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seijorhi · 4 years ago

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To the Wolves

my (first) entry for the Deal With the Devil collab, because i couldn’t resist writing for Yakuza Getou <33

Getou Suguru x Female Reader

TW Extremely dubious consent, coercion, manipulation, threats, implied murder, smut, nsfw

“No. I- I won’t.”

Sitting comfortably on the old, worn couch in your cramped little apartment, Getou raises a single eyebrow, “Oh? Is that so?”

His voice is perfectly pleasant, the smile on his face a touch amused, but you’re not so naive as to believe that the question is anything but a generous offer for you to rethink your reply. A smart person would take it – since the day you’d first arrived home to find him waiting for you, Getou hadn’t so much as laid a finger on you. He had no need for guns or knives, never shouted or bullied you, his reputation more than enough to cow you into submission before he’d even opened his mouth.

Of course, once he had, the simple threats to your friends and family’s lives had made certain that you were more than amenable to his request.

A mutually beneficial arrangement, he’d called it, as if there hadn’t been tears silently streaming down your face, your whole body stiff with fear.

But that was the world he came from. Violence and ruthlessness, cruelty masquerading as kindness.

By all accounts, someone like you – a lowly admin assistant living a very boring, mundane life – should never have crossed paths with a man like Getou. The irony, of course, being that it was precisely because of your job that he’d been drawn to you in the first place.

“I-I said no,” you stammer. “I’m not doing it.”

Getou sighs, long, pale fingers idly fixing the cuff of his left sleeve. “I had no idea the lives of your loved ones meant so little to you.”

“Please, I-” you break off, biting your lip as your hands curl into useless fists at your side, “I can’t. Anything else, I’ll do anything, I swear it, just… please.”

Men like Getou aren’t the type to be swayed by pretty words or tearful pleas, but there’s an unmistakable glimmer of interest that flickers in his eyes at the offer. Casually, he leans forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and regarding you with a smirk. “So you’ll bring me the list of witnesses then?”

The barely audible hitch in your breath is enough to make him chuckle.

“No? How about those surveillance tapes, hm?” Smoothly, he rises to his feet and makes his way towards you. “Careful, little one, first rule of negotiation is knowing when you have something to bargain with. Don’t promise me what you can’t give.”

“Getou–”

He raises a hand and you quickly fall silent. There’s only inches between you two now, Getou’s taller, broader frame looming over yours. He could kill you like this, you realise with panic – reach out and wrap his hands around your throat and snap your pretty little neck before you could so much as scream. The tailored line of his jacket hides the gun he has holstered at his side, but Getou knows you're aware of its presence, have been since the very first time he’d broken into your home and threatened you.

It’d take him only moments to draw the sidearm, even less for him to pull the trigger.

The walls of your apartment are thin, would your neighbours come if they heard gunfire? Would you, for that matter, if your roles were reversed?

Yet Getou makes no move for his gun, instead reaching for your chin, tilting it up with two curled fingers until you meet his gaze, “You understand, don’t you, that I make one phone call and that charming sister of yours and her fiance meet a very tragic, very untimely end?”

He pauses, waiting until you jerk a quick nod of assent before continuing. “You love them. There’s nothing wrong with that, nothing wrong with prioritising the ones you love over everybody else.” His voice is gentle, but the words make you shake, dread rising from the pit of your stomach as the pad of his thumb grazes over your bottom lip.

You don’t know if you’re supposed to say something to that, but even as you try, you can’t summon the words. The by now familiar scent of his cologne tickles your nose and invades your throat, the warmth of his touch burning through your veins. Your own heart hammers like a drumbeat in your chest, every cell in your body screaming danger, but you don’t run, you don’t even flinch.

Getou smiles kindly, and perhaps if you hadn’t seen first hand the aftermath of his handiwork you might be tempted to believe it. His spare hand reaches into his jacket, but instead of the gun you’re expecting, he pulls out his phone, the screen flickering to life with a swipe of his finger. “So tell me, before I make a call you and I both know you don’t want me to make, why you’ve suddenly decided that their lives aren’t worth your compliance?”

Nanami. Your boss’s face flashes to your mind, the odd, fleeting glances he’d sent your way over the past few weeks when he’d thought you weren’t paying attention. Your stomach erupts with butterflies, your cheeks unwittingly warming, but you just shake your head, “If I give you those files, you’ll kill them. You’ll hurt them.”

“Maybe,” he hums, “maybe not. It’s no less than those monkeys deserve, don’t you think?” He spits the word like it’s venom, the twitch in his jaw the only chink in his otherwise effortless composure. “You’re protecting them, even now.”

You make no attempt to defend yourself, terrified of saying the wrong thing and setting him off, but Getou seems entirely unfazed, laughing coldly at your stricken expression.

“Your boss, the one with the perpetual stick up his ass; Nanami,” potent disdain drips from his tone at the name, “Always so morally righteous, sitting up on his high horse. You think he cares for you, that he’ll protect you when all of this comes out? And it will come out eventually,” he says, his smirk widening at the sudden pallor in your face. “At some point there’ll be one too many unfortunate coincidences, and the higher ups will realise that they have a mole in their ranks. Fingers will be pointed of course, but eventually even those idiots will figure it out.”

A knot tightens inside of your chest at his words, constricting until it feels like you can’t breathe. You’re shaking your head, eyes filling with tears, “N-no–”

“Oh, little one,” Getou murmurs, dark eyes drinking in every ounce of your distress. “Surely you realised that they have security cameras covering every inch of your floor? There was no reason to look before, but once they do…” he trails off, letting go of your chin in favour of brushing the back of his knuckles along your cheek. “They’ll throw you to the wolves.”

His voice is soft and cruel, belied by the gentleness of his touch, but it does nothing to quell the rising sense of dread inside of you. You want to believe it’s a lie, another threat meant to scare you into submission, but some deeper part of you recognises the truth in his words.

Nanami, who’d told you once that there was innocence and there was guilt and very little in between. Nanami, whose office you’d bugged, whose trial only weeks ago you’d all but derailed with a few misplaced documents. You think back to the late nights shared in his office, bowls of ramen and case files scattered across the desk between you. You think of the rare smiles, his oddly dry sense of humour, the pleasant fluttering in your heart–

“You’ll rot in prison long before I do, and there is not a soul among that insipid bunch that would lift a finger to stop that from happening to you.”

A soft, strangled noise leaves your lips as you fight not to sob, and Getou sighs, the corners of his lips twitching downwards in contrived sympathy. “Say the word and I’ll walk away tonight. I’ll still have to kill your sister – I am a man of my word, you understand – but I promise it’ll be the last you see of me.”

He slides his phone back into the breast pocket of his jacket, taking your face in both of his hands as tears spill down long lashes. “And when they come for you, you can tell them I threatened you, show them what little proof you have – if you have any at all. Maybe it’ll even make a difference,” he says. “But I doubt it.”

Every word is like a knife, slicing away at the raw, bleeding, vulnerable parts of you.

“Please…” It’s weak and desperate, your voice cracked and broken. You don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore; your sister’s life, for Getou’s mercy, or maybe just for him to stop saying such awful things. He must take pity on you though, because he sighs once more, his right thumb sweeping across your wet cheek to brush away silvery tear tracks.

“I’m not a complete monster, you know. I protect what’s mine.”

And in one breath, everything screeches to a standstill and a trickle of very real fear creeps down your spine. There’s no mistaking his implication, not when he’s holding your face like that, his eyes dark and simmering with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

“W-what?”

Getou closes the gap between you two, a startled noise leaving your lips as his hips press flush up against you. “Don’t play stupid, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and it sounds like a warning, “It doesn’t suit you.”

One hand slips to your neck, the other curling almost possessively around your waist. There’s no room for you to move, to back away or free yourself. For a moment, neither of you speak, the heavy silence deafening between you.

Does he notice the way your pulse races under his fingertips as they circle your throat, how you’re shaking like a leaf beneath him? Does he want you afraid? A scared little bunny rabbit cowering from the gaping maw of the big, bad wolf?

Judging from the bulge of his semi-hard cock pressing into the soft flesh of your belly, he’s not entirely unaffected, and for the first time it’s not Getou’s gun or his threats that you’re most afraid of.

It’s the selfish, twisted want that glitters and glints in those pitiless depths. You’ve never felt so entirely at somebody else’s mercy as you do with Getou now, staring you down like he wants to lay you bare, claim you again and again for all the world to see. And you don’t understand. There’s a thousand and one questions running through your mind, your insides twisted up into knots.

You know what it is he’s asking of you – though asking feels like a generous word when he can so easily just take – but none of this makes sense, not when he was threatening your family’s lives only minutes ago.

As if he can sense the turmoil and confusion raging through you, he leans down, his lips ghosting over the outer shell of your ear. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll walk away right now.”

I am a man of my word.

His earlier statement rings through your head as you search his face for any sign of deception – you find none. But walking away means your sister dies. It means you’re left on your own to fend off the wolves when they find out what you’ve done.

Nanami might believe you. He might even defend you, but you’ve worked in the Prosecutor’s office long enough to know that duress isn’t the bulletproof defence people think it is, and for tangling with the likes of him…

You were screwed the moment he showed up in your living room, this- this is just the coup de grâce. The final damnation.

“Why me?”

Getou doesn’t answer, but when he draws you into a kiss, his lips moving torturously slow against yours, there’s an edge of… something there, lying hidden just beneath the surface. And it terrifies you, more than his words and his promises ever could.

But when your back’s to the wall, what choice do you really have?

It feels like defeat when he takes you by the hand and leads you into your bedroom, ignoring the uncertain glance you cast over your shoulder towards the living room. You don’t want any of this, but you can pretend that it’s just… business if he fucks you out there.

Not in the bed you sleep in.

It’d be easier, you think, if it was cold and impersonal. If you cried and it stung and the only sounds in the room were flesh hitting flesh, ragged breathing and an occasional rough grunt.

There’s nothing impersonal about the way he watches you strip out of your clothes at his command. His own join yours on the floor without much ceremony – his gun pointedly set just within reach atop your nightstand.

The first time you’d laid eyes on Getou Suguru, it was two months into your new job; a photograph pinned to a thick, heavy file Nanami had dropped on your desk. A surveillance picture, you’d gathered, snapped as the man was exiting some neon lit club downtown. And you remembered the smug smirk he’d had, staring directly down the lens of the camera like it was a challenge, but that wasn’t what had struck you most.

It was the flutter of interest that’d shot through your veins the moment before common sense kicked in. Tall and fit, with long, dark hair swept up in the wind, a sharp jaw and a handsome face, you remember thinking he was probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen.

Now, standing naked before you, bright, colourful tattoos inked across his torso, accentuating the muscles that rise and fall with every measured breath, you can’t bear to look. It’s easier just to stare at the wooden floorboards, the corner of the shagged rug you’d bought at a thrift store when you first moved in. Easier to pretend Getou isn’t pulling you closer once more, pressing searing, open mouthed kisses along your neck, murmuring words that are lost to you entirely as his hands wander. You can feel it now, the heat of his body as he cages you in, his cock, thick and heavy and flushed nudging insistently up against your stomach.

You expect him to shove you to your knees, to force his cock down your throat in some archaic show of dominance before he claims your cunt, but he doesn’t.

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he whispers into your ear, teeth catching lightly on the sensitive lobe as you shiver. “Like you do when I’m not here, those pretty legs spread, fucking yourself on your fingers…”

The comment feels too familiar to be entirely offhanded, striking a chord of panic somewhere deep inside of you–

But it doesn’t make a difference. It doesn’t matter now.

You allow him to kiss you again before climbing onto the mattress. Like a good girl, you fall back onto the pillows, let your legs ease apart, wrapping your lips around two fingers and sucking for a brief moment before gliding your hand down between your thighs.

His breath hitches, a soft curse sounding when saliva slicked digits spread your folds, the tip of your middle finger brushing lightly against your clit as you stroke your pussy. Your nipples harden and peak under the cool night air and you use your free hand to palm at your breast, pinching and teasing at the sensitive bud while one finger slips into the warmth of your cunt.

The mattress dips, Getou climbing onto the bed, settling himself back on his knees, your spread legs either side of him.

“Beautiful,” he breathes.

Your heart stutters, movements jerking as you brace for him to interfere, to touch you, but aside from nudging your thighs further apart to get a better view of your glistening cunt, he seems content simply to sit back and watch, his own hand lazily stroking at his cock.

Trying in vain to block him out, you squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the way your fingers feel between your legs, the pleasure–

(Not the shame, don’t think about that, don’t think about Getou watching you debase yourself for his enjoyment)

–that pools in your core as you rub the shining pearl of your clit. It’s a familiar dance, a routine you’d normally help along with a glass of wine and a few faithful toys, but you don’t exactly have that luxury here.

And even with the rigid tension in your shoulders, the unwanted presence of a man you’re terrified of impossible to ignore, you can’t help the quiet moan that slips past your lips, the way your hips stutter, grinding against the heel of your palm as your fingers hit that sweet, delightful spot inside of you.

Getou tenses at the sound, the last, fragile thread of his composure snapping–

He strikes fast. One moment you’re biting down on your bottom lip, your index and middle fingers knuckle deep in your dripping pussy, the next he’s braced atop you, one hand locked around your wrist, the other propping himself up. And as your eyes fly open with a startled cry, his lips crash against your once more – desperate and ravenous, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth to taste you.

And you don’t fight it when he pulls your hand from your pussy and drags it to his crotch, his fingers entwining with yours as he wraps them around his heavy, throbbing cock and moans. It’s humiliating, the way he thrusts into your hand, tightening his grip so you’re forced to feel every shivery twitch of his dick while he sucks eagerly on your tongue.

This is the choice you’d made, the deal you struck. It’s too late to back out now, and even if you tried to…

“I want you,” he pants, his lips glistening with saliva, an almost manic look in those dark, pretty eyes, “to ride me.”

… you’re not so sure Getou would let you.

So you allow yourself to be manhandled, lifted and situated across his lap like a doll. Hands braced on his tattooed chest, you lift your hips just enough for him to guide his cock to your slick entrance before slowly sinking down onto his length.

Every inch hurts.

It doesn’t make it any less painful, the way Getou soothes you, his thumbs stroking gently at your waist as you whine and mewl, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock as he stuffs you full.

“Fuck– good girl, taking me so well,” he purrs.

You’re not sure if it’s shame, pleasure, or some sense of twisted pride at the praise that has your pussy clenching, fire racing through your veins when Getou experimentally rocks his hips upwards. And if your cheeks weren’t already burning, the lewd moan that escapes you when the head of his cock hits your g-spot would certainly do the trick.

Ever observant, he wastes no time capitalising on your slip, lifting you up just to drive you back down onto his length at the perfect angle. You shudder around him, keening out a cry that has him groaning in pleasure.

There’s no illusion of control here between you two.

You might be the one on top, but Getou’s grip’s too tight, guiding every roll of your hips against his, his own rising in time to fuck his cock deeper into your warm, velvety cunt. And somewhere distantly you recognise that this could be a thousand times worse. How easily he could change the narrative in a heartbeat, flip you over, force your face into the pillows and fuck you like a dog until you’re gasping for air. He could use you, hurt you, probably kill you without ever needing to touch the gun he’d left on your nightstand – and you wouldn’t have a hope in hell of stopping him.

But he doesn’t. Lying back against your pillows, dark hair falling from his half up-do, cheeks flushed from exertion, Getou’s attention is wholly fixed on you - on your face, eyes screwed shut, bottom lip caught between your teeth as he hits somewhere deep inside of you that has you seeing stars, on your tits, the way they bounce every time you sink back down onto his cock.

His eyes are hooded, dark and intense, searching for every hint of pleasure he’s drawn from you. You gasp his name, fingers digging into his chest, your cunt fluttering so deliciously around him – and he loses that last little bit of his self control.

He jerks upright, one arm wrapping around your waist to anchor you to him as he braces himself with the other, and before you can so much as gasp his mouth is at your tits, hot tongue laving at soft, supple skin there.

“Suguru,” he growls, hips snapping feverishly against yours.

“Suguru,” you parrot, head lolling back as heat coils tighter in your core.

You’ll worry about the consequences later, when he pulls you boneless and sated into his arms and you feel his heart thumping at your back as he kisses you and tells you to sleep. When tomorrow you arrive at work and Nanami stares a beat too long as the love bites scattered across your throat, no doubt wondering why you won’t so much as look at him.

For now, you settle for pulling him closer, gasping as you chase that quaking, blissful end.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere getou suguru #yandere getou #yandere getou suguru x reader #yandere getou x reader #yandere jjk #tw: dubcon #tw: coercion #tw: threats #tw: implied murder #yandere #deal with the devil collab

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years ago

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All I Wanna Be Is Somebody To You

A Jason Todd x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: None

Author's Note: For the one anon who wanted a nervous reader! I hope I did this justice for you, darling! Enjoy! -Thorne

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She didn’t hate talking. Not really. But the idea of holding conversations with people she didn’t know sent her heart fluttering and her throat tightening until it was impossible to breathe. More often than not, she found herself apologizing a lot for the stuttering or the repeating of things she said. Most people gave her odd looks, told her to stop apologizing so much (like that ever helped anyone), or laughed and told her she was cute—which was nice until she realized they meant in a childish sort of way rather than an endearing one.

But it wasn’t always like that. According to her parents, there’d been a time when she couldn’t stop talking. Always had something to say and had somebody to tell. Something changed during her years, she knew when, even if she didn’t want to admit it to herself or her family when they asked what happened to their outgoing and talkative daughter. Too many times she’d heard, “You know no one cares about X, right?” or “Oh my God, will you shut up?” and every time she heard it from a friend it dug into her a little deeper, made her shut her mouth tighter, and tore her heart much harsher.

And because she chose to be the silent type instead of the outgoing one, people assumed her arrogant and cold, distant and rude, and she found herself spending most of middle school and high school by herself. She was glad when graduation came, and while she’d dreaded giving her valedictorian speech, she did manage to get through it without too much trouble. It did feel like her one triumph against everyone who ignored her throughout school.

College freed her. Allowed her to make a flexible schedule, take smaller classes, and be solitary when she wanted. She’d refused a dorm room on the campus, living only fifteen minutes from Gotham University, instead choosing to commute daily and she liked it a lot more than having roommates in a four-bedroom apartment on the school grounds.

When she wasn’t in class, she stayed home a lot. It came with being a homebody, but when she did go out into the great big city, she liked to shop. Little antique shops or bookstores. She went to bookstores more than she did school. There was something so wonderful about finding a book in the shop and sitting down at a café and reading quietly. Which is how she met him, and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why he wanted anything to do with her. She was quiet and shy, and he was open and flirty. They obviously didn’t match in any way, shape, or form. At least, that’s what she thought.

***

She drew her gaze along the wall of books before her, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she searched for the novel. It’d been a long time since she’d read The Count of Monte Cristo, a copy of her father’s that he’d had when she was just a child. Something had reminded her of it the other day and all she could think about was getting her own so she could annotate in the margins.

As she came across it, she started reaching when someone got to it first, one finger pulling it out by its spine before taking it into their hand. She visibly deflated with a soft sigh as it was the last copy and hung her head in defeat.

“I’m sorry, were you wanting this too?” Her head cocked up and she gazed at the young man before her. He smiled and she felt like she’d been shot in the chest at how dazzling it was. “Here, you can have it.”

Swallowing thickly, she shook her head, “You got it first.” Nodding, she added, “It’s yours.”

He cocked a brow at that. “Well, from the devastated look on your face, doll, you want it to be yours.”

Her cheeks warmed at that, and she felt nervous where she stood, resisting the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. “N-no it’s okay.” She said. “You take it.”

“Oh no you don’t. That’s not how this works.” He chuckled and took her hands, pressing the book into them, then he winked at her. “The doll deserves to have her book.”

If there had ever been a time in which she wanted to explode from embarrassment, it was then, and before she knew it, she shoved the book back into his arms and so hard that it must’ve knocked the wind out of him because he gasped. She spun around and took off down the aisle and out the front doors as fast as she could, wanting nothing more than to disappear in the crowded streets. That or sink into the ground. Maybe next week she’d come back and get the book. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be there again.

***

Then again, her hopes were always wrong, and she picked up the copy of The Divine Comedy, flipping it open to read the first page.

“I see you’re a fan of the classics, aren’t you, doll?”

She snapped the book shut when she heard his voice and looked over at him. Something inside annoyed her at the cocky smirk he wore, much more was the arm he had resting on the top of the bookshelf as he gazed at her.

“You know, you left a nice bruise on me the other week.” He quipped, shifting his weight to cross his ankles. “You’re pretty strong.”

“Thank you,” she muttered, turning to look back at the book. “Sorry I hit you…it was an accident.”

“Well, I can accept your apology if you tell me your name.”

“Why?” she questioned quietly, wiggling her toes.

“Because I wanna put a name to such a cute face. Why else?” he flirted, and she scowled at the book cover. “Oh, that’s an even more adorable face.”

“Quit doing that!” she hissed. “It’s not funny!”

He chuckled. “Oh contraire, it’s actually hilarious.” He took a step towards her. “I’m Jason, by the way.”

Her eyes darted to the outstretched hand, and she stared at it for a split second before softly shaking it. “(Y/N).” she murmured.

Before she could pull her hand back, he raised it and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Enchanté ma chérie,” he professed, breath hot against her skin and just like before, she was so absolutely flustered she was yanking her hand back and poor Jason’s grip slipped, and he whacked himself in the face with his own hand.

“Nice to meet you!” (Y/N) yelped and scurried off down the aisle and to the register where she purchased her book in record time. Third time was the charm and she prayed that he wouldn’t be there again.

***

And whoever lived upstairs must’ve really had it out for her because she flipped the page in her One Thousand and One Arabian Nights and heard an exaggerated cough. Looking up through her eyelashes, she saw Jason standing there with a grin on his face. “Hello (Y/N),” he purred, and she immediately felt her cheeks become hot.

“Hi Jason,” she muttered, gazing at her book, listening to the chair screech as he sat down across from her.

“How are you doing today?” he asked, setting down his own copy of Arabian Nights.

(Y/N) cleared her throat, finding it harder to focus on the book over the smell of his woody and oriental cologne. She thought she smelled a twinge of tobacco with it. “I’m fine.” Her eyes found his teal ones for a moment. “And you?”

He smiled, making her heart pick up a beat. “Doing pretty good.” He winked. “I got to see you again. Though I’m hoping I don’t get hit again. Either by a book or my own fist.”

“Sorry…” she cringed, sinking down in her seat. “That was an accident.”

Jason shrugged and propped his elbows on the table, placing his chin on his fingers. “Don’t worry about it. Say, do you like coffee?”

“I do,” she murmured.

“Great, want anything from the café?” he asked, nodding at the board and she looked over at it.

“I guess I could order a latte,” she replied more to herself than him, starting to pull her wallet out.

“Nah, I got it.” Jason said, standing from his seat.

(Y/N) blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I said I got it.” He quipped and she jumped from her seat to stop him, but caught the leg of her chair, and she flailed, stumbling right into Jason. They went tumbling to the floor and she landed atop him. For a minute they were both stunned silent as the people in the store looked at them and he smirked at her. “Well, this saves me the trouble of asking you out to dinner.” He winked again. “Should’ve told me you had a bold streak, doll.”

She immediately scrambled up, placing one of her hands on his chest to shove off him when her leg slipped, and her knee went into his groin. He groaned and rolled over, holding his crotch and (Y/N) was so mortified all she could do was apologize profusely and at one point she was sure she was mixing up her words, but it didn’t matter. Grabbing her things, she started running off a third time.

Though she’d made it ten feet out of the door and down the street before someone grabbed her round the waist and hauled her to a stop. “Oh no! We’re not doing this pattern again! I am not getting hit a fourth time!”

(Y/N) spun in his arm and gaped at him. “I’m sorry!”

Jason sighed heavily and lowered his head. “Holy crap, I’ve never had such a hard time getting a girl to go out with me.”

“You wanna go out with me?” She pointed to herself despite her flustered state. “W-with me?” she gave him a dubious look. “Really? M-me?”

“Well, if you wanna hit me a fourth time to be sure, go ahead, but yeah,” he retorted then heaved another sigh. “Jeez, talk about getting hit on.”

(Y/N) spluttered at that. “I did not hit on you!”

“Right, you just hit me instead.”

“It was an accident! And I said I was sorry!”

Jason grinned at her and arm away. “Well, I’ll accept your sorry’s if you go on a date with me.”

She blinked at him. “A date? When?”

“Tonight.” He said. “There’s a bookstore down in the town square for insomniacs. Open until seven A.M. and serves a mean cup of hot cocoa.” Jason smiled and took her hand. “So? How ‘bout it, doll? Wanna go out with me tonight?”

All she could do was simply stare at this gorgeous man that obviously had a thing for her for some god forsaken reason. “Why?” she asked blankly, and he seemed to falter at that.

“Why what?” he repeated, confusion etching across his face.

“Why do you wanna go out with me?” (Y/N) gestured to herself. “I’m weird.”

“So am I.” he agreed.

“I stutter a lot.”

“So does my brother.”

“I don’t talk a lot. I don’t like talking a lot. People get mad at me when I talk a lot and I prefer to listen and you’re not going to like going out with me because I’m going to be super quiet because I get flustered easily and I—”

Jason put his hand over her mouth and stared at her. “Do you ever take a breath?” she nodded silently, and he sighed. “Look, (Y/N), it’s only taken getting shoved in the stomach with a book, getting punched with my own hand, and getting nut-shot to understand that you’re not exactly comfortable with the public.”

He removed his hand. “That’s why I invited you to the bookstore. Because even in the few weeks we’ve known each other, I know you like quiet places. But if you don’t feel comfortable going with me right now, that’s okay. We can take it slow.” Jason smiled at her. “Doll, all I wanna be is somebody to you.”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly and looked at her feet, whispering, “I…don’t wanna go out right now…but I’d like to give you my number…if you’re okay with that?” she shrugged. “We can text.” Feeling hopeful she reached out and placed her hang on his arm. “And get to know each other better? Maybe tell each other our favorite books? That’s…the best way in my opinion.”

His face lit up and he murmured, “I’d love that.” He pulled out his phone, tapping at it before he handed it over to her. “Here you go.”

She took it and looked at the contact name he’d already put in. My Flustered Doll. She glared at him. “You think you’re pretty cute, don’t you, Jason? You’re not. At all.”

He smirked. “Oh, is that so?” She nodded and he quipped, “We’ll just see about that then.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and typed in her number, handing him back his phone. “There you go.” He glanced at it, seemingly satisfied before he locked it and put it back in his pocket, then they met each other’s gazes and she awkwardly pointed over her shoulder. “I’m going home now.”

Jason caught her hand and kissed the back of it. “See you later, doll. Stay cute.”

She was hurrying off again, his laughter in her ears, unaware that their exchanging of numbers was going to evolve into so much more in the coming months.

***

“—And I’m pretty sure I can never show my face again at school, Jay. I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life.”

He hummed, fingers gently dipping into her spine. “Well, this is coming from the girl that nut-shotted be in the middle of a busy bookstore.”

“Why would you remind me about that?” (Y/N) scowled. “It was an accident.”

“And yet it can’t be more mortifying than telling a guy to shove his head up his ass.” He retorted, eyes still closed as they basked in the sunlight streaming through the window. “This is at least a five on the ten scale.”

“More like a hundred.” She muttered, tucking her head under his chin. “I can’t believe I said that to him. Oh, I was just so—just so mad at what he said about my poem! He was just being mean!” (Y/N) gripped his sweatshirt. “You understand right?”

Jason nodded, his other hand resting at her hip. “Mhm.”

“You don’t think I’m overreacting, do you?” she frowned. “Everyone else thinks I am.”

“Telling someone that their poetry isn’t good because it isn’t iambic pentameter isn’t following constructive criticism, doll. It’s called being a douche.” She giggled and he bent his neck, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Call me next time Lord Douche-Canoe starts on your poetry again and I’ll school him on face-time.”

(Y/N) giggled again and rolled over, pressing them chest to chest and she grinned when he whined at her moving. “Thank you, Jason.”

He smiled at her. “I only take my thanks in kisses. Sorry, doll.”

Rolling her eyes, she bent down and pressed her lips to his. “I love you,” she murmured against him, and he hummed, hands grasping her hips.

“I love you more.”

“Nonsense.”

“Nonsense?” he scoffed, pulling back to look at her. “I am willingly in a relationship with the girl who nut-shot me in—MMHPF!”

(Y/N) shoved a pillow into his face, face hot as she shouted, “Stop bringing that up! It was an accident!” All she got in return was his laughter.

469 notes · View notes

yoonpobs · 4 years ago

Text

bad boy good thing xv. | m

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: oral (m receiving), jk and oc in their feelings :c, fluff n cuteness tbh

words: 7, 816

summary: a series of drabbles where you’re confused and jungkook’s confusing

a/n:

im so sorry for the late update but it's finally here!!! it's been a hectic few weeks w my exam preparation coming right around the corner too :c

anyway!!!! we've got some smut after a while 👀so for visual purposes pls imagine jk from the butter mv, specifically his hair and eyebrow piercing ...

i hope you enjoy this chapter !!!

Safety was a very important aspect of your life. Everything that you did, you always weighed the realistic possibilities of you regretting your decision; mind running at one hundred miles per hour while you drew a mental mind map of every possible outcome you could possibly predict. It was exhausting to have your mind immediately come up with worst-case scenarios where the risk was realistically a meagre five per cent against the other ninety-five, but you were a chronic overthinker by nature.

You steered far from doing things that would end up causing more harm to you and your environment because you knew that there was no actual reason why you could justify getting completely wasted at a party. If it was for fun—surely, you’d vehemently oppose that the next morning.

Your friends, or even anyone who knew of you; always lamented you for your tendency to remain in your bubble. You knew that overall, you were an overthinker and that most of the time—nothing of what you conjured would actually happen purely because, well—your friends are still alive, and so were you. You just missed out on ‘fun’.

But old habits died hard. Maybe that was why the most reckless and impulsive thing that you did—was with Jungkook.

Out of all your friends, Jungkook was the one person that really did whatever he could get his hands, feet or body to do.

He was very determined by nature and a natural daredevil at that. You remember on multiple occasions where he and his family went on a family vacation, and he came back with stories of his adventures swinging from the top of a cliff upside down, getting a snake to wrap itself around his neck—and by far the most impulsive one, returning with a small tattoo of said snake on the back of his neck.

Jungkook was so unpredictable that neither of your friends could ever tell what he’d do next. And you supposed that added to his charm, but it didn’t take away from the five stages of absolute shock that you’d go through when you witness another one of his unpredictable tendencies.

Like right now.

“Please say something,” he laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck while you can only gape at him.

“Purple.” You blurt.

He blinks before his eyes dart upwards as his finger twiddles a few strands of hair between them.

“Yeah,” he hums, “It looks a little blue in some lights, though.”

You nod your head slowly, still processing what is probably the lesser surprising one between the two things that have you double-taking at his figure when you first greeted him at your door.

“That’s … not all,” you say slowly.

Jungkook offers you a lopsided grin that stirs something in your belly, and you don’t know if it’s his hair, or the fact that he’s starting to wear shorter sleeves as the weather begins to get hotter; his tattoos on display as it trails upon his arm—or if it was because of the—

“Eyebrow piercing?” He raises a brow, particularly the one with the eyebrow piercing as it glints under the natural sunlight that filters in the hallway, “So. Do you like it?” He asks, smile still small as he leans in for you to get a better look.

Your breath hitches when his face gets closer, but not enough for it to be insinuative in any way. It was just you and your weak-willed nature whenever it came to Jungkook. You hoped that he wasn’t able to see the way that your ears undoubtedly redden under the proximity.

“What matters is if you like it, Jungkook,” you remind him softly, shyly looking down to your feet.

He sighs, resting an arm against your doorway in a way that makes him look as large as the width of your door. His gaze is still calm and steady, lips curled ever so slightly as he rests his eyes on you.

“I know. But I care if you like it or not,” he retorts.

You scoff, waving him off, but a small grin still threatens itself onto your face.

“Well you shouldn’t,” you huff.

“Why not?” He hums as he cards a hand through his hair. Even if it’s a bright colour and you’re sure that it required copious amounts of bleach and hours at the salon to get the final result—it still looks soft when he swifts through the locks.

“Because,” you lull, “My opinion doesn’t matter. If you like it and you think it’s pretty then that’s more than enough.”

He clicks his tongue against his cheek before his eyes dart down. You’re still avoiding his gaze because you weren’t ready to have your senses assaulted with the way he’s crowding you in the doorway of your own home.

“You’re trying really hard not to compliment me right now,” he teases.

“I am not!” You splutter, ears turning red. Your eyes dart to your feet. “… but if it matters then … I like it. It’s pretty.”

Jungkook’s grin is nothing short of wide when his head reaches out to smooth your hair out of your face that forces you to look up at him. You attempt to keep your heart beat at bay, even if the way he looks pleased with your futile trial of complimenting him. In reality, you thought it looked more than just pretty. Jungkook looked … hot. He was already attractive as he was, and his confident yet quiet nature made him exponentially hotter—but his long, purple hair and the new eyebrow piercing just made him even sexier.

“It matters.” He smiles, cocking his head to the side as you bashfully step aside to allow him to enter your apartment.

He settles in like he’s the missing piece to the lonely nights you spend on your dining table studying away for a test or an exam. And you suppose that Jungkook’s always fit right in, wherever you were. He was a comfortable presence in your life, even when the two of you were in high school and he’d come over for tutoring lessons. Or when it’d be just you and him in your mother’s car while you taught him how to drive.

Jungkook’s somehow always filled in the other seat in your life when there called for two. Even when you note that he still sits on one foot while the other hangs off the couch, a habit he’s had since he was young, or the way that he’s still stupidly polite not to sprawl himself across your couch like Jimin and Taehyung did whenever they were over. Jungkook’s always been there and you were always there to see.

“So … what’s up?” His voice interrupts the daydream that got you a little more soft than you’d like. You shake your head as you shut the door behind you, turning around to fully face Jungkook.

“The ceiling?” You reply lamely, a soft chuckle escaping your lips when you see him roll his eyes.

“Ha ha,” he mocks, “I meant if there was anything you wanted to talk about. You know—since you texted me to come over.” He finishes with a raise of his brow.

You still as your brain processes his words. You did text him first. You had just finished a lengthy meeting with the student union and didn’t feel like studying just yet—and you just so happened to have been thinking about Jungkook when you caught a glimpse of your phone (when were you not).

You didn’t have a reason, even if your conscience would argue that you did and it was because you missed him. Even if you were the one that needed time. Your heart and mind wanted two different things, but they both revolved around Jungkook. So, you compromised and settled for a simple text.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, shuffling towards your couch as you plop in the loveseat across from him.

He ogles the way that you chose a seat that wasn’t the one that he was sat on. He doesn’t point it out, though. Instead, a firm line settles on his lips before he leans back to your couch, eyes still trained on your figure.

“You don’t need to sound so shy,” he says, “I’ll always come if you’re the one that’s asking.”

Your eyes widen when your head darts up. When you look at him, you swear that you’d melt because he was looking at you with mirth dancing in his eyes. The somewhat dim lighting of your living room made him look so … cosy. He looked more comfortable, probably knowing that you weren’t going to nag at him for manspreading at the way you can only stare. You don’t know if it’s on purpose but you’re sure it is—but Jungkook’s eyebrow piercing is strategically exposed when he raises a brow, flicking his bangs aside. Your brain short-circuits.

“It’s not—I’m not—I’m not …” You stutter when he catches you looking like a deer caught in headlights. But all he does is let out a deep chuckle before reaching an arm out.

You stare at the arm that extends itself, eyes trailing up the limb as you gawk at his tattoos. He wasn’t one to flaunt, even though he didn’t pretend like he didn’t have any. So even your friends didn’t catch much of his tattoos unless he was at the gym or changing during practices with the way he practically lived in long sleeves. But now, it was just you and him, in your living room while he practically invites you over with his smile and doe eyes.

“Come ere’,” he mumbles as you continue to stare, “Next to me, please.”

You blink a few times when you realise that he’s beckoning you over with the arm that’s extended. You buffer for a second when he continues to smile at you with that easy grin of his, the one that’s both able to calm you and reduce you into a mess of nerves. But after a few beats, your limbs start moving at their own accord as you push yourself off the couch, slowly inching towards Jungkook and the empty spot next to him where you plop down into.

“Here?” You ask softly.

He laughs, and it’s a nice sound. Your mind had been muffled ever since he first showed up with that new hairstyle of his and that Godforsaken eyebrow piercing, and now when he looks at you like you were the only thing that he’s ever wanted—your heart can’t take it.

“Closer.” He encourages with a tilt of his head. Then, he delivers the final blow. “Just wanna hold you.”

You freeze, hands stilling on the plush of your couch as you were about to shift closer. The words are still processing in your mind even if you knew exactly what he said and what he meant. The heat on your face was definitely proof of that.

“Oh my God, don’t just say that!” You cry, burying your head into the back of the couch when you turn away from him.

Jungkook’s still laughing at you, hands clutching his stomach instead of trying to reach out for you as you whine into the fabric. He was killing you and your poor heart, and he was doing a damn good job at it. He didn’t need to do much because his presence was always enough to reduce you to absolutely nothing and a pile of mush.

It was this ambiguous back and forth that you’ve settled into with Jungkook after your last serious conversation that had your heart weaker and softer than ever. Every moment you spent with him, even in the crowd of your friends—you knew what you wanted. But there was still an irrational (and insecure) part of you that wanted to wait. To see if he actually meant his confession or was he driven by desperation to keep a friend close.

You should’ve had faith in Jungkook the way he blindly and willingly put in you. Even if you were the more unstable one between the two of you. But your mind worked endlessly to remind you of what the two of you shared, and who you had to share him with—and how she was everything that you weren’t.

“I’m sorry!” He laughs, and you feel a hand reach around your waist to tug you upwards as you squeak at his show of strength. “Was that too much?” He asks softly when you’re facing him, face definitely still flushed as you avoid his face and opt to stare at the chain around his neck.

Even that was making your insides feel funny.

“No …” You mumble, leaning forward until your forehead is pressed against his chest as his fingers drum against your waist. “I’m just shy.”

He chuckles.

“You don’t have to be shy.” He tells you, “It’s just me.”

You blink up and narrow your eyes at him.

“That’s not fair! You can’t just turn up to my house looking like—that—and expect me to be fine!” You huff, gesturing towards his entire frame as he simply listens with an amused raise of his brow.

He tilts his head to the side and even has the audacity to look confused when he smirks at you.

“Me? What did I do? It’s just hair dye and a piercing.”

You huff.

“It’s just hair dye and a piercing,” you repeat in a low voice, clearly meant to represent him as his face scrunches adorably at your impression of him.

“That’s not how I sound like.” He deadpans.

You stick your chin up snootily with a satisfied smile.

“You so do. You sound that dumb with what you just said.” You retort petulantly.

Jungkook stares at you for one long second before he’s pulling you flush against his chest with a wide grin on his face as he attempts to smother you with his arm. You squeal when you feel his fingers around your waist as he squeezes the flesh. He manoeuvres his way around your body until you’re perched on his lap, hands reaching out against his chest so that you could establish some distance (which you fail miserably at).

The room is filled with your gasps and Jungkook’s cackles, and with the way he’s crowding your body with his own—all you can smell is Jungkook. He smells fresh, as always. Especially since he chooses to opt-out of cologne and pays favourable attention to the type of laundry detergent, body wash and shampoo that he uses that gives him the boyish, clean and charming natural scent that he has. And it drives you insane.

So when you look up at him through your lashes in a break when Jungkook’s heaving at how he’s attempted to tickle you, and all you can see is how good he looks with his purple hair paired with the way he unconsciously licks at his lips to wet them; and the eyebrow piercing and tattoos. You melt—and so does your filter.

“Can I suck your dick?”

Granted, that isn’t a question you pose after he’s just tickled you in good faith while giggling away with his doe-eyes, or even the way his hands are placed at a respectful distance away from your bum. And it definitely isn’t a question that Jungkook’s expecting because his eyes shoot wide open, while his foot kicks up hard enough that it crashes against your coffee table.

“W-What?!” He cries, hands gripping your shoulder to push you away so that he can get a proper look at your face.

And it’s on fire.

But you can’t take back your words, especially when Jungkook’s looking like he demands some sort of explanation.

“I—I …” You stutter but your body is lax in his, and your thighs are still straddling Jungkook’s. You aren’t stupid or that naive, so you definitely know the firmness that presses against your inner thigh is a sign that he’s not opposed to your proposition.

Before you can say anything with how your mouth fails you, Jungkook snaps up until your foreheads nearly crash against each other as he presses his palms against your cheeks, staring you intently in the eye until you’re squirming under the scrutiny.

“I don’t hate it.” He assures you softly, but his eyebrows are furrowed. “But I need to hear it from you that you know what you’re saying.”

You blink at him and all Jungkook does is wait for you patiently. What were you saying? That you wanted to suck his dick? You did. You wanted to do a lot of things to and with Jungkook. Curse him for turning up looking the way he did and meddling with your restraint on needing time. But there was a brewing feeling of need in your chest that wants to please Jungkook, that wants to see him quiver under your tongue the way he has had you before. They weren’t all pleasant memories, purely because your poor heart has had to fight to disassociate your feelings from pleasure when you couldn’t do it.

But you’ve never made Jungkook feel good, at least in the way he was able to do for you.

“I-I—” you mumble, eyes darting everywhere but Jungkook’s gaze doesn’t waver at all. You take a deep breath, nibbling on your lips as your eyes dart up to the ceiling before they return to his face. He’s still waiting. “I want to. I really do.” You assure him, your own hands reaching out to clutch at his collar.

Jungkook’s cock twitches in his pants, and you feel it. You give an experimental swivel of your hips because you know it must feel good for Jungkook. And it does with the way his breath hitches, but his hands leave your face to grab at your hips to stop your motions. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, but all Jungkook does is sigh.

“You don’t have to …” he whispers, “I—you said you needed time and I don’t want to ruin this. What we have.”

You purse your lips.

“I know I said I needed time but I want to, Jungkook,” you tell him seriously, “What happened before was a product of our miscommunication but it’s different now,” your eyes are firm when they stare into his, your face leaning forward for emphasis, “Unless you don’t want me to—”

“Baby, no,” he reaches out to pull you closer to his chest, “I do. God—I can’t think of anything else but … I don’t want to fuck this up.” His eyes flutter shut as he rests his forehead against your breast bone. It’s not sexual at all, and you can hear the genuine frustration that laces Jungkook’s voice.

“You won’t,” you say softly, reaching a hand through his hair, “I want to learn. I want to learn how to make you feel good too.” You whisper.

Jungkook releases a low groan that makes your stomach clench in desire. You realise that throughout the escapades that the two of you have engaged in, you were the vocal one purely in the sense that you were whining, moaning and sobbing in pleasure at Jungkook’s doing. But Jungkook was vocal in the way he spoke to you. Even if it was mean and you found yourself crying after it happened because he pretended that you didn’t exist—there was something about the way he guides you through your highs in that raspy voice of his that made you cum harder each time.

“You’re serious?” He asks, finally looking up to confirm with you.

You nod your head.

“Dead.”

He nibbles on his lips, as his eyebrows scrunch in focus. He was heavily contemplating your offer and even if you never propositioned any male to suck his dick before, you’ve never heard of a case where they’d be hesitant to receive one. But you and Jungkook were different. You knew what you felt for him, and he knew what he felt for you—and somehow that made your odd request all the more important for the both of you.

“We’ll be okay, right?” He asks hesitantly, afraid. Your eyes soften as you nod.

“I want this, Jungkook.” You tell him again, and you’d repeat it as much as you can for him to know.

He sighs deeply.

“If at any point you feel … overwhelmed … just say the word and we’ll stop, okay?” He says, holding you by the shoulder while he hardens his eyes at you in seriousness. You nod your head as you scramble off his lap in a motion fast enough that Jungkook can’t process it.

Before the both of you know it, you’re on your knees, settled in between his legs as you peer up at him. Your heart was thundering in your chest because you had no idea what the fuck you were doing, but you wanted to do this. All because of that damn hair and piercing of his.

“Your knees,” he murmurs, attempting to tug you up but you’re stubborn when you stay rooted in position, eyebrows furrowed in determination as your jaw ticks.

“Isn’t this how it goes?”

“They’re going to hurt,” he points out.

You roll your eyes before narrowing them at him.

“Do you usually complain this much before you get your dick sucked or what?” You snap, patience wearing awfully thin.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at your blunt statement, especially when you reach out to rest your palms on his thighs.

“I don’t mean …” he mumbles, hands gripping the couch because he’s too afraid to touch you, “It’s not like that and you know it.”

You sigh, leaning your cheek against his kneecap and he feels his heart go into overdrive. It was different, with you. This wasn’t just another girl that wanted to suck his dick for his approval or whatever—this was the girl of his dreams, readily waiting to learn how he liked it. Though he’d argue that he’d like anything you do to him because his love-glasses blinded him that way. But there was still fear ebbing away at his heart, terrified at screwing it up even if you were the proposer in this case.

“Jungkook, I’m not going to disappear on you after this,” you say softly, still peering up at him, “I want this.”

Your heart tightens when he hesitantly reaches out to rest a hand between strands of your hair as he tilts your head upwards. Something about just sitting between his legs as they sprawl out wider to accommodate your body seems do domestic and intimate. Even the context of the situation makes you tingle from your fingertips all the way to your toes—you were here to learn, from Jungkook; on what he liked and didn’t.

You didn’t plan this. Admittedly you and Yena have talked on more than one occasion about how you really wanted to sleep with Jungkook—you didn’t have a timeline for it. It felt weird to put a date to it so you shoved the thoughts aside even if they popped up every once in a while. This just so happened to be one of those moments where your mind ventures into a more explicit territory whenever you were with Jungkook.

“I know you need time but …” his eyes flutter shut before he leans his head back into the seat—eyes staring up at the ceiling as if he was searching for answers that he didn’t have with himself. You wait because you suppose that’s the least you could do when you made him wait for you while you attempted to deal with your own feelings. When he looks down, his eyes are gentle yet resolute, “You know I love you, right?”

He sounds nervous even if he’s said it before. But the words don’t fail to make you flush or evoke the tremble in your ribcage—a signal from your body that tells you that it’s only Jeon Jungkook that could ever make you feel this way.

“God,” you huff, but the corners of your lip twitch and that’s enough to tell Jungkook that you did. You knew. “Can you teach me? Please?”

You’re pressing forward again, eagerly shifting on your knees as Jungkook takes one long look at you as if he was memorising this image to eternity. When he decides he’s satisfied, he rests into the seat before gently coaxing your hands away from his thighs and towards his—

“Start here,” he guides with a low voice, large palm encasing your smaller ones as you feel the metal of his zipper come into contact with your skin.

You blush, but you were an overachiever for a reason. The potential embarrassment of fumbling is tucked away in your mind, your only concern and fascination lie with the fact that Jungkook’s already hard that you feel him brush against your wrist.

“Don’t you need to get hard?” You ask softly.

Jungkook blinks before he’s giving you that devastating smile of his, the one where only one corner of his lips turn up into an amused grin while you tilt your head at him in an inquisitive manner.

“I’m really hard right now,” he assures you; and to prove his point, his hand guides yours over the outline of his cock. You gasp because it’s the first time you’ve felt anything but your own intimates in your grasp.

You involuntarily squeeze your thighs together, appreciating the way that Jungkook’s beginning to bite on his lips while he focuses his attention purely on you. You knew just from feeling alone that Jungkook was not your averagely-sized male.

“O-Oh,” you breathe when your hands begin to work at their own accord—slowly unbuttoning his jeans, working your way down the zipper. The entire time, you’re occasionally looking up for any signs of approval from Jungkook, the resolved student in you needing appraisal from your teacher. And he picks up on your prompts, smiling at you gently even as his breath begins to turn uneven at the way you’re still gently pulling his pants down.

“You’re doing great,” his hand cards through your hair until his thumb reaches your cheek, rubbing a gentle motion to be paired with his words.

You smile to yourself, feeling more confident to tug his jeans down his thighs. You knew that Jungkook was well-built, it was a fact given that he was an athlete who frequented the gym more than any place on campus. He had impeccable stamina, even before he took football seriously—but the way that his thighs clench under your clammy hands only prove your point. But all you can really focus on is the outline of his cock from his boxers.

“Can I …?” You ask hesitantly, reaching out to tug at the hem of his boxers.

Before you can do anything, his hand stops your wrist as you immediately pause in your ministrations. Your eyes widen, fully ready to pull away in case you did something wrong. What if he didn’t like it? What if he changed his mind or that you were bad—?

“Stop thinking,” he chides, “I want this. I love your hands, anything that you do,” he whispers in reassurance as you swallow. “How about you feel me first? Over the boxers. Baby steps.”

You exhale, nodding your head as your hand reaches to cup his length in your hand. You gasp in tandem with Jungkook, feeling the heat radiate from his dick as you give an experimental squeeze. You look up to gauge his reaction, and you suppose it’s good with the way his breath hitches. He doesn’t say anything and you take that as your cue to continue, your hand squeezing tighter upwards, right before your thumb rubs over what you think is the tip.

“It’s wet,” you blurt.

You’re about to hastily apologise because who the hell points that out before giving someone a blowjob?

“Yeah,” he releases a shaky breath, “I’m so hard right now you have no idea.” He laughs, throwing his head back.

You don’t say anything else, but you continue to work your way up and down his length over the cloth—and for some reason, you feel like it never ends. The heat from his cock, the stirring in your belly or the wetness that begins to accumulate between your own thighs. His hand rests in your hair in a gentle way, simply remaining there as he allows you to have your way on his cock.

That realisation makes you feel the need to go further, so you do. You squeeze until you reach the base of his cock, and you feel the outline of his balls. You briefly read online that some guys liked it when you squeezed—so you did. And Jungkook nearly lurches forward and knees you in the face when you do.

“Fuck, baby,” he chokes in a laugh.

“Sorry,” you mumble, but your heart isn’t there when you grin in satisfaction to yourself. The term of endearment doesn’t fall onto deaf ears either, and it shoots straight to your core.

Deciding that you weren’t happy with just fondling him above his boxers, in one swift motion; said fabric now drapes over his thighs and you’re welcomed with the sight of Jungkook’s engorged cock staring you straight in the face.

You assume it’s bad taste to just stare at someone’s intimates as if you were dissecting the anatomy right as you were about to get down to business. But you couldn’t help it. Jungkook had such a … pretty looking cock. You don’t know if penises could look aesthetic nor were you going to be superficial and say that penises should look a certain way. But he had such a pretty cock and it only made you want to shove it all the way down your throat. But your inexperience tells you to relax because you weren’t about to embarrass yourself like that.

“Do you … hate it?” Jungkook asks tentatively.

He wasn’t particularly an insecure person. He knew he was good looking and had a great body—he worked hard for it! But that’s because he never cared about anyone and what they had to say enough for it to affect his self-confidence. But you were the one person that he’s sought for validation ever since he was just a teenage boy, before the muscles and the confidence he’s developed over the years.

Especially when he was so hard that he thinks he’s going to bust a nut the second your mouth touches his cock—the way that you’re staring only makes him anxious.

“You’re really big,” you tell him, eyes peering up, “And pretty.”

Jungkook blushes. He can’t believe it but the fact that he’s the one that’s flustered when you were the ‘inexperienced’ one only goes to show how whipped he was. He almost laughs, but your hand is touching his bare cock and he nearly chokes at the firm grip you immediately take. He really almost laughs, because even now—you were a quick learner, an observant student who already probably knew what he liked.

Your hands twist upwards when you jerk him off, and Jungkook tries his best to keep his hips at bay even if he’s letting out low groans the tighter you squeeze. Your eyes occasionally dart up to observe his reactions, and you’re pleased to see that his mouth is slightly agape whenever his breathless pants leave them. You didn’t know that pleasuring someone else could feel this fulfilling for yourself—but you liked it. You liked the way he felt in your hand, the precum that oozes out from his tip that taints your fingers—and you especially liked the way his head is thrown back while the grip in your hair tightens simultaneously.

“You could spit on it,” his shaky voice interrupts your mental dialogue as you look up at him. He cocks his chin towards his cock as you were hyper-focused on his length. You note that you barely could wrap your fists around him and that you needed the help of both hands.

“Would you like that?” You ask.

He nods.

“It chafes when it’s dry,” he points out.

You open your mouth in acknowledgement as you nod your head slowly. You remember when he had spit on your pussy, and even if it was in the heat of the moment and you were already wet enough—you liked it. But you also note that the way you’re jerking him off his dry so you rev the spit up in the back of your throat before you lean forward, allowing the glob of spit to drop down his cock.

The breathless groan that he lets out immediately shoots to your core as you peer up at him. He’s already looking at you do, and you feel compelled to shoot him a small smile. And when you do, he groans even if your hands have momentarily stilled as you raise a brow at his reaction.

“How are you still so cute,” he huffs.

You blink.

“Are you really calling me cute right before I’m about to suck your dick?” You deadpan.

He sighs, but his hand rubs a gentle circle on your head.

“It’s a good thing,” he promises, “Can’t you feel how hard I am right now? You could breathe near my dick and I’d probably nut.”

You snort, even if the compliment is super boyish and very Jungkook—you feel your heart swell. You’re both terrified and how you’re reacting to his simple words, but the cheesy grin he sends you from above only makes your stomach feel lighter and your heart soar higher.

“So how do you like it?” You ask.

It’s a little too odd to be having this conversation as your hand continues to work lazily on Jungkook’s cock. He seems to not mind, especially when his hips occasionally buck upwards to chase the feeling. He blinks in an attempt to focus on your query and not how good your hand feels around him, even if it’s in a rest.

“How about you just start with the tip?” He suggests.

You nod your head before you lean forward, and you don’t know if Jungkook feels it—but your heartbeat is beating rapidly against your chest. You’re not … scared, but you’re also a little scared. Mostly because it’s a foreign territory and you’re unsure how it’d taste (even if Yena warned you from having high hopes). But Jungkook ate relatively healthy and drank a lot of water; and worked out regularly.

You finally kiss the tip, and Jungkook just about melts, cock twitching at the contact as you stick your tongue out to take a tentative lick of the precum that oozes out from his hip. It’s not pleasant, nor is it anything to puke over. You’re partial to it, mostly because you’re super turned on and you like the way that Jungkook seems to be eagerly waiting while his other fist that isn’t in your hair grabs at the couch in anticipation.

You don’t intend to be that erotic, but you don’t break eye contact even when you envelop the tip into your mouth. It’s the widest part of Jungkook, and it’s already a pleasant stretch to your lips when you run your tongue on the underside of his cockhead.

“Y-You sure you n-need me to—ah—teach you?” He asks breathlessly when you use your free hand to jerk the base of his cock.

You hum around his length, and Jungkook groans in tandem, hips jerking upwards in response as you feel his cock briefly drag against the roof of your mouth. He’s about to apologise, especially when he leans forward, but you briefly release him to shake your head.

“I’m a big girl,” you tell him with a grin.

Jungkook chuckles before resting back. He can’t quite believe that you’re on your knees right in front of him, sucking his dick like an obedient student. It’s eerily similar to many of his high school wet dreams, and it probably exceeds them with the way you’re sucking him back into your mouth; slowly inching your way further until you’re halfway down.

Your mouth is hot, and in fact—a dream. It’s probably the fact that it’s you that Jungkook feels all his senses be elevated in a way he’s never felt before. It was the way that his heart soars in his chest while his stomach caves in when he feels your tongue swipe under his shaft.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he croons, hand carding tenderly through your hair, “Be careful of your teeth.” He adds on when he feels the scrape of them against his cock.

He didn’t hate it, but he rather enjoys the softness of your mouth without the fear of you chewing his dick off.

You look up at him apologetically, but he only returns it with a half-hearted smile—purely because your hand is working its way on what you can’t fit into your mouth just yet. You’re an impeccable learner, and Jungkook thinks that he didn’t need to guide you at all with the way you’re doing everything just right. Or maybe it’s his love-sick mind that makes everything feel infinitely better. Maybe other guys wouldn’t like it—but his heart only drops when the thought arrives. He wanted to be the only person that could feel your mouth this way.

Your tongue is working hard when it continues to slobber against his cock. And he doesn’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, but you’re messy when you vacuum your cheeks—spit pooling at the sides of your mouth when you bob your head up and down. All Jungkook can feel is your mouth, and beads of sweat are already accumulating at his hairline while his breathing turns uneven with the only things escaping his lips are moans and groans.

You’re enjoying the way that Jungkook looks like he’s slowly losing control of himself and his tongue. All he’s doing is moaning, even the grip in your hair tightens when he unconsciously pushes your head further down on his cock. You realised that sucking dick wasn’t that theoretical as you thought it was. You were simply observant, gauged what made Jungkook’s breath hitch, what he didn’t react much to—and you knew for a fact that he appreciated the slobber.

And the spit. And the squelches of your lips meeting his cock. You did, too. It’s almost embarrassing to admit, but you were drenched just by observing Jungkook’s reactions. That only spurs you on further when you work harder, hand reaching down to cup his balls as you hear Jungkook release a breathy whimper. The sound immediately shoots to your core as you let out a moan of your own.

“Fuck,” he gasps, “You’re fucking evil.”

He’s breathlessly laughing, but you don’t let it hinder your actions. If anything, his words drive you further when you push his cock further into the cavern of your mouth, the gasp leaving his lips a sign that he probably didn’t expect that. You feel his stomach clench when you continue to bob your head up and down, and you’re giving yourself a mental pat on the back at the way you’re able to labour your own breathing through your nose. You were a natural if you did say so yourself.

“M’ gonna cum,” he mumbles through a moan, hand tightening around your hair as you take that as a sign to squeeze his balls harder. His hips jerk, hitting the back of your throat that has you briefly gagging around his cock. The visual and the sound sends Jungkook into overdrive, his balls feeling heavier by the second and in desperate need of release. He wants to apologise, but you don’t seem to mind with the way you continue to hollow your cheeks and function around his length.

“Where can I—fuck—where can I cum?” He rushes his words out, shallowly thrusting into your mouth as you hum around his cock.

He pulls out by pushing you back with a firm palm on your shoulder as your eyes widen, and when he’s shooting ropes of cum onto your face as it drips down your neck. You weren’t sure if he was supposed to cum that much, but it keeps on coming as you sit there obediently with your mouth open, in case it lands anywhere else. Jungkook’s groaning above you as he jerks himself off through the last bits of his orgasm, his hazy eyes darkening further when he spots the white that paints your face.

“I thought guys liked it if we swallowed?” You tilt your head to the side and Jungkook thinks he’s about to die.

“You’re actually going to kill me if you do that. So no. Not today.” He snorts, relaxing back into the couch as his post-nut clarity starts to hit him. He stares at the ceiling, feeling immensely satiated.

“This is like a facial at the spa,” you mention off-handedly as you climb up between his thighs, cum still staining your face. And Jungkook can’t believe it, but he thinks you look so cute painted with his cum. It’s a primal instinct the way that his eyes linger longer, feeling territorial with the way that he’s the only one that gets to see you like this.

“You’re so weird,” he snickers but you pout at him. And you do the next thing that gives Jungkook a heart attack.

Your tongue swipes over your lips where some cum remains, and even if his cock is flaccid—he feels it twitch in interest.

“Not bad. A little salty but overall … meh,” you shrug your shoulders as Jungkook gawks at you.

“You …” he trails off, “God.”

You smile up at him, all innocent as if you didn’t just give him the suck of his life—as your first time sucking dick.

“So? How was it?” You ask eagerly, leaning into his chest. He wants to ask about the cum that’s drying on your face, but you don’t seem to mind. You were so weird, but that only makes his heart grow fonder.

“Do you conduct feedback sessions after every blowjob?” He asks sarcastically.

You roll your eyes, “Do you want me to? I mean—I could offer my services elsewhere—”

Jungkook pinches your hip in retaliation, the insinuation making him growl as you snicker. He can only stare at you in amusement, especially when you’re still grinning up at him. Gone was the shy girl that proposed this, even if he noticed the flush on your cheeks and on the tip of your ears. It was insane how you took a one-eighty, but Jungkook appreciated it. He appreciated you.

“Ten out of ten. Magnificent. Absolutely life-changing. Thought I saw the gates of heaven for a second.” He teases.

You roll your eyes but a small smile appears on your face as you glance down to fiddle with your fingers. Jungkook can only stare at you, and he can’t fully describe this feeling but his heart feels so … full. So completed, even if you sucked his dick. He’s always felt this way, but there was something about you being wrapped in his arms after you had his dick in your mouth that made Jungkook go crazy. Crazy enough for him to blurt out the next thing on his mind.

“I want to be with you.” He blurts.

Your eyes dart up in shock as they widen. But Jungkook is as resolute as ever, a dopey grin still on his face.

“W-What?” You stutter.

He reaches for your hand, still slightly sticky with the slick from his cock but he doesn’t care. Not when you intertwine your fingers with his so seamlessly, so easily like you were meant to do so.

“I want to be with you. In whatever way you want to have me.” He murmurs, peering straight into your eyes.

Your heart stutters in your chest as you try to find the words to respond with. But you can’t. Your mind is still recovering from what you just did, and your heart is soaring. But there’s a part of you that’s hesitant. You knew it was unfair, for making Jungkook wait—but you were still scared. You were scared that he’d get bored of you, or what the two of you share one day. He may be ready to leave it all behind, but you don’t think you could deal with having to say goodbye to Jungkook in that way.

And it’s as if he can read your hesitation, he brings your intertwined hands to his lips before pressing a kiss to your knuckles, eyes still soft when they remain on your frozen state,

“I’ll wait,” he says softly, “For as long as you need me to. Until you’re ready.”

“J-Jungkook …” you mumble, flustered when you look away.

He nudges his nose against your cheek, pressing a smile to your jaw as you hum in embarrassment.

“I fucked up.” He says. You’re about to interrupt but he seems to have his own things to say. “I said things that hurt you. I did things that hurt you and I can’t ever forgive myself for that. I know you’re not punishing me and I never once thought that way. Even if that isn’t the case, the least I can do is wait. Not only because of what I did but because no matter what—I want to do this right this time.”

He looks up to you and his gaze is so earnest that it makes the words get trapped in your throat while you stare at him.

He smiles, soft and gentle when he rubs a thumb across your cheek.

“I’m serious about this. About you. Even if you decide that you don’t want this or that your feelings have changed … I’ll still be here.”

Jungkook takes your breath away as you gape at him. The silence he leaves you with only makes you reaffirm your stance on how you feel for him. Yet, you can’t give him an answer now. Not when your mind still remains hesitant, and Jungkook didn’t deserve hesitant. Even if he’s hurt you—he didn’t deserve your confusion. Neither of you did.

You lean into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. It’s intimate this way, the way that his cum dries on your face and that his dick is still out. It’s almost funny, but Jungkook wouldn’t have it any other way. He’d wait—for as long as he had to. And he’d do it over and over again, for you.

#bad boy good thing #bbgt #bts #bts fics #bts series #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook series

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dreams-of-yunho · 4 years ago

Text

summer strawberries

yunho x y/n

rating: m

genre: smut with a dash of fluff

wc: 2.4k

warnings: steamy shower sex!!!! oral (f r), kinda hand job idk if it counts, light praising, mentions of melted ice cream :o

summary: the hot summer sun is horribly unforgiving. and what's better on a hot summer day but a cool shower? or, even better, a cool shower with mr. jeong yunho? <3

______________________________________________________________

It was hot. Unberably, ridiculously, stupid, dumb hot. The kind of heat where nail polish becomes sticky and ink won’t dry. Brain melting hot. At least there was a breeze; wind riffled through leaves causing storms of maple tree seeds to fall to the sun torchered ground. Birds cried harshly as winds jostled their homes. Small creatures kept to the shadows: rabbits, squirrels, and chipmunks skirting the sickening heat. Delicate and dainty flower petals wilted tragically.

And what were you to do? It was too miserable to even lift a finger. You were surprised your body was still functioning, believing your heart should burst and your blood boil. Simply miserably miserable you positioned yourself upon the sofa in the living room, the shades drawn so as to not let the fires of hell enter the home. If it weren’t for his promise of ice cream in the next ten minutes, you would have removed all the food from the freezer and shut yourself in, even if it meant asphyxiation, you could not have cared less at this point. If the universe wanted you to melt so badly, why didn’t it just get it over with, the sadist?

Eleven minutes, you thought to yourself, if he takes eleven minutes, we’re through. The prospect of ice cream was not taken lightly in your family. Ice cream was a happy escape for you. A brief moment of release from the trials and tribulations of everyday life. In reality, it wasn’t that great a deal but, today, as the sea of flames spilled through the glass window panes, ice cream was life or death and you would kill for it. You would kill anyone.

As minute ten neared and beads of sweat ran down your back, the door opened and in walked your Knight in Shining Armour, Jeong Yunho.

You watched Yunho as he stood, pantting, in the entryway. You knew the heat was real because of the way he was dressed; he wore a simple white tank top and camouflage cargo shorts. His lightly curled, night black hair was concealed by a ballcap. He removed his sandals and walked towards the living room, barefeet softly padding across the hardwood.

“Okay,” he started. You stared up at him from your place on the couch as he stood in front of you. His cheeks were flushed and his face glistened with a sheen of sweat. “We have choices:” a drop of clear liquid emerged from his hat-covered hairline and dripped to his eyebrow. “Chocolate crunch,” he pulled an ice cream bar from his left hip pocket. “Strawberry and orange cream,” he held two bars previously in his right hip pocket. “And,” he pulled a final bar from his bottom left pocket, “brown sugar boba.”

You carefully observed the selections he held before you. You would take anything frozen, even black cherry walnut.

“But, the thing is,” his tone dropped. “They’re melted.” He shook the bags and you could hear liquid sloshing around.

A quiet rage filled your chest, burning through your lungs. “Yunho!” He lowered his head and dropped his shoulders. “Why did you put them in your pockets?”

“I thought it would protect them from the sun but, I think it acted as a sort of convection oven and escalated the melting process… don’t be mad at me.” He looked down at you through large, heart crushing, puppy dog eyes.

“Hmmmmmmmm,” you whined, destroyed by the lack of immediate ice cream. “We can put them in the fridge I guess. But, that’ll take forever, ugh.” You slowly dragged your hands across your face, collecting far more sweat than you could have imagined. “Ew,” you cringed, looking at your silken hands. “I guess I can shower while they’re in the freezer.”

“Wait,” Yunho called from the kitchen. “I need to shower first; I am drenched.”

“No, me first.”

“You’re not even off the couch,” he shut the freezer door. “How are you going to beat me to the bathroom?” A cocky smile spread on his rose petal lips.

“I’ll beat you.” You made an attempt to stand but your legs felt like jello-twigs and they collapsed under you. “Fine,” you sighed. “I’ll drown in my own sweat. Tell me you love me before it’s too late.”

It was impossible but you could hear him smiling from where he stood.

“y/n, my love,” his footsteps neared. “There is room for more than one in the shower.” Yunho extended a hand.

“Carry me.”

“Hmm,” he pretended to contemplate. “Fine.”

His actions were swift; strong hands reached under your legs and back, pulling you off the couch and to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck. He was sweaty but you didn’t mind.

Your feet met the cold, stone floor as he set you down in the bathroom. He moved to turn on the shower and you faced the mirror. Your hair was terribly frizzy (on account of the humidity) and fell this way and that, sticking to your damp forehead. Your face was puffy and your cheeks awfully rosy. You wore, it could barely be called, a tank top and no bra.

“Yunho,” you called gently. “I don’t think I want to do anything. I don’t feel very sexy right now.” You watched as he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

His hot breath stuck to your skin. “You’re hotter than this weather, darling.”

You laughed. “Cheesy.”

“Yet, completely true.” he set his chin on the top of your head and looked at you through the mirror. “Just a shower,” he promised. “Nothing more.”

Chilly water met your shoulders sending a shiver up your spine. But it felt nice. Water trickled over your face, down your neck and back, dragging the sweat and hardships of that day down the drain. Delicately scented, strawberry soap bubbled as you lathered it over your collar bones. “Let me get your back,” he said. Strong hands met your shoulder blades; massaging with his fingertips. Hands worked down your sides, gripping your hips and pulling back to rub the soap into your lower back.

“Mhm,” you moaned out as his fingers worked through the knots and tension.

“Does it feel good, sweetheart?” his hands ghosted lower.

“Hey,” you turned to face him. “You said just a shower.” He stood in front of you: tall and broad; godlike. The water was cold yet, blue veins pressed against the skin of his arms and hands. His dark hair was slicked back, accentuating the perfect bone structure of his face.

“Don’t you want a relaxing shower?”

You eyed his lush lips which were slightly parted in a gentle smile. Your gaze traveled his strong features and came to rest on his eyes. Those beautiful eyes; the eyes you fell for. The eyes that could never hide his feelings; eyes that told everything. There were little droplets of water caught on his eyelashes and he blinked them away.

You felt the urge to kiss him; setting your hands on either cheeks. You stood high on your tippy toes but he was still out of reach and was unwilling to help. “Yunho,” you gripped his face tighter. “Come here. I want to kiss you-”

He put a finger to your lips. “Just. a. Shower.”

“One kiss,” you whispered over the stream of the shower.

“One kiss,” he agreed.

You closed your eyes, waiting, expecting his lips upon yours. Instead, you felt his hands graze down your sides and hips, resting on the tops of your thighs. You opened your eyes to see Yunho drag the tip of his nose down your stomach. His warm breath hovered just in front of your sex. “Yunho, that’s not what I meant.” You put your hands on his chin, trying to pull his lips back to yours.

He only gripped your thighs harder. “You asked for a kiss,” he breathed. “I’m going to give you a kiss, my love.”

Every hair stood on end as his nose ran over your clit. He tilted his head back to lick a wet stripe against your sensitive nerves. You whined as his tongue landed directly on it, circling again and again. You could only whine as his lips enclosed you and your legs became wobbly.

“Y-yunho,” you moaned as he sucked. “I’m going to fall.” You tried to balance yourself against the wall and he wrapped his arms around your back, trying to stabilize you as he continued to suck and lick relentlessly. “Ah,” you could feel that familiar knot twist in your stomach as he began to kiss you harder. And, when that knot was at the verge of snapping, he removed his lips with a wet smack.

He groaned as he stood and met your eyes, watching you as you breathed haggardly, mouth gaping. A hand fell to your shoulder, moving a wet strand of hair back. “I’m a good kisser, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“Yeah,” he hummed, running his hands up and down your back. “Would you like to kiss again?”

“Ha,” you scoffed and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss. It was heavenly as your bodies collided; your hands tugging at his silky hair, tits against his abs, his nails pressing crescent moons into your hips.

You pulled back to catch your breath, still winded from him eating you out. “God,” you ran a thumb over his cheek. “You are a good kisser.”

You thought he would come right then and there, the look he gave you was steeped in passion and lust. His hand met your ass, pulling one leg up to his waist as he moved to press your back against the cold tile wall. He winced as his hard on pressed against your lower stomach.

You loved that look. You wanted to see it again; to know you made him feel good.

Your hand snaked between your bodies as you began to pepper light kisses across his collar bones. He gasped as you grabbed his dick in your hand. You felt his Adam's apple bob as your lips moved to his neck. You squeezed him a little harder and his head fell back with a moan, giving you more beautiful canvas.

Warm fingers met your clit and you dropped your head to his neck, already sensitive from his mouth. “You’re so wet,” he ran his fingers back and forth through your folds, each movement causing you to moan against his chest.

“We-we’re in the shower,” you managed.

A deep laugh vibrated through his chest and his dick twitched in your hand. “I guess you’re right.” He pulled at your other leg. “Come here.”

“Yunho,” you raised your head. “If you slip and drop me,” you warned as effectively as you could with his fingers working you so wonderfully.

“I would never let you fall,” his strong arms pulled you close. “Jump.”

You managed to jump the best you could and one of Yunho’s hands was there to meet you. “Good job, baby,” he lowered you down his body a little.

You could feel him lining up, his tip pushing at your entrance. His eyes fell to yours, watching your face as he lowered you slowly onto him. You groaned as he moved deeper into you, parting you. “Is it okay,” a hand rubbed your back lovingly.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You can keep going.”

He smiled slightly and loosening his grip on your back one last time, bottomed out with a moan.

You tugged at his hair as you adjusted to his immense size.

“Okay?” He kissed your cheeks.

“Yes, just give me a sec.” You moved your hips up and down, desperate for the pain to subside.

“Jesus,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “A warning next time.”

You clenched around him in response.

“Cheeky,” he chuckled.

“Okay,” you breathed out. “Move.”

“Okay,” he smiled down at you. He captured your moans in a kiss as he thrusted into you.

He was gentle with you, as he always was. He carefully watched you, making sure everything felt good, that he made you feel good. “That’s it, baby,” he cooed. “You’re so pretty.”

You gripped his shoulders as his pace began to quicken and you couldn’t help but clench as his veins dragged against your walls.

“If you keep doing that,” he choked out between thrusts. “I’m going to come right now.”

You slumped against his chest. You wanted to listen to him but he was making you feel so good. Your body was coming completely relaxed and undone in his touch. Your mind, your body, your heart; you were so at ease being with him.

However, your nerves began to spark as his fingers fell to your clit. You could tell he was close because he dropped his forehead to yours wordlessly, his nose scrunched. And he loved when you two came together; Completely free in each other’s arms.

He seemed to completely forget about the slick watery surface he stood on and began to pound into you as fast and as hard as he could. You moaned and mewled as he hit deeper and deeper with each thrust.

“I’m gonna come, y/n,” he warned, his pace becoming erratic and you clenched harder around him, feeling your high approaching too.

“Me too, Yunho,” you whined as he hit your g-spot with a particular force.

You came loudly, fingers desperately searching for something to grip, finally resting on his toned biceps.

He followed you almost immediately, his hips ramming into yours sloppily as his dark eyes bored into yours, a lazy smile on his swollen lips. He pulled out and slumped to the shower floor, holding you tightly in his arms. He gently peppered your face with kisses. “I love you, y/n.”

You giggled as he found a ticklish spot behind your ear. “I love you too, Yunho.” You sighed as you saw his cum run out of your pussy and down the shower drain. “We should have sex in the shower more often; easier to be lazy.”

“I tire you out that much, huh?”

“My god,” you scoffed. “Cocky bastard.”

“You love it,” he teased, massaging the inside of your sore thighs.

You rolled your eyes. “Wanna wash my hair?” You asked, only half kidding.

“I would but, I don’t want to. I want to stay like this.”

“Me too,” you agreed, sinking deeper into his arms. “I could fall asleep like this.”

“Yeah,” his raspy voice responded. “Me too.”

#ateez yunho #ateez x reader #ateez smut #kpop smut #kpop fic #yunho smut #yunho x reader #yunho fluff #ateez fluff #ateez senarios #kpop senarios #kpop imagines #ateez x y/n #ateez x reader smut

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bangtanreadingcorner · 4 years ago

Text

the fact is • jeon jeongguk

plot – you're a waitress that gets stuck serving jeon jeongguk, who can't make his mind up on what to eat.

words – 6.4K

"Indecisive snot, aren't you?"

The words are out before you could stop them. Your natural instinct is to take it back and apologize, but this idiot has pushed you over the edge. He has changed his order six times and that was after adding sides and removing this or that. The customer - the arrogant brat of a chaebol, you thought to yourself - looking at his menu snapped his gaze to you, eyes widening in surprise, disbelief and was that intrigue? Nope. Probably just a trick of the light.

"Excuse me?" He says, eyebrows still raised to high heaven.

You weigh your options silently for a few moments. You could try and kiss his ass and loose your job. Or you could finish what you started and loose your job. Because there was no question, you were loosing your job. Speaking to a customer like that, in a restaurant as high end as this? The ultimate no-no.

The choice was a no brainer.

You give him a flat look, "Are you deaf?"

A surprised scoff leaves him and for a moment he stares at you, and then a smirk pulls at the corners of his mouth. "Do you not know who I am?"

"Of course I know who you are, Jeon Jeongguk, I don't live under a rock." You roll your eyes at him.

"Huh." He frowns at you.

You frown back, "What?"

"I've never met someone so . . . outspoken before. Normally people are all compliments and well wishes." Jeongguk doesn't say how delightfully refreshing it is. Like a spring breeze, spreading through his veins and breathing colour into his monotonous life. This is the most excitement he's had since he went parachuting eight months ago. That is a sad thought, but unfortunately a true one.

"Yeah, well," You shrug, tapping your pen against your notebook. "Kissing ass and lying are two things that didn't make it onto my list of qualities."

"Speaking your mind, obviously did." He notes, still smirking.

"Excellent observational skills there, Sherlock." You deadpan.

Jeongguk laughs and you don't like the way it makes warmth simmer in your belly. He looks up at you with dark eyes and you privately think for all that the media gets wrong, they have one thing right. Jeon Jeongguk is ridiculously attractive. "What's your name?"

"Are you blind or illiterate?" You raise a brow down at him. He looks caught off guard for a moment.

"Um...neither?" It comes out unsure, hesitant.

"Then what exactly is stopping you from reading my name badge?" You ask, tapping the badge on your chest with your pen. You were already losing your job, so you might as well make the best of it.

He looks embarrassed for a second, eyes dropping to the table, cheeks dusting the faintest shade of pink.

You raise a brow, "So, are you going to order or are you going to complain to my manager and get me fired?"

"Fired for what?" He asks.

You want to snap at him, but the genuine confusion in his eyes made you hold your tongue. For once. In a 'duh' tone, you tell him. "Speaking my mind."

"Ah. Right." Realisation lights up in his eyes. "I could have you fired for speaking to me like that." He says, like the thought never occurred to him.

"I'll go get my manager then." You say and turn on your heel, not at all surprised.

Jeongguk's mind goes into an epic panic as you turn your back on him and he blurts a quick, "Wait."

"What?" You ask, turning back to him with an uninterested look.

"I said that I could. Not that I would." He tells you and it makes your speechless for about five seconds.

Then you squint at him with a slight glare, "What do you want?"

"Excuse me?"

"You obviously want something in exchange for keeping quiet. What is it?" You speak matter-of-factly. After a moment you add, "Just know, if it's something sexual or in that direction, I'd rather loose my job."

Jeongguk gapes at you, looking stunned. "I don't know whether to be insulted by the insinuation that I need to blackmail someone into sleeping with me or that you'd rather loose your job than sleeping with me."

"So sorry for offending your delicate sensibilities." You drawled sarcastically. "You still haven't told me what you want."

"Well, I like coming here often and when I do and you're my server, I'd like you to always speak your mind around me." He said, with the smallest of shrugs, looking down at the silverware on the table instead of at you.

Confusion sweeps through you, his request catching you off guard. "Really? That's it?"

"Yes." He nods stiffly.

"I don't understand." You admit.

"You don't have to. You asked me what I want, this is it." He looks at you again, eyes still dark and piercing and you can't understand what he's thinking.

"Fine, okay, yeah, I can do that." You nods eventually, noticing how his shoulders untense just a bit. You look at him, curious and full of questions, but cautious enough to not actually ask. "Are you gonna order now?"

"Why don't you surprise me? I can't decide what I want to eat." He says, handing you the menu.

"I'm shocked." You deadpan with a faux smile, before looking at him seriously. "Are you allergic to anything?"

"No." He shakes his head, lacing his fingers together and resting his hands on the table.

Your mind races for a few moments before settling on a dish. You nod at Jeongguk. "Okay, I'll be back with your food in a while then."

***

Three weeks later, you haven't served Jeongguk again. It's not that he hasn't been in, oh no, he has. You've seen him, caught him staring and then looking away quickly. He just hasn't sat at one of your tables again. Each week, the tables get rotated and there is four rotations, so you'll only be on Jeongguk's usual table next week.

You walked into the kitchen, just coming off your lunch break when Lee stops you and says, "Table 12 for you."

You look at Jae, who was on table 12 this week and got a hostile glare. You ignore her and look at Lee with confusion, "But I'm not on table 12 today."

"You were requested and customers here get what they want." Lee shrugs, giving you a 'it is what it is' look.

"By who?" You ask, having some idea of the answer. There is only one customer you know that would request you. You are always polite to the other customers but with an air of detachment, that keeps them from prying and you from getting into trouble. Until three weeks ago, that is.

"Jeon Jeongguk." Lee says, confirming your suspicions.

"Motherfucker." You swear.

Jae looks down her nose from you, "Don't he used to it. It won't last. He'll get bored of you soon enough."

"I hope so." You huff, as Jae walks away with a less than pleased expression.

"What?" Lee asks, her shock obvious.

"You heard me."

Lee tilts her head at you in disbelief and curiousity, "So, you're not trying to get into his pants?"

"Uh, no." You frown at her. Sure, he's hot but you know your place. You also need money than you need to get laid. "Why?"

"Most girls try when they work here, but everytime they try something, Mr. Jeon complains and they get fired." Lee explains.

Something suddenly made sense to you, "Is that what Jae's trying to do?"

"No one will say it to her face, but yeah, it is." Lee nods, shrugging a little. "She's jealous that he requested you, when you've worked here just over a month, served him once, and she's worked here for almost two years and he hasn't blinked in her direction."

"Huh," You frown, lost in your thoughts. "I wonder why he didn't get me fired then."

"Why? What did you say to him?" Lee eyes you curiously.

"Called him an indecisive snot." You smirk gleefully, happy that you got away with talking to him like you want and not getting fired because of it.

"Right." Lee says in a tone that made it clear she doesn't believe you.

"I did." You insist.

Lee waves you off, and you exit the kitchen, walking into the dining room, heading over to Jeongguk's regular table.

You look at him as he comes into your line of direct sight. His one leg was shaking, eyes shifting around the room, fingers tapping the table restlessly. When he spots you walking over to him, he stills completely. A smile - a cute one, you admit to yourself and no one else - spreads on his lips as he breathes your name, "Y/N."

You give him a look, "Did you miss me or something?"

"What? No." Jeongguk scoffs quickly. "I was bored. And you cure my boredom."

You raise your eyebrows at him, head going forward a little, "I cure your boredom?" You repeat, slowly. Maybe he's kidding.

But Jeongguk just nods at you as if it makes all the sense in the world, "Yeah. It's like live entertainment while I eat."

You scowl at him, "I'm not a circus clown."

"That's not what I meant!" He exclaims, voice a little too loud, causing heads to swivel in your direction. He takes a breath and speaks again, softer this time. "I just meant that it's nice. Or it was nice, the one time I actually got to talk to you."

"So, you did miss me." You tease good naturedly. Jeongguk doesn't answer, just stares resolutely down at the table. You sigh, feeling fond instead of annoyed. You hide a smile as you ask, "What will it be today?"

Jeongguk looks at you again, hesitantly at first, then fully when he sees your expectant gaze, "Surprise me."

Now you were surprised, "Again?"

"I liked what you ordered last time." He does that small shrug again. Actually, it's less of a shrug, and more a slight lift of the shoulders. You notice that he has broad shoulders, and the suit he's wearing only makes them look better. You push those thoughts away, focusing on the conversation.

"And if you don't like it this time?" You challenge.

"I did say surprise me, and surprises can be positive or negative." Jeongguk decides not to tell her that this is his favorite restaurant and he knows the menu by heart. He knows and likes every dish, so there was no way he wouldn't like something she serves him. And he's curious as to what she'll decide this time.

You snort, laughing lightly, "You know, you're not as bad as I thought you were."

Jeongguk looks mildly offended, "I'll have you know, I'm a catch."

"I'm sure." You nod, hiding a grin.

"I am." He insists and you had to admit, he is attractive.

"Yes, right up until the moment you open your mouth." You say honestly, writing down one of the dishes on the menu.

"Rude." He pouts a little and you suppress the urge to giggle, of all things.

"Maybe," You concede. "But it's the truth." You picked up his menu, turning on your heel to go to the kitchen.

"So, how do I . . . improve?" Jeongguk asks when you come back with his food, continuing with the conversation where you left off.

"Do I look like a life coach to you?" You set down the food. "Enjoy."

"Thanks." Jeongguk grins at her. "And, no, but if I went to one they'd tell me what they think I want to hear, not what I need to hear."

You stare at him for a few seconds and he looks back unflinchingly. "Well," You press your lips together. "I guess you should start with why you want to change."

That makes Jeongguk falter. He can't very well say, 'so I can impress you, since my money doesn't seem too' and he thinks for a bit. "I have come to realise that maybe I treat people unfairly based on how much money they have. I would like to change that."

Your eyebrows goes up, "That's surprisingly deep, coming from you."

"I'm not swallow." He defends himself.

You nod complacently, "Right, well, the answer is easy but actually doing it, will all depend on you."

"What do I do?"

"Just, think before you say something. Ask yourself, can my words hurt this person?"

"And if they deserve it?" Jeongguk wonders.

"The right answer would be to still be considerate, because two wrongs don't make a right, but I hate being a hypocrite, so go for it, if they deserve it. I mean, it's not like I held back when you annoyed me." You gave a shrug. "I should go. We're not allowed to loiter at the tables."

Jeongguk wants to ask her to sit with him and keep him company some more, but he knows he would be setting himself up for rejection. Instead, he just looks at her with a half smile. "Just when I think I have you all figured out, you do or say something that proves me wrong."

"My mom always used to say, you can spend a lifetime with someone and still learn something new about them every day. People evolve everyday and you'll never be who you are right now, tomorrow again."

"She sounds like a wise woman." Jeongguk remarks.

You smile, nostalgia making your heart warm, "Yeah, she was."

"I'm sorry." Jeongguk says, catching onto the past tense. A lump forms in your throat out of nowhere.

"Thank you." You swallowed thickly, clearing your throat. You gave him a shaky smile, hoping he wouldn't notice. "See, you're doing better already."

Jeongguk did notice but decided not to call her out on it. He just smiled up at her softly, watching after her figure when she walks away.

***

"You know, if I didn't know that you come here everyday, I'd say you that you are stalking me." You teased Jeongguk when you go to take his order for the fifth time in a row. You've had a day off, inbetween, but when you showed up for your next shift, Jeongguk was there and everytime he's requested you. By now, whoever was on rotation for his table, just lets you know whenever he shows up.

"And how do you know that?" Jeongguk raises a curious eyebrow at you.

"I complained to Lee about you and she told me." You explain to him, mentally running over the menu in your head. Jeongguk told you on the third day to just order for him everytime. So, when you walk to his table under the guise of taking his order, the two of you just talk.

"Lee?" He inquires.

"She's my friend and another server here."

"Ah." Jeongguk nods in realisation. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"You can ask, but that doesn't guarantee I'll answer." You say, giving him a cheeky smile.

She has a beautiful smile, Jeongguk thinks to himself. He shakes himself out of his thoughts and looks her in the eyes, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

You frown down at him, finding the question odd. He's never asked anything too personal. Just normal things, what you're studying, what you do when you're not working. Sometimes you'll tell him a story of something dumb you did as a kid, but he'll never outright ask. "No."

A thought suddenly occurs to Jeongguk and he doesn't really want to ask because that'll destroy every hope he has but he needs to know. He quirks a brow at her, "Girlfriend?"

You snort at the question, "No, I'm straight. My cousin swings both ways though. Nearly gave his mom a stroke when he came out at our annual Christmas family dinner two years ago."

"Oh." Jeongguk wants to sag in relief, wants to let out a thankful cheer, but settles for just a small smile and letting out a breath of relief.

"Why are you asking?"

He does that little shrug that isn't really a shrug thing. "I was just wondering. You never really talk about one, or even someone you're interested in."

"Okay, if there was someone, why would I tell you?" You are teasing, but he doesn't know as you look at him blankly.

"I was just curious." Jeongguk huffs defensively.

"Yeah, yeah, settle down." You snicker. After a moment you say, "I guess I don't talk about it because there hasn't been anyone to talk about."

"Really?" Jeongguk beams up at you hopefully, eyes glittering.

"Really." You roll your eyes, but there was a slight warmth in your cheeks that wasn't there before.

***

Seven months and many short conversations later – in which you learnt many things about Jeongguk and vica versa – you walk up to his table with a smile, genuinely excited to see your sort of friend. The smile fades from your face when you lay eyes on him – his whole body was tense, you could tell even from a distance, he was glaring out the window, clenched fists laying on the table. Something wasn't right. You quicken your pace, concern swirling in your belly. You stop at his table, feeling your heartbeat quicken. "What's wrong?"

"None of your fucking business." He snaps at you, words so venomous it makes you take a step back in shock, but mostly hurt.

Jeongguk regrets the words the moment they're out because he didn't mean them. He doesn't want to fight or argue. He came to see her to feel better. Now he snapped at her. He waits, for whatever tongue lashing she is about to give him. He'd deserve it and he'll take it. But she says nothing. Somehow her silence was much worse than any insult she can hurl at him. Her face closes off, he watches it happen as her fingers tighten around the pen and notepad she uses to take orders, and panic sparks beneath his skin, overriding all the anger he feels.

No. His mind rebels against the thought immediately.

"What can I get for you today, Sir?" Her voice is perfectly polite as she asks the question, like it was the first time he met her. Until he made her snap after changing his order for a sixth time.

No, no, no, no, no! Not this. Anything but this. His heartbeat quickens.

Jeongguk was quickly turning frantic, "Y/N, please, I-"

"We have a lovely special today." She goes on as if he didn't speak, eyes void of the usual fire when she'd argue with him or the gentle warmth when she sometimes smiled at him and called him an idiot. It was the only times he ever liked being called an idiot.

He listens to her droning on about he specials, explaining them. Jeongguk's heart drops all the way down to his feet. It feels like someone pulled a rug from beneath his feet, and he is thrown off balance from the how utterly wrong it feels, how much it bothers him, hurts him, that she is talking to him like he is just another random customer. Like she hasn't told him how she got stuck in a tree, climbing after the neighbors cat. Playing with their cat because her parents never allowed pets.

A cold feeling of dread washes over him because Jeongguk has no idea to fix whatever he just fucked up.

***

You very almost cry when Jeongguk snaps at you, feeling irrationally hurt by his words. You shove it all down as you pull up your walls and shut him out to protect yourself. You serve him as quickly as possible, walking away without a friendly word.

"Trouble in paradise?" Jae smirks at you when you come back from serving Jeongguk.

You glare at her, not in the mood for dealing with her jealousy today. "No, just looking at your face is enough to put anyone in a bad mood."

Jae's eyes widened, fury spreading on her face. "You bitch!" She yells, raising a hand to slap you.

You smirk, catching her wrist easily. "Careful, just now you break a nail."

You let her go, walking away. You wait until you're in the bathroom, safely away from prying eyes in a locked stall, before letting you face crumple, only letting one tear escape before getting yourself under control.

You finish your shift, completely exhausted by the end of it – emotionally and physically. The last thing you have the energy for, is Jeongguk, so of course he's waiting for you at the personnel entrance and exit when you step outside. Intent on ignoring him, you pretend that you don't see him and you start walking in the direction of the train station.

Jeongguk follows you, apparently not easily deterred. "Will you just talk to me please?"

"What would you like me to say, Sir?" You ask in your most professional voice, looking ahead and not glancing at him.

"I'd like you to talk to me and stop treating me like I'm a customer." He says, sounding frustrated and desperate.

"You are a customer, Sir." You answer, still not looking at him.

"For fuck sakes, will you stop with the 'sir' already and talk to me like you used to?" Jeongguk all but explodes, stepping infront of you, and looking down at you for a change. It's startling, for a moment. You always look down at him when he sits at the table and it never occured to you that he's taller than you. He sets his hands on your shoulders (they're big and warm and you feel surprisingly safe, even when he squeezes slightly), frantic and desperate eyes looking into yours. "You don't even have to talk, you can yell or scream or shout for all I care, just please stop."

"You want me to talk? Fine." You glare up at him, shrugging out of his hold and taking a step back. He's way to close for comfort. "Look, I get I'm not exactly from the same side of town as you are, but that doesn't mean I'm incapable of empathy. I'd bet that I have more empathy than most people you know. So, when someone I see as a kind of friend, snaps at me when I ask them what's wrong out of concern, when they could have said they don't want to talk about it, it hurts." You rant, a little out of breath. "Do you understand that? You hurt me."

"I'm sorry. Fuck, I am so sorry, you have no idea. I shouldn't have snapped at you and I regretted it the moment I did it. I was angry, and I know it isn't an excuse but it's the truth."

"Sorry isn't going to fix it," You say, voice edging on being too sharp. Your heart twists when his face falls. You soften a bit. "But it is a step in the right direction."

Jeongguk perks up, "What's another?"

"For starters, next time you don't want to talk about me, tell me instead of snapping at me." You give him a pointed glare, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jeongguk gives you an apologetic look, "Again, I'm sorry. I honestly didn't mean to snap at you. I came to talk to you, hoping I'd calm down a bit. I had an ugly fight some dumbass that tried to sell low quality material to us and I took it out of you."

You are reminded of the fact that he is the heir to his father's multi-billion won international conglomerate and for some reason, it makes you sad. You smile at him, ignoring the sadness. "Well, you're forgiven but I'm not forgotting."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He grins cheekily. He paused for a moment, then smirks at you. "So, we're friends now?"

You groan, "I should have known that would come back to bit me I'm the ass."

***

A large bouquet of pink tulips is delivered to you the next morning. Inside is a card that reads:

Thank you for never giving up on me. -JJK

Lee whistles loudly when she sees them and your cheek burn. "Someone must really like you."

"It's from a friend." You say, ignoring the fluttering in your belly.

"My point still stands. Those are out of season, you know." She remarks.

You nod, "I know. They're my favourite."

You finish your shift with a smile on your face. Until your boss calls you into his office.

"Yes, Sir?" You ask, still smiling and the bouquet of flowers in your one hand, backpack up on your shoulders and ready to go home.

"Y/N. I'll get right to the point. There's been a complaint that you've been too friendly with one of our customers." He says bluntly.

You almost drop your flowers in shock, "What?"

"I'm sorry to do this, Y/N, but it is a direct violation of the contract you signed when you started here. Professionalism is our top priority. I have no choice but to fire you." He says, and he does look sorry as he holds out an envelope to you. "This is the week's wages. Again, I'm sorry. You are a good worker."

"You're firing me because of something someone accused me off?" You ask, indignant and a little angry. "You're not even going to ask me if I did it? And if I did it, why I didn't stop?"

"The accusation came from a very trustworthy customer that was concerned that our reputation might be damaged." Your manager says. "If it gets to the owner and he finds out I did nothing, I could loose my job."

You scoff, taking the envelope. If you didn't need the money, you'd have thrown it back in his face. "So, it's okay for me to loose mine?"

"I'm sorry."

"So am I." You say before turning around and leaving.

***

The first day she's not there, Jeongguk brushes it off, thinking she has the day off and forgot to tell him. The second day, he starts to worry, just a little. The third day, he almost thinks himself into a mental breakdown. The fourth day, he demands to see the manager.

"Mr. Jeon." The manager greets with a smile that was clearly fake. Jeongguk thought back to Y/N, who never smiled much but when she did, it was honest and pure and breathtaking. He misses it and would do whatever it takes to get it back.

"Where is Y/N?" He demands, voice and gaze equally cold and intimidating. It's a side of him that she broke through within minutes, digging up the real Jeongguk and pulling him to the surface. The past months, he's been able to breathe again, live instead of just existing, waiting for the next person that wants his money. But that cold and calculating side of him is still there.

The manager pales and Jeongguk's worry increases. Did something happen to her? The manager shifts on his feet but still doesn't answer. "If you don't answer me within the next five seconds, I will call the owner and ask him to answer me."

"S-she was fired." The man stutters out.

Jeongguk feels his stomach drop. She never outright said it but he knows she depends heavily on the income from this job. It worries him, because he has this urge to take care of her. He wants to give her as much money as she needs, for her to live comfortably, but he knows she wouldn't take it. He glares at the manager, "Why?"

"Someone filed a complaint against her. She was getting to friendly with y-you." The manager says, looking a little terrified.

Jeongguk clenches his jaw, "And instead of asking me if I have a problem with it, you fired her?"

"Her contract says-"

Jeongguk stands up, towering over the man in height and size. "I don't give a shit what her contract says. How many times have I filed a complaint when the servers made me inappropriate offers and crude suggestions? I never once complained about her."

Jeongguk doesn't give the manager anymore time to do anything other than letting out a squeak before turning around and leaving the restaurant.

***

Five days after you were fired, you started too feel it. The absence of Jeongguk's presence. At first, you didn't notice it. To wrapped up in finding another job, worried about money and going to classes to think about it. But today is Sunday and the diner you found a temporary job at two days ago, is closed on Sundays. It's crappy pay and not alot of hours either but it was something and it'll help until you could get something else.

You lay on your bed, listening to your mom vacuuming the living room. University housing was expensive and you'd rather live at home and save the money than having even more debt. You laze the day away, knowing that none of the projects you have, is due that Monday. Your thoughts drift back to Jeongguk, like it always does. You honestly didn't think you'd end up missing him this much.

You like him, so fucking much. You figured it out a long time ago. You also know that you come from two different worlds. You are fine with that, you accepted it and you were content to be his friend.

Now he's completely gone from your life. Ripped out of it without warning.

You go to your classes the next day. In your last one, you doodle absentmindedly on the corner of your notebook, only half listening to the Professor. When the class is over, you look at what you drew and then groan out loud. Jeongguk's initials. Of fucking course. You scoff to yourself, leaving the class and then the building. You want to go home and sulk in privacy.

Outside, the sun was shining and you stood still for a moment, soaking in the warmth.

"Y/N!" A voice yelled your name and your head whips in the direction because you know that voice. You look, eyes searching desperately because you are so sure it was his voice. You're not hallucinating and- and there he is, running over to you.

"Jeongguk? What are you doing here?" You ask when he stops infront of you, completely bewildered.

He looks panicked and frantic. Like that day he snapped at you. He grips your shoulders, the hold almost painful. "You weren't there. I went to the restaurant and you weren't there and the manager told me you were fired and-"

"Jeongguk, stop. Breathe." You say, reaching up to hold onto his wrists, lightly rubbing your thumbs over the inside of his wrists. You wait until his grip loosens, until he was holding instead of gripping. "How did you find me?"

"You told me where you go to school one day." He answers off handedly, eyes scanning over your face, almost as if memorising the little details. Guilt flashes on his face, "I'm sorry you were fired."

You laugh at his words, removing his hands from your shoulders because it was getting a little too intimate, your heartbeat speeding up. "You know, half the time I see you, you end up apologizing to me."

"Hey, it's weird for me too." Jeongguk pouts and you have this urge to rise on your tiptoes and kiss it. "I'm not used to apologizing."

"Don't worry about it, I'm not angry." You wave him off.

"Can we talk?" He pleads and you agree immediately because you missed him so much.

"Yeah, there's a park nearby."

"Scared to be seen with me?" He teases with a smirk, and for a moment it's like nothing has changed.

You snort, "Don't you know? The walls has ears and Twitter accounts."

Jeongguk laughs, loud and unrestrained, throwing his head back. You couldn't help but smile. "This way."

You guide him to the park. It wasn't very big, and not a lot of people came here either, so it was perfect to talk. You each sit down on a swing.

"What are you gonna do now?" Jeongguk asks.

You shrug, "No clue, but I'll figure something out."

A guilty look spreads on his face again, "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have-"

You cut him off, "Shouldn't have what? Let a server talk back to you? Yeah, probably not but we both enjoyed it, so it's on you as much it is on you. More on me though, because it was my responsibility as an employee to treat you with respect."

"You did," Jeongguk says immediately, sincerely. "Even when you were at your most brutally honest moments."

You give him a slight smile. "Well, fun as it was, it seems our path has come to an end."

"Why?" Jeongguk frowns heavily at you.

"Huh?"

Jeongguk looks you in the eye, gaze piercing. "Why does it have to end?"

You snorted, thinking he was messing with you but his eyes were completely serious. You answer in a matter-of-fact tone, "Because you're you and I'm me. Besides, most of the time we argued."

"Y/N." He says your name like it is his greatest wish. He stands up from his swing, making his way infront of you and pulled you to your feet. He looks at you, eyes impossibly fond, "That wasn't arguing. It was banter. If you think that's arguing, you probably think my parents goes to war every now and again." He smiles, a little nervous. "And foe the record, I would rather argue with you for the rest of my life than ever kiss another girl again."

Your mouth drops open in shock, and you really don't know what the fuck to make of that. "I-"

He cuts you off, "And I don't want this to be over."

Silence falls between you two. You stare at him, he stares back. Until, finally, you blurt, "I don't know what to say."

Jeongguk is a little bit disappointed, but not surprised in the slightest. At least it isn't an outright rejection. "You don't have to say anything. Just answer one question."

"Okay?"

"Would you want to date me?" You choke on thin air from shock. That means that he feels the same way as you do, right? Happiness makes your blood sing. Then it sinks in and reality comes back to you. Your happiness evaporates and you swallow thickly. You open your mouth to tell him 'no', but once again Jeongguk cuts you off before you could say something. "Forget about our social status, forget about what people would say and think about me and you. Together. Really think about it. I have, and I think we could work, if you gave it a chance."

"And if it doesn't work?" You ask softly, vulnerable in a way you've never been before. Distantly you wonder how he knew what you were thinking.

"Then at least we can say we tried." He shrugs.

You look down at the ground, wanting to think without looking at him, into those mesmerizing eyes of his. He could ask you to commit murder, and chances are that you'll do it if he looks at you long enough. When did you become so completely gone for him? You think about it, but there was never a moment where you realised, this is the person I like. Maybe . . . maybe it's because you've always liked him. Right from the start, even when he was infuriating. The thought is startling, but you aren't scared by it. It's more like another piece of the puzzle between you and Jeongguk has fallen into place. But there is the problem of your different social statuses. Yeah, Jeongguk said forget about it, but for how long? If you try and this does work out, then eventually you'll have to face the reality of everything that comes with being together. Somehow that scares you more than if it doesn't work.

You look back up at him, and you know – despite all your worries and doubts – it was never really a choice because you choose Jeongguk the moment you chose to accept his offer of being honest all those months ago. "Okay."

Jeongguk looks like he's ready to argue, "I-" You watch as your answer sinks in. The stunned expression almost makes you laugh, "What?"

"Did you want me to say no?" You give him an amused look, smile curling the corners of your lips upwards.

His eyes widens and he shakes his head frantically, "No, no, no, I just wasn't expecting you to say yes to quickly."

"That makes two of us." You admit. Jeongguk is right though, better to try and either fail or succeed, or never try and forever wonder what if. You smile up at him, heart soaring happily. "You make a good case. You should have become a lawyer."

Jeongguk's eyes light up, "Just wait until you hear the case I have to make on why we should kiss."

"Tell you what, if you kiss me within the next three seconds, you don't have to make a case at all." You bargained with a grin.

Jeongguk didn't need to be told twice. He leaned close and kissed you, slow and deep, one hand slipping into your hair and the other curling around your waist, pulling you close to him. He breaks the kiss, licking his lips and your eyes are drawn to the action. You lick your own lips, liking the taste of him. His voice is deep and rough, his cheeks flushed, when he asks, "Want to go get something to drink?"

"Yeah," You nod with a goofy smile, your own cheeks also flushed, feeling like you might float away at any second. "I could go for a smoothie."

"I love smoothies." Jeongguk grins back at you, taking your hand, lacing your fingers. His other hand was still wrapped around your waist and hold you close.

An old question flashes across your mind as you run your hands up his chest, liking the strong, study feel of it, until you can lock your arms around his neck. "You know, I've been meaning to ask."

"Mmm?" Jeongguk hummed in acknowledgement, showing that he was listening.

"Why didn't you get me fired that first day?" You ask, aware that you are suppose to be getting smoothies but it could wait for a bit.

Jeongguk had been expecting this question for a while, and had come up with an answer a long time ago. He looks down at her with all he feels for her, a content smile on his lips.

"Because you were the first honest person I have met in years. Because you put me in my place without thinking twice. Because when you glared down at me after I changed my order for the sixth time, there was a fire in your eyes that woke something inside of me that I couldn't control. Not then and not now." He leaned down, rubbing his nose against hers, the gesture shy and intimate. "Because the fact is, you had me at 'indecisive snot'."

the end.

A/N: Tumblr and it's 250 box limit will be the death of me, I swear. I get it, I do. But come on! This very almost didn't fit, I had to edit and mush several chapters into one. Eventually it fit, but NEVER AGAIN! It was exhausting and time consuming. I'll rather split it again, like I did with two of my other fics. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. This took me a while with all the editing. Purple hearts for all of you!! -Kayla.

#bangtan #bangtan fanfic #bts fic #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook imagine

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cuquitalocita · 4 years ago

Text

a new addition- rowaelin

AN: okay, a bunch of you guys asked for a part two to this fic so here it is! it’s longer than i meant for it to be and it’s not my favorite but i hope you guys like it- by the way the name eliora is not mine originally- i can’t remember who used it but it was not me so feel free to tag people if you know :)

part one

“And then what?” Her voice was eager.

Aelin shrugged, her lips tilting up into a small smile as she gazed at the green eyes across from her. “Then he kissed me.” Being completely honest, Aelin could remember the kiss as if it was yesterday. Could still feel his hard body pressed against hers and the fading taste of alcohol on his lips.

“Bullshit,” a voice scoffed from behind her. Aelin whirled to face the matching turquoise eyes and she arched a brow, causing him to visibly swallow.

“Excuse you? As far as I recall, I don’t remember you being there.”

Her son shook his head, plopping down on the open area of the couch beside her and taking her feet into his lap. “I didn’t need to be,” he shrugged. “You and Dad tell the story often enough. Everyone knows that you-”

He was cut off as Eliora’s hand slapped over his mouth. “No spoiling, Sammy! I wanna hear the story!” Aelin laughed at her six-year-old and pulled her onto her lap, kissing her cheek as she did so. She gazed at Eliora for a moment; she truly was a beautiful child, even if Aelin was a little bias.

“That’s right, Eliora,” Aelin grinned at her daughter. “And what did we say about spoiling?”

“Don’t do it,” she replied definitively with a firm shake of her head. Aelin couldn’t help but squeeze Eliora a bit tighter as she opened her mouth to continue the story. Her mouth closed as another body entered the living room.

“What are we doing?” Nehemia asked, coming to sit by her twin on the couch. Shoulder to shoulder, Aelin’s eyes stared back at her. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Mama’s telling me a love story,” Eliora gushed to her sister, her green eyes alight with childlike excitement. “The greatest of all time!”

Nehemia gazed at Eliora with pure love, even as she leaned over to whisper something in her brother’s ear. Aelin was just able to hear, “She’s telling it again, huh?”

“I told you we should have gone to Aunt Lys��s house,” was her son’s muttered response. Nehemia snorted, leaning back over the couch until she was eye to eye with Eliora.

“Greatest of all time, huh? Must be a good one.” Her eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint Aelin could only credit to herself.

“It is,” Aelin finally cut in. “And if you would stop interrupting, I would be able to finish it.”

The sixteen year-olds rolled their eyes, gazing at one another in a silent language only they could understand. But Aelin didn’t need to hear their dialogue to understand that they had heard the story enough times. But Aelin couldn’t help it. She just loved telling it. Gazing at the sparkling emerald on her finger, Aelin didn’t think she would ever get sick of telling it.

“So, as I was saying.” She bounced Eliora playfully in her lap until she giggled. “He kissed me and-”

“Aelin Galathynius Whitethorn, you better not be telling my daughter that I kissed you at that party!” Aelin had been so absorbed in her kids that she had barely registered her hulking husband walking into the room. He stood at the door, arms crossed in front of his body as he glared at her, emerald eyes meeting turquoise in a clash of passion. Rowan was still in his work clothes, clearly having just arrived, and Aelin was really trying not to drool at how good he looked with his hair ruffled and his tie undone around his neck.

She threw up her hands with an exasperated sigh.

“Gods, what does a girl have to do to finish a story around here?”

The floor of their living room creaked as Rowan came to sit beside Aelin and Sam on the couch, his gaze never leaving hers. Rowan leaned forward, catching Aelin’s lips with his for a quick kiss before settling back down on the couch. Nehemia immediately rested her head on her father’s shoulder and was rewarded with a warm kiss to the top of her head.

Aelin gazed at them with fondness, love filling her heart. Until her husband’s gaze locked with her own once more, and Aelin smirked.

“You cannot keep telling people that,” Rowan shook his head before turning to their youngest, taking her from Aelin’s lap and shooting his wife an exasperated look. “Eliora, do you remember what Mama and I told you about lying?”

From across from her, Aelin watched Sam snort. He swallowed as his gaze met hers, smile dropping.

Eliora’s tiny eyebrows scrunched up at the top of her head, the look identical to one Aelin constantly saw on Rowan’s face. Finally, she shook her head, gazing up at her father. “It’s… wrong?”

“That’s right,” Rowan smiled down at her. “And we don’t do it. Even if Mama does.” He looked at the gape on his wife’s face before looking down at their daughter once more. “Especially if Mama does.” Aelin stuck her tongue out to her husband, who finally cracked a smile at her. This one sent warmth all the way down to her toes.

“Does this mean Mama can’t finish the story?” Eliora asked, her voice turning sad as she gazed between her family. Rowan laughed, bouncing her up and down before looking at the twins and back at Aelin, an unmistakable look of triumph in his eyes.

“Oh, no no no,” he replied, grinning. “Daddy’s here now. And I’m gonna tell you what really happened. I didn’t want to be at that party, to begin with...”

Aelin didn’t need him to, even if their kids did. She remembered everything about that night. Everything about the days and weeks following she didn’t think she would ever forget them until the day she died. It wasn’t every day you kissed the love of your life at a shitty fraternity rager.

Rowan sat in the kitchen nursing his long since warmed beer. Shitty rap music blared through the speakers around him and it was then that he decided he was better off going back to his dorms before he did something he would regret.

It had been an hour since the kiss. An hour until he had finally gotten to understand what the hype of kissing Aelin Galathynius was. She was a lot of things- but a bad kisser wasn’t one of them. Rowan had sworn to every god imaginable he could handle a kiss with the infuriating blonde. It was just a kiss, right? Just a game.

But her lips had touched his and Rowan knew something was very very different. He hadn’t been able to get the smell of lemon and verbatim out of his senses for the past hour and it was unlikely that he would stop imagining the kiss any time soon.

But it was just a kiss. He didn’t like Aelin Galathynius.

She was annoying, and loud, obnoxious, and rude, and she lived to annoy him.

So why couldn’t he stop thinking of her? Even before the party, after their failed project, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about those damn turquoise eyes.

It wasn’t that he hated everything about her. No- he had noticed the kind voice she would take when talking to Lysandra’s little sister. And he would be a fool not to notice the special smile that lit up her face when she would play with her dog or talk about literature. No, he didn’t hate her. But whatever he did feel was proving to be extremely problematic. Because there was no way she felt the same way.

Yes- it was definitely time to go home.

Making his way out from behind the kitchen counter, Rowan made to leave the kitchen just as the door went flying open. The sound of laughter rang through the door and Rowan stared at the exact person he was hoping to be done with for the night.

“Not likely, Moonbeam,” she was saying with a shake of her head, even though a spark glimmered in her blue eyes. Rowan had to consciously check himself from staring for too long as Aelin realized who was standing in front of her.

Her hand flew to her chest with wide eyes. “Jesus, Rowan, you scared me!”

Rowan thought it was the first time she had ever said his name. He quite liked the sound of it from her lips.

He was staring again. Full-blown staring at the woman in front of him as he contemplated what to say or do. He was coming up blank. Every thought in his mind seemed to be screaming at him at once. Some saying to run- to flee and never come into contact with her again, others saying to grab her and kiss her. All of them agreed she looked breathtaking in front of him. Like a golden angle.

“Ditto, Galathynius,” he managed out, earning a frown from Aelin. The action brought his gaze to her lips and he quickly looked away. Aelin seemed to have changed as well. Gone was the snarky woman who had spilled her beer all over him, replaced with a beautiful woman who he might’ve been friends with in another life.

“Hey, can we-”

“You know you may want to switch to a different conditioner,” he cut her off, saying the first thing he could think of to leave the conversation. “Your hair’s a little dry.”

Aelin gaped at him, her once lidded eyes turning cold and hard as she scoffed, shoving past him further into the kitchen. “Charming as ever, Whitethorn,” she sniped. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Eliora clapped from her place on her father’s lap.

“It was true love’s kiss!” she cried, earning a laugh from her siblings and parents. It had definitely been something, that was for sure.

“I don’t know…” Aelin mused. “I thought true love’s kiss was reserved for princes, the bravest of them all.” Eliora frowned, as did the twins as their gazes switched to their father.

“I am brave!” Rowan squawked, eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about, Aelin?”

“Why, my dear husband,” Aelin placed her hand on her chest, pretending to be affronted. “It seems you’ve forgotten what happened afterward.” Realization dawned on Rowan’s face before retreating back into a frown. He seemed to hold Eliora tighter as he glared at his wife.

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” he muttered, voice low.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam interrupted his parents from his side of the couch. “What do you mean what happened afterward?” This was a part of the story that neither one of their teenagers had heard before. Whether they were too young to understand it, or it had never come up, the twins were now fully invested in the story.

“Yeah,” Nehemia joined in. “You guys got together after the kiss at the party. That was it, right?” At their parents’ silence, the twins looked at each other before bolting upright in their seats.

“Right?” they asked in unison.

Rowan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. It seemed it was time for a sequel to their family tale.

Rowan was sure there should be a ditch where his feet had paced through the grass in front of Aelin’s dorm. Cursing to whatever gods there were, Rowan forced his feet to stop moving. How was he supposed to apologize to Aelin if he couldn’t even stop pacing from the nervousness of just thinking about it?

It hadn’t taken long after Rowan had left the party for him to realize what an idiotic prick he had been. He had been tempted to drive over to her dorm right then and there and grovel for her forgiveness. But ultimately he had decided against it, choosing instead in favor of avoiding a hangover.

But he was sober now, and an apology was necessary. More than necessary.

He had apologized to people before. He had begged his professors for extensions and apologized after a falling out with an old friend. But he had never planned on asking out any of the people he had been apologizing to. Two days and Rowan had refused to talk about the kiss with anyone. To be honest, he had tried to forget about it himself.

But it seemed it was destined to never leave his mind for the rest of his existence. And as he played the kiss back in his mind, he couldn’t say he minded it. It had been a rude awakening to realize he may have had feelings for Aelin Galathynius. To go from loathing the girl in his chemistry class to suddenly picturing her face everywhere was a big change, and Rowan didn’t know what to do about it.

Rowan wasn’t stupid. Aelin Galathynius was a beautiful person. Gorgeous looks aside, the woman had a pure heart of fire and gold. Of course, he had noticed this in sullen silence, but that wasn’t the point. He could acknowledge her wicked intelligence and her need to fight for something that was important to her. And he knew that she loved unconditionally.

Whether he liked it or not, he had kissed Aelin back, and that had been all him.

He wanted to do it again.

“Fleetfoot, slow down! Hang on a second Lys- Fleetfoot, no!” Rowan whipped around as he heard Aelin’s voice come from behind him. Sure enough, the golden beauty walked along the sidewalk to her dorm, dog leash in hand.

She was dressed in a university sweatshirt and leggings that showed off the curve of her legs, so much so that Rowan was forced to look away. Her phone was between her ear and shoulder as she spoke with who Rowan assumed to be Lysandra. He held back a smile as the massive golden retriever yanked her along the road, apparently following a particularly interesting squirrel.

“I’m telling you, Lys,” she was saying as she came closer, clearly still not seeing him. “It’s not li-” Her feet came to a sudden stop and Rowan’s head snapped up to see her gaze was already on his, eyes wide. Aelin opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Rowan couldn’t find he had anything to say either. Her golden hair ran down her back and Rowan found himself fighting the urge to twirl a strand of it around his finger. She really was breathtaking.

“Lys, I’ll call you back,” she said, eyes not leaving his as she took the phone from her shoulder and ended the call. “Rowan? What are you doing here?”

It was his turn to struggle for words. How would he even bring it up? A week ago the two were on nothing more than insulting terms. She had infuriated him- had tried every nerve in his body and every bit of anger he had. But now…

Aelin’s brows were raised in anticipation. Are you going to answer?

Rowan coughed, finally thrown out of his reverie. Who was he kidding? Aelin didn’t want to go on a date with him? Aelin didn’t want to go anywhere with him. And he couldn’t blame her. Rowan had been nothing but a prick to her since the moment they had met, and it was truly coming back to bite him in the ass.

“Uh, Aedion told me he left something in Lys’s room.” The lie rolled off of his tongue easily enough, yet he hoped Aelin would be able to see through it. It seemed that she didn’t.

“Oh,” she said, understanding and almost shame clouding her words. “Right. What is it? Do you wanna come inside to find it?” Aelin’s dog sat obediently at her heels, looking between the two college kids in silent wonder.

Yeah, dude, Rowan wanted to say. I don’ know what’s happening either.

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s Aedion’s problem. I just thought I could find it before class started but I think it’s too late. He’ll come around later for it.”

“Right,” Aelin said doubtfully, crossing her arms in front of her body and looking at him.

“Right,” Rowan repeated back to her, causing Aelin to raise another brow. He wanted to push it back down. “Well, I’m gonna go- get to… class. So- bye Aelin.” He was gone before she could say anything else, giving her his back and practically sprinting back toward his side of campus.

Rowan Whitethorn was an idiot. He knew it. But one look from Aelin and the cold fear that had rushed through his body had him wanting to curl up into a ball and never speak to her again. But he had to. Rowan would have to talk to her again if he was going to find out who was truly behind those stunning blue eyes.

But even at the thought of speaking to her again-

“Hold on, hold on, I know where this is going,” Nehemia interrupted her father before he could continue his sentence. “You avoided her didn’t you?” As Rowan’s cheeks flamed, Sam sat upright in his seat, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“No way. You avoided her?” Aelin cackled as Rowan grumbled something under his breath, earning herself another glare. Nonetheless, Aelin tucked herself under her husband’s arm, reaching up to plant a kiss on his cheek. He seemed to soften at the touch, green eyes meeting hers in a look so full of love Aelin thought she might explode.

“Well, what is it, old man?” Sam prompted. Rowan scowled at his son and daughter, both of who looked ready to pass out from restrained laughter.

“Only for a couple of weeks,” he muttered lowly.

“A COUPLE OF WEEKS?” Sam exploded, his laughter finally ringing out through the house as he fell back into the couch, holding his stomach. Nehemia glared at her brother and poked him in the stomach. It didn’t seem to matter as Sam sat up, still grinning. “And you call me a coward for not asking Asterin Havilliard out.”

“You are a coward for not asking Asterin Havilliard out,” Rowan shook his head, running a hand down his face. Nehemia nodded, offering her father a high five which he quickly returned. She was such a daddy’s girl.

“It’s true honey,” Aelin cut in, even as her son glared at her. “Dorian knows she likes you.”

“The world knows she likes him,” Nehemia said, exasperated. “Now get back to the story. Mom,” she turned to Aelin. “Did you know Dad was lying about having places to be?”

Aelin snorted, running her hand through the hair at the nape of Rowan’s neck which seemed to be even redder than it had been moments before. “Of course I did. His excuse was that he had to go to class. It was Sunday.”

It was Nehemia’s turn to crackle now and Rowan looked downright offended. It wasn’t often that his oldest daughter wasn’t on his side. Aelin leaned into Rowan’s shoulder, delight running through her body as he placed a chaste kiss on her temple.

“You’ll pay for this,” he mumbled into her hair.

Her eyes said it all. I’m looking forward to it, Buzzard.

“What happened? What happened?” Eliora’s voice dragged Aelin back to the present. She was sure her youngest had no idea what was going on at this point in the story, but Rowan continued nonetheless.

It was three weeks before he saw her again. Three weeks of avoided group hangouts and staying in his dorm room during parties. Three weeks of taking a longer route than normal to all of his classes, and three weeks of wishing he could speak to the girl he couldn’t get out of his head.

Rowan was sitting at a picnic table in the middle of one of the university quads, textbook open and highlighter in hand. He hadn’t actually understood any bit of what he had read, but at least it looked like he was doing something. And it seemed to be working pretty well for his other problem.

“Fleetfoot, get back here!” Or not.

Rowan tried not to draw attention to himself as Aelin ran past his table, after the massive bundle of golden fur that was running away from her. He watched as she chased her dog around the quad, finally giving up as she layed on the ground, arms splayed wide. It wasn’t long before Fleetfoot was back and licking her face.

He felt Aelin’s laugh all the way to his heart.

“Ten bucks says he grows a pair and asks her out.” Sam had long since abandoned his spot on the couch in favor of sitting on the ground to watch his father intently as he told the story. He had muttered the words to his sister, whose feet were right by his head. She too was looking at her father intently.

“Twenty says he keeps ignoring her until happenstance pushes them together.”

Rowan rolled his eyes at his children, even though the spark in his green eyes showed he was more than amused. “Your mother was right. It is impossible to finish a story in this house.”

“Gods,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe my dad was such a pus-”

“Let’s see how fast I can ground you,” Rowan cut him off with a stern look to the child in his arms who seemed to be on the verge of sleep. Sam smiled sheepishly.

“My bad.”

“Will you shut up so he can finish the story?” Nehemia glared at her brother.

“Alright,” Aedion slammed his hand down on Rowan’s helmet, sending a large clattering sound through his head. Rowan scowled at his best friend, shoving him away. “What the fuck is going on between you and my cousin?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rowan turned back to his bag, shrugging off his helmet and shoving it into the massive pack before taking a sip of his water bottle, all while ignoring Aedion and those eyes that reminded him so much of the ones he truly wanted to see.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rowan,” Aedion snapped at him, forcing Rowan to face him. “The two of you have been skirting around each other for the past three weeks and Aelin won’t even come to parties with us anymore so what. Happened.”

Rowan stopped. Aelin hadn’t been going to parties? Had she been avoiding him as much as he had been avoiding her? He looked at his best friend and shrugged.

“We kissed. During spin the bottle.”

Aedion looked at him for what seemed like minutes before bursting into uncanny laughter.

“Damn,” he wheezed out. “That’s it? Well, it’s about time.”

“Excuse me?” Rowan growled, and Aedion stopped laughing.

“You know what I mean, man. It’s about time. All those years when you two would look at each other and glance away before the other noticed. Or when you defend each other when the

other isn’t there- yep, don’t think I didn’t notice that. I think we can all agree that it’s about time.”

Rowan shook his head, incredulous. Other people had noticed that?

“No, Aedion,” he sighed. “Aelin hates me. She wants nothing to do with me.” Aedion stared at him again before, shaking his head.

“Ro, man, you are such an idiot sometimes.”

“You know, Aedion. Saying cryptic shit and expecting other people to understand you doesn’t help anyone,” Rowan snapped, his patience thinning. Turning back to Aedion, he found his eyes glued on something behind him.

Rowan’s heart stopped. There was no way.

But sure enough, Rowan turned around to meet the gaze of a gaping Aelin Galathynius. She held a tennis ball in one hand and Fleetfoot circled the ground at her feet. Clearly, the dog had chased the ball into their field and her owner had eventually followed. At the worst timing imaginable.

“Aelin-” Rowan started, but she was already gone, whirling around and sprinting out of the stadium, the golden retriever at her heels. He didn’t think before following after her. “Aelin, wait!” he called after her, forcing his legs to go faster.

It turned out that Aelin Galathynius was quite fast when she wanted to be, and Rowan only caught up to her when she was standing in front of her dorm building. She didn’t need to turn around for Rowan to know she was fuming.

“Gods, what do you want, Rowan?” she glared at him, her voice ice. “Haven’t you already proven your point?” Rowan wanted to grab her and shake her.

“Proven my- what? Aelin I-”

“Look you made yourself very clear at the party, alright?” she snapped, turning away from him. But Rowan’s arm shot out, catching hers before she could leave and forcing her to look at him. “I get that Aedion can be nosy at times but you were so out of line, Whitethorn.”

The confused look on his face must have been painfully obvious. Aelin rolled her eyes. “Look, if it was just an act to shut Aedion up, I-”

Rowan kissed her.

This woman. This annoying, infuriating, intelligent, beautiful woman. She was absolutely astounding. And she thought he somehow hadn’t noticed that.

Rowan wanted to remember the feeling of her lips on his for the rest of his life. Wanted to bottle the sound of the small gasp she released before melting into the kiss. He wanted to mold their bodies together until there was no room left. Rowan wanted to feel her soft hair between his fingers and the feeling of her hands in his hair until the day he died. He never wanted to let her go.

This time when the two pulled back, Rowan kept her close to his body with an arm around her waist. Her arms were still around his neck and Aelin gazed at him through wide eyes. Before she could say anything, Rowan kissed her again, this time lingering. She kissed his smile with her own.

“It was never an act.”

“Well it seems to me that Fleetfoot is the true heroine of the story,” Nehemia grinned, petting the head of her own puppy that sat at her feet next to Sam. “Without her, you two would never have met again. Oh, and I won, by the way Sammy. Pay up.”

“That’s my girl,” Rowan grinned, pride shone over his face at his daughter’s antics regardless of her win being at his expense. Sam practically growled as he handed his sister a twenty-dollar bill.

“Oh, don’t be sad, Sammy,” Aelin comforted her son, holding her arms out until he rolled his eyes and walked over to give her a hug. “Ask out Asterin and your kids won’t do the same thing to you,” she whispered, earning a dark red blush on her son’s cheeks.

She shared a knowing look with Rowan, unable to resist reaching up and kissing his lips once more. Rowan returned it in kind, grinning when she nipped playfully at his bottom lip.

“Boo!” Nehemia called from her spot on the couch as Sam yelled, “Get a room!”

Aelin turned to Rowan once more, unsurprised to see his gaze already on her. “Remind me why we keep them?” Rowan’s laugh rang out loud as he pulled Aelin close to his body. Her head landed on his shoulder and she sighed in content.

“Because we’re cute,” Nehemia supplied. “At least, one of us is.” She gazed at her little sister who had long since fallen asleep on her father’s lap.

It seemed that their entire reason for telling the story had fallen asleep long before her father had finished telling it. There was no doubt that Eliora wouldn’t remember any bit of the story when she woke up.

“She’s too young to understand the story yet,” Nehemia said, brushing back a piece of her little sister’s hair with astounding gentleness.

“So what do we tell her when she’s old enough?” Aelin asked, cherishing the kiss that Rowan placed on her head and unable to contain the insurmountable love in her heart as her kids responded.

“Oh, Mom’s version, for sure. It’s way better.”

taglist:

@story-scribbler

@rowaelinismyotp

@live-the-fangirl-life

@claralady

@surielandiareendgame

#aelin galythinius #rowan whitethorn #aelin #rowan #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowaelin fic #rowaelin au #modern au #rowaelin fanfiction #tog #sjm #throne of glass

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owl-with-a-pen · 4 years ago

Note

brainy or nia try on karas glasses one day and kara realizes that they were brenda/brandon?

- Oh my god, yes! Thank you for the prompt. x

“No, no,” Alex said decisively. “It’s been years and I still don’t get it. How the hell do glasses make it impossible for people to recognise you? I’d know you from anywhere.”

Nia grinned from across the table, lifting her drink to her lips as Alex pinched Kara’s cheek, only to be batted away by her little sister a second later.

“Okay,” Kara said with a snort. “Your next round is gonna be water shots.” She turned her head from the table, making a show of searching the bar. “Where’s Al?”

“Oh, you know he heads out back the second this party rolls in,” Kelly said with an impish smile, raising her own glass. She took Alex’s hand before she could pester Kara any further, winding their fingers firmly together. “Although, I have to agree with the water.”

“Hydration would appear useful at this stage,” Brainy added with a sage nod. “She may also benefit from lining her stomach with something a little more substantial.”

Nia grinned, leaning back against Brainy’s chest. “Is that your not-so-subtle hint that you want more onion rings?”

She’d perched herself on the edge of Brainy’s stool some time into the evening; her smile widened when she felt his hands link around her front in response. “Sometimes, multiple issues can call for a single solution,” Brainy pointed out, tucking his face into her hair. “What is the saying? Two birds, one stone?” Nia's face warmed when Brainy’s lips traced idly along the side of her jaw.

Kara grinned. “Well, hey, I’m not gonna say no to more onion rings.”

It was fair to say that they’d all had a few drinks between them by now, although Kelly and Alex were strictly drinking from the human menu. Things always got a little whacky with alien grade alcohol, and despite her half-Naltorian genetics, Nia had barely been able to stomach a single sip of Brainy’s drink of choice. It suited his tolerance level far better, and made for a slower automatic response for his body to factor out the alcohol and sober him up. If his sudden confidence with intimacy in a public environment was anything to go by, Nia figured it was definitely working.

Nia knew Kara was drinking something similar to Brainy, although her Kryptonian biology made her far more resilient against its contents. She wasn’t even slurring.

Meanwhile, Nia was feeling all kinds of warm inside. Although, Brainy’s hold on her was probably a major factor in that.

It had felt like forever since they’d last gone out like this, and from the recent stress they’d all been under, it wasn’t exactly surprising that they’d found their way to Al’s bar. Plus, after the number of times they’d saved this place from one catastrophe or another, they got some incredibly generous discounts even on some of the rarer beverages. It was just unfortunate that Alex’s human tolerance really wasn’t matching up. And, considering Kelly was still on her first drink, she was currently the only person everyone was sorely worried about getting home safely that night.

With that in mind, Nia was just about to suggest heading up to the bar to go order, when Alex made her move, whipping her hand out quick enough to snatch Kara’s glasses straight from her face, balancing them across her nose.

She turned to Kelly immediately, staring at her levelly. “Well?” she asked expectantly. "How do I look?”

“It’s like looking at a total stranger,” Kelly deadpanned. She smirked, leaning in closer. “Although, they do make you kinda mysterious.”

Alex’s smile broadened. “Oh really?”

“My turn!” Nia chirped, plucking the glasses from Alex’s face. She rested her elbows on the table, propping her chin up with her hands the moment she had the glasses on. She narrowed her eyes, testing out her new perspective. As anticlimactic as it was, nothing really changed. It was just like staring through two pieces of clear glass. Nia pouted. She supposed it wasn't unexpected - that was exactly what she was doing, after all.

“It’s weird being able to see clearly while wearing someone’s else’s glasses,” Nia mused, playing around with the glasses’ temples, wiggling them up and down in front of her face. “Has anyone who didn’t know your secret ever done this before?” She jerked her head up, snapping her fingers. “Ooh, I know, I bet you just tell them you both need the same prescriptions. Am I right, or am I right?”

Kara didn’t answer.

“...Kara?”

When Nia turned, she realised that Kara was staring directly at her, a half-stunned daze in her eyes.

“What, did the alcohol finally kick in?” Nia prodded good-naturedly, only for Kara to reach out suddenly, taking the glasses away from her. “Hey! I was using those!”

Kara remained silent. Instead, with unnerving intensity, she came forward, slipping the glasses onto Brainy’s face. Brainy jerked from the unexpected contact, lifting them away from his nose as though they'd burned. He blinked quickly in affront, eyeing Kara suspiciously. “What was that for?” he asked.

“It was you two,” Kara said mildly; her voice sounded far too calm for comfort, like she was on the verge of a full-blown freak out. “All those years ago, in Midvale. It was you.”

Nia spluttered at the exact same moment as Brainy. She snapped her head towards him desperately. “What?” she asked, registering the panic in Brainy’s eyes that she knew was reflected identically in her own. “No—what—no?” She dug her hand into her boyfriend’s shoulder, squeezing tight. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

“I have no idea what you are- what she’s talking about-” Brainy snorted defensively. “Do-do you?”

Nia nudged him nervously, eyes wide. “I just said I didn’t, genius.”

“...Right,” Brainy said quickly, clearing his throat. He raised his voice, turning back to Kara. “Two admissions though! Thus further proving that we have no idea what you are talking—”

But, Kara was still staring, a cold glare of certainty in her eyes. “I’d know that scrambling for an excuse anywhere,” she said, taking Brainy’s hands and guiding the glasses back into place over the bridge of his nose. She met no resistance this time, Brainy was far too busy gaping at her. “Brendan.” She turned to Nia accusingly. “Brenda.” Her lips split into a pained smile. “Rao- I thought you two were hiding something, but I was willing to accept it, because... I thought you were lost.”

“In our defence, we sorta were,” Nia admitted sheepishly. “The crash wasn’t part of the plan.”

It was Brainy’s turn to nudge her. “Nia.”

“Give it up, Brainy.” Nia cringed. “We’re caught.”

Kara ran her hands through her hair, shaking her head in bewilderment. “What were you guys even doing there? When did this even happen for you?”

“When you were in the Phantom Zone,” Nia said slowly, ducking her head.

“We needed your DNA,” Alex said softly. It sounded as though the recent commotion had done a good job at sobering her up. “To track you down.”

“It was thanks to these two that we were able to save you at all,” Kelly added.

Something crossed Kara’s expression then, but it was so quick that Nia barely caught it. All she knew was that in that moment, Kara looked entirely vulnerable. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked weakly.

Brainy swallowed hastily. “Had you known our true identities in 2009, it would have caused ramifications in the timeline that could have irrevocably changed the future.”

“I don’t mean then,” Kara said sharply, attention snapping to Brainy. Her expression fell. “Why not when I came back?”

“It didn’t seem… necessary,” Brainy said uncomfortably. Nia felt his grip tighten back around her and ran her hand across his arm, squeezing gently.

Kara scoffed, folding her arms. “Not necessary? You guys were in my past—you saved my life, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“So much happened,” Nia said carefully. “Kara, we didn’t want to stress you out any more than you already had been.”

“Come here,” Kara said suddenly.

Nia blinked her surprise, catching Brainy’s eyes quickly for confirmation. Hesitantly, Brainy nodded, unlocking his arms from around Nia’s waist. Nia slipped from the stool, stepping towards her alongside Brainy.

They stared at her unsurely for all of two seconds before Kara came forward, swooping them both into the most intense super hug Nia thought either of them had ever experienced.

Nia gasped for breath, wrapping her free arm automatically around Kara’s back. The brush of Brainy’s fingers confirmed to her that he had done just the same.

“I never thought I’d get a chance to say this,” Kara murmured into the space between them. “But, thank you. Both of you, for everything that you did.”

“For... saving your life?” Brainy asked, voice muffled with confusion. “You’re... very welcome?”

Kara laughed, pressing her face into his hair. “Not that. Okay, well, of course that. But,” She sighed, drawing away again, her hands still locked tightly against each of their arms, “you both came to me at a time where I was questioning so much. My future, my identity, my place on Earth. I was hurting, in more ways I ever let on. And without you two—I don’t know what I might have done differently.”

Nia smirked. “Wait…” She turned her head towards Brainy. “Does that mean we were always meant to travel back to 2009?”

“Pre-destined time travel.” Brainy pondered on that thought for a long moment, his lips twitching into a smile of his own. He shrugged. “I suppose stranger things have happened.”

“You did crash, though,” Alex pointed out from across the table.

Brainy shot her a glare.

“Destiny,” Kelly cut in, sighing dreamily. “I like that, though.”

Nia knocked Brainy’s arm playfully. “Just like how you coming to this time gave you the chance to live freely. With us.” Nia squeezed her boyfriend's hand secretively before she turned back to Kara, smile softening. “Maybe we gave that same chance to you, too.”

“Thank you,” Kara said again. She blinked, wiping quickly at her face where tears were near approaching. “I- I don’t even think just saying that cuts it.”

Nia's smile widened mischievously. “Hey, does that mean the next round isn’t on us?”

Brainy raised a finger in consideration. “I believe tap water is on the house, anyway.”

“Hey, no water,” Alex shot back. “And you guys are not getting out of shots that easily.”

They all laughed at that. And, just like that, Nia felt as though an invisible tension that had been tethering them together had finally loosened.

She smiled as she re-joined her family back at the table, hand-in-hand with Brainy.

For the first time in a long time, it really felt like everything was going to be okay.

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gripefroot · 4 years ago

Text

A Court of Dusk and Shadows ❲1❳

The throne was white.

No - it was every color of a sunset. With the descending sun blazing behind it, it turned gold and orange and pink and purple. New shades spreading across with each passing minute as night crept on. And beneath it - shadows lengthened and spread from the carved base, wild and free.

The throne beckoned. Come sit, it said to me. Come take your place.

Beyond the throne were marble pillars that stretched proudly into the sky, woven with vines of moonflowers and orchids. I could not see any roof - dusky clouds obscured the view. And below, far, far below - the sea rippled in shining waves, beating against the island in shimmering hues. Boats with bone-white sails seemed to drift forever. Distantly I could hear voices: voices laughing and talking and teasing and bargaining. The calls of animals, the hammer of forges.

And everything smelled of salt and fragrant flowers and lemon.

But I could feel, rather than see, what was making my heart wrench away from the lovely sight. A hand outstretched in front of that throne, leading up to a smiling face clear of sorrow and fear.

A scarred hand. Extended from the dark, and I knew that between us was where light and shadow met.

Come sit, he said, echoing the throne. Come take your place, and I’ll be at your side forever.

⚘ ⚘ ⚘

The night was an inky black shield dotted with silver and gold. Velaris far below, the stars above and only the whistling wind and thump of his own heart for company: Azriel’s gaze honed in on the House of Wind as he descended, and hoped that none would question his tardiness.

His boots landed silently on an upper balcony.

Halls were unlit, creeping with silence. The shadows that came with him curled around his neck and ears, whispering that nearly everyone was asleep. There would be no interrogation that night, at least - though breakfast might be another matter. But that would be for the morning. He slipped into his bedroom and closed the door behind him, resting his forehead against the wood panels for several heartbeats before turning wearily away to find his rest.

A cozy fire had flickered itself to life, the wrought-iron window springing open to let in more of that sweet night air. He lingered only to unstrap himself of weapons, setting them on the table beside his bed as his thoughts skittered and bit at him like hungry wolves.

Azriel had been gnawed for so long he wondered how they found any part of him left to devour.

Truth-Teller shone like a void in the light as he pulled it from its sheath, if only to look at it. Scarred thumb tracing over the hilt - with a sigh he shoved it back in, and put it aside.

The knock on his door was so quiet that he might not have heard it, had the shadows spreading from him not trembled in response. They slithered up the door to turn the knob, his head lifting in a jerk as he scented his visitor - the sweet, heady jasmine that wore itself on her skin like a blessing. Or a spell.

A click behind her. The door was closed.

The wolves barked. Azriel turned, hand lifting to rub the back of his neck in an unconscious gesture as he forced himself, as he always had, to keep his expression even. To betray nothing. Even though the sight of her lace robe over a silken, lilac gown that displayed her creamy throat so well was enough to move him to his knees. To say nothing of the loose curls hanging down her back - wanting to be touched. Wanting him to bury his face there and breathe her in until she lived beneath his skin -

“You were missed,” Elain said.

“I was occupied,” Azriel said shortly. Her head tilted slightly to the side, and at his glower the shadows that crept curiously around the hem of her nightgown scattered, leaving her free to glow in the golden light of the fire.

“Why don’t you come to family dinners anymore?” she asked, her voice softer than rain.

He swallowed. A tremor went through his wings, and he stretched them out slightly to ease the tautness. Her eyes flitted to them over his shoulders. He saw the bob of her throat. “You know why,” Azriel told her in a hoarse, harsh voice.

Elain lifted her chin, though the expression in her lovely eyes shimmered. “If it’s me you’re avoiding, I’ll stop going,” she said.

“No.”

“You should be with your family. They miss you.”

“No,” Azriel said again.

“I don’t know how much longer I can attend, pretending that nothing’s wrong with me,” Elain said. “That my heart doesn’t hurt more each time you don’t appear. Azriel,” she breathed, and his spine stiffened as if brushed with a tender finger from root to tip. “I - I don’t want to go anymore. I don’t want the reminder that you - that you don’t want to see me.”

Secrets were best whispered alone in the night: Azriel had always known that. Known that honesty could burst out at the right moments, if prodded enough, uncaring of the consequences it could bring.

As for him - the consequence was like a poisoned knife between his ribs, where he felt the emptiest.

“The best solution is for you to go instead of me,” Elain went on in his silence. “I’ll be happier knowing you are.”

“I’m not happy,” Azriel said. But she merely lifted her slender shoulders, the lace rustling against the silk. As if she didn’t care to wonder why he’d said it; the extent of what he’d meant. His honesty was kept deeper down and further back. Where it couldn’t hurt anyone who could hurt him.

“I’m not going to go to family dinners anymore,” she told him. As if her mind was made up. “I hope you do.”

“You’re hurt when I’m not there,” he said. “No different than I am at your absence.”

It was all the game. It had to be. The repeating, the declarations, the anguish: pushing at the walls each of them had built around the other, as if looking for weak spots. To crumble, or to build back better. Azriel didn’t know. Something in him was howling.

Elain’s eyes began to glitter. The shift of the firelight against her hair, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed -

Something clattered from elsewhere in the house. Azriel stiffened, wings snapping in as his gaze darted to the door behind her. He ground out between his teeth, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I want to be,” she whispered. “I can’t stay away.”

The jasmine - he realized her scent wasn’t fresh and blooming. He’d noticed it when she first came in. It was heady. Like it had been scorching under the summer sun, begging for water; thirst to be parched, or the petals to be plucked and treasured -

Azriel’s head spun. The wolves that ate at him yipped and scratched and whined. They wanted. They wanted.

“If you’re looking for release,” he said in a low growl, fingers clenching into fists at his side. Cracking a whip at himself to quiet the wolves, but still they snarled. “Lucien Vanserra can be summoned.”

“I don’t want Lucien,” Elain said sharply. The color was high in her cheeks as she tucked a curl behind one of her delicate ears, the simple motion drawing his attention like a drawn bowstring. “I want you.”

His next words were difficult, but he forced them out: “Rhys has...commanded that we stay apart.”

“Rhysand isn't my High Lord. I’ve sworn no oath to him.” Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips. “He can't command me.”

“He commands me,” Azriel said.

“Then tell him I coerced you. Whatever you need.” The lightness in her voice was pleading. Begging. Her slender hands trembled, eyelashes stark against her skin as she blinked furiously. Desperate.

“No. I won't let you face censure, or - or punishment - ”

“Not being with you is punishment every day,” Elain cut him off, and Azriel nearly swallowed his own tongue as he saw the glitter in her eyes escape to trail a silver path down her flushed cheeks. “Lucien is punishment for me, isn't he? I was given to someone I don't love. Someone I don’t want. While you are denied to me. Is this not punishment?”

Every fiber in his body wanted to cross the space between them: to reach out, to dry the tears and to hold her in his arms until she stopped trembling. Until that gaping wound beneath his ribs was whole and glowing again -

Azriel didn’t smile, though the irony wasn’t lost on him. “It feels like it.”

Her bottom lip quivered. Then, “Please,” in a yearning whisper that started unthreading him from his very bones. The wolves purred as he took a step closer to her.

“Elain,” he murmured, and she trembled at her name, eyes closing briefly as if to savor it. “They’ll know. It...it can’t be hidden. I’d leave my scent all over you. And you on me. And I’d never, ever want to wash it off.”

“It’ll wear off,” she said.

“In days? Weeks? How long will we hide?”

Elain didn’t answer, and he took another step closer, unclenching his fists as he breathed slowly through his nose.

“It's not just that, either,” Azriel said, and her head was tilting upwards to watch him, hungry and hot as he towered over her. “Once I have you...I won't be able to stop wanting to have you. Over and over again, in every way imaginable. I don't want to live another day on this earth without tasting you on my tongue. Smelling you on my skin. Feeling you. I would…”

He trailed off, realizing that the night had somehow wrung more honesty from him than he’d ever intended. Her eyes blazed up at him, and daring, he lifted a hand to rest his scarred fingertips on the lace at her breast, beneath which he could feel the rapid pulse of her heartbeat.

“I would want to be here, inside of you.”

“Please,” Elain whispered again, barely more than a warm breath that brushed against his face like a shadow - but those stayed back. “Please, Azriel. I'm not afraid. Not of Rhys, not of Lucien. I'm afraid....of what my life will be without you. I'm afraid of wanting you for the rest of my life with no hope of having you.”

Her fingers curled over his on her breast, cool to the touch and he shivered head to toe as her thumb stroked along a rippled, white scar. Not even noticing it, with her eyes melting so intently as she stared at him. Lips slightly parted, only a few inches from his and ready to be tasted, and savored and worshipped.

“Even if you refuse,” she went on, pressing his hand tighter to the skin-warmed lace. “You’ll always be here, where you always have been."

“There’s nothing in me that can deny you,” Azriel said. Swallowed. “Elain.”

“Azriel…”

“You could ask me to tear down Ramiel with my bare hands and I would,” he breathed. “I would tear apart any part of this world. If you asked me to carve out my own heart, I would.”

“I’m not asking for that,” Elain said gently. Mirror of him, her slender hand brushed up his chest - a shudder enough to cause an earthquake ripped through him. Without armor, only a dark shirt of cotton was between their skin. He could feel the warmth of her flesh as her palm splayed over his heart. “I’m only asking for you.”

The drumming in his head must be his heartbeat. A warning, perhaps - or fate zeroed in on this moment. Where a future was held taut between them. A question between souls. Dark and light, as they’d always been. His dark, her light: she offered it freely.

Will you have me?

Will you risk it all?

He could see in her shining eyes. I would risk it all for you.

“You want me,” Azriel said. Half a question. She’d already said it. At the dip of her head in assent, he closed the remaining distance between them with a step. The slight gasp between her lips warmed his face, but he didn’t give her the kiss she wanted - the kiss she’d asked for long ago - the kiss that he’d dreamt of until his soul was used up and dry. No, three more strides backed her against the wall as he heard her heart flutter madly beneath his hand. Closer still: he braced his opposite hand above her head, feeling the pattern of the wallpaper as his knee came between her legs. Trapping her. Pinning her.

She trembled. But it wasn’t the acrid scent of her fear that was making her eyes bright.

It was want.

“I’m dangerous,” he growled in a low voice. Still Elain didn’t tear her eyes from his, even as her fingers balls into a fist with his shirt between them. “This is dangerous. You and me.”

“I don’t care.” Not the breathy tone he’d expected. Something thornier, stonier, as she lifted her chin to face him more fully. But it just exposed more of that creamy, unblemished throat to him. An invitation.

Azriel tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. Hair hung in his face, and her fingers softly brushed it aside. Jasmine. Jasmine. Jasmine. Summer, heady, hot flowers; slow-dripping honey -

Chest to chest, pressing closer as if their skin would fall away and they’d be just one person from then on. His leg lifted slightly, the rustle of lace and silk - and he felt her, through the layers, as her dark lashes closed, lips parting in an uneven breath and he heard, more with his heart than his ears,

“Oh - ”

He’d rather be boiled by the Cauldron than face Rhys after this.

And it would still be worth it. To watch the rose-pink deepen in her cheeks as her eyes fluttered open again. On his thigh she throbbed, and if he tried to push her away, he knew she’d rip his shirt apart, so tightly was she clinging to him.

“Are you scared, Elain?” Azriel whispered.

“No.”

Her eyes had glazed slightly. Like she’d gone drunk at a sip of wine, yet stared down the bottle ready to drink it to the last drop. But he was the bottle, and the wine, and the drinker. Sucking in a breath, holding her quivering body in place, he lowered his head, tilting it to the side.

His lips met her skin at a sensitive spot beneath her ear. He felt her tremble. Brushed downward to the base of her neck, savoring every inch of her as she whimpered a strain of incoherent noises he knew would play in his dreams until he was a corpse in the ground. Then, tilting his head again, he stared at the glistening hollow of her throat. Where her scent was the thickest. Richest. Sweetest.

Azriel paused long enough to take her wrists in his hands, lifting them above her head as her chest rose and fell against him. His chin was nearly between her breasts, and though they wanted his attention and he wanted to give it to them - he kept his eyes instead on her throat.

Elain was squirming. Not to get away, but to get closer. The frantic bucking of her hips against him - not close enough. He pressed harder with his leg until he could feel the grind of her bone against him, and his tongue darted out to that hollow to taste it the moment her moan rose beneath it.

“There,” he breathed. Again she rubbed herself against him. He could smell the growing headiness from there, and the jasmine coating his tongue. He licked again, and again as she moved more frantically.

His wings unfurled as he growled deep in his throat, talons reaching to dig into the wall - the house would repair itself later - and shreds of wallpaper fluttered to the ground as he steadied himself. And Elain. The way she was pulling him in, giving of herself so freely, wanting him - chasing pleasure he could give her, scant as it was...as if this would be all she was ever given. A drop of water before starvation.

Azriel fastened his lips to one jutted collarbone, and sucked. Immediately he clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her cry. Sweat was dampening her nightgown - more than sweat - and it was the most intoxicating thing he’d ever smelled. He tore his mouth from her skin to say in a hoarse voice,

“Quiet. Don’t make a sound.”

Slowly he removed his hand, then, and lifted his head enough to see the perspiration dotting her forehead. Eyes squeezed shut as her fingers dug into his shoulders, now.

“Good,” Azriel rasped. “Keep going, Elain. Use me however you need.”

“Touch me.” Her plea was broken and wavering. “Please - Azriel - ”

He snarled. Gripping her hips between his hands, helping her to move against him. Guiding each undulation as her heart beat faster and faster and faster - her breasts were at his eye level, so high he was holding her off the ground - and he allowed himself one more luxury: he rested his forehead against her sternum, feeling each bob of her breasts on either side of his face. The slight snag of a hardened nipple.

If she didn’t come soon, he would.

But it was a mere moment later that she came: breathless and noiseless, like he’d commanded, but he felt the clench of her even on his thigh. The desperate throbbing, wanting to be filled but still cresting. Deeper breaths from her parted lips, a night-song of indescribable beauty.

Azriel wanted her. He wanted her so badly he thought he’d die from it.

Elain went lax, and he caught her ‘round the waist before she toppled over. Her head against his shoulder, wings still shrouding them - his nose really was in her glorious mass of hair, now, and because he knew this shouldn’t happen again, he breathed in the scent of her curls, over and over and over again -

“Azriel,” she half-panted, half-sobbed. It made his heart wrench. The wolves in his head still prowled, still snarled - wanted to pounce, to stroke, to take - but no. No. No. He wouldn’t.

Talons unhooked themselves from the wall, wings folding delicately back in as he lowered her to the ground. A moment of unsteadiness before she could stand, blinking up at him like the sweetest fawn on a spring day. Cheeks flushed red, eyes glittering, throat damp. A faint bruise was left there from him - it would heal by morning. He hoped.

His trousers were unbearably tight. He could barely stand. But he did, and held Elain’s gaze as if it were a lifeline offered to his dying soul.

Which very well could be the truth.

“Azriel,” she said again. Tucked curls behind her ear. But he merely bowed, instead of throwing her onto the bed to devour her until Summer Solstice as he wanted to do with every fiber of his being, and said,

“I hope you’re feeling better, Elain.”

Something like hurt passed over her face. Mouth pressed together in a thin line as she tugged the lace robe to lay straight over her breasts and shoulders. Azriel didn’t look.

A single breath, drawn out like a keening wail of grief: Elain turned and swept away to the door, yanking it open to disappear into the blackness as shadows reappeared, gently closing the door to keep it from making a noise and alerting the sleeping inhabitants of the house. Azriel stared after her for a moment, fists clenched and empty and her scent all over him like a thick, woollen blanket.

He hadn’t even kissed her.

He stomped to the fireplace, tearing at the laces of his trousers to yank them off each of his feet. Threw the Elain-soaked pants into the fire.

As if knowing his intention, knowing his agony: the house ate up the leather quickly, turning it to blackened, crumbling ashes that fell among the cracked logs. He still smelled of her, he knew it. He’d smell her even if he did manage to wash her off. His leg, his hands, his chest where she’d touched him, his face - she was everywhere. Everywhere.

Almost everywhere.

Azriel ached. He ached between his legs, almost like he’d been kicked with a spiked boot. Hurt so bad even without trousers that he didn’t want to touch himself. Instead he stared at the flames, and then the embers as they burned down and the shadows crept closer to swallow him whole. Still his heart beat on, a steady, unceasing rhythm that chanted with each pulse of blood -

Elain. Elain. Elain.

TO BE CONTINUED

#elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron #elain x azriel #acotar

129 notes · View notes

icequeenbae · 4 years ago

Text

Desert Flower (m) Ch. 1 | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader x Baëkhyun

Characters: EXO and X-EXO (not all of them mentioned)

EXO vs X-EXO dynamics, complicated relationships, angsty, action, smut (as usual)

Warnings: sorta mingling with your ex’s ‘evil twin’, mentions of blood/ violence (nothing too graphic… I suppose), Y/N gets teary a lot(?), explicit content, rough sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: ~13.5k (full), ~3.7k (Chapter 1)

Summary: Baekhyun, your beloved boyfriend of three years, suddenly breaks up with you and disappears from the city in an attempt to protect you. But leaving you alone and clueless means trouble will surely find you. For it is easy to spot a flower in the desert.

Masterlist >> One >> Two (m) >> Three (m) >> Four (fin)

Author’s Note: Yay, this is happening!!! My first BaekBaёk, oml I’m gonna-

Ok. I’ll admit right off the bat that I wouldn’t be posting this any time soon without my lovely beta @baekshoney 🖤 She’s the person I turn to when I think there’s a million little things I could’ve done better, because that’s what I always think. I had to give myself a cut-off date to finally give up editing this 😅 So, I’d really appreciate it if you guys could share your thoughts and opinions on this too. My asks, dms and comments are places where you’re always welcome! Now, let’s get into this!

Tags: @blahblahblah-boo @baeklightsx @wooya1224 @baekklove

Chapter 1. The beginning of the end

It was all too sudden.

The words he’d said deafened you. Refusing to believe what you were hearing, you shook your head and took a step back, as if doing so could start the conversation you’d just had over. Or rewind the time and allow you to prevent the words from coming out of his mouth in the first place. But he was firm, unyielding in his stance.

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘It’s my fault. I should’ve known better.’

Than to start this relationship, was what he meant. That he should have avoided getting in a relationship with you altogether, and breaking up with you would’ve never become an issue.

‘Why?’ You tried to speak, but your lower lip started to tremble, silencing you at once.

This was all wrong. It couldn’t have been true, what he was saying.

He licked his lips, looking away, hands forming tight fists at his sides as he tried to recollect himself and urge his body to stay frozen on the spot.

That did not work for long – the sight of you, so small, so stunned and defeated, with tears welling in your eyes while you tried to stifle them… He couldn’t. It was stupid of him to break his act so easily, but you were too precious to him to just leave you like this.

Sighing and cursing himself out in his mind, he took a stride towards you and gathered you tightly in his arms.

‘I am sorry, Y/N,’ he continued softly, hearing you hiccup in his unexpected embrace. ‘But I have to leave. We- I should’ve stayed away from you from the start. Forgive me for being so weak.’

You sobbed at his words, shaking your head stubbornly and clinging to his broad chest as an act of desperation.

‘I can come with you!’

‘No,’ he interrupted your crazy idea. ‘I’m leaving you behind. To keep you safe.’

‘Safe from what?’ You questioned, half-annoyed now.

He kept insisting that he wished to protect you, but how was leaving you all alone ensuring your security? And why would you even consider it, when you only felt safe while with him?

‘I cannot tell you. The more you know, the more dangerous it is.’

‘Baekhyunie, please,’ you wiped the tears and grabbed onto his vest as he moved to pull away. ‘You can’t just decide this on your own!’

‘Y/N,’ he took hold of your wrists, not removing them just yet. ‘I know it’s hard, and I never wanted to hurt you like this. But there’s nothing you can say that’ll change my mind. I’d rather break your heart than risk your life, so it’s not really a choice.’

He looked around as if to make sure you were not being watched, and then leaned in to place a farewell kiss on your temple – his favorite spot. You sniffled, realization of the inevitable setting in.

‘Just let me go, flower,’ his voice lowered to a whisper, and you sobbed at the pet name. ‘You’ll be better off without me, I promise.’

‘No,’ you protested as he freed himself from your grasp, and took a step back. ‘No, Baekhyun, don’t leave,’ you clawed at his forearm, trying to stop him. ‘We can deal with it together, we can think of something! I don’t want to be without you,’ you whimpered sorrowfully.

He shook his head, shying away from your touch, while you desperately tried to hold him back.

But you couldn’t. He gently peeled your hands off to walk away, and you missed the pained crease between his eyebrows when he turned his back on you to escape your apartment.

‘Please, don’t do this…’ You whispered, voice breaking in anguish. Just as your heart was.

Yet, Baekhyun kept walking. Leaving you to weep in the unwelcoming emptiness of your home.

Leaving you for good.

***

Your relationship with Baekhyun started almost three years ago.

Still new to university life, you found yourself in the midst of a soap opera worth of drama when a bunch of transfer students joined all at once, some even in the same year as you. All highly attractive, they usually hung out together and spent less time than needed socializing with the outside world.

Not that you cared too much – sure, the excitement going around was making you curious, but they looked too handsome, almost to the extent that you found it intimidating. Ironically, the most intimidating you found Baekhyun. His then long dark hair with strands of red and a mullet hairstyle, the sharp green eyes, the pierced eyebrow, and the lip ring that made him look like a very attractive hooligan... The piercings turned out to be just as fake as the eye color, which did not disappoint you at all.

Funny enough, you only got to know this bad boy because he took a liking to retreating to the campus library. Hiding from all of the attention, of course. While some members of his clique actually basked in it, he preferred to disappear to the remote aisles of the quiet space and read a book, or, more likely, sleep with one on his chest. You saw him like that often, since you were stuck in there yourself – essays for different classes were piling up rapidly. As a diligent student, you were determined to do well in your first year of university, so dragging yourself to the library to stay glued to your laptop was the best option.

Coincidentally, you also preferred to stay in the less lively spaces, as you tended to seek peace and quiet to focus on your assignments. Your attention span… wasn’t impressive, to say the least, so you did your best to avoid any distractions. However, you didn’t count on a certain sleep lover to be one of them.

It was not the first day you spent close enough to notice the tranquil expression he wore on his face as he was snoozing. It was, however, the first time he caught you staring mindlessly in his direction. Burning the deepest shade of red in your cheeks, you grabbed your books and quickly made yourself scarce, thanking heavens for the multiple aisles of books around. You walked around for ten minutes or so, actually placing your books back where they belonged and finding a secluded corner to check out what else was on the shelves. Squinting, you tried to read the name of the tome that had gotten your attention, and raised your arm to get it from the level that was clearly too high for you. Thankfully, someone reached over your head and helped you obtain the book. You turned around to say thank you but instead were suddenly pushed back into the shelf by the taller figure with neat red strands. Speechless, you only held your book close and gaped at him, as he leaned forward.

‘Ever heard about the cat killed by curiosity?’ He hummed, eyes piercing you from above.

You swallowed, knees getting weaker as you registered the fresh musky smell coming off of his brightly colored shirt.

To push your buttons, he decided to get even more scandalously close to you, arm holding onto the rack behind you to keep balance.

‘Nothing wrong with being curious!’ You jabbered. ‘In fact, if people preserved the curiosity they have as kids they would’ve had a much bigger learning capacity as adults.’

He huffed. You weren’t sure if he was shocked or amused, because your eyes looked anywhere but his face. In fact, they lowered enough to fix on your forearm, resting across his rib cage, and your fist pressing slightly into his pec to keep him at least at a minimal distance.

At this you gasped, eyes widening and returning to his face, only to catch an inquisitive spark in his retinas as he nudged the lip ring with his tongue. Sighing, he took a step back, finally allowing some space between you.

‘Can’t write a philosophy essay with this, little flower,’ he chuckled. ‘Or if you can… I’d be impressed.’

You looked down in confusion, understanding that the book you were holding was from a Botanics section. ‘The Oxford Book of Wild Flowers’, read the title.

But… How did he know about your philosophy assignment?

***

Only later had Baekhyun confessed that he had had an eye on you for a while by the time this incident took place, but the moment of your outburst was what got to him. When he looked down at your cornered form, holding a book to your chest so innocently, and keeping him away instinctively with one arm. He had to bite his tongue to prevent a smile from making its way onto his face. That was it for him, and even though he wanted to avoid you and keep interactions with you to an absolute minimum, he couldn’t help but find ways to draw your attention. Like that one time, when you walked out of the library because the loud noises from the outside made your concentration for the night crumble.

The source of that noise was, in fact, a certain convertible, blasting the music for the entire campus to hear. You would have come up to complain that your studying was cut short if you didn’t have perfect eyesight. It allowed you to see that there was a red-haired problem sat in the car, with a bare foot resting lazily against the panel. Ready to run the other way, you turned around, meeting a solid chest with your forehead. You discovered that it was a rather cheerful guy in the same year as you, Jongin, and the other one with him was Sehun. And those two stalled you long enough for Baekhyun to make an entrance.

It was the first time he tried asking you out. And got rejected.

However, as much as you wanted to take ownership of that and say that you were playing hard to get when you walked off and left him stunned by your refusal, that was not the case. This guy made your throat go dry at the mere sight of him! He was way too handsome, and he also looked kind of… well, he looked like he’d break your heart without thinking twice about it. And that you couldn’t allow.

But then again, good girls do tend to fall for bad boys. Or was he only pretending to be bad? You’d never heard anything that discredited him, except for the way he stared people down sometimes. That once happened to a fellow student in your class. After he sat next to you during lunch.

Actually, almost the entire week following that incident you had lunch alone because everyone kept making excuses to sit elsewhere. That was how you became friends with Jongin and Sehun. Having had a few classes together, you were more or less acquainted with each other, so you didn’t mind when Jongin suddenly appeared out of nowhere with a tray and asked you if they could join. He even had lunch with you when Sehun wasn’t around – you figured that it made Jongin even more chatty. So much so, that one day he leaned across the table to get slightly closer, and used his most clandestine voice on you.

‘You know, hyung could burn a hole in anyone next to you with his glare, but I’m immune to his ‘charms’, thankfully,’ he giggled and added, ‘Still, I think you should give him a chance. Baekhyun’s a good guy, and he’s kinda torn as it is. Asking you out was a pretty big step for him.’

Honestly, you had a hard time believing that. Baekhyun… was probably the kind of guy, who never even had to ask. You could look around and easily spot a dozen eyes that were fixed on him at this very moment. Why in the world would he want to date you, clearly not the ‘easy-going’ party type? He probably wanted to get into your pants just for sport, like the rest of the pretty boys.

‘Whatever you’re thinking, it’s far from the truth. Ugh, Junmyeon will kill me for this!’ Jongin cursed himself and continued, before you could ask. ‘Hyung looks rough around the edges, but he’s really a softie. Trust me on this.’

‘Are you his wingman or something?’ You snorted dubiously, getting a little timid from this discussion.

‘Ha, are you kidding? He’s gonna strangle me if he finds out. Like I said, he’s torn between staying away from you and persisting in his efforts to take you out. Just think about it,’ he ended with an attempted (but failed) wink.

As if to take away your chance to process the unexpected input, Jongin shoved Baekhyun in your direction the very next day. Disappearing from the cafeteria right after, of course. Envy his subtlety. But, apparently, what he said earlier had an effect, so you only nodded when a flustered figure asked for permission to sit with you. He looked quite different from the previous times you saw him up close – much less confident and intimidating. But he seemed sincere when he said he just wanted one chance.

And that was how your relationship picked up. It took a whirlwind course from the very beginning, and the hot summer before your second year of university was the most torturous time ever for the both of you. Still wary of getting played, you only trusted Baekhyun enough to get intimately close months and months into dating. And he was patient with you, going at a slow pace, letting you pull away whenever you wanted. Until you didn’t want to anymore.

That last leap of faith was a beginning in itself – a true beginning of you and Baekhyun. The final seal was broken, and you entrusted yourself fully to him, which he repaid by showering you in his affection and feelings that he himself had not come to acknowledge just then.

After a year together, you were not simply allowed into the inner circle, but also educated about the special abilities that Baekhyun and his friends had. You were first interrogated by their leader, Junmyeon, who wanted to make sure you had no ulterior motives and were not going to tell a living soul about them. He called it ‘a quick chat’ as he dragged you in a scarcely furnished room where he sat you down at the small metal table across from him. The leader asked you questions and tried reading your verbal and non-verbal cues, so it was clearly an interrogation. Junmyeon was pretty experienced in this, so he could instantly tell that you were harmless. And you also passed the test, answering the most ridiculous questions about Baekhyun – apparently, that was to make sure you were not ‘faking it’ – so, he accepted you into their family.

However, knowing too much was dangerous, so you only learned about their powers and how they came from the so-called EXO Planet when they were young (talk about dating an alien!), and that the organization they called ‘the Red’ amongst themselves wanted to hunt them down. They also used to be held hostage by these people – and that was just about as much you knew about the issue because Baekhyun kept you away from the ‘unnecessary details’. He only told you that they seemed to be hidden well in this town, surrounded by just enough people to blend in and disappear. And you worried, always, because you knew too little about the dangers surrounding the group, and even less about how you could contribute to their safety.

Baekhyun laughed when you once brought it up, finding your concern nothing but cute.

‘You don’t have to worry about it, flower. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe, not the other way around,’ he then said, playing with the curly ends of your hair.

You frowned at that. Why was it not your job to take care of him? If you could help, you wanted to help. But he always brushed you off, saying that the only thing you should do to help is staying out of trouble. Like that was a challenge – you either studied or hung out with him and his friends, not much room to stir trouble. The only other person you talked to regularly was your roommate, and she was also pretty harmless.

As time went by, you got closer to your own graduation, basically, one year left before you had to figure it out for yourself again. Your boyfriend was always supportive, but you couldn’t help but wonder how he imagined your future. He was always up to something but never shared it with you since it was ‘nothing for you to worry about’. Had he not shown you his actual abilities before, you would’ve certainly thought that it was a crazy lie he told you to cover up for some kind of illegal activity. In reality, some illegal activities were going on, especially since hacking and cracking was one of Minseok’s specialties (but mostly because they needed to keep their identities out of sight). Another reason why they didn’t all go to the same school when they arrived, and also why they changed their appearance ever so often. The lucky mullet was long gone by the time you had your first Christmas together, and you had had the pleasure of seeing him in multiple hair colors throughout almost three years of your relationship. Notably, the first dozen or so make-out sessions you had with him took place when he had just cut his hair and dyed it pitch black. And he still wore his fake lip ring at the time, which was an experience in itself. He did know how to use his mouth…

Admittedly, you were kind of used to being the object of the boys’ shameless teasing every time you hung out together. The way Baekhyun kept you close and fussed about everything was, apparently, atypical for their usually chill and humorous hyung. He was their second-in-command, after all, the genius behind the strategic planning of the group, and the mind that kept them hidden for so long in one place.

Because of you.

One of the boys had previously let it slip that they hadn’t lived anywhere for that long before, maybe not even for one full year. But this time Baekhyun was determined to stay for a while, now that he had an anchor.

But the day came. When he found out that they might’ve been compromised, he got scared. The way he’d never feared anything before. And he’d been through a lot, to put it mildly. Baekhyun could maintain a cold and sharp mind at all times, that was his thing, but not when it came to you. Once he figured out that there was a real chance, that they could’ve found the EXO hideout and, thus, could connect you to the boys, he couldn’t think straight. Overwhelmed by a sudden panic, he sought advice from the leader.

‘You know it’s not me who’s supposed to decide,’ Junmyeon sighed, looking at his disheveled second. ‘I told you a relationship wasn’t a good idea. I also think that keeping her close means putting her life in jeopardy.’

His words were cutting through Baekhyun as he paced the room, long fingers grasping his own hair.

‘But it still may be a safer option than leaving her here,’ the leader added, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘We need to relocate fast, and you have the ‘better of two evils’ situation on your hands.’

‘I know I should leave her,’ Baekhyun stopped in his tracks, turning his head to the leader. ‘But what if they already know, hyung?’

‘Minseok had every trace of her erased, not a single camera in town had a glimpse of her with you. They might have found our footprints in the sand, but those don’t necessarily lead to her. I suppose they should move on as soon as they come here and realize that we’re nowhere around.’

‘Most likely, but what if-’

‘They can very well catch up to us while we run. Like I said, there isn’t a right answer, but a choice. And I think that you’ve already made it when you should give her a voice, too,’ the leader pushed.

‘I-’ Baekhyun turned away to hide the glassy eyes from Junmyeon. ‘I have to give her a chance, hyung. I cannot sentence her to a lifetime of running and danger. And I know she’s silly enough to throw herself into it if she has a say in this.’

‘And if you’re wrong? You’re going to break her heart as a precaution?’

‘She won’t die from a broken heart. Can you imagine what they’d do to her if they find out?’

Junmyeon bit his lip. This time, the choice was completely out of his hands. He thought his second was making a mistake, but it was not his place to decide. Exhaling again, he nodded.

‘Tell her in the morning. We’re moving out as soon as the rain starts.’

>> Chapter 2

A/N: So, what do you think? This is more of an introductory chapter, I know, but it covers quite a lot of their relationship with Baek. You must be excited to see where this goes and when Baёk appears? Or if Baekhyun is coming back? Me too, me too 🙈

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x you #baekhyun #exowritersnet #icequeenbae fics #x exo #Desert Flower #2baek #baekbaёk #exo fanfiction #baekhyun fanfic

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt- WWX didn’t die, instead was held captive by JGGY for the 16 years

ao3

“ – his sword has sealed itself. What better evidence that the Yiling Patriarch is dead and gone?”

I’m not, though, Wei Wuxian thought fuzzily. I’m not gone.

Except when he tried to open his eyes, he couldn’t quite manage it. Why couldn’t he open his eyes? Where was he, anyway?

(Dead and gone –)

He remembered the backlash, suddenly, and shuddered. His qi revolting from inside of him, ghostly hands reaching for him, tearing at him – the complete loss of control – pain –

Am I dead?

Yes, actually, that seemed pretty likely. That backlash…no one could have survived it, not even him.

(Arrogant as always, Wei Wuxian. Haven’t you seen what become of that?)

Okay, I’m dead, he told himself, and it rang true. But that doesn’t answer the question of where am I?

(Questions like “what am I” could be saved for later.)

He could hear, anyway. He wasn’t sure how, but he could. Maybe he could even see?

He tried to see.

He could see.

Blurrily, and not quite right, but he could.

There were people standing around him. The Jin sect, judging by their clothing, and some others – they were arguing over something. Spoils of war…

Hey! He complained. That’s not a spoil of war! That’s my stuff!

Actually, on second thought, maybe they were right. Sure, it was his stuff – was someone trying to lay claim to his shopping list? – but there had been a war, and he’d lost, and that meant his stuff was spoils.

“The greatest contribution, next to the Jiang sect, is ours. Suibian belongs to the Jin sect,” someone said, interrupting Wei Wuxian’s train of thought, and put their hand on him.

Wait.

What?

I’m Suibian?

No, something that wasn’t quite a voice suddenly said. I’m Suibian. You’re Wei Wuxian. Keep it straight.

Wei Wuxian would have gaped, if he’d still had a mouth. Suibian? You – talk?

There was a feeling of amusement. Possibly a bit of mockery. No, definitely mockery, possibly a lot of it.

Is Wei Wuxian’s sword…kind of a dick?

Suibian sniggered.

What am I doing here? Wei Wuxian asked.

I pulled in your souls and spirits when you died, his sword said. They were already setting up soul-summoning rituals for you, and it wouldn’t have gone well for you if they caught you.

No, it wouldn’t have.

You saved me?

I’m your sword, aren’t I? What else am I here for, especially since you no longer wield me?

Wei Wuxian felt a stab of guilt. He’d never once thought about explaining himself to his sword, though in his defense he didn’t know his sword might have feelings on the subject. About that –

Yes, yes, I know, Suibian said. Chenqing explained the whole thing.

…my flute? You talk to my flute?

Please, Suibian said. We’re spiritual weapons. Of course we talk.

Isn’t that only supposed to happen for the weapons of sages? Wei Wuxian argued. Not, you know, run-of-the-mill ones. Er, no offense. Not that you’re not awesome, but I, personally, am very far from a sage.

At least you admit it, Suibian teased. And no, I think that’s just when everyone can start hearing us. We talk amongst ourselves long before that…sometimes I’m jealous of the Nie sect’s sabers. They can talk to their masters a lot earlier than we can.

They can? Even, what, shit he didn’t know any Nie, uh, Nie Huaisang?

…Nie Huaisang doesn’t count and you know it. His saber’s pretty funny, though. Lazier than a sloth.

That sounded about right.

Baxia’s terrifying, though.

That…also sounded right.

Okay, Wei Wuxian said, tearing his mind away from the fascinating question of why the Nie sabers in specific might be able to communicate with their wielders sooner than most and also what that might mean. There were more important things to discuss. Uh, thanks for saving my life. Death? Thanks for saving my souls, anyway.

Don’t embarrass me with gratitude.

Wei Wuxian would have grinned if he’d had a mouth. Yeah, sure, whatever.

They both sniggered at that.

Anyway, what now? I thought I heard…we’re sealed?

How else am I supposed to hide the fact that your souls and spirits are in here? Suibian asked. If someone wields us, they’d know. Wielders always know.

Wei Wuxian didn’t have anything to say about that. He had always known that Suibian was – Suibian. He could have picked up his sword in the dark and known it was his own, rather than another’s.

He just hadn’t known that Suibian had also known.

He’d even known that Suibian had a personality, that he’d – she’d – it –

Hey, do you have a gender? Wei Wuxian asked, distracted. Are you a boy sword or a girl sword –

I am a sword, Suibian said. Please leave your weird human reproduction techniques out of it.

It’s not about reproduction! It’s…hm. Maybe it is about reproduction? I don’t know, I’ve never really questioned it. Something to think about later on. More importantly – what now?

What do you mean?

What do we do now?

I’m not sure I understand.

Wei Wuxian would have rolled his eyes if he’d had them. What is our next step? You rescued me, and now we’re being bartered around as spoils of war. What’s the plan? What do we do now?

Suibian really didn’t seem to understand.

Well, you rescued me! What were you intending happen after that?

Nothing, Suibian said. I rescued you. That was the complete action. There was nothing after that.

You didn’t make a plan?

I’m a sword. We get wielded by others; we don’t – or at least, rarely – take initiative on our own. I’m not a Nie saber or something; I’m not going to hop up one day and go out hunting for evil on my own.

…is that a thing Nie sabers do? Wei Wuxian asked. On second thought, don’t answer that, I don’t have time to process it at the moment. Listen, now that you’ve rescued me, we still have to do something, right? We can’t just sit around on a shelf somewhere in the Jin sect as a trophy!

Suibian’s silence was almost a little pitying.

We can’t do that, Wei Wuxian repeated. Right?

They were, in fact, placed on a Jin shelf, at least in the beginning.

It was a prominent place, meant to show him off – show it off, really, since no one knew Wei Wuxian was in there.

Wei Wuxian hated it.

He hated the way Jin Guangshan smirked at the sword, very obviously thinking about how he’d ground Wei Wuxian under his heel. He hated the fact that the man was using his research to develop demonic cultivation into something truly monstrous and vile, the reports that were delivered to Jin Guangshan within Wei Wuxian’s hearing enough to make his stomach turn if he still had one.

Reports of entire sects murdered, men women children all, brutally slaughtered as experiments in tests – each one delivered with a calm smile and no regret.

Wei Wuxian hated that.

He hated, too, the fact that his demonic cultivation, that new invention of his, was treated as nothing but a stepping stone, a tool used to help the Jin sect gain power and ascendance over the other sects – that was what this had always been about, he realized belatedly, too late to do any good.

He’d always known that Jiang Cheng had only cast him out of the Jiang sect because of pressure from the rest of the cultivation world, but somehow he hadn’t realized that that pressure was manufactured, that it was intentional, that he’d always been meant to either yield or die because the Jin sect wanted his power and his Tiger Seal and his secrets. Even if he’d still had a golden core, even if he’d set aside demonic cultivation the way they asked, it still would have ended up the same way in the end.

He’d given the Jiang sect power and influence – and the Jin sect didn’t like that.

But what Wei Wuxian hated most of all, above even the sickening reports of the Jin sect’s crimes, was –

“You look well, Sect Leader Jiang,” Jin Guangshan said, blatantly lying.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes were rimmed with red, whether with tears or an incipient qi deviation, and he stared vacantly at Jin Guangshan as if he didn’t quite understand his meaning. He’d lost weight, his cheekbones sharper than they’d been since the worst days of the war when they hadn’t had enough food, and he didn’t seem entirely – sane.

What happened to him? Wei Wuxian demanded. He might be the one who was living a half-life, but Jiang Cheng looked it.

He’s all alone, Suibian said. Like a sword that hasn’t been drawn in years, not even to be sharpened –

I said I was sorry about no wielding you, okay! But no, seriously, what have the Jin sect been doing to him?

Why are you asking me? I’ve been here, same as you.

“Stop the small talk,” Jiang Cheng finally said, interrupting Jin Guangshan’s odious discourse about the general state of the cultivation world, the satisfactory improvement in trade, and even the weather. “We both know why I’m here.”

Jin Guangshan stopped talking, and smiled his viper’s smile that Wei Wuxian wanted to scrub off his face. Preferably with the flat of Suibian’s blade. “It’s a very impudent request, you know,” he said, leaning back. “One could even say that it’s offensive that you even suggested it.”

Jiang Cheng stared at him. His knuckles were white from how hard his fists were clenched. “That’s not a no,” he said. His normally sharp voice was dulled. “That’s not a no.”

“It’s not,” Jin Guangshan agreed. “But if you want something from me, you have to give something in return.”

Haven’t you taken enough from him? Wei Wuxian shouted. You forced him to get rid of me, you forced my hand at the Qiongqi Path and led to everything that happened next, you – you – you greedy pig!

Now, now, Suibian said. What have pigs ever done to you?

Jiang Cheng swallowed and closed his eyes. He looked tired – exhausted – broken into pieces. The Jin sect ought to be helping him rebuild, helping him survive, not extorting him for whatever it was they wanted now.

“I understand,” Jiang Cheng said, through thin and bloodless lips.

Don’t do it! Whatever it is they want from you, refuse, it’s not worth it, Wei Wuxian tried to tell him, though he knew Jiang Cheng couldn’t hear him, couldn’t understand. You don’t know what they’re doing in secret, in the dark – if you knew, you’d be disgusted. Horrified. I know you would be. You’d stop them. If you agree to whatever it is that they want, you’ll think that you were complicit in it when you find out about it, no matter if you weren’t. Don’t agree!

But of course Jiang Cheng couldn’t hear him.

“I’m glad you do,” Jin Guangshan said, slippery and slimy even as he pretended to sound paternal, and Wei Wuxian might learn to hate him even more than he hated Wen Chao. He put his hand on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, squeezed it, and Jiang Cheng let him – yes, Wei Wuxian could easily learn to hate Jin Guangshan, Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao and all the rest of them, just as much as the Wen sect. Maybe even more. “I look forward to working together with the Jiang sect in the future.”

What Jin Guangshan wanted – in exchange for granting whatever request it was that Jiang Cheng had that mattered so much to him – wasn’t going to be anything as easy as cooperation, and Wei Wuxian knew it; he knew it and he burned with the knowledge of it.

With the knowledge that he’d left Jiang Cheng to face this alone.

That he’d allowed himself to leave his brother behind because of the Jin sect’s manipulations – that if he’d only trusted Jiang Cheng enough to share with him his weakness, to stand with him rather than apart from him, they could have stood up to the Jin sect, to the world, they could have done something, and instead he’d selfishly thought he could do everything on his own, that he didn’t need anyone, that they would be better off without him than with him –

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng murmured. He looked even more broken now than he’d been before. “As you say.”

Jin Guangshan’s hand, still on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, tightened. It was visible, which meant that Jin Guangshan’s grip was probably bruising, breaking. “Don’t forget to respect your elders, Sect Leader Jiang. You mustn’t forget your etiquette.”

Wei Wuxian had always respected Jiang Cheng, even when they were children, even when his arrogance refused to admit that there was anyone who could be anywhere near as good as himself, and that respect had only grown over the years. Brave, independent Jiang Cheng, who’d fought so hard to build the Jiang sect back up into something of its own, refusing to yield to fate and allow his inheritance to scatter into the wind –

Watching him kneel to pay homage to a monster, to call him ‘Chief Cultivator’ and agree numbly to support his future proposals – practically giving away his Jiang sect’s independence –

Wei Wuxian wanted to cry.

(Maybe this was what it had all been about. Not his demonic cultivation, not the Tiger Seal, not the power they could give to the Jin sect – this. This display of domination, of oppression; the Jin sect putting the Jiang underfoot.)

Whatever you’re getting for this had better be worth it, Jiang Cheng!

When it was done, Jiang Cheng looked up. “I’ll go now,” he said, throat hoarse as if from keeping himself from screaming – or crying. “I’ll take him – there won’t be any trouble, will there?”

“None whatsoever,” Jin Guangshan said, and smiled. “After all, A-Ling is very young. It’s no hardship to let him be raised a few years by his maternal family, to learn the traditions of the Jiang sect…since after all his poor mother isn’t around to teach him.”

Jiang Cheng barely flinched as he stood to go – he was beyond that – but Wei Wuxian howled in rage and despair.

We have to be able to do something, he begged Suibian. Something – anything! I can’t…this is my fault. If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have to do this – please!

He had to admit that Jiang Cheng wasn’t wrong, to do what he did. Complicity, future guilt, present humiliation...it was all worth it. For all the future pain it would cause Jiang Cheng, it was worth it – to him, to Wei Wuxian – anything would be worth saving Jiang Yanli’s son.

Nothing has changed, Suibian said, solemn for once. I’m still just a sword. I can seal myself, but I can’t act on my own, not without a wielder.

Then what do I do?

Cultivate, Suibian said. A lot. I’ve been thinking about it: sword spirits are a thing, so are ghosts – it’ll take a while, but if we work at it, you’ll eventually be able to float outside of me. A while after that, you might even be able to manifest to humans. We’re both pretty bright; it shouldn’t take more than a few years.

Years!

Were you expecting this to be easy?

Wei Wuxian thought about Jiang Cheng, gritting his teeth and disregarding his pride to save his nephew; thought about Jin Guangyao smiling peaceably as he reported on the latest atrocities their pet demonic cultivators had caused in the same tone he used to discuss the weather; thought about that poor child, Mo Xuanyu, who’d been dragged into the Jin sect’s pit of vipers –

No, he said. I guess not.

Let’s begin.

#mdzs #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #jin guangshan #suibian #my fic #my fics #shopping list #Anonymous

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un2-verse · 4 years ago

Text

BILLY — Kim Taehyung (3)

Synopsis: News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right?

Pairing: yandere!Taehyung x f!reader

genre: angst, horror, weirdly some fluff lol

Warnings: dark themes, yandere, stalking, manipulation, conditioning, mentions of abuse, suicidal ideations/attempts, self harm, murder, depictions of torture etc (basically its gorey and fucked up), angel trap, etc stabbing and guns. do not read if triggered!!!!

wordcount: 2.2k

taglist: @yes-sol-not-soul @yoongiofmine

a/n: pt 3 is here!! honestly i wasnt expecting this amount of support as i’ve never published my writing before so thank u sm ♡ i was inspired to write this one night and i had no idea where it’d go or anything but i’m happy with the way its turning out :D fun fact abt me, i’ve been obsessed w the franchise since i was little and i actually have 2 saw tattoos, one of billy and one above saying “cherish your life” since that’s pretty much the motto of saw :) and i have quite the collection of saw/billy items so why not turn my fav horror film into a fucked up love story! let me know if u would like to be added to the taglist and pls enjoy reading^^ feel free to send me asks abt the series or anything u want~ i love hearing from u guys!! :D ps— taehyung and the reader dont have much interaction in this part,, theyll definitely be more of them together in part 4 :) unedited so pls excuse any mistakes!! tysm <33 and remember these are fictional characters and do not represent bts personally in any way!!

series masterlist

part one part two

The headlines constantly named the Jigsaw Killer, Billy. The somewhat eerie little doll that had a face as white as a Calla Lily with spirals on it’s cheeks as red as the blood that was shed during the tests. Billy was always dressed in a little black suit with a red bowtie and he was (most of the time) situated on a squeaky battered tricycle. Attached was always a tape that read “play me” and when the subjects did, a chilling voice— one that could make even the world's worst predators shiver with terror— would echo around the room.

Everyone knew that a doll clearly wasn’t responsible, yet they gave it the name Billy in hopes to somewhat humanise the face that instilled panic— they did not want to live in fear.

It was the only face behind the killings.

But this time, there was a different subject stuck in the test and Billy had made sure there was no way for them to survive.

“How are you scared of heights? You’re practically a giant yourself!”

“Just because I’m tall doesn’t mean I can’t be scared of heights Y/Nie.”

You had no idea how long had passed since Taehyung had turned up at the garage, you were too busy chatting away squeezed into the kitchen while your Dad, Yoongi and Hobi worked on the cars in the shop. If anyone could hear you both, they would think you’d known eachother since childhood— the playful jokes and light touches exaggerated that.

You’d only known him for a few hours really, if you added the time spent with him on the first day and now. It hadn’t seemed like all those weeks ago that you first met, he had a familiar presence, as though you had known him for years compared to the hours.

“I just wouldn’t imagine you to be scared of anything Taehyung… you seem so confident and fearless.”

You saw the way Taehyung looked at you. His eyes flashed with understanding.

“I did have my fears back then, much like yours.”

“What do you mean?” you had a rough idea on what he meant but you needed him to voice it.

A deep inhale and the words flowed from his lips before he could stop it, “The fear of living. I had been through some stuff you know, growing up. My mum was working a lot and my dad was an alcoholic, he was so fucking possessive and wouldn’t let her go anywhere without kicking off. It was a fucking shitshow and so toxic. This one time though, I’d pretended that I’d gone to school and waited outside the front door. It didn’t take long before I heard shit getting smashed and my dad shouting.” Taehyung was telling the truth only, he left out the part where he was also as possessive, if not more, than his father. Well, let's say… obsessive. “I just ran in the house and saw my dad towering over my mum and I don’t remember what happened but, I do remember my mum crying and my dad disappeared.”

Now Taehyung was lying through his teeth. He remembered clearly, almost like it was yesterday. He smashed the nearest bottle, pulled his mother away from the monster that scared her and stabbed him. Not just once, not twice but thirty-seven times. Hence the thirty seven tattoo on the palm of his right hand (the one he’d actually killed his father with). There was only Taehyung who knew what it meant, he counted every single time the broken glass pierced his father’s body, he counted with a smile on his face and a chuckle in his throat.

You were at a loss for words. Your mouth gaped in shock, eyes wide and your brain scrambled for the right thing to say. You reached over and grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers. His thumb running back and forth along your hand. “I’m sorry, I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like.” There was no way you could relate, your mother and father were happy and in love. They had the ideal relationship, one you wished for yourself. You could empathise though.

“You don’t need to be sorry baby, it’s in the past and I’ve moved on from it. I was like you though, poisoned by the roots that keep you on the ground even though you wanted nothing more than to break free and be no longer.” A silence fell over you both before Taehyung uttered, “I wasn’t successful with my attempt so now I’m here to help you.”

Warmth spread throughout your body, a smile graced your features as you no longer felt alone.

You had a completely different idea to what those words actually meant.

It was nearing the evening when Taehyung’s car had been fixed. Yoongi popped his head in the kitchen to tell him but stopped himself so as to not interrupt the scene before him. You were laughing along to whatever Taehyung was babbling about with your hand resting on his bicep, with that look in your eyes that he hadn’t seen for years. Yoongi felt himself smile as he saw you hanging onto Taehyung's every word.

For the first time in forever, you looked alive.

Yoongi cleared his throat which drew yours and Taehyung’s attention, “Sorry to interrupt guys. We’ve finished with your car so whenever you’re ready we’ll be outside.” The infamous gummy smile overtook his features, you felt yourself beam in return.

“Thanks man! I’ll be like, five minutes.”

Yoongi nodded his head in reply and swiftly left the room.

You’d taken Tae’s hand into yours, playing with the array of rings that occupied his fingers. Solemn thoughts overtook, am I not gonna see him again? Was this, whatever this is, over before it had even begun? Your eyes stayed on his hand as you turned it over and traced your finger over the inked ‘thirty seven’ on his palm. “What does this mean?”

Taehyung didn’t think twice before he practically beamed out, “It’s my lucky number.”

The difference was, it wasn’t really his lucky number… although he did see it that way. It was the number that had stayed with him. It was something he was proud of, whenever he looked at the hand that killed his father, his chest filled with pride and a joyous feeling overtook his senses. It was his first murder. Something he relished in and thus, created the onslaught of Jigsaw killings. He targeted a certain type— those whose sins would lock them up forever if they were ever found out. Racists, murderers, rapists, drug dealers, con-men. Authoritative figures who abused their power. He even went as far as subjecting suicidal people.

You see, things aren’t sequential. Good doesn’t lead to good, nor bad to bad. People who steal, don’t get caught, they live the good life. Others lie, cheat and get elected.

Some people would call it karma but Taehyung, he called it justice.

He’d started this with one thing on his mind— those that don’t appreciate life do not deserve it.

Whenever a serial killer was on the loose, the press did what they always did. They gave them a nickname. While the public had named the doll Billy. The actual killer was named ‘Jigsaw’.

This stemmed from the jigsaw piece that was cut from the victims skin, no one knew why he was doing it or what it even stood for.

It did have a meaning although unknown to the public.

The jigsaw piece that was cut from the subjects was only ever meant to be a symbol that that subject was missing something. A vital piece of the human puzzle. The survival instinct.

After all, until a person is faced with death, it’s impossible to tell whether they have what it takes to survive.

Across town an underground abandoned warehouse, was where the next subject had found themselves.

They were suspended in the air, their feet merely dangling above the ground. The putrid smell of death lingered in every crevice, the sound of rats scurrying along the concrete floor filled their ears just as they began to stir awake.

A pain in their ribs was the overwhelming factor to them finally coming around. When they groggily opened their eyes, they were paralised with fear due to the scene in front of them.

A doll sat a few feet ahead, perched upon a tricycle. Adorned with a black suit and a red bowtie. A slow red light flashed in his eyes.

Billy.

Before the subject could even register how, when or why they found themselves trapped in a test, footsteps echoed behind them. The subject called out, “Help! Please, somebody help! I shouldn’t be here!”

A tsk reached their ears, as a disembodied voice replied, “Trust me, no one can hear you. Scream all you like. You’d just be wasting your breath, you may as well cherish it before it's gone.”

With hairs stood on end, the subject stilled. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you.” The man's footsteps grew louder. “I’m here to serve justice, that’s all.”

The man rounded the subject, settling in their view with only his cloaked back visible while he tended to the little doll. He touched Billy delicately—like he was a little child that he loved dearly. He combed his gloved hand through the doll's black hair and eventually pulled his fingers from the tresses to pat his head gently.

“You fucking psycho! Let me go!”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that which only infuriated the subject more causing them to shake in anger, a movement they soon ceased when they realised something was penetrating their ribs.

“I’d be very careful if I was you, we wouldn’t want you hurting yourself now… would we?” The cloaked figure spun around. An angry glint to his eye.

“What the fuck, you’re fucking crazy. Let me out, this isn’t right!” The subject tried their hardest to swing their legs, to somehow kick the man who’d imprisoned them.

“I think you’ll find it is right. You’re unworthy of the body you possess.” He inched closer, “see, when someone purposely intends to harm others, they lose their right to life.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

The man arched a brow as he replied, “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He felt like it was a game of cat and mouse except, he was a tiger and his subject, was the tiniest prey to mankind. “But, let me remind you! Since you can’t get your thick fucking head to work. You’re a liar, a cheater and an abuser. That ring any bells?”

The subject's face dropped.

“Ah, I see by your expression you know exactly what I’m talking about! Glad to see we’re on the same page.” He shrugged his cloak off placing it to the side of the doll. “I want to play a game.”

“What game? This isn’t a fucking game! You’re sick in the head you fucking cunt!”

The atmosphere shifted, the man remained calm while the subject went ballistic.

“What is this? What fucking game?”

“You feel the machine that’s currently occupying your ribs? Well, in about ten minutes that’s going to rip you apart. I’m proud to say that trap is my baby. I’ve been working on it especially for you! How nice is that?” he reached out to tug at the subject’s legs, tormenting them like a cat would a mouse. “Anyway, as my beautiful angel trap will rip you apart, my darling little friend Billy over here,” the subject followed the direction the man's hand pointed, “is going to match your face with the ugliness of your soul.”

“Fuck, fuck this! How do I stop it? Tell me how I fucking stop it!”

A boxy grin overtook the man's face, laughter poured from his mouth as he leaned over and slapped the subject’s leg. “This is a special game.”

“Who are you? What do you mean by ‘special game’?”

He raised himself so he stood tall and grabbed a knife from his pocket, “I’m the man you call Jigsaw.” He traced the tip of the knife along the subject’s ankle, “and when I say a special game… I mean you can’t get out.” While the subject was screaming in realisation, Taehyung walked back for his cloak, hung it over his shoulder and stalked off back the way he came. He sent one last smile to the subject as he rounded them and within the blink of an eye, he gripped the knife and slashed the subject’s achilles.

A chilling scream pierced the eerie atmosphere, the subject couldn’t string words together. Abundances of anxiety, terror and pure panic took reign of their body. Taehyung grabbed the injured muscles and forced his gloved fingers in as he gripped and twisted them, “That’s for Y/N.”

Taehyung had pressed the timer before he cut the subject’s tendons. He grabbed the tape from his pocket and threw it on the ground and with a chuckle he shouted, “Game over!”

Before he reached the end of the hallway, he heard the gunshots pierce his subjects face followed by the sound of the angel trap, even this far away Taehyung heard every crack of the ribs and the noise of the body being tore apart.

Without looking back, Taehyung rounded the corner and slammed the door shut.

He’d chosen the Angel trap for the irony, the subject that was currently hanging from the ceiling was no angel. They were a fucked up, evil, waste of space. Taehyung had done the world a favour, he’d done you a favour.

That got him thinking, how much blood would you shed in order to stay alive?

[a/n: who do we think was in the trap???👀]

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chdarling · 4 years ago

Note

CH DARLING WHAT YOU CAN’T JUST POST THAT AND SAY “IT DIDN’T END UP IN TLE2” Why do you always choose violence

*batman voice* Violence chose me.

In my defense I did not expect anyone would like it or care that much!! 🙈

ok tell you what as penitence for my Life of Violent Crime and because I'm maybe on the unk side of drunk I will share the rest of the Plot That Was Not. You should know that this is genuine penitence because it is physically painful for me to share my decade-old writing lmao. A WHOLE DECADE. That is so many years. Ten, in fact. 😬

It was never fully written (and some parts I simply can’t bear to share publicly lolll) so you’re getting haphazard bullet points and random snippets alas. The perfectionist in me is in a full-body cringe right now fyi. Good thing she also has wine.

ok ok here:

Lily is helping out a charity stand for one of her mother’s many causes idk

her mother is alive in this scenario because have i mentioned this is very old

anyway Lily is v bored when all of a sudden

“All right, Evans?” said a familiar but distinctly out-of-place voice.

Lily looked up from her book and her jaw dropped. “Potter?”

For indeed there he was, looking very much at ease with a giant cloud of candy floss in one hand, while the other gave his hair a careless ruffle, a gesture that infuriated her for reasons not entirely rational. She gaped at him, momentarily speechless. It made about as much sense to see James Potter standing in the middle of the Cokeworth Funfair as it would to see a Hippogriff directing traffic in central London.

“What are you — how did you — what are you doing here?”

James gave an expansive shrug and glanced around the fair. “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d have a look around, see the sights. And here I am,” he concluded, smile quirking as his eyes landed back on her. “Seeing them.”

“You were in the neighborhood,” repeated Lily in disbelief. “What utter rubbish. There is no way you just happened to bump into me here of all places.”

“All right, fair enough. I stopped by your house first, and your sister told me you were manning the dunk tank at the funfair, and that was when I realized that three years of Muggle Studies had utterly failed me, because I didn’t know what any of those words meant.”

“You talked to my sister?”

“Yeah, and no offense, but she’s not very nice. I told her I was a classmate of yours and she all but shut the door in my face.”

“Oh, my god.” Lily buried her hands in her face. After a beat, she looked up, an important question arising quite suddenly in her mind. “How the hell do you even know where I live?”

“Er — Remus.”

Lily groaned. Of course. Remus Lupin was one of James Potter’s close friends, but he was also a friend of Lily’s. It was perhaps the only thing she and Potter had in common. Lily had given Remus her address, so that he might write her the Muggle way. Petunia made such a fuss whenever an owl arrived that it was hardly worth the letter the bird brought.

James grimaced and rubbed his neck, a guilty line across his brow. “Don’t be cross with him. It’s not his fault. I’ve been told it’s nearly impossible to say no to my pout.”

“Funny, I’ve never had that problem.”

“That’s ‘cause you have a heart of ice, Evans,” said James with breezy sigh.

Lily glowered at him. “I still don’t know what you’re doing here.”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I came here to talk to you. But then I discovered candy floss and now my prime objective is to consume as much of this stuff as I possibly can before I throw up.” He tore off a bit of the candy floss and pressed it to his tongue, closing his eyes in satisfaction as the sugar melted on his tongue. “Bloody delightful. Who knew Muggles were so innovative?”

Lily ignored this. “What could you possibly have to say to me that would justify coming all the way to Cokeworth uninvited?”

“How about an apology?”

Lily’s expression hardened. “I don’t want your apology. I told you that before.”

“Yeah, you did. I was hoping you’d reconsidered.”

“Well, I haven’t.”

and then I didn’t write the transition

but a group of muggle girls that Lily knows from primary school show up and Lily’s all:

“Shit,” she muttered. Then she turned to James and said hastily, “Okay, listen. Those girls are my old school friends. They’re very nosy, and everyone around here thinks that I go to some super elite school up in Scotland. Saint Adrian’s College — that’s what my mother told everyone. So you go there now too, okay? You study um…” she struggled for a moment. “Theoretical Physics.”

James raised his eyebrows; whether at the subject or Lily’s sudden frantic behavior, she couldn’t be sure. “I have no idea what that is.”

“Yeah, well, neither will they, that’s the point. If they ask, just…use words like quantum theory and…er…continuum…and particles, I don’t know.”

“Theoretical physics,” he repeated, looking amused. “All right.”

“Don’t mention anything about Hogwarts, or magic, or Hogsmeade, or Quidditch, or…anything, okay?”

“Evans, I got it.”

“Maybe just don’t talk?”

“Evans,” James was laughing now. “I’ll behave.”

and then they talk with the girls and James does a Very Good Job and the girls mention that Lon Tucker is looking for Lily and Lily is like GROAN please tell him I’m dead, my funeral was last week etc

She drags James away because she doesn’t want them to continue to interrogate him about school and he’s all

“Who’s Lon Tucker?” asked James once they were out of earshot.

“A git who won’t leave me alone.” She shot him a bitter glance. “I seem to attract those.”

“Okay, ouch.”

and Lily tells James he needs to GTFO of Cokeworth and James is like hmmm....hey cool what’s that! And what it is is a ping pong toss game but James is looking at the table lined with goldfish and he is capital-B Baffled. Lily explains that they are prizes for the game.

“Is the goldfish a symbol of triumph in Muggle culture?”

“No.”

“Are they valuable?”

“No.”

“So why are they given as prizes?”

“I don’t know, they just are.”

“Seem like a rather rotten deal for the goldfish. You’re just swimming around having a perfectly nice goldfish day then someone pops a ping-pong in your bowl and then BAM, you’re off on an adventure.”

“Potter, please.”

she tells him again he’s gotta go but James is like “if I win you a goldfish, will you let me apologize?”

And Lily is like NO but it’s too late he’s at it, ping pongs a flyin

Except just as he’s about to win (Quidditch skillz) who else but the dreaded Lon Tucker appears DUN DUN DUN

And James has sort of cottoned on to the Lon sitch at this point and he’s like cool cool I’m gonna be a dick to you

James is dick to him

And Lon is very aggressively like who are YOU?

And James is all cheerful “James Potter, nice to meet you.”

And Lily is DYING because she maybe sort of kind of told Lon that she had a boyfriend at school so that he’d leave her alone and when he interrogated her on the name she said the first one that popped into her head and that was James Potter because she was SO VERY ANGRY with him, not because she fancied him at all, oh no, certainly not, it simply never occurred to her Lon and James would MEET

so Lon is like “oh. You’re the BOYFRIEND >:(“

And James is like ok ok ok ok ok ok play it cool potter ok “YEP THAT’S ME”

Lily recites a brief prayer to god to end her suffering

god does not

Lon interrogates James about school

“So you what do you study, then?”

“Theoretical Physics,” said James, as though he lied about the natural sciences every day.

“And what’s the point of that?”

“Oh, you know. Quantum theorems. Particles. And — er — math.”

“But what IS IT?”

“Well, I reckon it’s a bit like magic,” said James, looking unbearably smug.

Lily gives up on god and makes her plea to satan for the earth to swallow her into hell etc

Lon tries to intimidate James by talking about sports, and Lily can tell that James is about to break and starting talking Quidditch so she grabs his arm and drags him off towards the rides. “Hey,” he protests, “I’d almost won a goldfish!”

Alas no goldfish

“So, any particular reason that this Lon fellow thought I was your boyfriend?”

“God. I was trying to get rid of him and said the first name that popped into my head.”

“I see.”

“It meant nothing. Don’t read into it.”

“I’m not reading into it. I’m not even reading. As a matter of fact I’m illiterate.”

obviously James is internally losing his mind but he PLAYS IT COOL

Idk some stuff happens they do bumper cars and general fair shenanigans and whenever they run into Lon, James plays up the boyfriend thing and Lily is kinda agonized but also kinda into it

Anyway eventually the evening is coming to a close and James has stopped trying to stealthily slip in an apology and Lily has stopped demanding that he Leave Immediately and they’re just sort of having a nice time, watching the fair wind down

They stopped to watch the carousel go around again, though this time there was no one riding it and it looked rather lonesome.

“So what do you think of your first muggle funfair?” asked Lily, leaning against the back of a stall, watching the ornate horses go round and round.

“Fascinating,” said James enthusiastically, and Lily laughed. “Although I’m still confused about the goldfish. And physics.”

Maybe it was the strange quiet of the closing festival or that continuously discomfiting feeling of two distinct parts of her life colliding, but something compelled Lily to turn to James and say, “How come you’re not nice like this at school?” The moment she said it she wished she hadn’t, and she looked hastily at the ground, her cheeks burning.

James was quiet for a moment. “Because I’m an idiot,” he said finally.

Anyway that’s it I never wrote an ending 😱

wait hang on

Then James takes his shirt off because it’s Shirtless James May according to the jily discord

And Lily is like ok sure whatever I’m not questioning this

good job on your arms sir

and then they live happily ever after and no one dies

THE END

sober me is going to be so mad at midnight me tomorrow

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