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trustmypoison · 1 day ago

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LMLY - Act Two

Choi Y/N hasn’t seen her long lost best friend Yoon Jeonghan in four years and doesn’t even recognize at first him when paramedics roll him into the OR after a motorcycle accident during her shift. She kind of expects to go back being total strangers as soon as he’s discharged, but Seungcheol has something to say about that when he asks them to be Best Man and Maid of Honor for his wedding.

You can find the masterlist here.

LMLY is the sequel to Calico. You don’t need to read Calico to follow along with most of this story, but it will make things more enjoyable if you do.

Genres: fluff; angst; smut; best friends to strangers to lovers; wedding au

Pairing: Jeonghan x female reader

TW/CW: MDNI, contains explicit smut, some tough family dynamics such as divorce, a lot of marriage and wedding talk, mentions of having children, mentions of depression, mentions of manipulative relationships, quite a few details about accidents and subsequent medical procedures and issues.

A/N: I am not in the medical field, so please forgive any inaccuracies included in this story.

Word count: 20k

This is a repost of a previous fic I did. It was one of the first fics that I ever posted on here and I wish I had made some different choices aesthetically. The content will be the same, it will just be a little prettier and more readable.

The first step according to Byeol and Y/N is to pick a venue and book the date they want. They already have a list that Seungcheol and Jeonghan just kind of skim. Seungcheol doesn’t care where they have the wedding and money isn’t really a problem. The top of their list contains a few churches and a winery locally that interest Byeol, and the two women spend hours pouring over pictures online of each venue.

Seungcheol mentions a destination wedding and Byeol’s eyes light up, before they dim again. She doesn’t come from money and the idea of splurging like that is something she usually declines outright. Seungcheol struggles to get her to understand that he doesn’t care to spend quite literally any amount on her. He’s struggled lovingly with this for years, gifting her luxury bags and new electronics, and even a car recently. She’d only accepted any of those because he wouldn’t back down and her junky care was becoming dangerous to drive. “Baby, I promise I won’t mind a destination wedding. I just want you to enjoy our wedding, no matter the cost,” Seungcheol insists.

Byeol pouts and Seungcheol is all over her immediately. Jeonghan wants to tease him for it, but he’s happy that his friend is in love, particularly with someone as kindhearted as Byeol. Byeol has never abused the power that she has over Seungcheol. “I know, but I’ll enjoy our wedding even if we get married in the church down the street. I don’t care about all the frills.”

“I know you don’t, but just think about it. Put a few ideas on the list at least.”

So that’s how Italy, France, and Greece end up on the list. They’re places that Byeol has never been and would love to visit. Seungcheol bites his tongue to resist the urge to argue that they can just go anytime and it doesn’t have to be a special occasion.

The following weekend, the four of them visit the local churches for a tour and Byeol admits that it’s not quite what she wants.

So the weekend after that, they decide to take an overnight trip to the winery. Jeonghan and Y/N are in the back seat again and they make it their goal to annoy Seungcheol until he can’t stand them anymore. Byeol cackles when Seungcheol groans, “Maybe you two should go back to not being friends again. My life was really peaceful then.”

“Not a chance, Cheol,” Jeonghan insists.

“You’re stuck with us forever,” Y/N adds. Seungcheol turns up the music so he can’t hear them, but Jeonghan can see the small smile he’s wearing in the rearview mirror.

The winery has a bed and breakfast attached to it. It’s small, but it would be enough for the wedding party to stay and get ready at if they rented out the whole place. Y/N and Jeonghan had insisted that they don’t need separate rooms for the single night, so they drop their suitcases in the room and flop on the bed. Well - Y/N flops, but Jeonghan careful lays down because of his sore ribs.

“This is nice,” Y/N comments dreamily.

Jeonghan agrees. There’s something old about it’s design but there’s also something cozy about it. There’s a fire place in the room that Jeonghan kind of wants to have a drink in front of later tonight. And the view is nice outside. He actually never wants to leave. “I don’t think she’ll pick it though,” Jeonghan lamented.

Y/N snorts. “I don’t think so either. She keeps looking at pictures of Greece. I hope you have your passport ready.”

“Well, let’s just enjoy the free trip on Seungcheol’s dime then,” Jeonghan joked sitting up. “Come on, let’s wander around. I can’t just lay around anymore.”

She and Jeonghan take the tour and then sit on the large patio of the bed and breakfast, drinking wine all afternoon. Jeonghan thinks the countryside is good for Y/N. She’s got a bit of that sparkle back when she smiles, shoulders relaxed, and it makes him feel warm inside. He was always worried about her but ever since they’ve become friends again he sees how reserved she’s become. She used to smile so openly and he hasn’t seen it much in the last two months. He’s grinning widely at her as she giggles into her wine glass when Seungcheol and Byeol find them around dinner time. Seungcheol asks, “Are we interrupting something?”

Jeonghan narrows his eyes at Cheol’s tone, but Y/N seems none the wiser to whatever her brother is implying. “You guys have to try this wine. It’s so good!”

Over dinner, Byeol quietly admits this isn’t quite the place that she had in mind, but they all decide to enjoy the night anyway. After a few too many bottles of wine, the four of them stumble up to their rooms. Y/N and Jeonghan change into their pajamas and sit on the couch with one more bottle of wine to share. The air is cozy as they both drink and watch the fire crackle.

For a change, it’s Y/N that’s leaning against Jeonghan. He knows if she hadn’t of had so much to drink, she’d be more cautious about his chest, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that it’s a little uncomfortable. She so rarely let her hair down like this before the space they had over the years, and it certainly seems like she doesn’t relax much now. He didn’t want to discourage it when she plopped down next to him, curled up, and leaned close like it was the most natural thing in the world for her to do.

“I could get married here,” Y/N said, but her words run together a bit.

Jeonghan smiles. “I could too. Feel okay?” Y/N nods into his chest, letting out a single hiccup. Jeonghan laughs, taking the wine glass from her to set aside. “Okay, I think it’s time to stop for the night.”

“But it’s good. And I feel good,” her voice adopts a bit of a whine and Jeonghan can’t help but pinch her flushed cheeks.

“I know, angel. I just don’t want you to feel sick tomorrow. We have to drive home in the afternoon,” he says, watching as she props her chin on his shoulder. Her eyes are abnormally bright as she blinks at him and her face is so close to his. Still, he keeps looking at her.

“I guess so,” she finally sighs, then hiccups again, looking around the room. “I really like it here.”

“Kind of romantic, isn’t it?” Jeonghan teases. He’s sure that’s why she likes it so much. She doesn’t seem interested in pursuing romance anymore but he knows a vibe like this will always be a soft spot for her.

Y/N gives him a cheesy smile. “Yeah, it’s nice. Don’t you think?”

Jeonghan thinks he’d agree to anything with the way she’s looking at him right now. It’s so innocent and warm, without an ounce of manipulation like he was used to for the last five years, and he realizes just how much he missed this, or missed her, rather. “It’s nice. Kind of don’t want to leave tomorrow.”

Y/N hums, chin back on his shoulder. “Do you remember when were 16?”

“You’ll have to be more specific. That was a whole year, angel,” Jeonghan teases the random question.

She shoves his shoulder lightly before putting her chin down again. “I’m thinking about the stupid marriage pact we made.”

Jeonghan chuckles. “I’d totally forgotten about that.”

One night, just a few days after she’d been brought back from boarding school, Y/N had witnessed a nasty fight between her mom and dad, specifically about how Y/N’s new stepmom, Nari, was treating her. Her parents’ divorce the year before had shattered her image of love and marriage because it had come out of left field for her. Ultimately, this fight would lead to a change in custody and a bitter relationship between her parents. The animosity was hard for her to stomach because she always saw the best in things, but there was really no positive to the situation.

That night, she was hiding out at Jeonghan’s because that’s what she did a lot back then. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be with anyone, much less get married. Not if it can end up like that,” she had sighed, rubbing her red eyes.

Jeonghan was sitting on the floor next to her with their backs against the bed, an arm thrown around her. She rarely cried, but he hated it more than anything. If he held her like this then he didn’t have to look at her and the pangs in his chest weren’t so intense. “That’s not true. You just have to be patient. And love doesn’t have to look like that.”

Y/N had let out a little humph sound. “I don’t know. Can’t I just marry you?” She laughs but it’s a miserable sound. “At least we get each other. I can’t imagine we’d ever be that cruel to one another.”

Jeonghan remembered how his heart had pounded, despite the serious topic. “I guess you could. We could make one of those lame deals where if we’re still single at 30, we’ll just get married.”

Y/N had snorted and Jeonghan had been elated that her mood seemed to lift a bit. “Would you want that? I might hold you up to your end of the bargain in about 15 years.” Her voice is teasing.

Jeonghan had shrugged though the answer was obvious to him even at 16. “Yeah. Who wouldn’t want to marry their best friend? Isn’t that ideal?”

Back in the present, Y/N giggles. “Do you regret that now? Time is almost up.”

Jeonghan laughs. “No, why would I regret that? I meant it, who wouldn’t want to marry their best friend?” He can’t forget the irony that he didn’t want to marry Sora just a couple months ago…. But Sora was never his best friend, or really a friend at all. She’d always been his girlfriend and the connection was just not the same.

Y/N hums. “I don’t know. I don’t have the best track record.”

“That doesn’t matter to me, Y/N. I told you back then that it didn’t,” Jeonghan admonished.

Y/N looks at him with wide eyes and he’s transfixed. She’s not subtle about looking down at his lips and he knows he should stop her. But then she’s leaning in and he’s kissing her back immediately. It’s so much better than when they were teenagers and he’d loved that back then too. This kiss lacks the nervousness that the first one years ago did. His hand cups her face and she sighs into the kiss. The feeling and sound makes Jeonghan’s heart race. However, it’s like a bucket of ice water over his head when her tongue swipes at his lips. He pulls away but doesn’t let go of her face yet. She’s gotten the wrong idea and she looks alarmed, covering her mouth. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

Jeonghan can’t help but try to quell her panic a bit. He hates the wild look in her eyes when she did nothing wrong. “Angel, it’s okay. We’ve just been drinking. That’s all.”

Y/N blinks at him a few times. “That’s all?”

“Yeah, no big deal, I promise.” He says this casually though his heart is still racing and he’s still holding her face.

“Okay. No big deal,” she echoes, but the sparkle she had earlier is gone and he wishes he knew why. Impulsively, he presses the smallest peck to her cheek and stands up. He puts out the fire in the fire place and helps her into bed, climbing in beside her. She starts snoring softly as soon as her head hits the pillow and Jeonghan hopes they can forget about this in the morning. He wants her sparkle back.

Byeol had reluctantly pondered the idea of visiting the potential destination wedding locations to aid in her decision making and Seungcheol had practically lunged across the room for his computer to book flights and hotels. Y/N and Jeonghan would be joining them because the soon-to-be newlyweds insisted that they needed their opinion.

Joshua helps Y/N pack the night before Y/N is set to leave. “Another romantic getaway, huh?” He wiggles his eyebrow at her.

Y/N pelts him with a handful of panties. She’s long over being embarrassed by him seeing them. Not only did they sleep together once upon a time, but he does her laundry all the time anyway. He’s washed most of these pairs just earlier today. They don’t have a lot of secrets now. “It’s for wedding planning, dipshit. Byeol needs to pick a location and she doesn’t want to without visiting them.”

“Oh, I get it. That makes perfect sense. I’m referring to the romantic trip across Europe with your best friend.”

Joshua’s teasing has been relentless since wedding planning started. Apparently Mingyu and Wonwoo had a lot to say about Y/N and Jeonghan after the celebratory dinner and it had gotten around her friend group. “It’s not romantic. We’re going for Seungcheol and Byeol.”

“Uh huh. Where are you going again?” Joshua smirks.

“Venice, Paris, and Mykonos,” Y/N answers shortly, snatching a stack of clothes from Joshua’s hands.

“AKA some of the most romantic cities in the world. Tell me again, how was the winery?” Joshua is grinning widely and it makes Y/N scoff at him.

“I hate you. Stop making me feel awkward about it.”

“What’s awkward about being into your best friend? It’s okay if you are,” Joshua urges and it makes Y/N reel back.

“Whoa, who said anything like that?”

Joshua nods simply. “You don’t fool me. Something happened at the winery. You’ve been weird ever since.”

“You are so nosy, do you know that?” Y/N snaps though it doesn’t have a lot of heat behind it.

“I know,” Joshua’s still smiling and it’s starting to get irritating. “I’m just invested in your happiness. Now what, did you guys hook up or something?”

Y/N frowned. “Not quite. And it was probably a mistake anyway.”

“Honey, what was a mistake?” Joshua asks cautiously. He’d really been teasing. He’s surprised that anything happened at all with the way Y/N had been about men over the past 8 years.

Y/N purses her lips. “We had a lot to drink and we kissed. He said it was no big deal when I apologized. See? A mistake.”

“But it bothers you.” Joshua observed. She hated how good he was at that sometimes. She could never get much past him. “Tell me why.”

“It’s a lot to explain…” she mumbles.

“I have time. Now let me help you before you go spend over a week with him in Europe.”

Y/N huffs and opens her mouth. Somewhere in all the word vomit, it must make some sense because Joshua’s eyes keep getting bigger. She explains what it was like growing up with him, their first kiss, losing their virginities to each other, that stupid marriage pact that they hadn’t acknowledged in years until recently, the way he’d always looked out for her, everything to do with Sora, and how warm things had been since Y/N and Jeonghan had reunited.

Joshua whistled. “Okay. What do you want to do about it?”

Y/N stares blankly. “What do you mean? I want to keep my best friend. I haven’t been good at that over the last few years.”

“Y/N, baby, I’ll be honest. That’s not just your best friend anymore. You said it felt different right?” Joshua asked. “It’s okay if it is different now. Like you said, you both have done a lot of growing up. Maybe it’s not supposed to be just friends now.”

Y/N looks like she could cry from frustration as she angrily folds a shirt. Joshua gently pulls it out of her hands and makes her sit down, squatting in front of her with his hands planted on her knees. “I just got him back. And he just got out of a long term relationship. The last thing I want to do is fuck anything up.”

“But would he make you happy?” Joshua pressed. She frowns at him and he continues to press. “That day at our internship years ago when you yelled at me, you said you just wanted to find something that felt right. Does it feel right with him?”

Her frown is deeper then as she looks down at Joshua. He’s carefully watching her. “I’ve never really let myself entertain the idea. At least not since we were teenagers.”

“Then maybe that’s what you should use this trip for,” Joshua suggests. “Do the romantic things I know you want to do because you’re there anyway. And while you’re at it, figure out if it feels right with him or not. And try to get a read on if he likes it too.”

Joshua stands up. “But we should rethink what you’re bringing. Do any of your old stuff from college fit?”

Y/N gives him a bewildered look. “You think I’m going to wear things I wore in college? If I can even fit in them still?”

Joshua huffs, going to her closet. “I’ll figure it out.”

Jeonghan insists that Y/N take the window seat when they board the plane for Italy. She’s always liked to look outside down into the clouds and she’s kind of touched that she didn’t have to remind him of that. It’s still early when they take off so the flight is quiet. When they land it’s only sometime in the afternoon local time, but they’re all exhausted because of the flight and time difference and decide to tackle sight seeing and venue touring the next day.

The hotel room is beautiful and Y/N oohs and aahs over the view from the bed. Seungcheol made sure not to spare any expenses for this trip now that Byeol was letting him splurge on her and Y/N and Jeonghan were benefiting greatly from it. She and Jeonghan relax and take a short nap before it’s time to go down to the hotel restaurant for some dinner. Much like at the winery, they have too much to drink and stumble up to their rooms late.

They come inside the room and Y/N shuffles around as Jeonghan sits down on the couch by the window. Y/N doesn’t really think twice about stopping in front of Jeonghan and turning her back to him as she pulls her hair out of the way. “Can you unzip this for me?” Joshua had picked a royal purple dress that wasn't her favorite because of the cut and shape of it. She’s not sure why she even has it because she’d had to take the tag off of it earlier today, but Joshua insisted it would look good. She’d let him chuck a lot of things into her suitcase that she felt iffy about and now she just wanted out of the dress that was a first of many.

She waits patiently to feel Jeonghan’s touch, and when she finally does feel it, it doesn’t do what she expects. One big hand wraps around the curve of her waist in slow motion and pulls her closer so she’s standing between his knees and the other lands between her shoulder blades. Both touches are incredibly warm, but a shiver runs down her spine anyway and she fears it was obvious.

“Why? It looks nice,” Jeonghan said lightly with a hint of amusement. She’s sure if she could see his face, she’d think about smacking it.

“I’m not going to sleep in it,” Y/N snorts, trying to recover even though his hands haven’t moved. “Besides, it’s not my favorite.”

Jeonghan’s fingers still don’t move for the zipper yet, running along the top of the spaghetti strap dress just under her shoulder blades. The other drifts to her hip and she’s being pulled back a little more now. “What’s not to like?”

Y/N loses whatever train of thought she had. He’s complimented her three times in this dress now. Once before they went downstairs and she’d asked him to help her zip it up, and now twice sitting behind her as she waits for him to unzip it. It’s not like he never gives her any compliments, but now she’s reading into everything too much. There’s also something in his tone that she’s never really heard before and can’t identify. His touch in particular makes her hands shake a little the longer it lingers. Lamely, she finally says, “It’s a little too snug in the waist. I’ve put on a few pounds since I bought it, I guess.”

“I think you look beautiful in it. Plus, I like this color on you.”

“Thanks, Hannie. You really think so?” It comes out more like a whisper and she has to close her eyes.

There’s a chuckle behind her, still tinged with that little something she can’t name. “Yeah I do.” Finally, he puts her out of her misery. The hand at her hip stays and squeezes a bit, but his other fingers finally close around the zipper and he pulls down slowly. Her bare back is cold now, but more importantly she can feel her face flushing. She can’t really face him now, so she softly pulls away from his hands and grabs her pajamas and toiletries on the way to the bathroom.

Y/N is questioning such a reaction as she showers and changes. She tries to rationalize it with the fact that she’s not really dated, much less been intimate, with anyone in years. But that had been different than every other experience she’d ever had. It was so simple, and yet there was something sensual and sweet about it. Like he’d take care of her. Immediately, she thinks that’s silly because he has always gone out of his way to take care of her, outside of the time that they were strangers.

She checks that her face isn’t too red when she comes back out. Jeonghan is lounging on the bed in his pajamas, flipping through TV channels. He looks up to her and smiles as she approaches. “Better?” Somehow the little question warms her more than the little touches and compliments did earlier. He was concerned about her comfort on top of everything else.

She simply nods and settles into bed, looking out at the Venice skyline. She’s still awake much later when he’s turned off the TV and lights and is tossing and turning. He does this a lot now due to the lingering rib pain and struggles to stay comfortable. His arm comes around her waist and his body slides close to hers. She doesn’t think too much initially about letting her hand fall over his across her stomach.

Just as she starts to overthink it and pull back though, he mumbles into the back of her neck. “Why are you still awake?”

“Don’t know. Insomnia, I guess. Don’t let me keep you up.”

He’s humming into the back of her neck now. “Is that normal for you?”

“A hazard of what I do for a living. And sometimes I can’t get my mind to shut off,” Y/N whispers back.

“What’s on your mind tonight?” He asks sleepily.

Y/N doesn’t know how to answer because somehow the words, ‘I think I’m into my best friend and am overthinking literally everything we say or do’, don’t seem like the right thing to say. She settles for a non-descriptive, “I don’t know, a lot right now.”

“Don’t do that.” When she makes a sound of confusion, Jeonghan props his head up in his palm, pulling her to lay flat on her back and face him. The way the lighting hits his face leaves her kind of breathless and she feels so fucking cheesy for it. “Stop bottling things up.”

“It’s not that I’m bottling things up intentionally,” Y/N pouts up at him. “I just don’t know how to articulate it.”

“What’s it about then?” He asks simply. He’s trying to pull small answers out of her to get her to talk about the big things. It’s always been his technique for her because she needs the encouragement. But that’s kind of a dangerous thing considering where her mind is going while looking up at him. So she looks away towards the ceiling.

“All this wedding planning has got me thinking. I don’t think I want to be alone. Maybe I did for a while, but now I just don’t know how not to be alone.”

“You’re thinking about dating again?” Jeonghan asks and there’s something careful about it. Y/N just shrugs. “Anyone in particular?” Though he’s trying to tease, he’s still being careful. Maybe it’s just because he recognizes it for the sensitive topic it is.

“I don’t know that it matters,” Y/N mumbles.

“It should matter…” he starts. “But if it doesn’t, we can always keep that marriage pact.”

Y/N can’t help but giggle but she can’t look at him. She’s picturing a stupid wedding at a stupid winery with a stupid bed and breakfast. Their room would have a stupid couch with a stupid fireplace. “Buy me a ring. I hear you have good taste.”

Jeonghan bows his head as he laughs. “I don’t know about that.”

“Byeol liked it. And I think you did a good job,” Y/N said lightly.

He fiddles with her fingers and they both get quiet. When he grazes a finger over her ring finger, her mind scrambles a bit, wondering if he entertains the joke even half as much as she does. “What would that even look like for us?” He asks curiously.

Y/N ponders the question. They’d always been close. Outside of the more physical elements of a relationship, she wonders if anything would really change. There weren’t many lines between them otherwise, which is why she’d been so comfortable with pitching the idea of sleeping together at 16. And as silly as it sounds, it was something she thought about from time to time. It had been sweet and careful and full of trust - exactly how their whole friendship had been and worlds better than some of the horror stories she’d heard before when it comes to your first. Looking back on her dating experience, not much had compared to it since and in a way she had been chasing after it. And it was both a blessing and a curse that they went right back to normal the next day. There were times that Y/N had wanted it to mean more than it seemed to, but it wasn't worth the risk of mentioning it back then.

But now things were different between them. They were older with more life experience, but still understood each other so well. Objectively, they didn’t do many things differently now - they still annoyed and teased each other, they still shared food every time they ate together, and looked out for each other the way they always did. The big difference to Y/N now was that the casual touching and compliments didn’t feel so casual. There was a level of intimacy about it that hadn’t been present before. She wants to chalk it up to the years-long dry spell she’s under, but no one she’s dated before that has ever flustered her with simple touches or words the way he does lately.

But she feels like she can’t say any of that so she does what she does best and makes a joke. “I don’t know, Hannie. If we got married, you’d have to pretend to like me a little, at least.”

Jeonghan scoffs and acts like he’s going to push Y/N away, but ends up dragging her a bit closer. “I like you more than anyone else. What are you even talking about?”

“Sounds like the first step of a good marriage to me,” Y/N teases. “You should like your partner more than you like anyone else.”

“Mhm,” Jeonghan hummed, clearly amused. “And what about you? Could you tolerate me for the next 70 years?”

Y/N snorts, looking up at him. “We won’t live that long. But yes, I can’t imagine tolerating anyone but you that long.”

Jeonghan is smiling when he lays back down on the pillow - her pillow, that is. His breath is on her cheek. “And what are the benefits to this marriage? Arguing about eating sushi every night? Or whose a bigger blanket hog?”

The teasing makes her laugh up at the ceiling. “It would all be with love. Plus, there’s financial benefits like taxes and insurance. And I’m sure there would be some physical benefits to it too.” The words are out before she realizes it and she hopes he can’t see how she’s blushing. She keeps looking at the ceiling, feeling embarrassed for what she said, and then feeling even more embarrassed about being embarrassed about it at all at the age of 30.

“Would there be?” Jeonghan asks and Y/N can’t really decipher what’s in his tone again, but she knows that the teasing and amusement are totally absent. When Y/N bites her lip, he grips her fingers. “There would be no pressure for that in this entirely hypothetical plan.”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” Y/N mumbled. “After all, I asked you before… I’m not sure how you feel about it now though.”

“I feel the same about it as I did back then,” Jeonghan says simply and Y/N furrows her eyebrows at him.

“I’m not sure what that means, Hannie. We never really talked about it before or after the fact.”

“All you have to do is ask. That’s how I feel about it.” Another simple statement.

“And if I asked right now?” Y/N dared to ask, looking him directly in the eye.

Jeonghan’s eyes flit across her face. “That depends. Are you still drunk?” Y/N shook her head. She hadn’t been nearly as bad as she was at the winery a few weeks ago and the drinks at dinner tonight had been hours ago at this point. His hand leaves hers at her stomach and grazes the side of her face. “We’re starting to toe the line where this doesn’t feel entirely hypothetical. Have you noticed?”

Y/N’s eyes flare with surprise and he smiles softly when she speaks. “Yeah, I wasn't sure if you had though. So it’s not just me that feels like things are different now?”

“No,” Jeonghan chuckled. “Not just you.” His thumb grazes over her bottom lip. “I don’t know where to go from here though, Y/N. I just got you back.” He doesn’t really have to explain anymore, because Y/N is right there with him. After four painful years without him, it feels so risky to even discuss this.

Y/N thinks of Joshua’s advice. Take the nice, free, romantic vacation and figure out how you feel. It seems like good advice now and there’s an openness between them, so Y/N suggests it. Jeonghan looks at her for a long time before mumbling, “Okay.” Then he’s leaning in to kiss her.

Jeonghan and Y/N meet Seungcheol and Byeol for breakfast on very little sleep, but it doesn’t matter because Byeol has a laundry list of things she wants to accomplish. They eat quickly and get a move on. There are a couple rooftop venues that overlook the Grand Canal and both women seem intrigued by the view. Seungcheol and Jeonghan stand back and let them hash out the details over the notebook Byeol is carrying with her. Ideas for decor, colors that will look good with the backdrop, what type of flowers would fit this vibe. The men just glance at each other and shrug. Jeonghan doesn’t care much and he knows Seungcheol doesn’t either as long as Byeol will be walking down the aisle wherever they pick.

They stop for lunch at a little cafe and then they’re moving again. This time, it’s the tourist traps like Saint Mark’s Basilica and the Bridge of Sighs. They don’t have a ton of time anywhere in particular because of how much they want to pack into this trip, and Seungcheol promises they’ll come back after he sees Byeol’s face when it’s time to find somewhere for dinner and wind down for the night. She’s clearly enjoying the trip and doesn’t want to leave quite yet.

Jeonghan is terribly distracted. Not in a bad way, but he can’t for the life of him focus on anything else but Y/N. He hasn’t been able to all day. It’s a good thing that Seungcheol excepted very little from him here besides showing up and giving an opinion on the venues, because Jeonghan has done very little besides watching Y/N as she looks around in a sort of childlike wonder or excitement. It’s what he refers to as her sparkle.

He first noticed her sparkle when they were five. Jeonghan had been dropped off for a play date, something they’d done their whole life up to that point, and he’d let himself in because he might as well have lived at the Choi’s just as much as the twins lived at the Yoon’s. He found Seungcheol and Y/N in the backyard. Seungcheol was too busy trying to make free throws to notice Jeonghan had arrived, but Y/N did. “Hannie, come see what I can do!” She’d looked so focused that her tongue was sort of sticking out as she places her feet carefully, and then executes a very clumsy pirouette. She’d been taking ballet for a few months and it was her favorite thing back then. When she was facing him again, feet both planted on the floor, she gave him a smile that made him ask to see her do it again.

He’d seen that look again when she pulled him down to duck under a bridge during a gondola ride. And when they were looking out at the canal from one of the rooftop venues. And when she saw someone walk their dog past their table on the sidewalk during dinner. He liked seeing it.

Later, when they arrived to the hotel room, the first thing he did was hug her. It felt silly, because they’d hugged hundreds if not thousands of times over the years. But after last night and today, he couldn’t help it. Kissing her for just a few moments last night had made him realize it wasn’t even remotely just friendly now, and it was kind of agonizing to have to play it cool all day.

Y/N is giggling in his ear, arms wrapped around his shoulders. “What’s this for?”

“What? You don’t like it?” Jeonghan teases, starting to pull away, but her grip around his shoulders becomes a little tighter.

“I didn’t say that, and I also didn’t say you could stop,” Y/N insists and Jeonghan has to laugh because her tone is cute. It’s got some of that sparkle.

When she finally pulls away, he leaves his hands on her waist. Again, it feels silly because it’s not like he’s never touched her waist, but there’s something different about her hands landing softly on his chest that make him smile. “Did you have a good time?”

Y/N grins widely. “Yeah, it was nice!”

Jeonghan gives her a knowing look. “She won’t pick it though.”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “It’ll be Greece. I bet you anything.”

“Oh, anything?” Jeonghan gives a sly smile and Y/N pushes him back with a laugh, walking past him into the room. He trails after her to her suitcase, hovering behind her back. He can tell she’s not mad at the comment, just nervous. Her hands shake a little as they dig through the clothes and he feels bad. The last thing he wants is for her to be nervous around him. He puts his hands back on her waist and presses a small kiss to her bare shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry, angel.”

Y/N looks over her shoulder at him for a moment, biting her lip. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Hannie. I’m just not sure what I’m doing here.”

“I don’t expect you to. I don’t expect anything from you except honesty. Besides, I’m not sure quite what to do either.” She lets him turn her until she’s facing him again. “I know we talked about toeing this line last night, but we don’t have to do that. We can pump the brakes or just stop the car all together right now.”

Y/N fiddles with the buttons on his shirt, lips pursed. “I don’t really want to pump the brakes or stop, if you don’t. A lot of things about this are just nerve wracking.”

Jeonghan pulls her to the couch and makes her sit with him. “I agree,” he says honestly. Whatever he’s been feeling lately is scary in its intensity. “But tell me why so I can help.”

“Besides the potential of losing my best friend?” Jeonghan squeezes her thigh because that much was obvious to both of them and she sighs. She stares for a long time at him, looking conflicted. Finally, she says, “Is this what you want, Jeonghan?”

“I wouldn’t have agreed last night if I didn’t want to explore this, Y/N,” Jeonghan nodded.

“And it has nothing to do with Sora?”

Jeonghan blinked at her. “Y/N, I haven’t thought about Sora in weeks, and even then it wasn't a positive thing.”

“You're sure this isn’t a rebound?”

Her question makes him frown deeply. He wants to be mad, but it’s a fair thing to ask given he just ended a five year relationship only a matter of months ago. “No, Y/N. I love you too much for that. I want it to work if that’s what you want.”

“And if it doesn’t work out for whatever reason, what do we do?” Y/N’s eyes look a little watery, but per usual she blinks it back. “I want a plan.” Jeonghan can’t help but laugh for a moment because she’s still just as Type A as she’s always been. She likes back up plans for her back up plans. Y/N’s eyes flare with anger. “I’m serious, Hannie. If we explore this, we need to agree on finding a way out if it’s not working.”

“Angel, that’s like planning for failure,” Jeonghan is still chuckling, but the sound dies in his throat when she doesn’t laugh along.

“That’s really all I know when it comes to this sort of thing. So I need a guarantee that you’ll still be in my life if wherever we go with this doesn’t work out.” The watery eyes are back, but this time it seems like too much for her to blink them back.

Jeonghan sticks out his pinky and Y/N cracks a smile. “I promise you will not be rid of me until you beg me to go.”

“Unlikely,” Y/N laughs but it kind of chokes her up. She links their pinkies together. “You can’t take it back now.”

“Can’t imagine why I’d want to. Now, can I kiss you? I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

Y/N barely nods before Jeonghan’s hand comes up to the side of her face, the other still holding her thigh. She feels his breath on her lips for a moment and her eyes drift closed. Finally, he kisses her. It’s soft and warm, light presses landing and receding over and over. It sends tingles through her body and her hands slide to his shoulders. When her tongue swipes across his lips, this time he doesn’t stop her. It’s still soft, but something is gently building and it has her sighing into the kiss.

He’s so slow and careful, like she might break, which is about right. The sensations have her feeling so fragile. When his hand slides from her cheek and into her hair, she thinks she might cry. A few more touches, specifically his hand sliding from her thigh to her waist where it rubs lightly and she actually does.

Jeonghan pulls back when he feels the tear. “Do you want to stop?” The question is automatic as he swipes at her cheek.

“No, I’m sorry for being such a big baby.” Y/N knows her apology is weak but Jeonghan gives her a kind smile, totally void of any teasing.

“Stop bottling it up, Y/N. It’s okay. And it’s also okay if you just want to go to bed.”

“I don’t,” Y/N answers quickly. “But I probably killed the mood.”

“No,” Jeonghan laughs lightly. “I just want to know that you’re okay.”

Y/N feels her face flush and she knows she’s caught because his thumb runs over the apples of her cheeks where it feels the warmest. But his smile is still kind and it makes her lean in to peck his lips. “I’m okay.”

The answer must be good enough for Jeonghan because he’s leaning into her space more, hand at the back of head to hold her in place. This time he swipes into her mouth and whatever was building earlier is back again. So much that after a while of it, she doesn’t feel embarrassed to slide into his lap and straddle him. He sighs into her mouth when she’s fully seated against him and his big hands spread across the curve of her waist. She looks down at him. “Okay? Not hurting?” When he shakes his head, she leans down to his lips again.

His hands are starting to drift now and it’s starting to take her breath away. They slide up her waist until his thumbs are just under her breasts before sliding back down, past her waist and hips and to her thighs. It’s so easy to get swept up in the touches and she’s heating fast. She can feel herself getting wet as he continues, though he hasn’t touched any skin besides her thighs. And she’s not alone in being turned on. Underneath her, she feels him hardening. It’s kind of a rush to have this effect on him.

When she can’t breath anymore, she pulls back to look at him and he looks as dazed as she feels. “Should we stop?” Y/N asked and feels kind of silly for it again, but Jeonghan remains serious.

“Whatever you want, angel.” His voice is low and scratchy and she likes the sound. She’s never heard it like that before.

Y/N bites her lip nervously. “I want to know what you want, Hannie.”

Jeonghan stares up at her, hands still drifting up and down her body gently. “I don’t want to stop,” he mumbles. “I don’t think I’ll ever want to stop this. But I’m not interested in rushing you if you want more and I don’t expect anything from you if you don’t. Which is why it’s whatever you want.”

Y/N’s nerve endings feel like they’re on fire. For some reason, she remembers being 16 as he hovers over her in bed, saying similar things. ‘There’s no rush’ and ‘we don’t have to do this’ and ‘are you sure you’re comfortable?’ He was gentle then too. It had dashed any nervousness she felt back then and he’d made her feel good when she agreed to continue. She wanted that again.

“If we keep going, do we have to go all the way?” She feels lame for asking, but this is such a fragile situation and she feels like they’re kind of walking a tight rope right now.

Jeonghan is smiling sweetly. “No. We go however far you feel like.”

Something about the way he says it emboldens Y/N. She’s always let the men she’s been with take the lead, but there’s something powerful about being handed the reigns. Without another word, she leans down to him again and kisses him. It has a little more urgency but his touch his still gentle. She grabs one of his hands from her side and puts it on her thigh, angling inward. She’s glad he gets the point because it starts creeping up slowly. The fabric of her skirt starts to bunch but he’s still not rushed.

Her breathing catches when his finger tips graze the edge of her panties and he pulls back to watch her face. “All you have to do is say stop, okay?” It seems highly unlikely that she’s going to do that, but she nods anyway. When his fingers graze over the center of her, she can’t help the little gasp that escapes her mouth as her eyes snap shut. Small circular motions start working her up through the fabric and she’s getting wetter by the second.

Jeonghan gently pulls the edge of her panties to the side and gives her a few beats to object. When Y/N doesn’t, his finger grazes her, dipping into the wetness and spreading it. When his finger finds her clit, she shudders, the shock waves already moving through her. Her grip on his shoulders tighten. The cord in her stomach is tightening quickly and just before it’s about to snap he pulls away.

A whine escapes her mouth before she can really stop it, but he's leaning up to kiss her again. It’s still sweet and she huffs against his lips. It makes him laugh. “Be patient, okay? I want to keep making you feel good.”

“Fine,” Y/N relents and it makes him laugh again, especially when his fingers find her center again and one pushes inside. Her jaw drops open a bit at the slight stretch. It’s nothing like her own fingers and it has her breath catching in her throat again. He pumps it in and out softly and the way it hits her walls make her want to moan. When he adds another finger, she can’t help it. He head tilts back as the sound falls from her mouth.

Dimly, she’s aware that a little fingering shouldn’t have such an impact, but it feels too good to be embarrassed about it right now. Besides, Jeonghan has never let her feel genuinely embarrassed about anything for long. It feels too good the way his fingers spread inside of her, hitting spots she’s unfamiliar with anymore. When his thumb lands on her clit again, rubbing softly with every push and pull of his fingers, he leans forward into her exposed neck. She feels a few soft kisses and then the slight sting of his teeth and it has her clenching. Her fingers find the hair at the back of his head to keep him there and he nips and sucks a few times.

“Feel good?” He asks quietly against her throat and she nods weakly. “Will you let me see you come?” The question works her up even more and the cord is getting tighter again. “You look so pretty like this. Come on, angel. Just let go.”

The coaxing is all it takes for the cord to finally snap. It’s a full body reaction that she has to anchor onto his shoulders for. But his free hand is on her back now keeping her upright and in his lap as the other hand still helps her ride it out. When his fingers finally slide out of her, she feels a little boneless. She’s nervous to open her eyes and look at him, but some of it fades out when his hand grabs her chin and a soft kiss is placed on her lips. “Okay?”

The question is still gentle, just like everything else he’s said since they got back to the hotel room, but she hears a tinge of nervousness that matches her own. She cracks open her eyes and he looks exceptionally vulnerable, and she wonders if he thinks he’s done something wrong. But he has nothing to worry about because this is the safest and most cared for she’s ever really felt. So she leans down and kisses him one more time for good measure. “Okay.”

The next day is a travel day, but it’s much shorter because they’re only going to Paris. Jeonghan watches Y/N look out of the window for most of the flight. His nerves are fried and he keeps a grip on her hand. She doesn’t ask why.

Toeing this line over the past couple days is something he enjoyed - really enjoyed, in fact. This was someone he’s known forever, literally, and someone that knows him best, better than anyone else surely. And the feel and sight of her on his lap last night had totally scrambled his brain until not a single coherent thought remained beyond making sure she was happy and felt good. But he kind of felt like he was at a precipice when he woke up this morning.

To be clear, it’s not regret that he’s feeling. He knows immediately that that’s not it, because it had all felt right to him. He was just afraid of waking up and seeing that she might have regretted it and he wasn’t sure how he would deal with that. When she woke up, she gave no indications that she did, even pecking him on the lips before she got out of bed. In the rush to the airport, he hadn’t had much time to think about it, but this short flight felt like an eternity. He’s not sure what he’d do with the time if he wasn’t stuck in this seat, but it makes him twitchy.

Which is something that Seungcheol notices when they’ve landed. The girls have run to the restroom and he and Seungcheol are waiting for their bags when Seungcheol pins him with a look. “You seem off.”

“How do you mean?” Jeonghan hopes to play dumb.

“You’re anxious. Why? You’ve flown a hundred times before so that can’t be it,” Seungcheol presses.

“I’m good. Nothing to worry about.” Jeonghan prays he’ll drop it as he spots the bags coming around the corner on the conveyor belt.

“Uh huh. You know I don’t like secrets.”

Jeonghan does know that. But what he doesn’t know is if he and Y/N should be keeping things quiet until there’s something definite to say. So he shrugs, “When I have something to say, I’ll say it. I promise.” And he means it. If this is actually going somewhere, which he hopes that it is, then they’ll say something to Cheol. They’ll have to.

But that also opens up the possibility of it going nowhere or going horribly wrong. Jeonghan has to put the idea out of his mind immediately for his sanity and because their bags are here.

They arrive at the hotel and it’s another nice one with a nice view. Y/N jokes that they should let Seungcheol pick lodging from now on, and Jeonghan laughs but he’s still distracted. They change out of their outfits from the flight and meet in the lobby for a tour. The hotel they’re staying at happens to be a popular venue for weddings and Seungcheol booked a tour on a whim when he booked the rooms. Byeol seems to like the ballroom and the rooftop, from which you can see the Eiffel Tower. Y/N’s sparkle is back as she enjoys the view and Jeonghan has a hard time looking at the scenery.

The second and third venues are not far and they walk to them. Both are chateaus that are privately owned but often hosts weddings. Byeol had scheduled tours at both ahead of time. Byeol is pretty charmed by both of them and even Seungcheol comments on how much he likes it. Y/N shivers in the cold, castle-like interior. It’s not a winner for her, but Jeonghan notices she keeps her mouth shut. He already knows what her choice would be anyway if it were up to her.

After a long lunch, they hit the usual tourist destinations, such as the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and the Notre-Dame Cathedral. At the Cathedral, Byeol and Seungcheol even gather some information about hosting their wedding there because they like the interior. Y/N looks excited by the idea, but one look between Y/N and Jeonghan makes it obvious that it will still be Greece when it comes time for Byeol to pick.

Seungcheol and Byeol are staying on a different floor, so they get off the elevator before Y/N and Jeonghan after dinner. As soon as the elevator doors close, Jeonghan is on Y/N and she giggles. “What do you think you’re doing?”

It’s playful so he laughs, dropping a couple kisses onto her neck. “Nothing, I just missed you today.”

Y/N lets out another giggle. “Missed me? Hannie, we spent the whole day together.”

The elevator doors slides open on their floor and he takes her hand, leading them to their room. “I know, but it’s true.”

“But I was right here all day. What could be different?” She asks as he uses the keycard and opens the door. Once inside, he lightly pushes her against the closed door.

“This,” he murmurs as he presses a kiss to her lips. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted any of this in public, or in front of Seungcheol or Byeol for that matter.”

She’s smiling against his ear when he buries is face in her neck again. Her arms wrap tighter around his shoulders. “Do you want that?”

“I think you already know my answer,” he laughs into her neck. “I’d be all over you anywhere if you let me.”

“I’m not opposed to it,” she admits as a hand combs through his hair. “Does Cheol know what’s going on?”

“He’s suspicious about something. He cornered me at the airport earlier.”

“Do you think he would be mad?” Y/N sounds unsure.

It only takes a split second for Jeonghan to answer. “No, not as long as I treat you well.”

She pulls back a bit to look at him. “How can you be so sure? I remember him giving you a bloody nose one time over a simple rumor.”

Jeonghan bites his tongue. He’s not ready to admit how long these feelings that they’re coming face to face with have been lingering for him. Or that Seungcheol is in on that secret. “Would you take my word for it for now?”

She stares at him for a long time and he feels nervous about it. Finally, she says, “If you’ll tell me one day, then yes.” She gives him a few pecks. There’s a blend of something that takes over her face when she pulls away. Something like fear and anxiety, but also a bit of her usual sparkle and some mischievousness. “I was going to take a shower… do you want to join me?”

Jeonghan’s mind screeches to a halt. He’s impressed by how calmly he speaks, because he doesn’t feel calm at all. He’s surprised his hands don’t shake a bit at her waist. “Y/N… are you sure? That’s quite a leap from what we did yesterday. I have no expectations for what we do and what pace we do it at.”

Some of the sparkle and mischievousness dims and she plays with the pocket on his shirt to avoid looking at him. “I know, but… You made me feel good and I felt safe with you. I always do. So I’d like to do this, if nothing else just for the company. We don’t even have to do anything.” She smiles sheepishly. “I missed you today too, you know?”

“And I missed you… you’re sure? Even if nothing happens, this is still a leap.” Outside of a handful of occasions, being without clothes was not something that was common in their friendship up to this point. That alone would be different. Jeonghan doesn’t budge until he has confirmation. She gives him a strong nod, but he still waits for her to say something.

The moment she says, “I’m sure, Hannie,” he backs off of her and lets her lead him to the bathroom. The whole thing is made of dark green tiles and the lighting is dimmed. They took a peek at the shower earlier and it’s expansive with a bench inside. Jeonghan closes the door behind them to keep the steam in later, but as soon as he faces her he knows she’s losing whatever confidence she had before when she asked him to join her. He carefully reaches out for her hands because it feels like the safest option.

“Do you want help? Or do you want me to step out?”

Y/N gives him a weak smile. “You first?”

Without much thought, Jeonghan begins unbuttoning his shirt. He’s barely two buttons in when Y/N hands push his own out of the way. She’s slow and meticulous and he lets her take her time, because it seems to help ease her nerves to be able to do something else than think about where this is going. Jeonghan helps untuck the shirt and then sheds it off. He cares very little about how it might get wrinkled on the bathroom floor when Y/N puts her hands on his bare chest. It takes him a minute to realize that she’s not just checking him out, though he does think she is. She’s also looking at the scar from his surgery. He lightly squeezes her hand bringing it up to kiss. “Don’t think about it.”

It takes him leaning over her and kissing her before that spell is broken. He walks her back into the bathroom counter, but her hands are still hesitant and she needs more time to warm up or decide to back out. So he picks her up and places her on the counter, squeezing between her legs. She looks surprised at the move and it makes him laugh. “Comfortable?”

She looks a little dazed when she nods. “Would you be offended if I said I was surprised you were that strong? It’s just, I’m not exactly light.”

Jeonghan scoffs, leaning back into her lips. “Y/N has a strength kink. Got it.”

Y/N sputters out a laugh. “I never said that!”

“You didn’t have to, angel. Your face said it all.” Y/N hides her red face in his neck but she’s still laughing. His arms wrap around her, hands rubbing up and down her back. “I’m messing with you, Y/N. You can relax.”

“Maybe you’re right. I kind of liked it,” she said shyly into his neck.

Jeonghan chuckled, letting his hand creep up the back of her shirt slowly, palm pressing into her skin. “Noted.”

Y/N huffed, frustration evident, “I’m sorry, Jeonghan. I know this is clumsy.”

He makes her sit up so he can look at her. “I don’t care about that. Really, I don’t. I’m just relieved you trust me enough to entertain any of this. And that you’d tell me if you’re not quite ready. Right?”

Y/N nods. “Yeah, would you?”

Jeonghan can’t help but place a peck on her lips. “Yeah, I would.” Both palms are on her back now, shirt bunched up her back slightly. “What now?”

He watches her as it looks like she’s steeling herself for something. Then her hands come to the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. She’s wearing a black lacy bra and it makes him suck in a small breath. He’s staring a moment too long and she starts to squirm. He kisses her to get her to stop. “You are so pretty,” he mumbles against her lips. He’s rock hard now, pressing against her between her legs.

Jeonghan is surprised when Y/N starts to get a little impatient. It seems like a switch has flipped. He sucks in another breath when she reaches for his belt, starting to unbuckle it. He laughs because she was hiding in his neck moments ago over a joke about a kink. When she reaches for the button of his pants, his laugh dries up because things are moving kind of fast now. He sheds his pants too before returning back to between her legs. Not that she would let him get away, because she was kissing him again with urgency, holding both sides of his face.

His hands land on her thighs and when she gasps, he slowly slides them up. Her skirt bunches up to her stomach. One of his hands flies to the matching panties before slowing, gently rubbing. Like last night, she keens at the touch. He slowly repeats what he did the night before, pulling the panties to the side and working her up carefully. He thinks he could watch her come over and over again and never get tired of it.

When she comes down, he watches her. “Okay?” She nods, her smile slightly dazed. “Still want that shower?” Another dazed nod, and he laughs. “Okay, let me help.”

He helps her off the counter, and when she’s on her feet, his hands drift from her waist to the button of her skirt. He slowly unhooks it and pulls the zipper, but she shoves it down her legs as soon as the fabric is loose. Jeonghan laughs at the rush she’s in because they really have all night or she could kick him out of the bathroom right now, but he stops laughing when she quickly unhooks her bra and tosses it, along with her panties. His eyes follow her as she walks towards the shower. “Are you coming?”

Y/N tries to breathe deeply under the stream of water, soaking her hair and body. Every time she makes a bold move, she instantly second guesses it. So she’s relieved when she hears the shower door close. Good, she didn’t scare him off yet.

Jeonghan’s arms slide around her waist as he presses into her back. A kiss drops onto her wet shoulder. “Kind of cold in here,” he mumbles. She giggles, spinning them to put him under the hot water. She watches his muscles relax in the warmth. He really is attractive. Always has been really. Tall with a lot of lean muscle. Handsome face. Her hands meet his chest, running down his stomach and wrapping around his waist. He peers down at her with a look of curiosity, but he doesn’t hesitate to throw his arms around her either. A kiss presses to her forehead. “Good?”

Y/N nods, head laying on his chest. She’s not sure if that’s a lie because she’s pretty sure he can feel her heart beat where she leans into him. For the thousandth time, she wishes this wasn’t so nerve wrecking. She remembers being so much smoother about these things a long time ago. His hand pats the back of her head mindlessly and it soothes her a bit.

“I can feel you tensing up. Stop stressing, angel,” he says simply. “Now turn around so I can wash your hair.”

This does the trick. As soon as his fingers scrape across her scalp, Y/N’s mind goes blank. He’s meticulous about lathering and massaging and she lets him do it for as long as he wants, primarily because it feels good but also because he’s right. She’s nervous and this eases it a bit. In the back of her mind, she wonders if he’s working off his own nervous energy with this too, but she can’t be sure because she can’t open her eyes right now to look at him.

He gently pulls her under the water, rinsing out her hair. Then she’s out of the water and he’s using conditioner on the length. While it sits, he comes around to her front, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her. The whole thing is warm and by the time he rinses her hair out again she’s putty in his hands. “Better,” he laughs against her lips. It’s not a question. He must be able to feel the lack of tension now.

“Shut up, you make me nervous,” Y/N laughs too.

She hears a strange laugh and she cracks open her eyes to look up at him. “Me? First of all, we’ve known each other for years, Y/N. There’s no reason for that. Secondly, it’s you who makes me nervous.”

Y/N feels her eyes widen in outrage. “Hannie, that’s such a double standard. Why would I make you nervous? I’ve been an absolute klutz this whole time!”

“That’s exactly why!” He laughs, though there’s a serious look in his eyes. “You could do no wrong in my book and yet you’re afraid of making a fool out of yourself in front of me.”

Some of the tension is creeping back in her shoulders and his hands come up to rub them, forcing them to stay relaxed. “It’s only because I care about your opinion more than anyone else’s,” Y/N says weakly.

“And you have nothing to worry about there. You’re already my favorite person. And even if you weren’t already, I think you’d have me hooked in a heartbeat.”

His sincerity makes her eyes water. “Stop making me want you,” Y/N half jokes. It makes Jeonghan laugh loudly and it echoes throughout the shower.

“No, I don’t think I will,” he says simply and then his lips are on hers again. He’s walking her back to the shower wall and when her back hits the tile, she can’t help but hiss at the cold. His tongue swipes at her mouth when she makes the sound and then it feels like he’s all over her. His hands are swiping up and down her body again, but it feels ten times better without clothes in the way. On one particular swipe up, one hand closes around her breast and it rips a moan from her. But his tongue still presses into her mouth unforgivingly and it kind of feels like he’s trying to eat her alive. His thumb rubs across her nipple and it pebbles instantly, scrambling her brain for a second.

His other hand tilts her head and his face buries in her neck. His lips start at her ear, sucking and licking right below it and it makes her feel like she’s floating. Then his lips and teeth scrape down the column of her neck. At the base, he sucks lightly. She might have a bruise tomorrow, but that barely entered her mind before it’s gone again, because now his tongue is sweeping across her nipple. Her body arches into him because she just can’t help it, and he must like it, because his hand flies to the small of her back to keep her there.

Y/N’s breathing is a bit ragged when he comes back up to her lips. One hand still plays with one of her breasts and the one at her back skates to her ass, grabbing a handful there gently. She’s totally aware of his hardened length pressing against her stomach and it’s all she can think about now. So she pushes him away.

There’s a flash of panic on his face and he looks like he might be getting ready to apologize, but Y/N smiles up at him as she falls to her knees in front of him. There’s something deeply satisfying about watching the realization and subsequent awe spread across his face. “Angel, you don’t have to…”

The complaint dies on his tongue when her hand wraps around him, stroking lightly. A light curse falls from his mouth and he doesn’t look away. When her lips wrap around his tip, he hisses, another curse tumbling out. Jeonghan’s fingers thread into her wet hair but there’s nothing forceful about it. He lets her bob and lick at her pace, taking as much and then as little as she wants.

It’s when her lips wrap around his base that his grip on her hair tightens. It loosens right away and Y/N kind of misses it already. So she pulls her mouth off of him to look up. “You can do that again.”

“Don’t want to hurt you.” His voice sounds kind of choked.

“You won’t. Besides, there’s that newly discovered strength kink, remember?” Y/N says it teasingly, but there’s a thrill when she watches his eyes glaze over a bit more at the mention of it. His fingers grip tighter when she takes him back into her mouth again. He’s starting to become a little impatient and his fingers keep gripping tighter. The sting on her scalp makes her moan and it surprises even her. She’s historically been pretty vanilla. She’s not so naive to think this is really as rough as it can get, but the edge to it is new and has her dripping.

Jeonghan pulls out and takes a small step forward, gently pushing her back and head against the shower wall. The position is a little uncomfortable and new, but she can’t help but nod immediately when Jeonghan strokes her hair and asks her if she’s okay. She’s more than okay because she can have the best of both worlds here, the gentleness that she needs, but also a little of the rough edge that she’s craving now.

He guides himself back into her mouth and then he’s the one pumping in and out. The movement is gentle and so are his hands on her head, but there’s no mistaking the control he has right now. It makes her eyes roll back a little and she grips his thighs to ground herself.

And that’s a good thing when the thrusts become hastier. She knows he’s putting in work to remain careful, but she can feel that he’s getting close. The sounds falling from his mouth make her wrap her hands to the back of his thighs, encouraging him to be closer.

“Fuck… Angel, I’m going to come. Where do you want it?”

Something possesses her. That’s the only explanation because she’s never done anything like this before. Y/N pushes him by the hip gently and he backs up, keening into her hand when she wraps it around him, pumping fast. “My face.”

He looks totally gone now, and a broken moan falls from his lips, watching her stick out her tongue. He curses again when he comes. Some lands on her tongue, but most of it paints her cheek and nose. He’s hauling her to her feet immediately and her back is against the shower wall, arms wrapping around his shoulders for stability due to her weak knees. It’s entirely erotic that he presses his tongue into her mouth, not the least bit put off by the taste and feel of himself all over her face. When he comes down from his high, he’s laughing in shock. “Holy fuck, you’re so hot.”

It makes her laugh loudly too, and relief floods her body that he liked the risk she took. Then he’s guiding her under the water, helping her rinse and wash her face, careful not to get any soap in her eyes. Then she does the same to him. They finish washing each other, but the water is still hot and they stay under the spray, holding each other.

“Too much?” Jeonghan asks carefully, kissing her neck.

Y/N shakes her head. “No… in fact, I could do more.”

His head pops up and he looks down at her with a mixture of caution and excitement. “Is that so?” When she nods, he asks, “and what were you thinking?”

Y/N feels a smirk cross her face and she’s not sure where the confidence comes from. “Can we explore that strength kink a little more?”

Jeonghan looks elated. “Yeah, I can manage that. Just tell me if it’s too much.”

Y/N lets him push her back against the shower wall that she’s becoming really familiar with. His hands stroke across her body for a while as he kisses her and she’s waits patiently. She doesn’t know how to navigate this, but he seems to and she trusts him.

His hands wrap around her arched back, gripping and massaging, and it has her sighing into his mouth, especially the lower they go. A few rougher grips to her ass and they fall to the back of her thighs. When he lifts abruptly, she squeals in surprise, clinging to his shoulders. Instinctively, her legs fly around his waist and then her back is against the shower wall again.

Jeonghan is laughing again. “Sorry, should have warned you.”

Y/N lightly slaps his shoulder. “Yeah right, you wanted to scare me.” She can tell she’s right because he giggles into her neck. Whatever lecture she might give him is gone when his hands grope at her ass again. Everything about the position is exposing and she’s totally at his mercy. His cock is hard against her again and the feel of it so close to where she wants it has her huffing.

But he knows her too well. “Patience, angel.” His hips stay anchored against her, along with one hand on her ass, but the other comes back up to her breast and she’s falling back flat into the shower wall at the feeling. His lips graze her jaw. “How far do you want to go?”

She has a hard time answering because he’s pinching lightly at her nipples. “All the way.”

Jeonghan hesitates for a few beats before finally asking, “Like this?”

Y/N considers it through the haze of his touch. It’s been a long time and there might be better positions to reintroduce her to all of this, but she wants him so badly right now that it doesn’t matter. “Yes, please.”

“Okay. Tell me how it feels. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.” He says this against her jaw and when she nods, he pulls back again. He reaches down and the head of his cock rubs against her opening a few times before notching there, and she sucks in a breath. She can feel the stretch already and she’s still not breathing quite yet. “Deep breath, angel. It’ll be okay, but stop me if it’s not.” She gives another nod and then his lips are on hers and he’s pushing in slowly.

The stretch is insane and tears prick her eyes. It’s not exactly pain, but there’s something uncomfortable about it. It reminds her of her first time and she feels silly for the comparison. She focuses on his lips and when he’s fully seated she’s pleased by the sound he makes against her mouth. He stays there and his hands stroke her body gently. He leans back to look at her. “Okay?”

Y/N sighs and laughs shortly, a little overwhelmed at the feeling. “Yeah, just… go slow.”

She expects the same pain or discomfort when he pulls out most of the way, but the drag against her walls has her pinching her eyebrows together as the feeling shifts. “Oh.” It falls from her mouth before she can stop it and then he’s slowly pushing back in and it feels good. Really good actually.

Jeonghan starts a slow and steady pace and Y/N leans forward to kiss him again. There are some broken gasps and moans from both of them. When he hits a particular spot, Y/N feels herself clench around him and he hisses. “Fuck, you feel so good.” Another clench. Jeonghan chuckles. “Praise kink, too? Y/N, really?”

“You’re really making fun of me right now?” Y/N whines, slightly breathless.

Jeonghan seems more focused now. His thrusts become more intense and now words are flowing freely from his mouth. “So pretty like this, letting me have you against the wall. And you sound so good, I just want to keep pulling those little noises from you. Everything about you is so perfect.” She clenches repeatedly on him and his thrusts are coming faster. Y/N’s nails dig into his shoulders. “Can I see you come? I know you’re close.”

She was close. Dangerously close in fact. It takes a single pinch of her nipple and him hitting a certain spot deep inside her and suddenly she’s seeing stars. Moans fall from her mouth and she can do very little to help him keep a hold of her. His grip gets tight on her hips and he’s pounding her through her orgasm. “You’re going to make me come, angel. Where do you want it?”

“Inside, Hannie,” her request is weak but there’s something about it that propels him forward, a deep groan escaping his throat. His grip on her hips is so tight it hurts as he buries himself deeply and comes inside of her. After a few deep breaths, he eases her down to her feet. HIs grip is still tight because she’s unsteady. Both of their breathing is ragged still, but she’s giggling at him. “Breeding kink?”

Jeonghan guffaws. “Shut up. Let’s hurry up and get out of here. The water’s cold now.”

The next day, Seungcheol and Byeol have a list of things they want to do alone. Byeol is nervous to say so when she knocks on Y/N and Jeonghan’s hotel room door as they’re getting ready. They both shrug it off and tell her to go have fun. After all, they’re here to start planning their wedding and they’re in one of the most romantic cities in the world. Byeol starts to apologize but Jeonghan waves her off and says he and Y/N will go find something to do.

And that’s actually a blessing in disguise. They might have been toeing the line before, but now they’ve straight up crossed it. But every single time they’ve gone near this line lately, it’s been in private. As Jeonghan stops replaying how Y/N rode him this morning while he sat on the tile bench in the shower, he worries about how he can navigate this public facet of whatever they’re doing. And the ‘whatever they’re doing’ part stresses him out more, because a label would be really useful right about now.

It’s probably a good thing that he has some time to figure out how to approach this without being under the watchful eye of Seungcheol or Byeol, who have been giving him knowing looks and making comments since Y/N and Jeonghan reunited a few months ago. Seungcheol apparently doesn’t keep any secrets from Byeol so she knows all of Jeonghan’s dirty laundry dating back years.

They’re dressing down today since they aren’t visiting any venues. At least that’s what he thinks until Y/N comes out of the bathroom in a sun dress. Jeonghan looks down at his jeans, t-shirt, and flannel and scoffs at her in offense. “Do you have to be so pretty?”

Y/N becomes shy, cheeks turning pink. “What are you talking about? It’s just a dress and some makeup.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty without it.” Jeonghan says and she shoves him on the way out of the door. They go to a small cafe down the street and Jeonghan decides to start simply. When they’re about to cross the street, he laces his fingers with hers. Once they get to the other side of the street, he doesn’t let go until it’s time to open the door and usher her into the cafe.

He reattaches their hands when they arrive at Jardin du Luxembourg and walk the garden. At lunch, he sits next to her and puts an arm around her shoulders. He’s happy when she leans into him. He lets go of her when they arrive for a tour at the Palace of Versailles because she’s too busy admiring it anyway to pay any attention to him.

Until dinner, they wander around the city together. When they stop and look at something, his hand falls to her back. And at dinner, he brushes a crumb off her mouth.

She doesn’t pull away once and in fact usually leans into his touch. It leaves him elated, almost to the point of overwhelm because of how things are shifting so fast between them. It traps him in his thoughts as they stroll around after dinner aimlessly. They’re in a park that Jeonghan didn’t pay attention to the name of when they entered, when Y/N squeezes his hand. “Don’t bottle it up.”

Jeonghan glances at her and huffs a laugh. “That’s my line.”

“And I’m stealing it. You’re not usually this quiet. What’s on your mind?” Y/N says sweetly.

Jeonghan bites his lip, looking around the park, though he can’t see much because it’s so dark. “Is a lot of this overwhelming to you too?”

Y/N hums. “Yes and no.” He can’t help but look at her curiously. “Yes because things are changing so fast between us and I don’t know where it’s going. No, because it’s you.” The words warm him. After a few beats, she looks up at him. “Do you want to slow things down? Or stop all together?”

His response is instantaneous. “No, I don’t. I’m loving all of it. It just makes my head spin… Do you want to stop or slow down?”

Y/N shakes her head just as fast. “No, I love it too. That doesn’t make it less scary though.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It is scary.” Jeonghan agreed without an ounce of humor. He’s surprised when Y/N laughs.

“I feel kind of stupid now. We’ve only ever talked about what our silly marriage pact would look like. We’ve just been winging any of the steps before that, assuming that that pact ever comes to fruition and wasn’t just a joke.”

Jeonghan does finally laugh and he throws his arm around her to pull her into his side. “Yeah, I guess we have marriage on the brain lately.” He doesn’t feel awkward often but he does right now. “Is this where we have the dreaded ‘what are we’ conversation?”

Y/N chuckles. “Maybe it’s time… what do you want?”

Jeonghan thinks carefully and he can feel her squirm against his side out of nervousness. But he takes his time because this is a pivotal moment and it needs to be honest. He pictures having days like this for the rest of his life. Holding her hand as they walk, shielding her in a crowd, sharing his food with her. He imagines taking her back to the hotel later. He’s still hesitant to assume they’re on the same page when it comes to sex, but he’d be patient as long as she’s still interested in exploring it. But it’s laughable that all of that feels foreign and weird in a good way, and yet the idea of marrying her seems totally natural. The idea warms his chest and he imagines making this kind of trip to pick out a venue for themselves. But then he knows there’s no need for a trip like this when that little bed and breakfast at the winery exists. He thinks about being married to her and living out the rest of his life with her. Again, it’s laughable that it’s not hard to imagine.

He leans over to place a kiss on the top of her head. “I could marry you tomorrow, but I’ll settle for being your boyfriend for a while until then if you’ll have me.”

There’s humor in it and he knows she’s picked up on it, but her eyes water when she looks up at him. Her sparkle’s back. “Okay. Just until you’re ready to get me a ring though!”

Y/N and Jeonghan are not subtle the next morning when they meet Seungcheol and Byeol to go to the airport. They might have their bags but their free shands are linked. Seungcheol and Byeol are about to ‘aww’ at them, but the taxi driver honks his horn impatiently.

When they board the plane, Jeonghan knows something’s up the moment Byeol sits in his seat next to Y/N with a grin. Jeonghan scoffs and sits next to Seungcheol a couple rows up. As he buckles his seat belt, Seungcheol’s expression is nearly maniacal and Jeonghan does his best to ignore it. He really can’t ignore it when Seungcheol sings, “So… something you want to tell me?”

Not that he wants to ignore it because he can’t help but beam. “Are you always this nosy?”

Seungcheol nods, nonplussed. “Did it finally happen? After years of me patiently waiting?”

Jeonghan scoffs, but he’s incredibly entertained. “Years is a stretch. And I recall you punching me one time over something like this. Pick a lane, Cheol.”

“Oh, I picked a lane when we were 22 after I apologized for hitting you. I’m just happy it’s finally happening. How did it happen though?” Seungcheol asks curiously.

“You want to talk about what I might be doing with your sister? We’ll get thrown off the plane if you hit me here,” Jeonghan needles just to watch Seungcheol’s face twist with disgust.

After a gag, he says, “No! Spare me the details about that. What I mean is, are you together? And how did that happen?”

Jeonghan decides he’s tortured Seungcheol enough for now, so he grins. “Yes, we’re together. It’s been happening slowly, I think. But we made it official last night.”

Seungcheol genuinely looks happy and it makes Jeonghan kind of emotional in a way that he can’t quite explain. Seungcheol’s opinion matters to him, particularly when it comes to who he dates. Seungcheol never said anything unkind about Sora, but Jeonghan knew he hadn’t cared much for her. And it’s not just anyone that he’s dating now. It’s Y/N. The way Seungcheol grins right now means he approves and it’s a huge weight off of Jeonghan’s shoulders. He doesn’t have to say it and he can’t anyway, because a flight attendant is on the intercom now giving instructions.

They arrive in Mykonos and they are barely out of the airport doors when Jeonghan and Y/N look at Byeol and then back at each other. Silently, they know they were right and they’ll be back here soon. The hotel they check into is the best one yet for this trip in Jeonghan’s opinion. It’s an ocean side hotel with private beach access and the view from the deck and the bed right inside is incredible. There’s also a rooftop pool that Seungcheol says is the entire reason he picked this place, but they all want to enjoy the beach while the sun is still out.

Jeonghan and Y/N change and get to the beach first. They pick a couple lounge chairs and Y/N promptly hands him a bottle of sunscreen and sits at the foot of his seat. He doesn’t hesitate to drag her closer so that when he’s done layering her back in the lotion he can wrap his arms around her and place a kiss on her cheek. That’s how Seungcheol and Byeol find them. Byeol coos while Seungcheol gags. “People are going to think you guys are the ones getting married,” Seungcheol needles.

Y/N peeks back at Jeonghan with a secretive look before grinning at her brother. “Maybe we will. We’ll try not to upstage your wedding.” Jeonghan laughs into her shoulder and Byeol giggles behind her hand while Seungcheol waves them all off with a scoff.

That night, Jeonghan and Y/N shower together again. It’s overwhelming how Jeonghan can’t get enough of her and the great irony is that she’s been there all along. It’s not just about lightly pushing her into the shower wall and taking her from behind, though he thoroughly enjoys that. It’s the smile she gives him when she turns back around and demands to wash his hair for him, and he only allows it if she goes first. Or the fact that she sits on the closed toilet seat while he brushes and dries her hair after the shower. Or when he helps her pull a t-shirt over her head right before they crawl into bed. He’s always loved taking care of her in the little ways that best friends do but this is a whole new level.

He realizes they have to go back to the real world in a matter of days and there will be an adjustment to that too. He’s spent every second with her for a week now, and a pretty significant amount together in the weeks before that, and he has to go back to work now? And she has to go back to work? And they don’t live together?

Jeonghan puts a pin in that thought for now. He just got her back, he doesn’t want to scare her off.

The next couple days in Greece fly by. There are a few sight-seeing things that they go do, but they spend a lot of time on the beach. On their last night, Seungcheol and Byeol turn in early because they all have an early flight in the morning to go back home, but Y/N and Jeonghan opt to check out the rooftop pool if only to feel like they’re delaying the inevitable. It’s warm when they get in since the sun hasn’t been down for more than a couple hours. The busiest tourist season here has already past and there seem to be very few people staying in this hotel. That means they get the pool to themselves. They look out at the scenery for a while but Jeonghan gets bored of it eventually, beginning to pepper kisses to her neck as he stands behind her.

“Are you ready to go home tomorrow?” Y/N muses, still looking out at the night sky.

Jeonghan groans into her shoulder. “No. Can’t we just keep touring Europe forever? A new city every week until we find one we really like and just stay there forever?”

Y/N giggles. “That sounds like a dream, but I don’t think either of us are doing quite that well at our jobs yet. I don’t know about you, but I’m running out of leave time anyway.”

Jeonghan grumbled. He was running out of leave time too, due to this trip and his time recovering after his accident and he really would have to get back to work in just a few days. “I hope you know I’ll be bothering you every spare second you have.”

“That’s good to hear… I was beginning to worry about what things might be like when we get back,” Y/N answers softly and Jeonghan squeezes her a little tighter.

“How do you want to spend the last night of freedom? It’s a long travel day tomorrow trapped in a cramped plane,” Jeonghan asked lightly and thankfully it lifted the mood.

Y/N hums, smirking over her shoulder. “I’m open to suggestions.”

Jeonghan beams. “Was that a dirty joke? Who are you and what have you done with Y/N?” He laughs, pinching her waist lightly, making her giggle. He pecks her cheek. “Well since you asked, we can make use of the lovely shower again. Or the bed, which was pretty nice. Or maybe the deck or the little dining table in our room.” She’s giggling more and Jeonghan’s chest is about to burst. “Or right here in the pool.”

He gets so much enjoyment out of watching her face light up with surprise. “The pool? But anyone could come by.” Her eyes flit to the rooftop entrance behind him.

“Yeah, angel. That’s kind of the point. What, no exhibition kink for you?” He teases, but she’s still looking around and it feels like the answer is a ‘no’. So he presses another kiss to her cheek. “I’m messing with you. We don’t have to do any of it, least of all out here.”

She’s turned in his arms now, eyes flitting between the door and his face and there’s some serious concentration going on. He waits patiently. Her eyes suddenly narrow up at him. “Do you have an exhibition kink?”

He purses his lips to keep from laughing because she looks so serious. “Yeah, I’m into it. But you need to be too or else we’re not doing anything out here.”

“I’m not saying no, Hannie. I’m just nervous.” And she sounds like it when she laughs.

He watches her face closely. Finally, he offers, “We could start and if you want to stop you just say so.”

Y/N gives him a hesitant yet sweet smile before folding her hands into the hair at the back of his neck. “Okay.”

He chuckles against her lips. “Cute.” But then she’s pulling him against her and her tongue is in his mouth. This is something Jeonghan doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of - her mouth and the little sounds she makes, her hands roaming his body, and the feel of her pressed against him. This doesn’t have to even go any farther honestly. He entertains the idea of doing this all night right here. Until the pool is too cold, that is.

Jeonghan grips her waist and lifts her to sit on the edge of the pool. He sees the flash of excitement just like any time he lifts or moves her with some force and he smiles, walking in between her spread legs. Because of the height difference now, he can’t press against her like before, but it’s almost better the way she’s above him now. Now he’s the one tilting his head up and she’s the one leaning down when they kiss again. The urgency of her lips and the way her nails scrape at the back of his scalp make him groan into her mouth. He was trying to play this safe and let her lead, but he couldn’t help how his hands drifted after that.

He buries one hand in her wet hair, careful not to snag any tangles, and the other cups her breast as he just leans back and watches her. The touch is soft at first, but the way she moans makes him grope a little harder. When he runs his fingers over her nipple through her bikini it’s already stiff and he feels her shudder under his hands. She seems to have forgotten whatever anxieties she had before, so he pulls the triangular fabric to the side to expose her breast. He loses track of time on how long he stands there and works her up, pinching her nipple, groping her, stroking her. At some point, he exposes the other breast too to do the same there. She’s breathless by the time he finally leans down to wrap his lips around her nipple. She jerks violently when he bites, but the sound that comes out of her mouth is too much like a moan for her to not like it so he does it a few more times.

He’s back up at her lips, a hand still toying with her breast when he asks, “Okay?” It’s clear she’s lost in the bliss because he barely gets a nod, and he debates on pulling her back to reality a bit. Selfishly, he’s enjoying this far too much. He wasn’t kidding about a little bit of an exhibition kink, but she was so nervous before. He grips her chin to look at him and it’s a firmer touch than he’d usually use with her, but it does the trick because her eyes snap open. “Verbal answer, angel.”

“I’m good,” she mumbles. “Keep going, please.”

He places a single peck to her lips and then steps back because he’s already decided what he wants to try next. His hand lands on her upper chest, fingers grazing her neck. He doesn’t miss the way her eyes shift at the touch and he’ll remember that for later. Instead, he says, “Lie back,” and gently pushes her. She falls back onto her forearms, still looking at him with wide, trusting eyes and it makes him want to burst in so many ways because she looks like a dream. Especially when his hands spread her knees wide and one lands between her legs, cupping her through the string bikini, and she throws her head back.

His hand on her chest slides to her breast as he pushes the bottoms to the side with the other to stroke her. Her hips jerk when he rubs her clit and then it’s clear she’s having a hard time staying upright on her forearms when he slides two fingers into her, all the while playing with her nipple. “It’s okay, angel, just lay back,” he urges, but she shakes her head.

“Want to see you.”

Both her words and the sound of her voice makes Jeonghan smile, pumping his fingers a bit faster. “I have an idea.”

Y/N gives him an unfocused look. “Yeah?”

He decides he wants to keep her talking when she’s like this because it’s making him rock hard. “How many times do you think you can come?”

“Overstimulation kink?” She laughs faintly. “I don’t know, Hannie.” The sound of his name in that voice almost makes him come right then. “The most I’ve ever had is with you.”

Jeonghan can’t help the smirk that falls on his lips. “What do you think about me testing that limit? All you’d have to do is tell me to stop when you’ve had enough.” His fingers are still pumping into her and playing with her nipples and she’s barely with him for the conversation. Firmly, he says, “Angel, you need to tell me what you want and what you’re okay with, or I’ll have to stop.”

Panic flashes across her face. “Please don’t stop,” she says in a desperate way that makes his mind melt. “Make me come as many times as I can take.”

“Are you sure?” Jeonghan asked and she nods, mumbling something unintelligible, but it’s enough for Jeonghan now. His hand leaves her breast, sliding up to her neck and that same look from earlier is back, especially when his fingers wrap around her throat delicately. He doesn’t seem to need to apply any real pressure because the placement alone is enough to have her clenching hard on his fingers. “Oh, I’m going to have to use this later,” he groaned. “Come on, let me see you come.” It’s more demanding of a tone than he’d normally use but it has her coming all over his fingers in seconds. He watches her pussy pulsate around them and it makes him ache in his swim trunks.

He pulls his fingers out and looks down at her one more time when she seems to be hearing him. “Remember, say stop. Or tap me three times.” As soon as he gets a nod, he’s leaning down, hands spreading her knees even wider.

She barely gets a “what are you-“ out of her mouth before his tongue swipes across her pussy and he moans at the taste. This is something they hadn’t done yet and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it. But his goal is to see how many orgasms he can give her, so he doesn’t wait long to wrap his lips around her clit, flicking his tongue across it. She’s already clenching when he slides two fingers back inside her. She comes fast before she even realizes it from the sounds of it, but he keeps going and she’s adopting a whine. She leans on one forearm now as the other hand flies into his hair to grip hard. And that’s how she tips over the edge a third, fourth, and fifth time.

She’s laying flat on her back when he stands up straight and pulls his fingers out of her. “What do you think? Can you take more?” He asks gently and it’s kind of a joke, because she doesn’t look like she can take much more, but his eyes widen when she nods. He decides he needs to get her somewhere private right now. He pulls her swimsuit back into place carefully and helps her sit up. “Come on, let’s go back to the room.”

The answer is nine times. They get approximately two hours of sleep before they have to be up to go catch their flight. They both sleep most of the way home.

“Alright, I’ve met all of your requirements. I waited until we were both off. I bought the wine and dumplings. I put your stupid horror movie on. I’ve refrained from teasing you for nearly a week. Now tell me, dammit,” Joshua demanded, turning to her on the couch. Y/N gives him an entertained look.

It’s Friday around lunch time and she and Joshua finally both had a day off together. He’d started nagging her as soon as she walked in the door on Saturday night, despite it being almost midnight, but Y/N had held up a hand and made a few demands. He had whined, but when she didn’t budge he just huffed and went to bed. But he made it clear first thing this morning that they had plans.

“There’s nothing to tell you,” Y/N says, trying to hide her smirk behind a dumpling.

Joshua looks like his head might explode. “Y/N! You spent over a week in Europe with your best friend, who you’re into, and who has been attached to your back, quite literally, every moment that neither of you are at work, and you have nothing to tell me?”

Y/N hides a laugh. Joshua is right, of course. If they were both off, Jeonghan was here or she was at his apartment. He happened to be at work right now, which is why Joshua had this opportunity to interrogate her. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Oh, I know something happened, I just want the details,” Joshua insisted. He hadn’t even touched his food or drink yet because he was too busy glaring.

“You are such a gossip,” Y/N snorted. “Fine, here it goes. We’re together. We got together during the trip.”

“… And?” Joshua waved his hands to demand more.

“And what?” Y/N gave him a baffled look. “I told you what’s going on. We’re dating. What more do you need? Do you want to know everywhere we had sex too?”

It was a joke but it has Joshua gasping. “Are you serious? Everywhere, as in multiple times?”

“Yeah, but that’s not something you need to know about,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

He adopts a sly look. “Was it one of the outfits I made you pack?”

Y/N rolls her eyes yet again. “Technically speaking, it was a contributor. I hated it but he didn’t.” She still didn’t like that royal purple dress, but it got hung back up in her closet somewhere in the middle, rather than the dark recesses in the back, just in case she’d ever entertain pulling it out for Jeonghan again.

“I knew it,” Joshua yells, throwing a fist into the air in celebration. “You’re welcome. I got you laid after a very, very, very long dry spell.”

“Mhm, well, you can stop worrying about my sex life now. Thank you so much,” Y/N says sarcastically.

“Oh, no. We’re circling back to that. But for now all I want to know is if you’re happy.”Y/N peers over her styrofoam box of dumplings at Joshua. He looks pretty serious now, waiting for an answer. She doesn’t have to think long before she smiles and nods. “And it feels right?” He adds.

“Yeah it does,” Y/N says lightly. “Everything always has with him. Even though we were both nervous wrecks when this started to shift into something else, it still felt right.”

Joshua gives her a genuine smile. “I’m happy for you, Y/N. You’ve been alone too long and I worry about you. And from what I’ve seen of you two together, it’s seamless.”

“Thanks, Joshua. I know I haven’t been the easiest to live with in that regard. I mope around a lot.”

“You do,” Joshua laughs. “But you have this… glow about you now that I think people only get when they’re in love. Is that what this is?”

Y/N bit her lip. “I’m not sure yet… I’ve always loved him, but now it’s something strong but I can’t assign a name to it right now.” After a moment, she smiles, adding, “And according to Hannie, it’s a sparkle, not a glow.”

“Sparkle. That’s a good word for it,” Joshua laughs, agreeing. “Can I request one thing though?” Y/N hums. “Can you guys not fuck loudly while I’m sleeping? I have a very serious job and I need my rest! These walls are thin!” A dumpling flies into his face.

Byeol had, in fact, picked Greece, the exact hotel they’d stayed at to be specific. Both Byeol and Seungcheol had given Y/N and Jeonghan perplexed looks when they laughed at the ‘huge’ announcement. Y/N had just simply said, “We know, Byeol. We knew it would be Greece all along.” This made Byeol spiral a bit because she felt like she’d wasted so much time and money to figure it out when two of her best friends had already known, and Seungcheol spent a long time convincing her it was no big deal and they just had a good vacation either way. He also refused to let her see the receipts in his email. None of them actually wanted to know how much he’d spent on this little exploratory trip.

So, they book the venue for next May and take the all-inclusive wedding package that the venue offers. That really means they just have to show up with themselves, their outfits, and the rings and the thought makes Byeol’s shoulders relax immediately. They start pouring over lists of meals, cakes, decor, and flowers that the hotel can provide. When Jeonghan’s eyes widen at the stack of papers in front of him, Y/N promises this is nothing compared to what it could be. Most weddings would require going through multiple vendors and that opens up an overwhelming amount of options than what is listed from the hotel. It’s actually a blessing in disguise to have a wedding coordinator from the hotel put these sort of things together because they know what would look best, given the setting.

So, most of October, November, and December are spent doing that in their spare moments together. The week before Christmas, all that’s left to get back to the hotel is the decor and flower choices, which are being held up by the many color swatches spread across Byeol and Seungcheol’s dining room table. They can’t pick the wedding colors and that confuses Jeonghan and Seungcheol when they’re handed nearly identical shades of blue to pick from. One is cyan and one is dark turquoise according to the printing on the bottom of the swatch but there’s so little difference that both men randomly pick one. The girls ultimately decide on dark turquoise and send their answers for decor and flowers off.

On Christmas Eve in the afternoon, Jeonghan shows up at Y/N’s apartment and lets himself in. “I’m almost ready!” A yell comes from down the hall and it makes Jeonghan laugh. He laughs harder when he comes into her room and sees that she is, in fact, not almost ready. There are a lot of discarded outfits on the bed, she’s just starting her make up, and her hair is still wet.

“What happened, angel? You said 2pm, right?”

Y/N gives him a frazzled look as he leans on the door frame of the bathroom. “I know, but I overslept. I had to work a couple hours later than I expected and didn’t get here until 7am, and then my alarm didn’t go off at 1!”

She’s speedily doing her makeup, but between tools, Jeonghan puts a hand on her back to interrupt her. “Angel, it’s okay. Take a deep breath. I’m not in a hurry. Dinner will still be there when we get there.”

The mention of dinner makes something flash across her face that Jeonghan hates. It’s because they’re going to meet her father, stepmother, and Jeonghan’s parents for dinner. She would have been frazzled about being late any day of the week, but their destination tonight amplifies her anxiety. “I know, but you know how my father is.”

He does and he bites his tongue as not to add to her anxiety. “And you’re 31, Y/N. It’ll be okay. Take a deep breath and finish getting ready. Slow down some.”

Jeonghan relaxes a little when she listens, taking a few breaths before picking up her makeup again. Then she dries and curls her hair. He leads her out to his car, holding the passenger side door open for her to slide in. During the drive, he tries to focus on quelling her anxiety, but he has his own to deal with and holding her thigh with her hand on top of his helps.

Jeonghan’s not close to his parents and hasn’t really been in a long time. Nothing dramatic, but as soon as he wasn’t their legal responsibility anymore, they took a big step back in the name of giving him independence. That independence also meant a single call once a month while he was in college, and even fewer now that he’s been out. They’d visited him briefly at the hospital after his accident earlier in the year, which surprised him a bit, but they’d only called once since then. So, their relationship wasn’t hostile, but there was some pretty significant distance and coming together for something like this had an air of awkwardness.

Y/N’s, and Seungcheol’s to some extent, was actually hostile however. Their parents had a nasty divorce when they were 15 and their father had left their mother with very little in the separation, including custody. His high priced lawyer had managed to convince a judge that their mother didn’t have the means to care for the twins. During the short time that Y/N and Seungcheol had been in their father’s custody, their father had remarried quickly to the young secretary that he’d been seeing on the side for years. That stepmother, Nari, had been particularly cruel to Y/N, up to and including shipping her off to a boarding school across the country citing behavioral issues. That had always been an asinine reason to Jeonghan because Y/N was as straight laced as a teenager could be and had never talked back to an adult in her life.

Y/N had lasted about three months in boarding school before the twins’ mother had had enough and drove up to pull her out of the school and take her home. That started a nasty custody battle, which their mother ultimately won. Since then, the twins didn’t go out of their way to visit their father and their father didn’t reach out either. Christmas Eve dinner was one of the few times that they couldn’t really say no, and Jeonghan didn’t like who either twin became in that house.

They pull up to the front of the house and Jeonghan gives Y/N a few moments to pull herself together. “In and out, a couple of hours. Then we’re at the hotel with some Christmas movies and eggnog.”

Y/N gives him a half-hearted smile. “You don’t like eggnog.”

Jeonghan squeezes her hand. “But you do. Come on.”

The front door flies open when they knock and Sohee greets him with a big smile. Sohee is wife number 4 and Jeonghan has met her a few times, as has Y/N. She’s nice, so much nicer than wifes 2 and 3 that it makes Jeonghan feel a bit bad for her. “I’m so glad you guys could make it! Here, I’ll take your coats. Was the drive okay?” Sohee asks excitedly, ushering them inside.

“Not too bad,” Jeonghan asks, shedding his coat and handing it to Sohee, before turning to Y/N to help her out of her coat.

“We’re not too late, are we? I overslept,” Y/N admitted nervously. Jeonghan’s dimly aware that she would have never admitted this to someone like Nari to use for ammunition.

But Sohee grins kindly. “Oh, no. Dinner’s not quite out yet and we’re just having drinks right now. Rough night?” Sohee asks sympathetically.

“Something like that,” Y/N mumbles with a small smile. Jeonghan imagines she’s still very uncomfortable with the stepmother situation, but she’s warmer to Sohee than he’d seen with Nari or Minju.

Sohee leads them to the sitting room and Jeonghan feels some relief that Seungcheol and Byeol are already here. Their father is in an arm chair and looks like he’s already a few drinks deep. Jeonghan’s heard through the grapevine at work that the big boss has developed a little bit of a habit over the years, but Jeonghan tries to spend very little time with him to see for himself.

Once Y/N and Jeonghan are seated on the couch, Sohee smiles at them. “I’ll make you two a drink. I forget, do you like grenadine?” Both nod their head and Sohee is off.

“Seungcheol and Byeol were just telling me about how the wedding planning is going,” Y/N’s father starts lightly.

Y/N nodded politely. “Yes, it’s all starting to come together. I think it’ll be a beautiful ceremony.”

“That’s all thanks to you, Y/N,” Byeol beamed, before turning to Mr. Choi. “She’s been such a huge help in keeping me sane and on track. Jeonghan, too.”

Mr. Choi nods. “Good to hear.” Then he turns with an expression that Jeonghan has never really seen in 30 years. “I hear you two have some news as well.”

Y/N and Jeonghan glance across the coffee table to Seungcheol and Byeol who give subtle shakes of the head. It’s kind of a mystery how Mr. Choi knows, but Jeonghan nods, smiling professionally. After all, this is his CEO. “Yes, sir. We’ve been dating for a few months now.”

Mr. Choi gives a big grin and Jeonghan feels Y/N grip his hand tightly. “It’s about time.”

Jeonghan feels his eyes widen and Y/N glances to him with matching shock. “Uhm, excuse me?” Y/N asked. It’s to their great surprise that Seungcheol and Byeol are giggling now. This is feeling a bit like the twilight zone because laughter isn’t something that’s terribly common in this house.

“We’ve been taking bets for a long time,” Mr. Choi says vaguely. “Any wedding bells in the future? I have some money at risk and I’d like to know.”

Y/N is still gripping his hand tight and one glance to her tells Jeonghan that she won’t be answering, so Jeonghan speaks up again. “We’re not opposed to it, but things are still very new,” he says diplomatically.

“Fair enough. One wedding at a time, right?” Mr. Choi says lightly again.

Sohee arrives with their drinks as well as Jeonghan’s parents. The same conversations are rehashed with them as well, and Jeonghan does most of the talking when it’s their turn because Y/N’s knuckles are turning white.

At the dining table, Sohee serves a rather lavish meal that she looks pretty proud of. Jeonghan enjoys it, but he sees that Y/N is taking bites only to be polite. Throughout dinner, Mr. Choi, Sohee, and Jeonghan’s parents ask the typical questions of Seungcheol and Byeol regarding wedding planning.

Jeonghan’s mother smiles at them and Jeonghan knows what’s coming because he’s seen that look before. “And when do you plan on having children?”

Byeol flushes a bit but smiles nonetheless, glancing at Seungcheol. “As soon as we’re married?” The older adults laugh.

“Be careful with that, you should enjoy some time by yourselves, because you’ll never have it again,” Jeonghan’s father teases. It makes Jeonghan’s eye twitch because he spent a lot of time with nannies growing up.

“Byeol, will you continue working after you have children?” Sohee asked. She doesn’t seem to mean anything by it. She was a lawyer before marrying Y/N’s father, and still consults on some cases from time to time.

“Oh, I’m not sure yet. Since I’m freelance, I can do a lot on my own schedule, so it might not be necessary to quit working. Plus, I enjoy my work,” Byeol says.

Mr. Choi frowns. “But children are far more important than work, especially for a mother.” Byeol agrees, but Mr. Choi is on a roll, turning to Seungcheol. “You’d want her to work, rather than stay at home?”

“Appa, that’s up to her. Plenty of people make it work and children don’t seem to suffer for it,” Seungcheol says, clearly biting back a bit of impatience.

Mr. Choi turns to Jeonghan and Y/N. “And you two? What will you do when you have children?”

Jeonghan tries to maintain a poker face. “I agree with Seungcheol. Y/N’s spent a lot of time working on her degrees. It would be a shame in a way to not use them.”

“It’s not a waste if it’s for your children,” Mr. Choi snaps. “Y/N, would you seriously continue working, particularly with the crazy schedule you keep?”

There’s a fire in Y/N’s eyes that he doesn’t see often. She’s not quick to anger, but that’s not the case tonight. She’s been at a tipping point since they pulled into the driveway. “Appa, we’ve just started dating. Marriage and children aren’t even part of the conversation for us right now. And even if it was, you’d want me to throw away over a decade of education? I’m not even licensed yet.”

“Your stupid license means very little compared to my grandchild,” Mr. Choi rages.

“Is that what you said to Eomma when she wanted to go to nursing school?” Y/N bites and it makes most jaws at the table drop. Y/N has always been so even tempered and has certainly never talked back to her parents - or anyone older than her for that matter.

Sohee interrupts and does her best to save the conversation, but it does very little to release the tension for the remainder of the dinner. They get through the main course and dessert and Jeonghan makes the excuse that they should go soon. Seungcheol and Byeol look a little relieved to be able to use the same excuse too. Y/N all but runs to the car when Sohee sees them out and Jeonghan is barely out of the driveway before she’s crying.

It’s a short drive to the hotel since they’re visiting Y/N’s mother in town tomorrow morning, but Jeonghan decides that if this lasts long enough to see marriage and children, which he hopes it does, he won’t let her father have this kind of power over her anymore.

#jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #Yoon Jeonghan x reader #seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #smut

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acid-ixx · 2 months ago

Text

ch.4: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: self-esteem issues, alcohol abuse, allusions to self-harm.

"baby bird, i know i haven't been talking to you much as of lately. but i just want to let you know that we miss you alright?"

not delivered.

"i really regret ignoring you, we all do. i'm-"

he hesitates, then deletes the last word of his message.

"—we're the ones in the wrong for everything, alright? you blocked me, i'm sure you did for everyone else too, i get that, but we care for you now and that won't change anytime soon. please remember that."

not delivered.

"and it pains me seeing that you're not replying to my messages at all, baby bird. but i promise i'll-"

dick bites his lips at the mistake of addressing himself only rather than that of the family, but a greedy part of him wants you to read the messages and to see only him in spite of everything rather than them, feeling a sense of... need to be the first and only one you see when you think about accepting their apologies, even if he's writing to you whilst simultaneously trying to get his family in your good graces.

dick doesn't know it. why he's suddenly obsessed with you. you? yes you, his stupidly precious sibling, the one who looked up to him, frail and wronged by the world, with so much drive behind that stare. third child of bruce, yet second youngest in the family. the one that got away, the one he has never once saw outside that one memory of glinting, awe-inspired eyes that told more stories than poets, drew more emotions than artists.

nobody saw you outside of your status as the manor's ghost— but compared to your other siblings, he knew you the most. he wants to be the only man good enough to be considered your brother, your oldest brother; an obligation he's willing to uptake just for you. he wants to be the only one with the authority to call you his baby bird. he doesn't know why, despite the thirteen and a half years, it's him wanting, no, needing to see you again.

you, just you.

every bits and pieces of you.

in his mind, it's just him and you. in your tiny little bedroom, with your dozens of sketchbooks and diaries, with only your brother, dick, to accompany you. in your own little world, as you speak to him of your dreams and passions with nothing else in your mind. you'd look up at him with sparkling eyes, look at him like he means everything in the world to you, and he'd see you as his world.

when he thinks of that, the more he hopes of the possibility of you reading his messages; his declaration of never leaving you alone anymore. and with hope comes along this dread that you'd reply with a nasty reply, or that... you'll never bat an eye him anymore.

dick doesn't take a second glance to correct his mistake again this time.

"i promise i'll be better for you baby bird. my little hatchling, my little one. i discarded you, someone so precious. you must've felt hurt, no? i get that, i'm so sorry you have to go through that because of me. but look! you have me now, we have each other now! and that might not be enough yet to mend the bridge i left to fall, but if you just, please reply to me, or anyone else, then we can fix this. i promise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"you won't ever feel hurt anymore, or sad or lonely. hell, even bruce is getting you a new bedroom fixed up, isn't that great!? i'll even convince the old man to make sure your room is close to my old one so you can visit me anytime. i'll even stay over at gotham for even longer, just for you! and i'll spend my time with you, with just the two of us, okay? nobody else can disturb us. i'm sure you'd like that too."

not delivered.

"and we can hang out anytime you want, no? sleepovers, movie nights, journalling— all the cool stuff you wanted to do with me in the past, we can do now! and it'll be fun with you, i can see it happening alrrady, i just know it. you can't convince me otherwise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"that's why i'm begging you to unblock me, little one, or to at least read all my previous messages, please? :( i'm still so sorry over how i treated you in the past. i've nothing to defend myself over how i acted towards you. i was so delusional, ignoring you when all you clearly wanted was to spend time with me, with the family."

not delivered.

"we can even have that dinner together, remember?! at that fancy restaurant you talked about, yeah? my treat, of course. you can order the entire damn menu and i'll leave you room for seconds and desserts. i can even make arrangements to get bruce to rent out the entire restaurant so it would just be the two of us plus the family, but mostly just us— that would be good! then you can sleep at my room after we get home to the manor since we're turning your old one into an atelier just for you! i'll even carry your cute little figure up any flight of stairs whenever you get tired."

not delivered.

"i promise i'll really make it up to you baby bird!!! <3"

not delivered.

"for all the times we neglected you, left you thinking you didn't deserve a spot in the manor (which you truly do, it's us to blame for never seeing it that way), made you feel negative emotions towards us— i'll take your pain and turn that into joy, i promise."

not delivered.

"and if you do manage to read through all this, please remember..."

not delivered.

"i love you so much, alright? we'll find you soon, and you'll be happier with us, i'm sure of it. i love, love, love you so much my baby bird."

not delivered.

he sighs, resigning his thoughts all to himself as he checks his phone every minute for a simple ring of notifications just from you. he prefers to leave his phone in silent mode from the multitude of other contacts bothering him, but god forbade if that means he'd scroll past to a single reply of yours, then he'd rather burn in hell.

and anything is better than the pain inflicted on him when it comes to the thought of you ignoring him.

because after all, he does mean it when he says he loves you, his baby bird, his adorable little sibling.

he'd rather hell than you seeing him any less of an older brother.

what takes longer? is it a seed growing into a bud, a bud into a bloom, or a flower to fully shrivel and die?

how long does it take for it to be considered worthy? deserving of attention and the rightful spotlight to attain its needs for life?

what takes its time? what other variable does it need for it to survive in such harsh conditions? if it's forcefully pried open as a seedling, as a bud growing in a field full of weeds sapping, draining it of its nutrition, or in a scorching, desolate desert, or pestilent lands; would it still be considered a flower?

what does a seed need to grow into a flower? beautiful, treasured, with vibrant colors reflecting off the surface of each petal, growing pollen for every pollinator to spread its bountiful success you call development?

what does it require?

everyone knows the answer, some could only be ignorant enough to turn the other way and reject the idea altogether.

it needs care, nourishment — healthy soil building a strong foundation, its home with roots carefully embedded in the ground, then it also requires water, a source of life given to it in specific times with just the right dose, and sunlight kissing its stems and petals warmly — and finally, love.

lots of love, attention, and patience from mother nature herself and its caretakers we call humans.

but how could a flower receive any, if not, all it needs, if it's raised under a marshy, overgrowth rainforest that speaks of death and cruel poachers that could step on the bloom of any moment?

how could a flower live, let alone survive, if its careless caretakers who took it away from its fertile lands neglect it of its requirements to grow and bloom into its rightful imagery?

just how?

you are a flower.

and you will wilt soon the longer you live in what you once thought was your home.

growing in cracked, dry soil, with no water nor sunlight aiding your growth.

you are a flower.

who had been loved by your creator, mother nature herself; your mother. but you've never once felt the care nor love of your cruel humans you call family, your father had never once saw your budding petals, kissed it, patiently watered or spent time outside in the sunlight with you. your brothers don't notice your dehydrated pets, shriveled leaves and bent stems, nor do they tend to it. your sisters don't decorate the pot you reside it, they don't talk to you every time you sag down in loneliness and isolation as you are forced to stay in the same place and witness the same scenarios over and over again.

not much knows it, but flowers, much like any plant, can communicate, they can feel. and when they do, they do deeply.

and you are a flower. a flower worthy of being pressed into books, storing your beauty forever. a flower worthy of being situated into a stunning arrangements of bouquets, worshipped through birthdays, dates, weddings, and even funerals.

you're a flower, and you're beautiful and deserving of praise and honor from your stages in life as a seed, from a bud, to a blooming flower. yet you're neglected the same way ignorant trespassers would step on growing blooms, uncaring for sabotaging their life completely, and oh-so easily.

you're a flower, a symbol of nature's fertility, resilience, and tranquility.

you symbolize your mother's long standing determination to care for a child whose father looked other ways but her. who raised her seedling with care, watered them with stories of fairytales: fantasies about prince charmings who take their flowers away from barren lands to spoil them with rich soil and neverending sunlight, about princesses who stop by flower shops to awe at the arrangements of bouquets, eyes glazing with fervor as they recount each and every symbolism every unique flower shares.

your mother places you in your favorite, decorated pot: your shared bedroom with her, and she kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your chubby little fingers, the same way the illuminating sunlight kisses at your flushed body whenever you two would go out for your walks.

she was your mother nature, and you were her precious flower.

you were once a blooming bud then, and you wished you would still bloom now.

how could you grow into what you're worth, when even you couldn't grow without the love that was taken from you?

what about the care, the patience, the determination she once held in her warm gaze, now cold and fading with life the last time you saw her; would it all be a waste?

how could you grow now?

and yet you don't even need to ponder for solutions. the answers were clear, clear as the water your petals used to bathe in, clear as the rain that pitters against alfred's car windows the same day you were taken away from your mother's hold—

you simply wilt.

8:31PM.

your friend said she'd pick you up quarter to nine, so you'd at least have the time to prepare and make yourself look good. but right now...

god, right now, you don't feel anything good, not even a wee bit of it at all. ever since he texted you, you feel like shit, utterly repulsed. vile, like the image of you vomiting every contents of your stomach— and now you're going out drinking with an empty one. you can already feel the bitter taste of heavy alcohol mixing in with the acids of your stomach.

you can already feel the breakdown you're having right now as you remember how fucking broke and useless you are for having to ask your friends to treat you to drinking because you have nothing left to offer beyond the fucking taxes you have to pay and the nearly due rent and bills.

you have nothing to offer. you're so shitty. you deserve to die.

the more you stare at the mirror, the more your eyebags seem to deepen, your lips began to dry, and the pit in your chest sunken.

and that makes you exhale even deeper, ignoring the way your throat constricts on itself in instinct.

your eyes flitter to your fingers, nails bitten, skin ripped at the seems with dry blood staining chipped cuticles.

when you looked back at your reflection, you want to cry even more, seeing an image of a moving pile of flesh. all puffy skin and sagging eyes.

you don't remember the last time you felt pretty about yourself.

whether it was in the manor, or back when your mother was the only one raising you— it seems like your memories are in shambles right now.

you don't remember the last time you looked in a mirror, looking healthy, fresh, and proud of yourself for dressing up in your style. in the back of your mind, there will always be hatred, resentment for how you look. and right now, you hate how you every bit of your appearance because...

because you look exactly just like an image of your mother and bruce wayne. a reminder, your punishment for your parents' beautifully tragic affair with one another. a billionaire who courted the lowly dirt-class slut of gotham.

yet you're uglier because you're not them, you couldn't be them. you're not picture-perfect brucie with slick-black hair and a face like fine-aged wine, or the image of your sultry, "man-eater" mother in her lingerie. you're just, you— you've inherited all the stupid flaws you wished you could shave off your damn body.

you remember seeing your father's face in television with your mother beside you by the couch, combing your hair and giggling when your eyes had lit up at the sight of the rich man. you haven't once took your eyes off the news channel whenever he appeared, looking at bruce, always enamored with his aesthetics, only to never notice your mother's tired eyes, or how shaky her fingers would sometimes become.

"momma, that's daddy, right?!" you asked her whilst the side of your body was pressed against hers, with all the enthusiasm a child could muster. your grin was wide, eyes peeled to the screen, enough to ignore the flinch in your mother as you had once thought it was her igniting with the same excitement as yours.

she simply leans down and kisses your cheeks, her eyes, a beautiful shade of your eyes color, albeit lighter in hue, never once left the crown of your small head, ignoring the headline for the news about 'brucie's new fling caught on camera!'.

your mother was so glad you were still illiterate at your age. she wish she could never break off the illusion that it was her who simply birthed to you, with no face for a father. maybe you would've never ask her about why he had never once came to visit your small family, why you could never meet your other siblings, or why he's seen with multiple other women by his side every time you open the television.

you ask at frequent intervals; it makes her wish to strip away the past in which she chose to tell you who your father was. you would've experienced less heartbreak, she would've never seen the way your eyes would dim at her every excuse, or the way she felt your heart crack at the seams, only further breaking hers.

yet after a while, she replies and buries her thoughts, ignoring the tears that lid her eyes. with not so much enthusiasm in her light voice, with the undertones of guilt and sorrow digging deep throat her throat, but it was enough for young, little you to jump on your springy couch with her response.

"... oh, yes, that's your papa...! isn't he so nice looking—?"

"and handsome! i'm so lucky to have such beautiful parents! i wish i was as pretty as you, momma, and daddy too!"

when you had looked up with haste, glinting eyes staring up at her with a wide grin, some baby teeth still present, others absent from your gums, yet you displayed admiration no less; your mother just as quickly wipes her red eyes and sniffling nose with the worn sleeves of her sweater and reciprocates your beaming energy with a small smile.

she wishes you'd dismiss her previous melancholic expression, replacing it with the same fond, yet tired gaze she always offers you, wishing you'd be as oblivious to the pain it brings her to see your hopes and dreams of meeting a father you could only admire through a screen or article. yet you're always so perceptive, so interlinked with her reactions that she's sure that one of the few positive traits your father had given you. she should've expected your words, yet her broken heart finds a path to heal whenever you sense her pain and soft a bandage to the cracks of her bleeding scars with your kindness.

you would always be her little flower. the one she'd nurture in a garden filled with rosy bushes and scarring thorns.

"—you're so beautiful, momma, even if you cry because daddy isn't here with us, or you're too tired taking care of me. you're beautiful because you're my mother, and i'll take you over everything in the world..."

and you tell her, an inaudible whisper to your voice, with eyes that were once wide, beaming with joy, now gazing at her with softness like the wind kissing blades of grass in a gentle dance. you look at her, and she stares back, eyeing your chubby cheeks and lips the same shape of hers, the ends of your lashes curves the same way as hers, and your voice matches her like a lullaby when you speak every vowel in a soothing lilt.

you calm the hurt in her chest, replacing it with a mellow warmth. she even forgot the tears that slowly dripped her eyes, all replaced with the comfortable softness of her precious child's palms, smooth and cozy, resting on both of her cheeks as you pepper her crying face with kisses.

she holds both your palms caging her, and allows the your hold to linger for longer. the silence ensues, yet you both embrace the unsaid assurances.

it's times like these where she realizes you encapsulate the beauty of both worlds.

it's moments like this, she sees herself in you, and maybe she could lead herself to believe that she is beautiful, because she sees her beauty through her child, her grace.

the memory only further deepens the guilt in your heart.

if there's one word to describe you now. it would be disgrace. to your father's honor, and your mother's legacy. for easily letting yourself go, for being so weak, for being the line that jumps between two polar opposites of one another; trying to traverse their path of belonging.

you're a disgrace, a mistake, and you deserve to be treated as such.

it was why you never find yourself beautiful. a person such as yourself would always find allure, worth in all things chaotic - you live in gotham after all - but never find that same value in yourself as you look at your reflection that distorts your image even more, making you uglier and uglier the longer you look.

split ends everywhere, hand tangled, reddish eyes from nearly crying again.

even if you beat at yourself, erratic and impulsive, even if your skin is colored an ashen blue and purple, rotten shades of yellow and red, you think of yourself ugly and repulsive.

no matter how much color you try to bring into your bleak, repulsive life, at the cost of hurting yourself to become pretty— every part of you will always be that ugly, little duckling in comparison of your siblings who always outshone you.

dick with his playboy body, jason and his towering one, tim with soft boyish features, damian's silky tan and smooth skin, and duke's baby face.

you couldn't even have your hair frame you as perfectly as steph's light blonde hair does, or share barbara's proportionate face, or look as gracious yet deadly like cassandra.

you're nowhere near as special, you're not like them. you have features too unique, yet out of place, and you couldn't bring yourself to be conventionally good-looking.

you hate yourself so much. you hate every little mole, every little pimple, every damn imperfection that litter your body, making you even lesser than what you already are.

your family; mother, father, brothers and sisters, god, even your fucking friends! every time you sit by them side-by-side, you'd feel insecure, imperfect, an eyesore and you just want to strip away every part of your limbs one by one if that meant replacing it with even better ones; all for the sake of at least feeling pretty.

you remember the first time you tried to find a sense of style, and damian's comment and– god fucking damn it—!

your hands found its way to your brushed hair, tangling itself through already fragile strands to rip at the seams. you don't care, you don't fucking care, you pray to any god out there to get them out of your head, pleas unheard, you're always left to hurt.

"what are you trying to achieve with that, huh? what even are you trying to think with that horrendous color combination? what are you, a clown? even that damned joker has more coordination than you think you could achieve."

in front of his friend, jon kent, with a scowl on his ever-so angry face and his hand already making a way to grip his sword; an absolute threat to dice you up shall you ever bother being in the same room as him.

he said that to you... you're older, you could've been stronger, could've at least found a semblance of fight in your bones. but no! god, no. your life was ruled with fear with damian wayne being the demon haunting you in the manor, always making living harder, making breathing a heavy task.

how could you ever fight back? not when you've conditioned yourself to tear up at the slightest bit of noise, feel goosebumps prick your skin when you hear someone raise their voice at you, and your heart rate hasten at the slide of a knife against any surface?

you! you who's so fucking weak to even make a comeback. you, who ran away with wide, traumatized eyes. because you're scared, so fucking fearful of an even bigger cut to your skin marked by damian— even if you're accustomed to cutting yourself with even deeper gashes.

because it's him that you fear, not the pain, not anymore. just him and his contempt at you for ruining his pure bloodline just by you being his half-sibling.

you don't want a repeat of your first meeting, or any meeting with him at all. not when you'd drown even deeper in a pit of fear every time you stare at his glaring, emerald eyes. one that tells you he chose to merely not kill you out of the goodness of his heart. but he will, god he will if he feels you've been too comfortable in his presence.

every damn time, everytime you feel fear, you see green. you hate green, any literal meaning of it, every implication of itx even seeing it, and fuck! your outfit has green embellishments.

you feel even uglier, yet the twinge of fear immediately overpowers any concern your had with your appearance. it's as if eyes were suddenly on you, and it's not only yours staring at you in the mirror.

your lips wobble, snot began blocking through the passage of your nose.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

why?! why can't you just forget about them all. why, why, why?!

you bite your lips harshly to conceal the pained whimpers from the back of your throat, but it doesn't work. it only makes the fear worse.

tears rim at your eyes, you merely wipe them away. your heart attempts to beat out of its gilded cage, yet you swallow your quivering chokes and proceed to continue staring at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a rush, with nothing to conceal your ghastly eyebags and sunken skin.

and green. you'll see it everywhere now. fuck, would dick send out damian to kill you now? you don't know, you're scared but you can't chicken out, not when your friend is already near to your apartment. god you wish you had beer in your cabinets instead, but you're broke and unprepared for life and your hair's all in a tangle and you just fucking want to die.

your hands grip at the edge of your sink, you look at your mirror and see the blood on your already bitten lips.

not even concealer can cover the damn scars all over your face all through the neck.

calm down.

you stare even deeper at yourself and ignore the green, trying to think of something else—

something less emotionally scarring, like your appearance. even if it brings you great pain, too, you'd rather that than your family. no more of them, fuck, no more. even if you stare at your eyes and see that familiar mix of colors of your mother and bruce's eyes. the shape of your face, even the curve of your brows all resembled your late mother— and you miss her, her captivating beauty that you never saw aged like fine way before she was taken away from you. you see bruce in the strands of your hair and the way it sometimes fray when too stressed. you see them in every image you wish to erase of yourself.

yet your genetics are nothing to them, not when you can't even care for your tangled hair or ashen skin.

even the dead looked more lively than you ever could.

with a pale complexion, with scars that litter all over your shoulders, wrists, and hidden parts of your body, one you're too ashamed to show anybody— it was no doubt that you looked pathetic and erased the beauty that both your parent's cultivated. and it makes you wonder; would it really be worth it?

would it be worth it if the people around you see you?

you with your melancholic eyes, trying to find an escape in a maze you call your mind? you can picture yourself drinking alcohol until you reach the domain of death, sitting in a stool, alone, as you nearly empty the contents of your stomach remembering the sole reason why you're there in the first place.

would it be worth it if all eyes suddenly were on you? they turn to you to gaze at the ugly bruises on your body, they mock your appearance, call you names, look at your sniveling, red nose and warm cheeks intoxicated from all the heavy liquor you'd down, and whisper. they'll whisper insults, slurs, and every known jab until it's all their words that pierces through your eyes, until the loud bass becomes mere background chatter for all the gossips that ensue.

are you actually going to do this right now?

you don't know, you don't know and you wish never cared as much.

all you could really focus on was your eminent goal of getting out of your stuffy apartment, to rid of the paranoia that somehow, you're being watched over in the confines of your four walls and that the familiar image of green will come attack you. the more you think, the more the hairs on your skin start to raise with every known intention to signal you of your anxiety.

eyes, they may be everywhere.

eyes, eyes, eyes. as you stare at your eyes, you try to ignore emerald eyes, they dilute even further. you gulp, yet your focus remains distorted. images flash at the mirror, and suddenly they're here, with you, with their eyes. bright blue for some, dark green for another, and they all gaze at you with contempt. one's hand claws at your throat, the other pins your wrist down on the edge of the sink. the eyes glare, and they never soften. yours merely shook, unblinking as your breathing becomes heavier; trapped in the cages of their wanton staring.

you yelp, then blink. when you did, they're gone. and you're back to looking at the same image of yourself. you grimace slowly.

ugly, with dry skin and falling hairs. the worst version of you, the normal version of yourself— there was never a best version for you.

as long as it's you, you'll never be enough.

all you wanted was to drink with your friends at a club; some working nightshifts at the location you're going to— yet you want to back down. want to take your phone by the corner of your vision and cancel your sudden plans.

but you're scared, you're so fucking scared of any new messages.

hell, even finding the contacts for your friends was a task in itself you wish to never repeat. with jittery fingers trying to type of messages and blurry eyes navigating through the screen of your slippery, glass screen protector.

you're scared, rightfully so.

you're scared to find his message once more suddenly popping up, your fingers accidentally pressing on it like the clumsy swine you are, and rereading that damn heart over and over again.

you slam your dominant hand against the tiled sink, hard and uncaring for the pain it induced all throughout your body. the tremors of the impact shook you to your core, yet you seethe in your breath and don't allow yourself respite to let the tears flow freely from your already red eyes. you feel your heart beating erratically through your chest, the shivers controlling your body, the shrieks that you contained within you— and you enchain them all with no respect for yourself.

you deserve this. you deserve to be hurt, to be punished for your actions, for your mistakes, for your sins.

even if your hand became swollen, splotched with varying shades of disgusting purples and yellows, you won't treat it with medicine. even if the sharp edges of the sink broke the fragile layer of your already scarred palm, and bled profusely with that familiar shade of red; you won't rush to wrap it with gauze or even spare a droplet of betadine. even if by the next day you'd have to write out your overdue assignments with that specific hand, then you'll force yourself to learn through the other and punish yourself again if you fail once more.

you deserve this.

and as your phone pings, lighting up to show you a notification of one of your friend's messages about being ready to pick you up by the lobby of your apartment's ground floor, you ignore your injured hand and the bruises on your knees from falling so abruptly on tiled floors just moment's ago. you dismiss the ache of your head, the soreness of your eyes and the disgusting beat of your heart.

you ignore the pain that wrecks at your entire body, in favor of destroying it even more, just as you deserve.

you don't recall how many shots you had before you're nearly passed out by the bar, sitting on its stool with your head leaning on one both your arms crossed, drool close to slipping out of the corners of your mouth and heavy eyes lidded, about to fall into the depths of sleep.

you're sure you looked wasted, absolutely drop-dead drunk with no thoughts circulating in your head other than the pleasant buzz in your ears and the flash of colors in the disco balls blanketing the entire room with its neon lights. your face must've been an unearthly shade of red, and you can already feel just how blazen it is, and how your fingertips are ice-cold to the touch (probably colder than the marble you lay your arms upon). in other words, you're actually wasted.

and it's so worth it if it means it gets you to forget. and forget you did, because you can't even dig deep into your head to even remember a single memory of whatever grief you went through earlier in your apartment. not even the throb of your head from when you pulled your hair from its roots, all to the way you slammed your dominant hand on your bathroom sink, bruising it with unnatural shades of purples and yellow.

it makes you omit every type of pain, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. it doesn't cure you of your ails, but god forbid you if you just want to savor moments where nothing but a mind numbing headache is the only feeling present in your current state.

the remix of songs were long forgotten in your mind, they all become an amalgamation of miscellaneous sounds. your body is so inclined towards the flat, rectangular cool surface of the marble glass of the bar that you can guarantee you could sleep here, especially since black behan to cloud both your vision and your mind.

everything feels so hazy, and pleasant, and straight-out peaceful that the screaming tandems of equally drunk clubbers and the occasional sobers holding up their friends who sang along with whatever remix the dj comes up with, or the forming crowd as people began to rock and dance to the bass that shakes up the entire floor to the point you can feel vibrations run along your spine— didn't register within the crevices in your mind.

all you can focus on, is the gratifying pleasure ll alcohol induces in your body. gone is the feeling of fear that emanates off of every inch within your body. your bones don't feel as if it's locking up everytime you feel eyes on you, and your throat doesn't certainly feel constricted with the lack of flow of blood anymore.

god, this is why you've never once regret drinking right after the moment you turned eighteen— not when it's positive effects outweighs all the negative emotions that rule over your body.

you couldn't even notice a man with shades (seriously, who wears that to party? isn't the club dark enough?) sitting beside your drunken form in the corner of your eyes, raptured in the thin line between focusing on reality and drifting off to dream world. you don't even bat an eye to his muffled giggles and the way he twisted his stool just to admire the view: you.

you're oblivious to the entire commotion happening within the depths of his mind because you couldn't feel any aptitude to danger right now— thanks to the effects of the hard liquor overtaking whatever fear you've felt being watched long ago.

or maybe you just felt safe beside the stranger. or, you're merely drunk. you don't know.

fuck, you're so close to passing out.

you don't know where your friends are, where they came running off to but you know you won't be getting out her sooner or later and you definitely don't have a ride home. so your only way back without getting ambushed as a completely vulnerable citizen of gotham, is by a safer, more convenient means of a ride— but that certainly wouldn't be safe if your friends are as equally drunk, or even more so, as you. but does your hazy mind care? no. not when you flip your head to rest on the other side once the other side became hotter that you notice a conveniently attractive man staring right back at you with an entertained grin.

as if your existence alone makes him happy. as much as your mind keeps blanking out, that mere implication made your heart pang just a teensy bit. of pain, or pleasure, or mere joy, you don't know. but you do know that it triggered some unknown feelings and you don't want to feel.

you want to drink some more, feeling solemn all of a sudden just from staring at him. you're sure the obvious frown on your quivering lips and the heavy, hot sigh

and it doesn't help that his face seems similar. the longer you stare, the more his grin seems to sharpen. confidently? or shyly? you can't seem to gain a clear image of him; what when rainbow lights are blazing out through the holes of the disco ball and your eyes recently just opened to your near journey to traverse through sleep.

all you can make out to be is his jet-black hair, side bangs framing the left side of his face, a faint outline of an eyebrow piercing

you also took note of his spiky jacket— yet what draws you the most to him are his sunglasses that he chose to wear conspicuously in a damn club of all places.

he's attractive, to say the least, but he triggers a set of emotions deep into the cages of your imprisoned heart that sets itself free. he gives you a sense of nostalgia, of familiarity that you can't pinpoint but feel; like you've seen him before but don't know when. your eyebrows furrow in and your eyes squint at him, unknowing to the judgement you're subjecting him in. your lips wobble, though, because his presence just makes your heart feel something, akin to pain but not quite, and makes your head buzz that you just want to cry as a reaction.

he, the stranger, don't know it, but he makes you all sad, primal emotions overtaking any drunkenness you feel as deep tremors buzzed into the confines of your chest, until all you're doing is staring at him with pouting, downturned lips and sad, puppy eyes; rimming with salty tears.

you don't know why you feel sad all of the sudden, and you can faintly see through blurry, watery vision how his face shifted from entertained to worry, eyebrows raised and eyes wide open at your sudden mood shift.

maybe you or him could've spoken up, you more so, but you're just so emotionally drained and overwhelmed today that you began sobbing silently without breaking eye contact with the man.

despite you wanting to say anything: an introduction, a question opening up as to why he's staring at you, or even a mere phrase telling him to "back off"; the only words that came out from your parched throat, all from trying to reason in your head on what a proper sentence should be, were:

"you're hot," and if you were sober enough, you would've felt sheer embarrassment and shame from eyeing the boy, but you're not— and because you're not sober, or any bit sane, the next few sentences you spewed out were all coherent, yet wonkily pronounced utterances paired with teary eyes and sniffling nose, as you can't seem to control the feelings of melancholy in your heart and the sudden emotional burst from your ramblings.

"thank you, you too, actually— but are you alright-"

"you're so hot, god, please. i don't know..." you gave him no time to speak as you hiccupped, lips wobbling even more than you can imagine. and you're trying your damn best to rid of the urge to punch at your chest as a coping mechanism through the multitude of emotions eating you up and away. but you never realized you were trying for an absolute stranger, palms fisting into itself as he stares at you worriedly all of a sudden.

"like... you're familiarly attractive, i—" the next few sentences were incoherent as your words bubbled around you like detergent soap. your fingers found itself into your face as you try to wipe off both tears and nearly dripping snot as you continued rambling drunkly.

"you just! you're hot, for me, i don't know... i'm just, we all—eughh... i don't know, i'm so sad..." and you truly are, for no reason at all other than seeing the man. poor him, must've felt so ashamed that he's the reason you're crying but at the same time... nothing can really stop you from ceasing your tears.

at least, that's what you've convinced yourself to believe in. that you're truly incurable of the ailment of being constantly depressed with nobody to aid you with your troubles. not even your friends, nor past therapists that you've consulted.

you've nothing to comfort you, and that makes you even more solemn than ever.

the simplest of emotions felt, the deeper and complex you take it out to be. sadness, or moreover depression, the horseman of apocalypse that destroys any hope you've tried to kindle with your life.

it makes you all the more burst into a wave of even more tears.

"... okay, okay, wait here for me, alright?" he suddenly stood up, hurriedly, probably unsure, or disgusted by you. you're unsure about what he's saying, too caught up crying that you simply nod to whatever he said and continued on with your episode.

as you're left alone, you allow your tears to dry only cry once more. when he left you, you weren't aware but you just felt even more lonely. at pushing away the only company you had after your friends left you in the dust, you feel depressed and regretful and all emotions related to grief and you just want to drink some more but you don't know if you can take it anymore!

god, it all returns to pain. pain you thought you could bury deep once you took multiple swigs of alcohol.

pain that makes you want to bang your head against the marble of the bar—

and you're so close to doing so, but only stopped when your blurry vision sets itself on the man returning with a handkerchief and a cold glass of ice water. at his kind gesture, you simply teared up even more, pouting when he walked your way and looked at you with a sheeping grin.

when he sat right back up on the stool seated to your right, he hesitated with his hold on the handkerchief near your face. but the moment he gathered up his pride and pressed it against the unnatural blaze of your cheeks, you merely leaned closer to his palms, eyes closing as you can feel the tears cease itself finally at the blind comfort he's unknowingly providing you.

"there, there... be careful, 'kay stranger?"

he mutters, a light chuckle accompanying him. it's only now you can finally focus on the cool churn of his voice and the , with your eyes close and the haze of your thoughts washing away, leaving you breathless in your respite— not restrictive, nor lonely, but still short of breath.

this reminds you of the times alfred had to hold you in his arms everytime you threw a tantrum at the manor.

it made you realize that the months, a near year even, after leaving the manor, made you crave physical affection. making you feel like a husk of yourself when not given. you feed off of the scraps of physical lovez to the point that even this man who's wiping away the tears from your cheeks makes your heart beat faster, in a comfortable manner.

sensations. he once told you that if you feel too deeply within, then to ground yourself you must feel beyond interior ranges of emotions.

and that's the technique you've been willing away from your head for so long. because it always requires another person in the room to comfort you, to simply touch you softly, gently like you're porcelain the same way the stranger is pressing damp fabric against your tearstained cheeks and hollowed out eyes.

the pain you've felt was because you're merely touch starved. alone, in a space where everyone has someone, and a no one can't have anyone.

but now that you do have a someone, no matter how dangerous he could've been outside of your impression of him, you feel the pain lessen, the heavy burdens become featherlight at his kind gestures of wiping all the salty tears from your face, the runny snot from your nose with no rush whatsoever.

"feel better now, hon?"

"mhm..." a long, drawled out yawn emits from your mouth, yet you're too comfortable with him to even care, suddenly feeling a wave of drowsiness after your emotional episode.

after he finished wiping your face, and felt it considerably cool down from the damp fabric, he placed it on the bar, one hand on your face keeping you stable. yet his other hand promptly went back to your cheeks.

he chose to do this of his own volitions, even leaning closer as your head finds itself slowly dropping to his clavicle (careful to avoid the spikes from his peculiar designed jacket), looking up at him and staring at his gray eyes.

the man looks down at you as you now realize he's cupping your face. at the implication of your entire ordeal with him, you might've felt flustered sober, but you're just so drunk that any spacial awareness for the proximity between your bodies just disappeared and left you with the need to sleep within the confines of the safety this man left you with.

you don't know it, but yet again the man smiles down at your adorable antics, finding the way you're absolutely trusting of a stranger both stupid, yet endearing. because he's no more stranger, and heaven bless him because he's so glad he's the person who approached you rather than anyone else because you looked so cute, and his crush on you may have lead him to stalk you occasionally just to ensure you're safe— that doesn't erase the gesture that he did it purely because gotham is too dangerous for your own good. and he's glad he trusted his human side of intuition, rationalizing with himself that today just seems to be the day you'd bump into danger if he's not there.

you're so stunning up close... how come tim never once found interest in someone as admirable as you is a mystery. but you trusting a stranger in your vulnerable state is much more.

and he's grateful he's that stranger.

because he may be a stranger to you, but a familiar one. and you feel safe, a feeling you haven't felt in so long that you simply just melt against him like clear putty; because you're transparent with what you feel right now.

and right now you feel warmth. not the uncomfortable one that blazes through your (now) cool face when you were drunk, nor the burning one whenever you thought of your family— but a pleasant one. like sitting near a fireplace as you watch the embers crackle, drinking hot cocoa whilst a quilt covers your body from the cold of the winter. you feel this way at his kindness, at his efforts to help you contain your emotions to a reasonable degree.

"what's your name, kind stranger?" you mutter on his chest (how come your head is laying on it, actually?) hearing the soft thumps of his heart. it's warm, he's warm and every bit of comfortable, as he does his best to move slightly back to remove his jacket and drape it over your body before he could reply to you, chuckling whilst doing so because you looked up at him with your eyes conveying every damn emotion that made you feel soft.

"it's conner, conner kent. call me kon, though. or yours if it's you." he purrs. it took you a minute to register his obvious flirting but what comes after is an absolute flush on your body and you recoiling from his hold as you look back at him, mouth agape. the tips of your ears were warm, and every bit of

an overexaggeration to his flirting, sure. it makes you look less appealing in your eyes, extra sure! but it's been so long since someone last attempted to flirt with you; but most were under the guise of when you were still a wayne and... and not as yourself. you! you who sports so many imperfections that—

"haha! is it strange to say that you look so cute whenever you look at me with wide eyes in the short span of time we just met?"

he slides in through your train of thoughts before you could delve even deeper through self-deprecation. and you're glad that he did because... god, he makes you want to shamelessly gloat as a reply. you've never had someone complement your eyes before, actually...

"i'm..." you look back at him after you stared down at your palms, heat overtaking your entire body. yet again it wasn't uncomfortable, and just the right temperature. you stutter your name afterwards, making sure it's your mother's last name that you highlighted implicitly and not bruce's.

he seems to grin even wider when you introduce yourself. that's when his next reply generally warranted you to nearly burst off your seat out of sheer diffidence.

"well," he says your name, tasting every syllable in his pierced tongue. "your name tastes sweet, dove. but i think your face is even sweeter now that you're not crying — not saying that isn't cute too but you're so stunning now that i look closer at you without any barriers. your eyes, especially, they're like some mix doe and siren eyes, or whatever my other friends talk about in social media. point given, you're drop-dead gorgeous in my eyes."

it all comes naturally from him that your brain merely shortcircuited and fried itself comprehending his message, forgetting you were drunk in the first place replacing it with a flush in your heart, the pit of grief and despair replaced with the lighthearted need to banter or reply meekly at his shameless flirting right after he comforted you.

this is the first time you felt something for someone's romantic gestures, instead of that wave of nausea that accompanies you.

he makes you feel... pretty about yourself. in a good way, in a way you don't feel the need to hide your insecurities for once and instead allow his eyes to flitter around your entire face, analyzing your features because... because he simply makes you feel pretty the more he stares at you.

yet all you did was take his hand on your own, a sudden burst of confidence even you couldn't explain, and played with it, as you pouted in reply before thinking— using his hand-now-turned-fidget-toy — of a good enough response.

you simply said, coughing before continuing, "i don't take back what i said moment's ago. you're hot too, even if my vision was obstructed by my tears."

"oh, really?" he smiled gently and allowed your hands autonomy to play with his. it's like telepathy, he knows it's automatic that you crave physical affection and attention and he's willing to provide you that solace.

"now that you're not crying— you think i'm even more handsome?"

you snort at his question, then took a step back with your thoughts to properly study him. neat, yet messy hair, piercing on the eyebrows and on his tongue (hot), sunglasses and spiky jacket draped upon your shoulders— goddamnit, of course he's hot! and you made it efficiently clear that he is, with your hands fiddling pattern against his soft, yet calloused hands, by squeezing it.

"yes, you are even more handsome, kon..." brief and concise, just how you like it. even if he gave you an entire essay describing you in his eyes, for you, you prefer actions; and you did so by simply being affectionate with the stranger, now acquaintance you have a slight crush on.

you'd never expected this turn of events, but it was a pleasant one and one you'd never really want to trade with anything else now that you've met kon.

so when he opened his mouth to spew something else, your ears perked up to listen and your mind, albeit slowly sobering up, prepared itself to reply to whatever flirting, conversation topics, and anything random it is that he wishes to talk about to you.

you smiled at him whilst he talked, he reciprocates as always.

yet this time, you weren't afraid to hide just how joyous you feel, for once, having a person interested in you not only physically but with your interests, too, as your conversations kept shifting to things about you.

it made inclined to learn about yourself, too. and that makes you happy, and fuzzy in the insides the more he asks you questions beyond your favorites. like in movies, he didn't simply just ask your favorites and you replied with an answer and moved on, no! you both discussed the emotional depth it impacted you with, why symbolism matters so much, and why in the near future you'd both inevitably meet up, you'll both watch it together.

that makes you feel excited.

you even forgot the main reason why you're here in the first place; to drink. now, though, it seems like you just wanted to talk to kon all night long.

fortunately for you, that's how the rest of your night went. with a pleasant buzz in the background, the sounds of remixes all drowned out in your ears as you favor the chatters of the man beside you, with the tremor of his voice a comfortable volume and his tone laced with freshly made honey.

when your friends finally ran back to the bar where you all collectively agreed to meet up at once everyone's shenanigans were finished, they giggled drunkenly whilst some sober ones whistled at seeing your hand unknowingly massaging his palms like a stresstoy and the jacket draped upon your shoulders.

the moment you returned it to him, he joked about wearing it every second now since it reminds him of you, and how it's his favorite piece of attire now beyond all his other clothing. you merely blushed and ignored the cooing of your friends behind you.

you didn't feel concerned over not seeing him anymore, as he had given you a slip of paper with his number on it in through a tissue with paracetamol pills wrapped around it (like the thoughtful gentleman he made himself out to be when he excused himself a second time to get those items, since you'd left your phone with one of your friends; you swore you felt a blush creep into your cheeks and heating the tip of your ears), you instead felt a pang of longing and furrowed your brows, looking at him as if asking if you'll see him around anytime soon as he reciprocates with a sure grin that makes you feel a wave of feather like affection.

he left shortly after, striding to you as your group recollects all your stuff and whispering a, "text you later, dove. stay safe for me, alright? don't let any other strangers get to you."

you're glad this night would end on a good note, willing away any prior doubts towards spending the night in a completely foreign street and expecting fir criminals and thugs to break in but no! you can't help but admit that your new... interest, conner, made your night a thousand times better.

and his little nickname for you... haha, you're so flustered thinking about texting him tonight. you'd neglect your assignments for now if it meant messenging him right after you get home, safely, for his sake.

when your group all came outside though, that's when things shifted.

time is a construct. it's complicated and structured like that as well. it can either be too fast, or too slow. when your friends had taken their sweet time to spend the night dancing about the dancefloor, when you'd taken the precious time to flirt and talk to kon; that's when you all collectively realized that their damn cars were stolen.

the air suddenly shifted to this thick atmosphere when you all stepped out, one that can be sliced through with a sword, and you swore—

god, you swore this night couldn't have been any better with the turn of things, but now. right after you got out the club, it all took a turn for the worse.

this is it.

you're going to die today.

you're going to die, in some dirty ditch, your friends nowhere to be found, with nobody to save you.

nasty bruises already began to form on your skin, one with harsher colors of purple, blue, and yellow on your wrists and other patches of skin; way harsher

the man in front of you was gnarly, but you've no time to judge as he kicks you in the guts.

matted brown hair lay atop his head like a bird's attempt at a near, he has an odor that reeks of sewer rats, piss, and feces, and an unruly beard that houses bits of his leftover.

he holds a weapon whose shape you couldn't make out with your hazy vision, body nearly cramping in on itself once he kicked you again.

straight in the abdomen, with brute strenght accompanied by his worn leather boots decorated with glinting spikes that sparkle under the moonlight's glow.

in the abdomen, spikes.

blood first, then curdling pain next.

no noise rips through your ears, only wringing ever present, but your mouth opens, and you can feel its tender chords crack as a scream erupts from your throat, shrill and resounding from the deepest depths of the cockpit your mouth has to offer you; uncaring for the man in front of who who suddenly covers his ears and grits his teeth, who looks at you like you're mad, yet unlike same way his two other lackeys from behind look at your like you're the creation of carnage itself.

pain shot throughout your body, most especially at the core of the holes that pierced through your clothes and right inside your skin. and as your bulging, teary eyes try to look down with an agape, whimpering mouth, his shoes still connected to your body; you could only hold off so much of that familiar taste of acidic bile paired with that lingering scent of cheap booze.

tears were a byproduct of the misery, as it began to escape from your already puffy eyes. when the man released his legs fron pinning you down, your sobs only worsened as your unpinned, shivering arm try its damned best to cover the already leaking blood.

six holes, the diameter of the more than half of your finger, was what you could make out in your line of sight. the blood that leaked from them looked black, you couldn't find where the gradient of black and red connects, your only certainty in this situation was that you'd bleed to death before help could come to you.

the spikes were as long as a toothpick, a crimson puddle lay dripping on the floor.

your legs were shaking against your will, your eyes frantically search around you yet your pinned once more, his larger body framing against your own, providing no room nor qualms for an escape.

but the only escape you wanted was one from the pain of his pressing against your injury, even more blood spilling out of its confines. your tears only hastened its descent from your shaky eyes.

when your mouth opened for the nth time to wail out, he seethed in a breathe and threatened you, with his breath as vile as his entire being, that smells like every mix of synthetic chemicals from cigarette flavors, all expired, with teeth rotting and sporting yellow and black wallpaper.

gross, so gross. you want to die when the stench hits your nose. you shrivel in yourself, you couldn't breath.

"listen here, little bitch, you quiet down or i kill you. and 'ya either give me everythin' you own in your damn possession, or i'll kick you even more until a thousand little holes will fuckin' make you bleed to death, hear me?"

hearing his statement only made the adrenaline pump even more fight of flight into your heart. but you can't do either, you can't, not when you're still hazy from the fucking alcohol and the self defense tools in your tiny pouch were thrown a few feet away from you.

you've nothing to defend yourself.

oh god, oh shit, fuck.

you want to die, you want to so fucking die than go through the same pain of nearly being abducted or held hostage again.

yet your eyes could only close, your teeth kissing your bottom lips, biting hard to drown out another pained scream. whimpers, god, they're so loud yet you can't help the whimpers and the broken faucet from your eyes. even if you beg your own body to stop, it doesn't listen to the pleas of your mind.

the only thing it can focus on is the pain. recreant, volatile pain.

a moan escapes you, shaky and prolonged. the only other emotion that you could experience after is sorrow.

you didn't expect your pleasant night to end off in such a tragic note, but as your attacker held you by your throat with one hand, a knife pointed against your face, the next that happened was your head slammed roughly against the wall; a dull, beating ache lulling the back of your head after the momentary spark of pain— you're reminded that this is reality, and you're close to losing consciousness quick.

you're going to die.

bloody, a sobbing, dissociating mess, with your thoughts spinning around the same way the stranger and his lackeys laugh — bared yellow teeth, with the smell of ichor prevalent in their clothes, predatory eyes leering at you like you're prey — at your drunken moans of pain.

you're going to die.

"well, you gonna answer me or what, bitch? you wanna die!?"

he shouts you with spit that sprays all over your face, flashing you a grin and by extension flashing you his ugly, bared teeth. some missing were in his gums, others were artificial, most rotten like him.

you're going to die.

alone, in a ditch. bloody, laying in a pool of your own crimson the same way you saw your mother drowns in a puddle of hers.

you'll die like her—

what an honor.

the more you think about the situation, the more you're led to believe that the only way to solve this was through death alone, with no restrictions, no buts or ifs. you've no fight left in your body, or any weapon to fight. you're drunk, defenseless and if you actually managed to escape, you'd still bleed to death in some unknown alleyway. if you're lucky, a stray police may find you and give you a proper burial. but you remember you're in the living incarnate of hell in america, you'll never have a proper death.

this was night in gotham. your death alone only adds to the already astounding high percentages of all the other lives lost to the same twisted fate. you were no different. and to die early than to suffer from torture is better.

i mean, who would give a shit if you die tonight, right? your family— wrong! alfred would panic at your disappearance, but he'll forget about you like he did others, you're sure of it. that's why he still chose to fucking serve the wayne's instead of fully taking your side. if he had to choose between saving you or the people he swore his loyalty onto, he wouldn't hesitate. you're sure. even if the thoughts made the doom in your heart heavier. even if you know your story would never be covered nor acknowledged, you still year

but life is unfair, everything is. that's why you're here now, in a dark fucking alleyway with men who'll more than take advantage of your dying body and leave your corpse in the dump after. life is unfair, yet it's even more cruel in gotham. you should've expected this, should've known that a turn of events could be possible. you'll feel regret in the afterlife, only for a life that could've been well-lived, but never for the choice of living through the torture you call being a wayne.

so you came to the conclusion; confident for once after living for thirteen and a half years walking on eggshells around a manor.

this is not as bad as their neglect.

you smile in response to the guy, genuine and filled with grace as your heart that once pounds against your chest now slows down to a calm pace, finally at peace. with no other intention than to rattle him even more, to the point of choosing you to kill with his own hands as brutally as he likes— so you finally take a well deserved rest from life.

you gather saliva at the center of your tongue, ignore the taste of blood that swirls, nor the soreness of your throat and the crimson dripping down your nose.

when he looks down at you, disoriented at what you're doing, you spit at him, all the beating in your heart hastened, yet slowed down as quickly as you heave in a final breath.

... you're finally going to die.

"FUCKING HELL, YOU DAMN CUNT—!"

you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the knife that would hopefully stab you in the face, or the chest, and think of your last thoughts. you thank alfred for caring for you for those thirteen years, you hope you win your mother's graces in the afterlife even if she discovered your deliberate choices for killing yourself in the spur of a moment, and you wish your old family a happy life living without you, even if they already did so for so long.

all you needed was seconds to conclude your prayers.

but they weren't answered as you wanted them to be, not when you open your wide eyes to what was supposed to be a glint of silver piercing through the middle of your face was replaced by a bullet, quick and precise, shooting through his cranium without mercy, body immediately laying limp within those seconds.

the other two behind him were good as dead, too, your savior not wasting any moment to end their lives then and there.

and as you stumbled from the grip released from your body, your torso nearly crumpling in on itself, a flash of familiar, metallic red enters your vision when you'd look up from your savior who's huge form now meticulously acts as your shield from the brutal carnage that lays upon your line of sight and a pillar of protection trying to help you stand from the pain that shot through your lower abdomen.

but you don't want to stand, you want to drop dead right now. you don't want this, you didn't want this to happen.

instead of gratitude, dread fills your lungs with water and your fingers were left to tremor.

he looks down at you, you couldn't make out his expression, but you could feel the anger coursing through his body, the same as the day you first met him when he was still newly rebirthed, like it's telling you of his unadulterated rage at witnessing the scene before him. his body shakes, heavily, and his grip on your hands tighten, a mechanical groan drawling deep from his automated voice banks that changes his voice.

yet all you feel was fear overtaking your entire body prior to the comfort at the prospect of death.

you'd rather die than this.

even you couldn't believe the whimper of his name from your wobbling lips, as your body, out of instinct despite the pain, tried to push itself against the wall, away from him.

he only moves to hold your waste protectively, like a... brother suffocating his younger sibling with blankets when they complain it's cold. overbearing, disgustingly affectionate; you don't want it.

you feel cold.

this day could've been any worse— and it took a turn to the all worse scenarios you could imagine.

"jason...?"

"angel..."

a single familiar name was spoken, yet a new nickname was introduced. angel: the same way jason swore what you looked like when he sped through his motorcycle after hearing a shriek from all across the streets, finding you, bleeding and beaten to a pulp, with your attacker almost stabbing you.

of course, who wouldn't hesitate pulling a gun against someone trying to kill your precious? jason doesn't even need to choose.

and whether he did it in the name of justice and respect to his moral code, or because finding someone with a familiar face, sharing the same hopeless, yet death-accepting expression as he did back when he died— it all doesn't matter in the heat of the moment now.

what matters is that his angel is hurt and the madness in him festers the longer you bleed out in his arms, defiant and fearful all the same.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,000+ words. AND I LITERALLY HATE THIS CHAPTER (new least favorite fr) 😭 this decision is so impulsive i gonna regret it soon. chapter 5 will be released after a few days and i promise it has more action than this I SWEAR. first parts are always boring. anyways, there're so many song references in this chapter and for the next chapter. if any of you could guess what they are, i'll be rewarding all of you with something special. otherwise, please leave comments for this chapter! what motivated me to write was reading everybody's comments and inputs, about the love they have for this series as much as i do. interactions, asks, comments, they're all important and dear to me and i heavily appreciate it. so more interaction = more content. after all, i'd rather a post with little likes but with no interaction than a post with no interaction but all likes.

otherwise, i can't add anymore to my taglist so taglist requests are closed!

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku , @okaybutfullhomo , @trasshy-artist , @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa , @ilovvmyhusband , @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony , @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts , @darling006 , @starringyau , @samanthahanes, @rosecentury , @jaythes1mp , @pi1nkl0ver , @i-thirsty-boy, @sharks-are-cool-l, @silverklaus, @traumaramacenter , @maddimoon , @anxrq, @thedarknesslord , @h0rr0r-10ver-69 , @lazy-idate , @cupids-pretty-boy , @alishii, @mel-star636 , @sitepathos , @freakyotaku059-blog , @dirtydiavolo, @sunbleachedantlers, @24hrsoflanii, @ceramic-raven , @une-lueur-dans-la-nuit , @tdickensstuff4 , @thickerthanthieves , @arlandvery , @distressed-lezbo, @bunbunboysworld , @bellethesleepypotato, @nebuluma, @alliwantisadonut, @alishii, @kusakiguzen, @sirenetheblogger, @emmbny, @ryukyuin, @solkara, @starsdotalk, @nightstarblue, @huhuhhuhh, @shadowpup163, @sunshine-skz, @24hrsoflanii, @bazellawrites, @pato-spoiler-27, @harumy07cat, @rains-mae, @funnybunnyxxx, @littlelilithspost, @howisgroguthiscute, @yuyuzi-ling, @tullipam, @coldcrusadehideout, @princessloveweird, @hybridcon

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alg3a · 15 days ago

Text

auspicious (pt. 2)

jayce x f!reader x viktor / jayvik x reader

3k, MDNI, no use of y/n

description: After confronting the boys and teasing them for long enough, you finally get what you want.

warnings: nsfw content, full complete total smut, MMF threesome, f!receiving oral, double penetration, all characters are sort of switches i suppose, double creampies! hooray!

a/n: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON PART ONE!!! it was entirely unexpected, but i loved hearing that all of you enjoyed it. it was my first ever tumblr fic, but there will be plenty more and my request box is VERY open.

Something in their eyes turns dark when you utter those words. Not utter, exactly, they were more of a proclamation. Maybe it was your confidence that threw them off so intensely, but how could you not be confident in a dress like that, after two glasses of wine, and knowing that the two most attractive men you’ve ever laid eyes on have been wanting you for months?

It made all the late nights and restless mornings worth it to be sprawled out on their cozy lab couch wearing practically just a strip of fabric, watching them eye you like dogs.

“What is it with you two? Do I need to write you a formal invitation?”

Surprisingly, Viktor moves first. When he gets to the couch he drops his cane as if it was a crumb off his coffeecake. Then Jayce follows, filling the spot behind you as you face Viktor on the other end of the couch. Jayce’s calloused hands wrap around your waist, feeling every inch of the delicate skin exposed by your low hanging dress. Viktor’s delicate hands cup your jaw.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this,” Viktor says, his voice raspier than you’ve ever heard before.

“Hey–” Jayce squeezes your hips firmly and pulls you back into his chest. His fingers trace the long slit up the side of your leg and brush the fabric to the side, exposing your thighs. “How long we have been waiting for this.”

“Did you ever talk about me–about this–with each other?” You have a million dirty questions to ask them now that you have them at your disposal, and this seems like a good place to start.

“It’s hard not to,” Jayce says. “Every time you would come into the lab in that little skirt…”

“Things as small as lingering touches when passing tools…” Viktor added, his mouth dipping low to kiss your exposed collarbone.

“Anytime you did anything vaguely exciting… let’s just say the thought of sharing you is very familiar to us.” Jayce’s low, rough voice mutters against your neck. He punctuates his sentence with a nip at the soft skin as Viktor pulls away from your clavicle.

“Would you like that?” Viktor asks, his fingers delicately wrapping a strand of your hair around his long, slim finger. “For Jayce and I to share you?”

And suddenly they’ve monopolized this interaction. So much for all that confidence–thrown out the window as soon as they show a sliver of dominance.

“Speak up,” Jayce says, grasping your chin firmly and lifting it so that your face is flush with Viktor’s.

“Yes,” you finally utter. “I’d like that very very much.”

“Good,” Viktor says, his accent thicker and his voice raspy.

His thumb traces along your jaw until his hand seats itself on the back of your neck. His fingers slide into your hair. You’d never realized how big his hands were until then, as one wrapped around the back of your head, tugging softly at your hair as Jayce rubbed your bottom lip with his thumb, pulling gently downward to part your pretty lips. They really were fantastic partners, aiding each other in research. And there you were, their perfect little assistant, providing them with something to study.

You don’t realize how heavily your heart is thudding against your ribs until Viktor’s lips are exploring yours and your heart is the loudest thing in the room, second only to your little whimper as you realize Jayce is doing some exploring of his own. His calloused fingers brush your bare thigh beneath the slit of your dress and dip between your legs as his chest presses against your back. With the hand that once rested on your chin, he pulls the apex of the slit higher, so that your lacy black panties are exposed to the cold air of the lab.

“Fuck,” Jayce mutters at the sight of them. You feel as his hardening cock twitches against your back, eliciting a moan from your mouth that vibrates against Viktor’s lips.

You whine as he pulls away from the kiss to take a look at what Jayce has discovered.

“Don’t everyone look at once,” you joke, but your breathlessness and heaving chest don’t exactly contribute to the punchline.

Viktor smiles for a moment, but his eyes drift to your shoulder. More specifically, the fallen strap of the dress which leaves your shoulder exposed.

“You’ve been in this dress all night,” Viktor says, smiling as he looks at Jayce over your shoulder. “I can’t imagine it’s very comfortable…”

“Do you often imagine how uncomfortable my clothes are, Viktor?” You ask, returning his smirk as Jayce slips the remaining strap off of your other shoulder.

“All the time,” he says, taking the next step off of Jayce’s hands and sliding the bodice off your dress downward, then letting Viktor return to pushing down the remnants of the dress so that it pools around your ankles.

“And much more, it would seem…or sound, rather.” Jayce laughs in a low tone, the vibrations of his chest against the bare skin of your back causing your stomach to flutter. “Loudest housemate ever.”

“Oh really?” You ask, mouth agape as Viktor slides off the couch with a smirk on his face, bringing your legs with him. He pivots you so that you’re sitting with your back against the cushions now, and he’s kneeling between your parted legs. Only your cute little panties separate his face from your best kept secret.

“Hearsay,” Viktor rolls his eyes as he kisses up your thigh. “And from the man who doesn’t even close his door when he thinks of you…”

“I close it. The walls are just…thin.” Jayce replies, placing his hand on your chin once more to turn your face to his. “And I can’t help how much noise I make.” His voice lowers and his eyes flutter shut, preparing for his turn with your lips.

Jayce is a much rougher kisser than Viktor. Handsier, too. His hand slides up your waist, grazing your chest, before finally landing on the expanse of your tilted back neck. If he choked you to death right now, you could die happy. But he won’t. He just squeezes gently as his tongue explores your mouth, his grip a reminder that he’s been wanting you for three long months. You can imagine how it must have felt for both of the boys to have you within arms reach, pushed away only by their own semblances of professionality. Actually–you can taste it, too. And you can feel it as two fingers press against your clothed cunt and you let a moan echo into Jayce’s persistent mouth.

Viktor lifts a leg onto his shoulder, and you feel two of his calloused fingertips pulling aside the lace of your panties. With only the tip of Viktor’s tongue, you’re a whining mess against Jayce’s. Jayce pulls away from you with a condescending laugh, wanting to catch a glimpse of Viktor’s meal.

“Fuck,” he rasps. “I never thought my lab partner and I would have our tongues on the same girl at the same time.”

“Don’t lie,” Viktor looks up, a grin on his glistening lips. “I’ve heard my name through those thin walls, too.”

“Shut up,” Jayce groans, and guides Viktor’s head back to your cunt. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes,” you manage to utter, miraculously. You’d heard Jayce tease Viktor time after time about his inexperience with women. You’d be surprised that Viktor was this good at eating you out if you weren’t familiar with what a meticulous learner Viktor was. A true perfectionist.

As Viktor sucks on your clit, Jayce lowers his head and sucks marks onto your neck, one hand still on Viktor’s head, feeding you to him.

“Please…” you whimper, not sure exactly what you’re even asking for until you feel your impending release.

Viktor laughs against your core. “Please what, my love?”

“Please, I’m gonna… mmph! I–” The leg that rests on Viktor’s back bends so that he’s pulled closer.

“Don’t stop, Vik, she’s close.” Jayce’s grip on your jaw tightens and he pulls you ever so slightly downward to watch Viktor. “Is that right, sweetheart? Use your words.”

You nod emphatically, opening your lips but fuck it’s so incredibly difficult for you to form words when there isn’t an adjective on the planet that can describe how he’s making you feel. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna cum, please, please don’t stop.”

“Good girl,” Jayce says, his grip loosening as he goes in to kiss you again while your climax hits you like a tidal wave. Jayce feels the impact of it against his mouth in the form of your own, needy, whimpering moans.

Your legs begin to shake, but Viktor’s hands wrap around your thighs, holding you still as he shows no signs of stopping. He’s going to grant your begging wishes and ride this out with you, his tongue dancing along your clit, his fingers spreading you wide so it’s certain he won’t miss a spot.

Once you’ve settled, Viktor pulls away, wiping the arousal from his lips with the back of his hand. You’ve seen him exhausted, aching, and messy, but you’ve never seen him with such a powerful glint of desperation in his eyes.

“Did that feel good, sweetheart?” Jayce asks, his fingers combing through your hair.

Viktor seats himself on the couch again, drawn to your collarbone again, this time using his fingers to navigate the delicate clavicle.

You nod, but it takes every ounce of effort you have to lift your head up repeatedly.

“We’re not done with you just yet,” Jayce says, getting up off of the couch, “if that’s alright with you.”

The request is almost rhetorical. Of course it’s alright with you. He knows that. If the wanton, needy little noises you were still making in agreement were any sign of the pleasure you derived from this arrangement, you could go on until morning.

“Viktor, take your pants off,” Jayce demands, standing over the two of you.

“Who decided you’d be calling the shots for tonight?” Viktor asked, breathlessly, raising one eyebrow.

“If you don’t want to, I’ll gladly take your pla–”

Viktor rushed to take his pants off. You helped him with the belt buckle and in sliding them down his legs. As you do, Jayce fully removes your panties. It doesn’t make much of a difference, now that the two men have seen every inch of you.

As Viktor’s pants come off, you see the impressive imprint of his cock underneath his boxers.

“Can I?” You ask gently, lowering your hand to hover over his cock.

“We’re past that,” Viktor says, grinning as he takes your hand and guides it to his length. You dip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pull them downward so that they pool at his thighs.

Wow.

You’d always sort of assumed that since Viktor was so skinny that he couldn’t be hiding much. How wrong you were. Your lips part slightly, already salivating for him. You begin to stroke his cock, ready for him to push your head onto his shaft until you can’t breathe, but you hear a tongue clicking behind you.

“No need for that,” Jayce says. “I think we’ll save that treat for the workday. For now…”

Jayce’s strong hands find their grip on your waist on your right leg, pulling you to straddle Viktor’s lap.

“I don’t think either of us can wait any longer for this,” you look back at Jayce as he speaks, watching as he unbuckles his own belt and shed his pants along with his dress shirt.

Now this one, you expected. With the amount of female “advisors” you’ve seen watching Jayce in the forge, there’s no way he wasn’t packing.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Viktor says, his hands falling at either side of your waist and lining you up with the wet tip of his cock, already ruined with precum.

“I should start preparing you back here…” Jayce says as his large hands find purchase on the round of your ass.

“Are you ready, my love?” Viktor asks with a kiss to your wrist as he lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance, swiping it a few times to ensure you’re wet enough for his entry. You’re beyond wet enough. “It would seem you are…” He laughs as he pushes your hips down on him.

Even though you hadn’t taken your eyes off of Viktor’s cock since you took it out, the size still surprised you as he pressed into your wet cunt.

“Fuck…” Viktor groaned as his neck fell back against the couch cushions. “You feel…even better than I imagined.”

You can’t even form a sentence to reply. The stretch is so intense you’ve forgotten every word in the English language. You can’t even move, paralyzed on his length. Luckily, Viktor solves that problem for you, thrusting up into you suddenly, so that all you can do is let out a strained squeal. Your hands grip his shoulders but you can’t even worry about how your nails might be hurting him, although if his grin is any consolation, he might even be enjoying the pain.

Jayce trails a line of kisses down your spine and when you look back, he’s kneeling on the ground, spitting on two fingers. You barely have time to process what that might mean before those two fingers plunge into your unfilled hole.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, the first word that you can remember in these trying times. The pain lasts only a second before the feeling sends flutters into your stomach, and elsewhere. With renewed vigor, you begin to let yourself bounce on Viktor’s cock, eliciting a lovely little whine from him.

“Tell me how he feels, baby,” Jayce says, removing his two fingers.

“So…so good.”

“I know you can be more descriptive than that,” Jayce laughs as he gets up to stand, wiping some spit onto his plump tip and stroking it.

“I’ve wanted this for so long…” you say, the truest sentence in your head the first full one you can form. “So long… it’s so long…” Okay, back to putting the “senseless” in “fucked senseless.”

The boys laugh, but Viktor’s is a strained, breathless laugh.

“Please Jayce…” you beg, looking back at him over your arched back. “I want both of you…”

“Whatever you say,” Jayce says with a crooked grin as he wraps his hands around your waist, just above Viktor’s, who finds it in him to stop you from bouncing to allow Jayce his entry.

With a full, unexpected thrust, Jayce is completely in you. The stretch burns like Hell at first, but God you’ve never felt so full before.

Jayce lets out a desperate groan, not moving for a few more seconds. When Viktor thrusts into you, Jayce reacts with a moan.

“Fuck, I can…I can feel your cock, Vik,” Jayce says, letting out a breathy laugh.

“Lucky you,” Viktor laughs as he continues to lift his hips to meet your cervix.

With a dismissive scoff, Jayce finally finds the will to thrust again, even if it just results in more wanton, wasted little moans from his mouth: noises you didn’t even think he could make.

With both of them inside you at once, thrusts alternating and hitting spots within you that make you scream their names, it won’t be long until your second orgasm of the night.

Jayce’s hand reaches for your hair, taking a cluster of it and pulling you so that your back arches and your shoulders are flush with his. He cheeks your cheek with a contrasting delicateness and whispers in your ear, “Such a good girl for us. Isn’t she the best, Vik?”

“Better than our hands, absolutely,” Viktor jokes as his chest heaves and his forehead contorts. He’s close, you can tell.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Jayce says, releasing your hair and focusing all of his efforts onto your tight little hole, stretching you impossibly wide.

“I-I don’t think I can take much more,” Viktor utters.

“Me neither,” you whimper, pressing your head into the nook between Viktor’s head and shoulder. “Oh fuck…”

“Cum for us, baby,” Jayce says, squeezing your ass cheeks as his last few thrusts are used up. It’s not long before you feel his cock twitching, sending spurts of hot cum into your bottom. “Gods! Fuck, baby!”

The sight of the two of you losing your composure above Viktor is enough to send him over, and as you fall onto the full length of his cock after riding out your own orgasm, he pumps you full of his seed as well, whimpering like a wounded puppy as he ruts into you helplessly one final time. You’re all a pile of spent, sweaty, fucked out messes.

Jayce reluctantly pulls out of you, leaving a splatter of cum falling from your hole onto Viktor’s lap.

“Sorry,” he laughs as he collides with the couch beside Viktor.

You try to pull off Viktor's cock to provide him some relaxation, but he holds you still. “Please, don’t…don’t move yet. I want this to last as long as possible.”

“Feeling sentimental, Vik?” Jayce teases, running a hand through his lab partner’s sweaty hair.

“Feeling…like I’d like to memorize this feeling before I go to bed tonight.”

You laugh and kiss the bridge of his nose before resting your head on Jayce’s neighboring shoulder. “I should’ve put ‘handling two cocks’ on my resume. Maybe then you two would have actually read it.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to list us as references on future resumes,” Jayce laughs, rubbing your hand softly as the three of you come down from your shared highs. “I’m glad you decided to come tonight. To the gala, I mean.”

You and Viktor both laugh.

“Next time, you won’t have to deal with crude men asking you to dance,” Viktor says as he kisses the top of your head. “You’ll be busy at our side the whole night.”

“I’m never going to move past the pretty little lab assistant allegations, am I?” You smiled into Jayce’s sturdy, shuddering shoulder.

“Maybe not,” Viktor said. “But why should you? You are our beautiful little lab assistant.”

@jeromeslilhoe @justaproudslytherpuff @onyxistired @sseleniaa @clearlycaffeinated-blog @darknessbyme @shoyofroyoyoyo

(pretty much just tagged everyone that commented asking for part two)

#viktor x reader x jayce #viktor x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #jayce x reader #jayvik x reader #jayvik #viktor arcane #jayce talis #noooo jayce slander. i stand with my cancelled wife!!!#smut #arcane smut #oh yeah #fem reader

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