, straight to it?” you question.

“I need you so yes, straight to it,” he says, giving you a heated look. He threw his clothes to the side and kneeled on the bed so that he was hovering over you. You let out a squeal as Joe quickly pulled your shorts and panties down, throwing them to the side along with your shirt which you had been in the process of removing.

He leaned down and started pressing kisses along your collarbone, cupping your breast through your bra at the same time. “Mmm, Joe,” you moan, your eyelashes fluttering as you struggle to compose yourself.

His hand navigates further down as he ghosts his fingers over your soaking folds, teasing your clit while he continued to kiss your collarbone. “Joe, I need you so bad,” you whispered, squirming in your bed in an attempt to find pleasure.

He lifts his head from your neck and gets off of you, leaving you cold and bare. “Take it off,” he nods, referring to your bra.

You quickly reach for the clasp and unhook it, slipping off the straps and throwing it to the side. You feel his intense and lustful eyes looking you up and down, the only thought in his head was that you were the hottest and most angelic girl he had ever seen.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers. You immediately reach back out for him and cup his face, pulling him back down so he is once again on top of you. Your mouths moved at a relentless pace, kissing each other hungrily as his hand cupped your breast again. “Joe,” you moaned as you threw your head back into the pillow, breaking away from the kiss.

He moved down, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses in between your breasts and all around your belly, which as he knows, is where you’re most ticklish.

“Joe,” you laughed as he continued to press kisses all along your stomach. “Something wrong?” He asked in between kisses. All you could respond with was continuous laughter and squeals, making him oh so incredibly happy.

After he finished attacking your stomach with kisses, he moved back up to your lips, pressing his against yours again. He sucked on your top lip and you could feel his erection poking at your thigh.

“Mmm,” you moaned into the kiss. You could feel the cold air of the room against your core, which was soaking with your arousal, just begging to be attended to. His hand gripped your waist tightly, almost as if he was never going to let go.

He could feel your impatience by the way you were kissing him and squirming underneath his hold, and it was driving him crazy. He pulled away from the kiss and looked you in your soft eyes before moving back down to your neck, this time sucking the spot under your ear that drove you mad.

“Shit,” you whimpered. He moved to gently nip your earlobe before moving up and whispering, “You might not be able to walk after this,” into your ear.

You bit your lip as he went back to kissing the spot under your ear. He was driving you insane with every kiss, every touch, every word that came out of his mouth.

“I look better and feel better when I’m well-fucked anyways,” you boldly replied, causing him to immediately come out from your neck.

“Oh really?” He says as you stare at his swollen red lips.

“Mhm, something about the endorphins, oxytocin, and post-sex afterglow I get just works for me,” you smirk.

“The afterglow part for sure,” he says as he presses a kiss to your cheek. “Not sure about the hormone part since that part should be in you,”.

“You know what else should be in me?” you smirk as you brush his unruly curls out of his eyes.

“What?”.

“You,” you say, pressing a sweet kiss to his nose.

He lets out a chuckle, “She knows what she wants,”.

“Damn right, she does,” you say, moving your arm to the side to dim the lamp a little.

Joe slowly lines himself up with your slick core, one hand guiding himself and the other on your waist. You feel a little pressure down below as he starts to slide in. You were still a little sore from this morning and from earlier, so a little pain was still present. He noticed you wince a little and immediately stopped.

“No, No, keep going,” you moaned.

“If it hurts at all, just tell me to stop. I don’t want to hurt you,” he coos.

“I’m fine,” you smile as you lift your legs to wrap around his waist, pushing him in closer.

He gives you a nod as he continues to slide into you until he reaches your hilt. “Joe,” you moaned as you turned your head to the side, closing your eyes because of the slight sting.

Joe snapped his hips forward, causing you to turn your head back to face him. The first thrust being so hard took you by surprise. He set a relentless pace early on as he pounded into your core, countless whimpers and moans leaving both your lips.

“Fuck, Joe,” you screamed as he continued to fuck you senselessly. The pain you felt for a few seconds turned into pleasure, all because of him.

“Baby, you feel so good,” he groaned as each thrust shook your body. Sounds of skin hitting skin filled the room and you two felt yourselves getting lost in each other. With every thrust, he moved deeper and deeper into your core, his cock slamming against your cervix, making you moan with delight.

“Right there,” you smile, closing your eyes and letting him work his magic.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. You started to buck your hips against him, matching the pace of his rough thrusts. Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, your fingers scratching his back which was surely leaving red marks. One of his hands cupped your breast, his thumb rubbing circles around your nipple.

“J- Joe,” you whimpered. “I love you,” you moaned as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. His grip on your waist became tighter as his other hand moved to the other side, now gripping you fully. He lowered his head, capturing your lips in a soft kiss, but he breaks away when he feels you clench around his cock, signaling you were close.

“God, you are unreal,” he moans.

“I’m so- I’m so close,” you struggled to say. Your legs started to burn as he continued to thrust into you, sweat dripping from both of your foreheads.

“Cum for me, Baby,” he says as he ruthlessly slams into your core, your entire body moving against the bed as he took control. At this point, there was not a single thought in your head and you were quite literally being fucked stupid by your boyfriend. A few seconds later, you felt the band in your belly snap as you clenched around his cock. You tugged at the strands of his hair as you came around him as he was still pumping into you.

“Joe!” you screamed into his neck as you rode out your high. A few more breathless moans escaped your lips as you felt the aftershocks of your orgasm. He kept pumping into you, reaching his climax a few moments later. He gripped your thigh with his right hand, his left still on your waist, as he filled you with hot spurts of his cum.

“Y/N..” he whimpered, stuffing his face into your neck. Your hands rubbed his lower back as he slowed his thrusts, pumping every last bit of cum into you before collapsing next to your tired body. His arm layed across your belly, holding you close, as you spent a few seconds catching your breaths. You stared up at the bedroom ceiling, a content smile on your face as you realized that you were in your shared bedroom right now, in your shared home, and with the love of your life wrapped around you. This really was your life, and it was better than you could have ever imagined.

“I love you so much,” he panted, breaking the silence.

You turned your head to meet his tired yet still filled with love eyes, “I love you even more,”.

An hour later, you both are wrapped up together in the bathtub, soaking up the warm and soothing water.

“This feels soooo good,” you say as you lean back against his chest. “I seriously don’t think I can walk so you might have to carry me out of here like you carried me in,”.

“Sorryyy,” he laughs, pressing kisses to the back of your shoulder. "At least the post-sex afterglow is doing its thing,".

"All thanks to you," you smile.

"Still, Sorry," he says, taking his hand and threading it through his hair.

“It’s okay, I know you always live up to your word, and you did say I wouldn’t be able to walk after that sooo,” you shrug.

“Live up to my word?” he questions.

“Mhm,” you reply, looking up at him. “You told me when we met that this was going to be different, and it is. This is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, and you lived up to your word by making sure that we were different than the other relationships we both had,”.

“Go on,” he says, rubbing your arm.

“You told me that we would do this on our own terms, and we have. The public barely knows about us and you built a wall that shields us from everyone’s unwanted opinions, you lived up to your word,”.

“Y/N-,” he started to say. Joe was melting at your words. Nobody had ever made him feel the way you did and the way you spoke about him assured him that you felt exactly as he did. He truly loved you more than anything.

“And then you told me you loved me, and you’ve shown me that every single day I have spent with you. And now I get to feel that and see that every day. You lived up to your word,” you finished.

Suddenly, you felt his arms wrap around your waist and flipping you around so your legs were settled around him. He pulls your head into his neck and presses delicate kisses to your forehead.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he says with each kiss.

“I love you too,” you giggle. “I can’t wait for more days like this with you. This is everything I’ve ever wanted and more,”.

“I’m glad I could give it to you,” he says.

You fall into his chest as his arms settle around your waist, holding you close to him. You spend a few minutes in that position, hearing each other’s heartbeats and pressing delicate kisses to each other’s skin.

“You’re the best boyfriend in the entire world,” you say.

“It’s easy to be the best boyfriend when I have the best girlfriend in the world,” he smiles.

There was no place you’d rather be right now than here. You were happy, you felt at home, and you were in love. And you would get to feel the same thing the next day, and every day after that.

–The End–

Part 3

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fic #joeburrow #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine

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bonebabbles · 5 months ago

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Ivypool's Heart: Finished

Just completed reading the new super edition! I'm pleasantly surprised by this one. Overall, this was a very good book, MUCH better than the past 3 which were some of the most boring and unnecessary entries to the entire franchise.

If you were on the fence about this one, I'd recommend it. Just take this warning; it does the Warrior Cats thing where it harps pretty strong on parenthood and nuclear families being a borderline essential part of life, including a ton of bashing on how uniquely horrible this makes the Sisters.

If you can get past that, it's a pretty solid story about grief that makes some really fun additions to the WC lore, including the wildcats, StormClan, and a broad expansion to the afterlife system.

Meandering thoughts below the cut;

One of IPH's biggest flaws is pacing, but it's not nearly as bad as the past 3 SEs.

Not to mention, this is a pretty small SE. If you're ever bored, it won't last long.

Before the book introduces the Wildcats, it REALLY meanders. It'll pick up, but you will have to wade through relatively uninteresting scenes of the cats traveling and talking about their feelings unprompted.

A lot of "quicktime events" happen out of nowhere to fill pages with cats running away from random bullshit.

There's a horse carriage, an apple picker, dogs, weasels, foxes, a storm, traffic, humans, boats, sandwhiches. It's endless. My eyes glazed over during most of these scenes.

I know a lot of people were dreading Ivypool being nasty and unreasonable during this book, but honestly? I was hoping for it and didn't really receive it.

I find her most compelling when she's holding a grudge, acting on her anger, and generally working through messy issues. But aside from her just thinking about being annoyed or angry, she's really not snappy at all.

I feel like there could have been a lot more interesting and organic conflict between Icewing, Dovewing, and Ivypool's personalities instead of boring Quicktime Events. In fact, I felt like Icewing and Dovewing were kind of underutilized.

The conversations often feel quite stiff, especially in the first half. Everyone is very understanding of each other, respect boundaries and knows not to push too far, resolve their personal issues very easily, etc. It's kinda... unnatural.

Personally, I found that disappointing because I WANTED to see the cats actually process their grief over the course of the book. Watch them act out, maybe get in an fight or two and resolve it for the sake of the mission, have them come to a greater understanding of each other, etc.

Because Icewing and Dovewing are both so motherly and gentle and we're in Ivypool's POV, we don't really get to see them process their grief because of that.

They're not TOTALLY neglected though! I just... wanted more from this group.

However. I wanted LESS Rootspring.

I understand he's there to process the loss of Bristlefrost with Ivypool but god, every time he was on screen I wanted to push him aside and talk to Icewing lmao.

Stop trying to sell me "cool, mellowed from grief" Rootspring. He's a silly little hyperactive man and you will never be able to convince me otherwise.

As a silly little hyperactive semi-manthing myself, it would have been a lot more cathartic to see a clown like me going through grief. Not to mention just generally make for better chemistry with the group.

Between Ice and Dove who are already quite chill as characters, Whistle could have used someone more goofy to bounce off of.

I REALLY didn't like the whole implication that Rootspring is going to move on from Bristlefrost and "find a mother" for the kittens he wants so badly, though.

Erins PLEASE remember that adoption exists. He does not need a wife to be a dad. I'm beaming myself directly into your brains and telepathy-ing directions to the nearest cat adoption agency

aaaaaand on that note.... yeah. I did not like the way that this book leaned so hard on the whole "nuclear family" dynamic. Ivypool has had like two major interactions with her husband and one JUST happened in this book.

It especially bugged me that they leaned into Ivypool having been a very active mother, when we saw very little of that in the ACTUAL book. It wasn't even mentioned that Fernsong was allegedly the primary parent of the kittens when they were young.

But... I was able to look past it and just accept the book in a vacuum. There's a lot of good here.

Like the wildcats.

While I'm still wary of these being Scottish Wildcats and reserve my misgivings about the misuse of species that are very unlike domestic cats... I LOOOOVEEE the culture they've set up for them

I LOVEE the way that individual spirits reach out to the kits, guiding them through life

I LOVE the connection to StormClan

I LOVE their idea of the elements and general spirituality

And I LOVED the fact that a big part of Ivypool coming to terms with her grief was the expansion of her worldview. The way that she realized the religion she was raised with is quite small, and that there is an immense beauty in coming to understand other cultures, accept their advice, and see the world as they do.

I just wish the book had been able to tie that to a flaw that Ivypool has expressed since her very introduction back in OotS-- that she's smallminded.

It would have been a FANTASTIC way to really tackle and address that flaw, and pay off literal decades of set up. I really wish she had been messier in this book because of that!

But, digressing.

I'm over the moon that the team's actually playing with the series' spirituality! After such a long time of them outright avoiding some of the weirder elements in the series, like Rock and Midnight, it's exciting that they're finding some freedom in making new magic lore for themselves.

Hopefully, in the next few super editions, we'll be able to get some more insight to StormClan and the Wildcats.

The book really hits its stride in the second half because of this, and the ending chapters are actually fantastic. Some of the best stuff that's come out of the series (on purpose) in a loooong time.

#bones reads iph #Ivypool's Heart Spoilers #And with that... I must now consider what to keep for BB and what to not.

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whythehailnot · 4 months ago

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Fat girlie dating ramble and a question for other fat babes

Having a bit of an insecurity spiral today (as one does while being in the dating ring), and on a few separate occasions of venting about dating and feeling insecure as a fat person dating, I feel like I get the same sort of "huh? Is that really a thing? Did this person explicitly tell you that?" when I mention some concerns/insecurities that crop up.

The biggest being that I want the person I'm dating to find me hot (the lowest bar to trip over, as my friend puts it). And of course the people we date should see us as hot! Hello! It's truly step one! 👏💖

But I was talking about how I worry that people (mostly men) who reach out to me just see me as being someone to either A) must be a good cook (and potential gf/wife material), because I'm fat (and their profile indicates they're looking for gf/wife to cook for them lmao man-children 🙄) B) just here to validate their emotions and lift them up (this unfortunately can just be applied to anyone, you don't have to be fat, but if you're also femme I feel like this very common) and C) that because I'm fat, I must be "easy" and desperate for a relationship.

It's the C that trips up the people I've brought this up to - and it's making me feel insane and like I'm crazy that this is a concern. The people I've also brought this up to are also both thin and attractive as well. (And I want to stress these people are wonderful and I love them, but I think because it's not an experience they've dealt with/been super adjacent too, it's just not something they can really understand).

It's one of those where no one has explicitly said any of these to me in my personal experience, but it's such a pervasive thought in my mind (fueled by past experiences that my depression brain can't fully articulate, but also ABSOLUTELY from sooooooo much media growing up).

But it's making me wonder if this is ACTUALLY something that other fat babes have felt in their life as well? Am I just being sort of crazy/ultra sensitive? Am I gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss-ing myself?? HELP LMAO

*I'll delete this later probably but I truly just feel like I'm crazy @ w @;;

#personal question for the fat babes!#delete later #text

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haveihitanerve · 3 days ago

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youtube

Yet another one- You guys know the drill :) :

Sams appreciative smile of Tom’s introduction of the idea of what they're doing, amazing supportive friendship

“One man, six strangers” This audience member is fun!!! “I've seen that video1” Tom help-

“Theres only thhhreee people up here” yes good math Tom, very nice

“Bilbo Baggins finds a diamond.” “Strong rip-off vibes there” tom i cant

“The confused racist panda” the confused raci- wh-whatttt

“You lost us right in the middle there.” thank you for showing it with your hands Tom, i really needed that actually

“You get three very white guys on stage and go “lets talk racism” it doesn't end well.” With you three i think it might, but fair point- also i thought he was just grabbing a drink- wheres luke??? 😭

“Is that from Twin Towers guy?” ok i didn't see the first half of the show- but thats an insane way to be categorized/known, also AJ fucking losing it is always a gem, love that

Even sam had to hang his head for that one lmao what did you do twin towers guy???

“The excited chinchilla?” Glances around at Sam and AJ. “What do you guys like so far?” Genuinely my heart omg-

“I like the excited chinchilla- what does that, what does that look like exactl-” AJ you better be asking about what the scene could possibly look like and not what the animal-

“What does a chinchilla look like?” AJ please 😭

Also just to mention- when he started speaking Tom pointed to him and idk but it made something inside me smile so… mentioning it…. moving on

“Its like a cute little-” forms a ball with his hands. I gotta say Tom, thats pretty accurate. “Gerbil-y sort of thing.” Sam finishing his sentence i cant 😭

Also if Tom keeps pointing to them like that i might actually lose it-

“What he said.” I love them so much and i don't even know why this sentence specifically made me scream that but um… yeah

Sam and AJ just standing up, trying to figure out wtf they're gonna do…hoping inspiration will come from being elevated or smth ig

“You know some people get a dog i guess.” AJ i fucking love you-

His shrug also- cutest thing i've ever seen in my life

Ok idc where this relationship goes- but Sam and AJ being in love is rarely a thing and i didn't know how much i needed it until now but its adorable- Sam has the sweetest smile and AJ genuinely looks afraid of this nonexistent chinchilla but calmer the closer Sam gets and ahhhhh

Also sam talking about children😭i know they’re fake but planning a future together- my heart-😭

- i genuinely did not see Tom coming- XD losing my lung rn laughing what- and he does the raspy worker dude voice so well- help

“Thanks dad.” AJ marry me rn.

HE EVEN CAUGHT SAM OFF GUARD!!!!!

“...chinchilla.” The way he said that- wh-sir why???

Sam and AJ are both also caught off guard- oh this is gonna be a fun one i can tell- literally both breaking together at Tom’s strange growl

“Was this your idea?” Perfect gruff disapproving dad Tom, 10/10

“One moment sweetheart.” yes yes!!! Protect your daughter, take aside the boyfriend/husband???-it hasn't been established yet- and then… idk what actually but yes i love how gentle he was to AJ lol

“Listen i like you, yeah?” The audience understands lmaooo!! Sam thats never a good sign, run

Tom breaking- his little peek at AJ and then having to cover his mouth to hide his smile Ahhhhhhh so cute!!!

OH!!! He looked over because AJ was laughing at him- got it!!!

*AJ playing with the chinchilla* thank you captions- but im pretty sure that was just him almost dropping it-

“I think you've made a mistake here-” AJ wheezing

“Don't look at her-” “i love her!” THATS LOW SAM!!! THATS LOW!!! HE WASN'T TALKING ABOUT HIS DAUGHTER- HE WAS TALKING ABOUT THE CHINCHILLA!!!! WOWWWWWW

Ok im better now (fuckin hilarious also sam, stellar)

“Shh-shhhut up.” we always love the drawn out shhhhut up

“I don't mean my daughter,” thank you for clarifying tom

AJ is running out of things to do lmaooo- holding it up to the light, turning in a circle, ah zabenya-ing it

“Just keep your door locked at night yeah?” TOM WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN??? HELLO????? I was not informed this was a horror story-

Sam is equally as confused as to where hes taking this- oh hes miming now

“At the bottom of your door you've got a- one of the draft excluders” tom what does that mean 😭

“I hope im overthinking this” you are, you so are, but i cant wait to see where this goes- oh my gods

“Keep your eyes open. Especially when you’re sleeping..” okkkk thats creepy and totally normal and what a father in law totally says-

AJ is tired of being a side character- lovely “boy chat??” idk what his hand movements are but im loving it

Sam side eyeing Tom is amazing

“You remember-” that lunge forward is worse than anything a chinchilla can do tom what-

Also Sam and AJ breaking, they did not see that coming’

“They can feel you breathing… they can always feel you breathing.” Ok thats ominous but also why do i feel like thats a random fact that Tom learned about chinchillas that hes adding into the story??? Idk seems like a thing they can do, and a thing hed know, and a thing hed do

Sam perplexed beyond reason how they're gonna make this a functioning scene

“Maybe in the war.” *shrugs casually* AJ!!! SIR what do you mmmmmeannnnnnnn in the war????? What

Sam also almost breaking and AJ casually laughing because whatttt did he just say how are they furthering this plot

also off topic- the little tongue in the cheek movement is great, lovely, top notch, idk love it

AJ biting his lip and needing to look away so that he doesn't completely break is my everything

“You're an accountant, I’m a lawyer.” thank you for giving us backstory Sam, greatly needed

“Falling in love with you was the best thing I ever did.” ……. SIR. How am I ever gonna find someone if you’re pulling these lines on your fucking friend while doing an improv show- 😭 the standards are too high already-

The kiss 😭

Sam’s squint at Tom like “what the fuck are you- what are we doing here? Do i move in- was that stagecraft?- what??”

His shrug of “oh well fuck it I guess.” and moving a chair into scene while still shrugging at Tom bc he has no idea what to do

Sam repeating back all of Tom’s words in a slightly different font because he wants Tom to have control of the scene- and he has no ideas-

AJ looking between them and doing three pretty blinks as he pieces together the story

“Gavin…” *nervous chuckle* “obviously theres a difference.” please tell him Tom, we’re all dying to know, him especially

“Ckkk” what does that mean Tom 😭i thought it meant castration at first but now???

AJ stepping forward- wanting to join the scene but he’s still not entirely sure wtf is going on and three confused scene partners is a recipe for disaster- and oop Tom has an analogy maybe wait-

“Let me finish the sentence.” the pose Sam does- help-

AJ’s slow smile as Tom continues the bad analogy

“Of course.” Sam you’ve never “ckk”ed anything what do you mean of course

“What you've done-” AJ’s little lean back and victorian hand over mouth chuckle is my favorite thing in the world he does it so much and it kills me every time its so cute

Sam loosing it- and Tom breaking on stage!!! Thats something you don't see often!!

“Venomous” VENOMOUS???? THATS THE METAPHOR??? IT ISN'T ONE????

Oh nevermind its still a metaphor

The brainstem????? Thats what “ckkk” is?????

Im so confused help 😭

Tom’s spin in the chair is hilarious- peak comedy truly

“Can you imagine an unsnipped chinchilla???” I can now??? ALso both Sam and Tom breaking again, beautiful

“Have you ever seen a Rhino with a gun?” wtf??? “No??!?!” “thats the only thing i can compare this to Gavin!” I love how he keeps casually dropping in Gavin while Gavin has yet to name him

“How'd you just come in through the back of the store?” i see stagecraft is at play

AJ also knew it was coming but laughed anyway-peak

“Thats the least of your worries right now.” yes Aj, flip it on him!!! King

“Just on-just one!” Tom sounds genuinely afraid this is golden

Oh ma gods- the way AJ’s scream cuts off perfectly and he and Tom just relax the second Sam cuts off the scene is perfect

“Captain.” wait a damn minute- Captain??? Captain of the Police Force??? Not KING???? anyway-

“Five thousand people died.” damn. damn

also Tom laughing in the background, legs crossed and fingers steepled against his chin in proper Tom pose- i adore

“Theresa may.” Audience member i love you

And the way the roll with it too- gads i love them

Sam finally breaking when AJ actually “calls” Theresa May

Tom resigning himself to play Theresa

None of them knew where they were going except Tom but they all wanted to create a scene- loving the chaos- lukeeeee

That door creaking sound was a masterpiece and idk about you but Sam is a positively fucking terrifying chinchilla omg-

“Gary…” that audience member is losing her mind at his name being gary and i adore that for her

“Do you remember me from ZE WARRRRR!!!” the chinchilla asked calmly

“NO ONE CAN STOP ZE NAZI CHINCHILLAS!!!” Ok sam, praise, i love you, but why does it always come back to Germans??? There are more than just the one-two wars 😭like he could've created a fake one??? Nevermind its not important its the funniest one and maybe he’s just holding space for luke

AJ laughing as he dies via chinchilla is crazy

Killing him again is low but necessary lol

AJ losing it even more is a joy XD

I gotta say, very impressed with Sam’s pronunciation and then gibberish of german

AJ trying to clear the stage but Tom just stays fucking spread on the floor lmaooo

“Hold please.” AJ what???? Hes enjoying himself and being chaotic as always but what??? 😭XD

“I can hear you doing motions but this is a phone call so…” yes AJ!!!! Call him out!!!! XD glorious!!!

“With my man.” AJ i think ur in the clear to give him a name- i don't think its been done- but playing it safe, i see- even though its never stopped you before, giving someone two names but like wtv thats not my business-

Sam just messing with Tom’s arm/hands (making him slap himself) even though AJ specifically pointed out it was unnecessary but we love an annoying king- and dragging him around by his hair lol

Paella??? Is this a call back??? Its only the short story, but im assuming AJ’s being a lil bitch and making Tom say paella again- also Sam’s “squid” motion for Tom was brilliant XD

Sam dropping his head on Tom’s shoulder to laugh- my heart

“Im glad to hear I sound normal to you.”

“Hang up ze fucking phone!!!”

“Everything okay?” the switch from chinchilla to Sam gave me whiplash hang on-

“Did he?” “yeah yeah yeah.” “...did he?” Genuinely curious- did he? “Well he said the word.” Aj i love you

“Where its gone.” Im sorry but they said it in sync and together in harmony and like obvi but it just gives me joy anyway-

“Fuck we should probably look for it shouldn't we?” yeah just maybe AJ.

“Ill go down to the basement..” they both knows what gonna happen. “And see if its there.” both break. “What could go wrong?” thanks for saying the classic foreboding everything-will-now-go-wrong phrase sam

AJ’s shrug is such a mood i love him

“Ill see you upstairs.” “maybe.” if AJ doesn't die now I want a refund-

Tom: ominous basement noises

“Thats the music to the scene-” yes AJ, its like in movies- you don't address it!

“I already turned zis light on.” sorry sam but i thought the “chch” was the sound of a gun cocking-

“Hello cecily.” well thats terrifying-

“Franz Haberburg.” we get a Tom smile!!!! And AJ breaks as well, so cute

“The door is pretty closed and soundproof.” Sam what??? Poor Aj is gonna die XD- also AJ’s little laugh is my life

“HUSBAND! HU-HUSBAND!!!” “you don't seem to know his name.” XD Give the poor man a break Sam, hes been bullied for not remembering names enough times-

“I call him husband thats what we do its a cute thing.” AJ- still don't think he’s been named yet so you're free but like i respect it

“Who are you- well i know who you are- but what are you doing in my basement!” Now hes asking the real questions

“Until 1939.” the way Tom covers his mouth with his fingertips every time he laughs off stage gives me life- only the fingertips too- not the whole hand its- anyway

“What do you- what do you mean?” Aj breaking and Tom still laughing- asking the real questions now

“But it just wasn't racist enough-” Tom, previously: three white guys on stage, lets talk about racism, yeah, good idea

Why are they making the chinchilla- you know what i don't want to know the thought process- also Tom’s delight as hes watching is everything so its fine

“Your father is dead.” The audience who already knew this: *dramatic gasps* YES!!!! Finally a good audience who does all the proper dramatic gasps!!!

Dead tom enters the scene again!

“Have you ever zeen ze film terminator?” AJ’s back caving with a laugh, Tom twitching with laughter and Sam breaking mid sentence- i love these stupid goobers

Also the way AJ is gently cupping Tom’s neck-

“But no every single *grows quieter* chinchilla is a *laughs* nazi” AJ breaking- i love this skit omg XD-

“I-it-s im just stalling” good work AJ- very smooth, the audience has no idea.

Aj actually stumbling when Sam ducked- and the sound his arm made is crazy(also the way he checked to make sure he wouldn't actually hit Sam- my heart)

“Sooounnnd.” that was angelic Sam wow

AJ’s slow NPC turn-

“Maybe move on from this bit-” AJ and Sam both breaking- probably wise, honestly

*uncomfortable AJ*

“HUSBAND! HUSBAND!!! THE CHINCHILLAS A FUCKING NAZI!” Sam’s completely break- he did not expect that right out of the gate- (nor did he probably expect AJ to live through the scene but whatever-)

Also tom casually in the corner now because he cant really move theyre in the way so just watching and grinning-

“HE *YOU* VERY VERY NEARLY GAVE ME THE HITLER SPEECH! WE WERE THIS🤏CLOSE!” Sam loosing it- oh and Tom escapes to the back

“AND I ABANDONED THE SCENE!” Aj is just publicly shaming Sam now-

“I GOT OUTTA THERE! BECAUSE I HAD TO!” explaining how tf he made it out of the basement-

“I HAD TO!” wayyyy too close to Sam’s face

“Have some beans” Aj: *rightfully confused because wtf?*

AJ genuinely loosing his shit and doing some strange drinking of beans and stagecraft

TOM AS THERESA!!! SHES HERE TO SAVE THE DAY!!!!

Sam also forgot about that character- or didn't expect Tom to dedicate to actually playing her- XD

AJ CASUALLY HAS A SHOTGUN WHAT-

“Wait-wh- one! Where did you get a gun-” wise questions Sam

“Two- this is the former prime minister. She tried to get the good Brexit deal- why are you pointing a gun at her?” Lmaooo Sam

Tom: *kills himself* Sam: *takes his time to get behind him to pretend like it was him*

“Theresa May is the best Nazi killer in ze world.” all three of them laughing before recovering really fast

XDXDXDXDXD sam having to alternate between his two [personalities- a comforting husband and a nazi chinchilla- what even is their life-

AJ- its a shotgun my love, not a machine gun. Sam- thank you for just staring at him for a few minutes, contemplating whether or not to point it out before ducking under all the bullets- even tho he’s been shooting for a while longer than you ducked, nicely done

“The other one…” AJ has no idea…

“And scene- thank you.” the pure relief-

AJ casually asking Sam if thats his drink before getting his actual drink- they’re so cute

Anyway that concludes todays one- thank you!!!

Also- this show had the best Sam faces- amazed that his besties can be just as unhinged as him sometimes- hes great at the random comments that completely transform a scene (cough cough, disciplinary meeting comments, cough cough) and then does an awesome job at pretending to be shocked/amazed/horrified when the others do the same- its hilarious- anyway thanks for reading!

@dawn-speckled @snek-of-eden hope you guys enjoy!

#sfth #shoot from the hip #sam russell #tom mayo #alexander jeremy #luke manning #no but honestly where is he #shootimpro #the nazi chinchilla #i mean #the excited chinchilla #Youtube

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committingwarcr1mes · 4 months ago

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mitski once said:

“i don't need the world to see that i've been the best i can be, but

i don't think i could stand to be where you don't see me”

and now i have to write this.

i really don’t get why people are so superficial about griffith, y’all like “nah, he always was evil vicious callous etc 🙄🙄🙄” and not even trying to look beneath, which is really discouraging because the eclipse arc made it very clear and showed everything in the most obvious way possible.

oh, remark: it’s only about berserk 1997.

so let’s start from afar. “griffith never cared of his people and friends, he easily betrayed them for batman costume 👻👻👻” like WTF?? he DID. he DID CARE. he sold himself to feed and equip his people, and it wasn’t like “he enjoyed f***ing that bearded guy ahshdjsa lmao 😂🤡🤡” (btw i don’t get this crap cause it seems like y’all are so obsessed with rape theme, but while feeling sorry for one victim you at the same time make fun of another. the hypocrisy of this fandom i can’t--). but return to what i’ve started. griffith always cared for his people; he never showed it and never admitted it even to himself, but he remembered everyone who died fighting for him, and i guess sometimes he really blamed himself for that — but again, never admitted it. those scenes weren’t given just for drama or something — these contradictions were always an important part of his character and determined his sight. failure would make victims meaningless. like people died for nothing.

another thing people don’t understand is that griffith never cared only about the power and the fact of becoming the king. people never strive to go on top just to go on top, all our actions are motivated by deeply personal reasons. so i think he really wanted people to follow him, believe in him, attach with his yearning. it always feels good when you see that people like you, need you, rely on you. that is what makes a leader a leader. of course you can say that it’s a selfish and vain wish, but aren’t all people selfish? you always set guts against griffith — so weren’t guts’ wishes and life stance selfish? i think it ridiculous to judge such things.

and now we get to the core — the need for love. love of thousands is pleasant, but in the end humans need something more than that. it’s lonely at the top, as they say. you still need someone to be close to, to trust and rely on. for griffith that “someone” was guts. “ wELL aCtUaLlY hE wAs NeVEr iN lOvE wiTH gUtS 🤓” oh STFU. you didn’t get the homosexual drama, but i did 🤭

and now i’m not going to speculate on was it healthy love or sElFiSh or tOxiC or pOsSeSiVe, i don’t care, you need to get that love can be twisted, sick, destructive, wrong, but it still LOVE. i agree that griffith did use guts for his own affairs, pulled in palace intrigues and etc, but it doesn’t change the fact that he had feelings for him that were able to confuse and mess him up.

“amongst the thousands of comrades... and the tens of thousands of enemies... there was only one man... you were the only one... who ever made me forget my dream” like WHY DO YOU THINK THIS NEEDED TO BE SAID??

their relationships deserve a separate paragraph actually so i won’t drive too deep. all we need to understand is that guts became too important to griffith and it was literally the end to everything he worked for during all those years.

so, guts decides to leave, nothing now can stops him. griffith is messed up and disordered, he’s crushed and isn't really aware of what he's doing. and it is a very good subtext here — he feels rejected, so he goes to charlotte who’s obviously in love with him and has sex with her. it’s a reckless impulse, a moment of weakness, and it leads to the only mistake that cost EVERYTHING. and then griffith is tortured, mutilated and losing even the possibility to talk.

retreat: i find quite interesting how easily he lost that fighting with guts. you can say “well it’s just because guts is stronger blah blah blah etc 🙄🙄🙄”, but i think it was probably about griffith’s subliminal unwillingness to hold someone who’s already decided to give up on him. however…

what is going on in griffith’s head during all these horrible events? guts. guts guts guts. logic chain is simple: he got here because of guts, he lost everything because of guts, guts is the reason for everything he has to pass through now. i’m not blaming guts, but it’s just how griffith was thinking there — which is not surprising, like imagine yourself going through this kind of torture while remembering whom have you been and what you were striving for. all can imagine, but not all can understand.

“and yet… here, in this empty, hollow world… one thing is clear in my mind. him alone… like lightning splitting through the darkness… he appears in my mind so vividly. over and over again like the waves of a tsunami… hatred… friendship… jealousy… frustration… helplessness… affection… sorrow… they all come together into a giant vortex… they pin my fading consciousness down so that it doesn’t slip away. the one who caused this… my confinement in this darkness… will now… become the only chance at survival. when did it happen? this man, whose life was once in my hands… when did i fall into his powerful clutches? and now… in my mind i see him radiating so brightly it pierces in my eyes. guts!” IN BLACK AND WHITE

and this was the moment when love started to turn into hatred; when the pain of abandonment is so strong that it destroys the rest of the feelings. no one made griffith go to charlotte and do what he did, and yet he was so messed up with guts’ leaving that he went and did it. and now he isn’t even able to talk, to walk and to hold anything with his hands. no more fighting, no more winning. no more way to fulfill his dream. all because of guts. and still, affection is living. that moment when guts & co came to save griffith and guts holding him, griffith stretches his arm to touch�� or to choke him? guess we’ll never now. however, some kind of hope flared up in him again. guts came back, and probably it will get better…

but oh, it won’t. only worse.

moving on scene when griffith lays in carriage and hears guts and casca conversation on the outside. it’s a VERY important moment that many people overlook, but it is exactly what led to the eclipse events as they are. so, guts is going to leave again and offers casca to join him, casca refuses because she needs to take care of griffith, and when she said that guts decides to stay. with HER. for HER. not for griffith. the story repeats itself, and griffith is still not that significant for him.

and look what happens here. griffith’s people saw his injuries and knew that he can’t lead them any longer. one part of them is going to follow casca now, the other one — guts. they all gave up on him. so did guts. the last one, whose affection griffith desired the most. what is for casca… it is a pretty complicated moment, but a part of the problem here is feel of betrayal. you can think as you wish but i’m considering casca as more like a sister, a fellow, a loyal companion and an assistant to griffith, than a love interest. like yeah, he had a dream where he lives with her taking care of him in small nice house, but… i think it is a question of a habit. we saw two women in griffith’s life: casca and charlotte. charlotte could be a key to power, but i don’t think that griffith wanted to even remember her after the torture. casca, on the other hand, was the one who was near him for quite a long time. she cared for him, supported him. so if griffith needed to give up and live normal life like simple men do, he would choose casca as a partner just because there is now other woman. but at this moment casca took guts away from him. another betrayal. and of course, it starts the jealous.

after overhearing guts and casca’s conversation griffith gathering his strength and drives horses to… somewhere. i don’t think he was fully aware of what he was doing, most likely it was just an another reckless impulse, but he gets into a river and decides to 💀 himself. it was a peak of his despair, but accidentally the red behelit returns to him — and the eclipse starts.

no need to retell, just want to make clear two things: 1) why did griffith betrayed his friends for batman costume 👻👻👻 2) and why he raped casca

moment №1.

besides obviously outlined in the series “he built his way on corpses and he must go on with no regret blah blah blah ☝☝☝” there is a much more important element of disappointment. like yeah, griffith is definitely disappointed about people and affections by this point. he’s not a leader for his people anymore; if they still feel something for him, it’s more like a pity for the cripple. and of course — guts. affection that cost everything, the reason why he appeared in such a position.

so now he has a choice: to sacrifice something that only ruins and ruins and finally get what he dreamt of the entire life, or to choose things that once already destroyed him and live the rest of the life as a cripple even unable to speak. noble are those who chose the second option, but i absolutely and with no doubts understand griffith’s choice here.

so yeah, now griffith chooses the power over everything indeed. he chooses himself and only. good for him <3

moment №2.

the rape. and the reason why that sacrifice was so bloody and brutal. yeah, all the people who appeared there with griffith went through hell right before their death. i don’t think all these sufferings and such nightmares were needed, like just blood & flesh & bone would be enough to give a body to femto, and still it was as it was. why?

it was said that femto will be born on the ruins of griffith’s dream. THE RUINS. so i think there was ruins of his personality either. during the last year griffith survived dreadful torments, the physical pain he suffered is unimaginable, and the trauma that leaves after such horrible events is immense. and it’s not a rare thing when people who survived violence now want to bring that pain to others — to make others suffer like they have suffered. femto is a product of griffith’s worst angles of personality, of darkest things that lived in him. so yes, everyone had to anguish and die the most dire way possible.

same thing is with casca. griffith NEVER wanted to rape her, like WHY WOULD HE EVEN DO, but he was angry and jealous because guts chose her over him. femto soaked it and just did the worst thing possible to avenge. and THE CORE: femto did it in front of the guts, so HE could watch. it was never about casca. only about guts.

idk what to write in conclusion. griffguts completely devastated me. love is an evil thing. never do such 💋

#griffith they will never make me hate you #griffith #griffith x guts #griffguts #berserk #berserk 1997

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soscarlett1twas · 8 months ago

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Midnight Church Bells

↳ Andrew and his brother sneak out. ↳ 2k words / also available on ao3! ↳ This fic is literally a year old lmao?? I was sorting through docs and found this finished draft, so I polished it a bit and here we are. Please forgive past me if the prose is... how we say 'shit'.

The holidays always snuck up on Andrew the same - sudden and unwelcome, but inevitable. This year, he’d been too invested in his studies, and, surprisingly, his own love life to notice much of withering leaves or decorations, but when he turned on the radio and heard those familiar jingles, he groaned in recognition.

Really, it was none of those things (despite how much he did tire of those songs) that bittered Christmas for him. It was the fact that once the break started, his family would come calling. And despite all protests, his parents would never let him stay at college during the advent.

“It’s time for the Lord.” His mother’s voice lifted through the phone he propped up on his dashboard. “And family,” she added after a moment. He resisted the urge to slam his head against the steering wheel, instead opting for biting his tongue. The one time his parents didn’t want him studying.

Her saying that added to the sting of the season. And family. It seemed that this was the only time of year where that was on her mind.

Which all led him to the same spot he was every December 24th: Sitting on his childhood bed, with whatever book he was currently reading in his hands, and classical music playing from his phone.

Reclining into his pillow, Andrew lifted his glasses off and put them on the bedside table, a thumb folding the wings as the other worked as a bookmark.

Yet he didn’t close his eyes. For one of those brief moments in life, he wasn’t thinking, or sleeping, or doing really anything at all. He was just there, in a limbo between sleep and consciousness, hoping that if he purposely derived himself the next day wouldn’t come as quickly.

And he stayed like that for 5 minutes. Or maybe it was 10, or maybe no time passed at all. But eventually he gave in to rest. No matter what, the morning would come and he’d rather not fall asleep during the already tedious sermons in church. So he set an alarm, put his book on the nightstand, and laid down.

He closed his eyes, and it was like he could hear the ringing already.

Maybe he did.

A soft patter-ing rang just outside his door, the familiar sound of footsteps on carpet blotting the silence. And just as he was about to roll over, Andrew heard his door creak open, and the silhouette of a man leaned into the room.

“Want to go on a walk?” He whispered, twinged with a sense of boredom.

Andrew didn’t even need to turn to know who was asking. “Give me a moment,” he sighed, and motioned to push himself off the bed.

—

“How did you know I was awake?” Andrew asked, still pulling his overcoat over his arms.

“Your light was on, I saw it through your door.” His brother responded, turning off their driveway onto the sidewalk. He was slightly ahead of Andrew, but slowed a bit so that they were walking together.

A cloud of mist formed from his breath as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, pulling the coat closer to himself to save some of his last remaining body heat. A near-midnight flit wasn’t what he had planned, but he’d prefer it than trying to sleep. Besides, this may be the only quality time he could spend with his twin during the break. God knows the time they’ve spent at college has already distanced them enough.

“So,” he huffed, searching for a topic of conversation. “How have you been?”

“Fine. Uni’s been beating my ass though - we spent practically the entire week leading up to the holidays in the lab, just sweating over our assignments. Jesus, I’m not even a Biochem major but Chemistry is just not letting up.”

It had been years since he was in a lab, but with the track he was on, he got the stress with ‘crunch time’. “I understand. I’ve recently had to rush a project for my Literary Theory course.”

“What do you even do in that class?” He questioned, half serious, half mocking.

“Analyze texts, find out how the culture of the author influenced their works.” He could go on: Literary Theory was one of his favorite classes, no matter how rigorous the course was, but he knew his brother wouldn’t care to hear the details.

Winding down their street, the two carried on talking about academia with a partial interest, not fully understanding either’s field of study but trying to be supportive anyways. Soughing wind bent branches to a static beat as they approached the neighborhood's egress. By and by they were talking about the more social aspects of their schooling: Andrew’s literature club, the parties either rarely attended, his brother’s friends.

“How has your roommate been?” Andrew asked, kicking a rock under his shoe and watching it roll along the concrete.

“Good.” He sighed out a laugh. “He’s great, actually.”

Andrew glanced over to his brother, and if the slight warmth in his voice wasn’t enough, the red on his cheeks told him everything he needed to know. He chuckled too, and gave a soft nudge on his shoulder, making them both smile.

In a weird way, they never needed to tell eachother about any of this stuff. Equal parts the awkwardness that surrounded telling your sibling, your twin of all people, who you were interested in and an unspoken alliance against their parents had kept them from ever openly speaking it. But Andrew knew his brother was into guys ever since they were teens, he just didn’t know if his brother had caught on to his own preferences yet.

The stone made a sharp sound as it drifted over to his brother, who promptly kicked it back to Andrew with the inside of his shoe.

“Helios, right?”

His brother hummed in response.

His mind trailed to the man at his college, the one who he had desperately wanted to introduce to him, and found himself grinning at the mere thought. God, he hoped Isaac would like his brother.

He opened his mouth, then shut it quickly. What would he even say? He trusted his brother, but to come out was something entirely different, and with Christmas just around the corner? No, he’d wait. Right after, though, he’d tell him. Andrew silently swore it to himself.

“Honestly, I prefer the dorms to the house.”

That snapped Andrew out of his thinking. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He stopped abruptly, and threw his arms out in exasperation. “Isn’t it suffocating to you too?”

Everytime he was in his room, Andrew could only remember the sleepless nights he spent hunched over and studying. The dining table was a barrage of moments he spent silent as his parents and brother fought. The living room was a danger zone, as he never wanted to catch his parents when they were disappointed in his brother, or worse, him. The whole house could burn down and the only memories that would go with it were the most futile. Worse was, even without flames, Andrew felt like he wadded through smoke every time he was in those walls.

He silently nodded his head. His brother just stared at him, as if he wanted voice confirmation. But how can one speak up against the pyre when its fumes had already scorched his vocal cords?

After a moment, his brother kept walking, and Andrew followed. “I contemplated not coming back this winter.” He muttered.

“As did I.” Andrew responded, suddenly getting his voice back.

“What could you possibly be avoiding?”

A million and one answers filled his head, but none escaped him - no matter what he said, not a single one would measure up to his brother's reasons. So why even bother trying to compare?

His twin huffed as he turned away, suddenly gaining some distance on Andrew, and he let him keep it.

For a while, the only sound they made was their shoes against concrete sidewalks and the crunch as they occasionally had to step into snow. Andrew brought his hands up to his face, cupping them to breathe and warm himself up. Normally he kept gloves in his pockets, just in case. But, of course, he just had to forget them tonight. His fingers combed through his hair, forcing him to look straight ahead at his brother's back. Again, he bit his tongue. But wasn’t that what had gotten him into this situation, unintentionally pushing his brother away by not talking? He didn’t understand it, but only continuing the cycle wasn’t going to help anything.

So he opened his mouth, just in time to slam right into his brother.

He stumbled, but his brother didn’t flinch. Or even look at Andrew. His eyes remained trained to the tree line, frozen in place.

Regaining his footing, Andrew tried again. “Dar-“

“Stop.” He whispered.

“No, D-“

“Shut up, Andrew, just listen.”

So he did.

For a few seconds, he didn’t hear anything. His eyes fell where his brother’s were focused, though without his glasses, the details were fuzzy.

Then, a distant chime hit his ear.

More followed.

A symphony of church bells rang, each peal like a glimmer in the air.

Andrew knew they rang the bells at midnight every Christmas Eve, though he couldn’t remember the last time he had heard them. During mass, he could imagine it would be unbearable. But from here? The sound was quite pleasant.

As the bells continued, the twins stood there, listening to it all. Andrew was the first to tear his eyes away from the church he couldn’t see, glancing over at his brother through the corner of his eye. It was the first good look he had gotten at him in a long time.

Andrew hadn’t realized how short a decade was. Though in context of anything else, the last ten years of his life had dawdled. But with his brother? It was like the blink of an eye. One moment they were running and laughing, a mirror image of one another - even the Christmas’ were tolerable. Fun, even. The next, blooming into adulthood - mimics of who they used to be.

In fact, the longer he looked at him, Andrew realized just how much his brother had changed. His hair had definitely grown, locked into a short ponytail that hung low with swooping bangs, and he made the full switch to contacts some time ago. He even got taller, and next to Andrew, he was a lofty inch or two higher. Though that could also be accredited to the boots he wore. (Ashamed to say, Andrew didn’t remember when or how he got them. They certainly weren’t a gift from their parents, but did his brother even have a job to afford them?) He was more muscular, which wasn’t saying much compared to Andrew, but he was certainly leaner. The man never made a mention of continuing his secondary school athletics, but maybe he did as an extracurricular? Again, Andrew was straining to remember specifics. Though, he supposed any reason to play was now null, as originally it was a brilliant excuse to come home late without his parents accusing him of deviancy.

But he wasn’t too alien to him. There was something still familiar to him, like flecks of gold shining through, no matter how small. After all, they began to sneak out when they were fourteen and are still doing it now. There must be something that still connected them.

Right?

Just as he had that thought, he missed his brother's pass, and the pebble went flying into a curb.

They walked in silence for a while longer, bells fading to the wind. Eventually they found themselves back on their driveway, and their silence became deafening as they lightened their footsteps. God knows what their parents would do if they found out they had been out so late.

They followed one another up the stairs, crossed the same hallway, and went to rooms adjoining. There was a time they shared one, but that was before they had moved.

Andrew slipped open his door, the knob turning slowly as to mute itself. As he slipped in, he turned half-way to see his brother doing the same.

His brother looked up, catching his gaze.

Andrew saw himself in the reflection of his eyes. They were bitter, burning with… not rage. But a violent form of disappointment.

Andrew was the center of it. And he could smell the smoke wafting.

#MARSTON TWINS I'VE MISSED YOU #this was the first fic I ever wrote for this fandom!!#finally saw the light of day (escaped google docs)#also yes this lines up with the underground ravens theory because of course it freaking does #sakuverse #zsakuva #andrew marston #zsakuva andrew #marston twins #“twin” marston #they kick rocks #divider by cafekitsune

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asterdisaster06 · 1 year ago

Text

i love you, ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?

ghost x reader [exes], slight soap x reader [mostly platonic], platonic 141 x reader

1. 2. 3.

summary > "Don't trust people like me. I will hurt you in the most beautiful and intoxicating ways so that you can never go back to your normal life without my ghost following you."

...

"If you always put yourself before others, one day you'll look behind and see that you're all alone."

...

Simon "Ghost" Riley had fucked up. Massively. He had pushed you away because he was scared of losing you to the life he lived. He didn't want to see you go down the same path and lose that beautiful intoxicating spark that you always carried in your eye. And now he didn't even recognize you. Not after you had done so much work to fulfill yourself, changing the person he once knew. You had successfully climbed the ranks of the 141 Taskforce and was now crowned the second lieutenant of the team. However, you can't dodge the piercing looks that Simon sends you every now and then. You can't pretend forever.

warnings > simon riley is alluded to be a bit of a dick in this chapter

a/n > reader cenetred. author has family issues so will be found family-ing this shit. author has no military knowledge so don’t crucify me. also have no idea how long it takes to officially become a Lieutenant but we’re going with around 5 years - shortened from 7+ because us readers are smart and can go to college. it’s very much just poetic feels, but I promise the angst with Simon directly comes eventually. He’s kind of a dick tbh but that’s cause he’s emotionally repressed. i’m romanticising this because i’ve lived through similar and wish this was how it ended lmao

ao3

Simon Riley was the bane of your existence. His very being pissed you off to no end, and it wasn’t unwarranted. That anger had once been crippling sorrow and grief over what you had lost. The anger had begun as a small seed, planted in the harsh words he growled at you through gritted teeth that night. The same words that you hissed back in his face. But eventually you had managed to move on from the love of your life. Managed to move on after weeks spent with tear stained pillows and the stuffed animal he had won you once hugged to your chest. You would’ve shoved that thing in the back of your closet, but you figured you shouldn’t take your anger out on the poor thing.

Thinking of him still makes you wince like hitting your shin against a table leg, but less so. It’s faded to a simple bruise on your heart that still aches from time to time. A phantom pain for the ghost that still haunts you. Like smoke in the wind. You still fear whispering his name at night as if his spirit will come back to haunt you. You still have the keys to his apartment in your bedside drawer. You still remember where he keeps his spoons. Sometimes you wonder how many cups of tea you’ve wasted from pouring them down the drain after realising you’re still stuck in the habit of making two.

However, you know it’s for the best that you’ve parted ways. It reminds you a little of a moment in your life with him, ironically. There was this one time that you had managed to drag Simon to the beach as a small celebration for him and were out swimming as the sun had set. He only stuck his toes into the water as you swam out until you couldn’t reach the bottom. He had told you he wouldn’t save you, and you shouted back in response that you didn’t need saving. You almost want to thank him now for saying that he’d let you drown. Thank him for teaching you that you never needed saving. Not from him anyways.

It was this exact night that had led to the complete and utter dismantling of your relationship with one Simon Riley. Recalling it stings like sand in the wind against your bare legs. The kind of pelting pain that leaves no visible marks but hurts nonetheless. It steals the breath from your lungs and puts a stone in your heart.

You were so happy, so very happy. And you thought that Simon would be too. Especially for you. You broke the news to him as you were laying there on the beach that you wanted to join the military. You wanted to continue that it was because you had looked up to him so very much and wanted to do good just like he did. Even if he didn’t exactly believe he was. Before you could do so though, he had blown up on you. Completely. It was a complete shift from the Simon you thought you had known. You shudder to recall exactly what he had said, but it escalated enough for one of you to call it off.

It had gone silent after those words were uttered.

Complete silence.

You had refused to let the tears fall until you had grabbed your shit and booked a flight back to your home town. The airport bathroom had offered a greater sympathy than he had ever given you. He never even called you. You think that’s what hurts the most. That you didn’t mean enough to him to even try and work this out. You expected better from him. You truly did.

“I can’t fucking believe how bloody stupid you would have to be to do that.”

Nonetheless, you picked yourself up and signed up for the military with your family and friends supporting your every move. Your every breath. You learned to defend yourself, learned to love yourself. You had gotten around here and there, but nobody ever truly measured up to Simon. Sometimes you wonder what would’ve happened if you two had met when you were already in the military, but you always shut down those what if thoughts quite quickly. No use dwelling on something that could never be.

“This is a big fucking mistake, love.”

You rose the ranks quickly, using your spite to your advantage. Every man that reminded you of Simon always made you fight even harder. You had always told a half truth when someone asked why you wanted to join. Not the story of pain and bitterness, but the one of hope and admiration of an old friend. It made you want to throw up after the third time of giving that response, so eventually you simply changed the subject when someone asked. You didn’t even spill your past when you were blackout drunk; it being too painful even then. You drowned your sorrows in liquor and nicotine, going out with your top tier squad every Friday. Sometimes when it came to a close and you were left with the quiet of your own deafening thoughts you went outside to smoke a pack of Simon’s favourite cigarettes. A weakness that you hated yourself for.

"You are no saint, and you are no saviour either. You're just lying to yourself."

Those words ring out in your mind every time you fail to save someone. A fellow soldier or a civilian, it doesn’t matter. Self doubt creeps up on you, smothering you in its grasp. Your hands remain stained with their blood, no matter how much you scrub your skin raw in the shower. You hear their screams ring out in your brain at night, piercing the thin veil of fitful sleep that you’ve resigned yourself to after you had lost the warmth of your other half that used to hold you tight at night. Your eyes had lost their brightness, though you can’t say it’s exactly correlated to the loss of the victims. You couldn’t prove Simon right in that aspect. Not after you’ve come this far.

"Anything would be better than this!"

You wanted to believe that so badly, but your heart longed for this career almost as much as it did him. You took pride in those you had saved; albeit still haunted by those you could not. The abilities you had earned your right to were presented proudly through tactical patches displayed on your uniform - chest candy as he would’ve called it. But if he couldn’t support you through this, you didn’t know how to trust him for future endeavours. The lack of apologies simply cemented your decision and mindset.

"Why would somebody do this on purpose?"

It’s a question whose full answer still eludes you to this day. All you know is that you felt homesick for this life before even experiencing it. It’s the ache in your bones and has been carved into your ribs so you may feel the torment and euphoria all at once when your heart slams against the cage that keeps it safe. Contained.

It’s these thoughts that occupy your mind on the plane trip to the infamous compound that houses the 141 Taskforce. Anxiety pierces your nerves, sending what little food you had that morning tumbling around your stomach. Forgetting your meds this morning was likely the worst thing that you could have possibly done. Except for completely ghosting this experience. How odd it is to be haunted by someone still alive. Someone who has no idea if you’re still breathing, let alone travelling to your very location at that moment.

There was no logical reason for you to turn this collaboration down; in fact, in any other circumstances you would be proud of rising so far that you were sent to this facility. Except for the fact that it was this facility. The very one that your ex who has tormented you through night a day for years. You hadn’t spoken a word of his name to anyone after the first month following the breakup. You wanted a life where your friends didn’t even know his name, let alone his significance. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be a part of your life anymore.

You repeat this mantra to yourself as you realise you’re finally landing.

Shit.

That syllable is the only thing bouncing around your head as you’re greeted by John Price. The John Price. Alone, you notice. You had heard bits and pieces of Ghost’s team, but mostly of either Soap’s shenanigans or Price’s rulings over him. You swallow harshly and shake the hand of the powerful Captain. The very same one that had no idea that one of his subordinate’s had been your previous lover. And you planned to keep it that way at all costs.

“Welcome to the base Lieutenant, I’ve heard great things about you and your stealth skills on the battlefield,” Price spoke, shaking your hand firmly.

Lieutenant. You had always loved the sound of that word in front of Simon’s name, and had similarly always wondered how it would sound in front of yours. It brought a sense of satisfaction rushing through your veins, and yet at the same time it brought you to your knees from nausea. It reminded you too much of him.

“There was the callsign ‘Angel’ in the details Laswell sent over. Would you say that still suits you?” Price says, almost amused.

Angel. You had never intended for it to be ever spoken to you again considering its connotations with a nickname Simon had always called you. His little angel. He claimed that you were sent down from the heavens to save the sinners; although, you had never considered him one until the breakup.

How you had gained this callsign is a story that makes you want to shake like a wet dog. Shake the memory off until it vanishes from your grasp. When you were simply doing your job and slowly climbing the ranks through your initial trade training, you had this sergeant that had taken a liking to you. Much to your chagrin. He had started every conversation with the classic pickup line about you falling from heaven. It was pure torment that you had to endure for almost a full year; a year in which the nickname stuck. Nobody was willing to do anything about it, and you weren’t willing to cause a fuss by tattling on your - at the time - superior. It ended up following you out of that academy into your career.

Although, you had quickly earned the added benefit of having ‘Angel of Death’ be your full callsign after you had proven your covert operation skills - effectively wiping out an entire compound by yourself with none the wiser. Safe to say that mission was a success. The name now had something to do with your actual skills instead of your physical appearance and led you to cringe at the honorific less and less.

“I don’t think I’d be able to answer to anything else, Sir,” You answer, wincing at the mention of your callsign nonetheless.

He sends you a questioning look at your small recoil, but brushes it off in favour of moving onto a general tour of the area. It was a sizable facility with many accommodations that made you almost smile with anticipation of taking advantage of all of them. I mean, you even got your own personal shower with your room. Who is going to complain about that?

“So, that’s basically it,” Price finishes up the tour in his office. “I know you already signed off with Laswell on your contract, but just for the record, may I have you sign a few documents here in this folder? Feel free to take your time going through them.”

You overlooked the folder, noticing what little details you had shared throughout your career being asked to be confirmed by your penmanship. It makes you give a shallow smile at the memories you’ve contracted through your experiences. Some less than savoury, but many you wouldn’t give up for the world. You were looking forward to catching up with your friends back at your old base once you were settled in, but until then you scratched pen against paper.

You had finally completed signing on all the lines, getting a little tired at being told ‘here, here, and here’ over and over again. Your eyes burned with exhaustion, not quite realising how much your anxiety had taken out of you. Your hands had a small leftover tremor plaguing them as you handed the pen back to Price, but you felt better. Significantly better.

“I can tell you’re tired, so I’ll lead you to your quarters and let you rest there for tonight,” Price says, sending you a small quirk of his lips.

“Thank you, Captain,” You reply, sending a tired yet appreciative look in his direction.

“Oh, please, call me Price. If you know Kate as well as she says you do, you’ve earned that at the least,” He laughs.

You flush red, letting out a bashful grin at that. It was true that you had run into Kate a few times before realising what a big part she played in your field of work. Most of the time at the coffee shop where you held a part-time job while attending the military academy. However, the time you had sat across from her and her wife after getting stood up really sealed the deal. You being introduced as the ‘person that actually gets our coffee right’ which gave you all a good laugh. They had comforted you once you opened up about why you were at a fancy dinner alone, they welcomed you into their open arms, and that was that. The topic ended up on what you were studying for, and it all came out into the open. The silent conversation those two had with their eyes before opening up had almost made you shit yourself before Kate explained.

You had tried to stay slightly distant after figuring out exactly what she did for a living, but she had shut that down real quick - saying that if anyone had dared to call you a nepo-baby that they wouldn’t live to tell the tale. You really hoped she was exaggerating.

Back in the present, you were letting out a laugh at Price’s words before there was a knock at the door. Your heart dropped to your stomach, making your breath stumble before completely halting. In your heart, you knew who it was before Price even told him to let himself in. The gruff voice saying he didn’t expect Price to have company so late made you feel like a deer in headlights, unable to move as their untimely demise stares them right in the face.

Except this time around, this deer had broken through the freeze reaction long ago. You had learned and adapted, unwilling to relive being frozen as Simon yelled in your face yet again. You couldn’t face the shame quite yet, not unprompted at least.

You quickly turned away from your initial reaction of turning to the door. You mouth goodbye to Price and nod in respect; hoping that he would forgive you for abandoning his office without any notice. You kept your eyes to the floor, feeling his eyes staring holes through you, burning your skin like a bullet wound.

You had changed a lot throughout the years, more so in preparation for being moved here. You weren’t going to turn down this once in a lifetime opportunity just because of a silly disagreement over half a decade ago. You remember staring at a face you barely recognize today while gripping the porcelain off white sink in your shared bathroom. Past you taking actions to change your hair into something that ended up being the new normal. You had taken a page out of Ghost’s book and invested in DIY-ing a personalised mask that resembled a bird with tinted glass shielding your eyes from anyone that could recognize you simply off that. You actually had quite a few - each one for a different occasion.

Nonetheless, the mask you currently wore, its only purpose that you cared about right now was hiding your identity. Simon didn’t immediately react, so you took that as a good sign. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was simply concealing his emotions, but you had a feeling that wasn’t the case. You peruse the halls, not entirely sure how to get to your room. You had a vague idea, but backtracking made it a little more difficult. Especially since you were more concerned with conversing with Price than memorising the exact layout.

You take a turn around a corner, immediately bumping into someone with a familiar face, your eyes betraying your displeasure as you wordlessly stared into the Scots eyes.

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