#luckily i do actually have 10 fics although just barely

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

Tagged by the lovely @jamietarttsnorthernattitude to post the first lines of ten stories:

Here’s a secret: it was Jamie’s fault his dad came back. The Hedgehog's Dilemma

2. It said something about him, probably, that Roy stayed on the bike through Jamie’s awful, gut-wrenching story, through his own grit-toothed confession that he’d irreparably fucked it with the woman he thought, once upon a time, that he’d spend the rest of his life with, only to lose it on the straight. Tell Me Something True

3. They're up at Burnley and it's snowing; lightly at first, a dusting of white over grass through the second half that had them shivering in their kits as they slid mud-spattered across the pitch. Ephemera

4. Jamie's got one boot on when Cartrick storms into the dressing room, red in the face and shouting that the fucking bitch has fired him and good fucking riddance; gone and pissed away whatever chance they had at avoiding relegation, she has, just they wait. All I Have (And a Little More)

5. Keeley spent half the night after Richmond won against Watford in her office. Flightless Birds

6. I will wait here for an hour, a day, a year, he says, but in the end they stand facing each other under the speckled green of the forest canopy a mere quarter hour before Israel Hands stumbles awake, and perhaps it is luck or perhaps it is grief that Flint, formidable fighter though he is, loses first his sword and then his footing. Requiem for a Monster (Black Sails)

7. There’s a line at the edge of the village where you were born (not your village, not for a long time, maybe never) that marks the start of the law. Dragonslayers (original fic)

8. The very first time, when he is truly thirteen, he wakes to starlight and an ache in his muscles. The Eternal Recurrence of the Same (original fic)

9. This is how it starts: with a stream of stars past the window and the echo of a tinny newsfeed from two rooms over. Emmetropia (original fic)

10. Two days past the end of the tresset, the air still held an electric buzz as the angry roiling purple of the clouds faded to a hazy pink before slowly clearing to blue. What's Past is Prologue (original fic)

Tagging @thirteenemeraldcats, @jamiesfootball, and @asteria-argo if you want to play!

[shyficwriter]

Temporary Home: Chapter 8

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Prank war engaged, who will win? Also, Yondu helps you with a little problem, Peter wants to watch another movie, and Rocket finally gets a surprise. Lots of fluff.

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: Slight sadness because I wrote out the whole Rocket seeing a real raccoon scene, then realized it didn't fit with the direction of this chapter, and now I have to save it for a future one. Poo. Also, for my records, this is day 10 of the Guardians living with reader. Also, Also: I love all the little replies you guys leave for me on this fic! This is a sideblog, so I can't reply to them in the notes, but I just want to let you guys know I love and appreciate them so much!!!!

Word Count: 5,561

You woke up a little nervous, Yondu's warning having gotten to you a bit. You couldn't remember the last time you pulled a prank, and now he's told you that you might have accidentally started a war with Kraglin and Peter? Just what you needed. Great.

The first thing you did, aside from seeing that Mantis was still asleep, was check yourself and your bed over to make sure they hadn't left any surprise pranks for you in your sleep. You even checked your reflection in your phone just in case one of them could have managed to draw on your face while you were sleeping, even though you knew that would be ridiculous... or was it?

Okay, so maybe you were more than a little nervous.

It didn't take long for you to scold yourself. Why should you be nervous? This was your home, you had the advantage. You weren't going to hide like some scared child from some pranks. As you got dressed you told yourself that you'd prepare yourself for anything they had coming your way. Shut it down. Nip it in the bud. Besides, what if Yondu was wrong? Maybe they wouldn't even to anything at all.

You'd barely finished that thought when Peter jump-scared you the second you opened your bedroom door, causing you to reflexively punch him in the face.

"Ow! Dude!" he complained, hands up to his nose and checking it for blood. Luckily there wasn't any.

You cover your mouth, both in horror and trying to mask your humor at the belated karmic justice for the door incident. "I- I really want to say sorry... but I suppose you had that coming..." you say, swallowing your laughter and making your way around him to escape into the bathroom.

Well, that confirmed Yondu was right... You should probably start thinking of some ways to either prank back or defend yourself. If they wanted a war, you'd be ready.

***

You fancied toast again for breakfast and that's when Kraglin struck, using your previous night's admission against you. He spidered his fingers over your sides while your back was turned. You didn't even know he had been in the kitchen, but you sure as hell felt the tickly sparks of electricity that jolted through your body and made you drop the knife as you spasmed under his attack with an embarrassing squeal.

He stopped almost as quickly as he started, doubled over and slapping his knee in laughter. "Oh! That's just too good!" he teased.

You look at him with narrowed eyes, noticing Peter standing not too far off, looking pleased. "So that's how it's going to be, huh?" you say, more of a statement that a question.

The guys only ginned in response and you turned back to your toast.

"I see," you say cooly.

War it was.

***

After you ate you thought you'd make a trip to the attic. You knew you might have an asset or two up there that would prove useful. One such being, a big old rubber spider, another being a whoopie cushion.

You pocketed the whoopie cushion for now, but, seeing as you were the only one upstairs at the moment, you took your opportunity to slip into the room Peter and Gamora shared and leave the spider under Peter's blanket. You hadn't been in that room since it became Peter and Gamora's, but you were able to suss out which bed was his easy enough. You had a feeling it was the one that was only half-assed made-up. Also, his jacket was laying on top of it.

You made your way out as quietly as you had entered and made your way downstairs, but not before grabbing a bath towel from the bathroom closet.

Once downstairs, you searched for Gamora, finding her washing up a dish she used for breakfast.

"Hey," you say, "Can I ask you a favor."

Gamora dried the dish, saying, "As a general rule I don't get involved in any mischief Peter gets up to." She knew Peter was wont to get into prank wars and after last night it honestly didn't surprise her that he might have chosen to start one against you out of boredom. Naturally, she just assumed you were coming to her to make him back off.

"Oh, no. It's nothing like that," you clarify, then quieter, "I was hoping I could ask if you would be willing to keep Rocket busy and downstairs for a bit?"

Gamora looked at you with a raised eyebrow. How unexpected. Why would you need that?

You realized this would go better if you told her the reason. "Here, I'll show you something," you say, inviting her to follow you out to the shed.

Once inside you revealed to her what you had been working on, but she only looked at you in confusion, probably because the bed frame hadn't been assembled yet. You had planned to wrap the pieces in the towel for transport and assemble the frame in the room, and you told Gamora as such.

"I made Rocket a bed frame. You know, since he keeps complaining about the crib," you say, not wanting to sound too much like you cared.

Gamora now added surprise to the confusion on her face, "But why do you need me to keep him busy?" If this was a peace offering, like she assumed it was, then why would you not just tell Rocket about it? She knew that he would surely be grateful to get out of that crib he was always complaining about.

"So I can get these pieces upstairs and put the frame together in his room," you say, stacking the pieces onto the towel.

Understanding came over Gamora's face. "Oh. You want to surprise him." She sounded a bit surprised, which was understandable considering how you and Rocket clearly didn't get along.

You paused, giving her an apprehensive look. "Not exactly."

She tilted her head slightly, an eyebrow raised.

"I'm just going to put it together... and uh... leave it."

Gamora stared you down for a bit before a slight smirk formed on her lips. "You do realize he'll likely ask where it came from, right?"

You make a face and return to rolling the bed pieces in the towel. "Not my problem. So will you keep him busy?" You finish and turn to look at her. "Please? It shouldn't take long, I just need maybe ten minutes, fifteen tops."

Gamora smiled and shook her head, beginning to wonder if Peter might actually be right that you were a bit shy. "Sure, I'll see what I can do," Gamora said with a smile.

Together you walk back towards the house, and you reach the door just in time to see it open as Rocket and Kraglin walked outside.

You freeze for just a second. This wasn't part of the plan, but maybe you could work with it. Outside was even better than just downstairs, right?

"What you got there?" Rocket asked suspiciously.

Kraglin also looked suspiciously at the bundle in your arms, although for a different reason, wondering if it could possibly be something used for a revenge prank.

You kept your face calm and collected, and simply said, "Nothing." with a shrug as you went to walk through the door, exchanging a brief look with Gamora, signaling that she should make sure he stayed outside until you could finish. She seemed to understand.

Rocket and Kraglin also shared a look, and next thing you knew Kraglin was following after and offering to help you carry the bundle and Gamora was making up something she wanted to discuss with Rocket to keep him outside.

"I don't need any help," you say nonchalantly as Kraglin shut the door behind the two of you.

"I bet. Wouldn't want me ruining any revenge pranks... would ya?" he smirked.

You look at him unamused. "This isn't anything like that. Go mind your own business." You start to turn to leave the kitchen and Kraglin takes the opportunity with your arms being occupied to wiggle a finger in your ribs.

You jerk, nearly drop your bundle, and glare at him, hissing, "Don't you dare!"

Kraglin chuckled and folded his arms. "Then why don't you show me what ya got wrapped up in that-there bundle?"

You roll your eyes. "You're such a child." you scold, before nodding toward the door and telling him to follow you if he wants to know so bad. You could have opened the bundle on the table, but you needed to be quick. You couldn't dilly-dally with showing him there and now.

You led your unwanted sidekick up the stairs and to the room Rocket slept in and knelt to lay the bundle on the floor to unwrap it. You turn back to him and say, "It's a bed frame- and we didn't have this conversation."

"Ya made the rat a bed?" Kraglin said, with just as much surprise as Gamora had when she was told. He ignored the oddity of you instructing him to forget the conversation, for now. "Thought ya two hated each other?"

You break his gaze. "I got bored. Don't read too much into it," you say, starting to fit the frame pieces to the headboard. "I just have to put the pieces together real quick, and now that you seen what it is, you can leave me alone to get it done, 'kay? Good." You were grateful you had done a test fit and all the screw-holes were now pre-drilled as you quickly spun them into place with the screwdriver you pulled from your pocket.

Kraglin didn't leave. He just stared at you putting the pieces together for a bit. Those bed pieces didn't look like they were thrown together last minute in a fit of boredom- it all actually looked decently made. He had a feeling that this must have been what you'd been running off to do in that shed over the past few days. "Ya know, I'm startin' to think ya don't actually dislike us as much as you let on."

You paused to give him a look briefly before turning back to work. "That would be reading too much into it," you say, attaching the frame to the footboard.

A chuckle could be heard in Kraglin's voice as he said, "Whatever ya say, ma'am."

You ignore him, turning the last twist on the final screw and placing the bed slats to hold the mattress. You stood with the intent to transfer the crib mattress over when you paused to look around. There was the double bed, where you assumed Drax slept, and the crib, where you knew Rocket slept. Where did Groot sleep if there was only two beds?

You turn to Kraglin, who for some reason still hadn't left you be yet, and asked him. "There was only two beds in here, where does the little one sleep?"

Kraglin shrugged. "I dunno. I think he just curls up with one of the others 'cause he's so little.

You nod thoughtfully. Your intent had been to transfer the mattress and put the crib back away in the attic to get it out of the way, but now you reconsidered. Might as well give the kid the option to his own bed... but that would require another mattress...

"I'll be back." You tell Kraglin, briskly walking past him towards your own room. If you remembered correctly, there was a spare in the attic. An old one that never got thrown out due to mostly laziness and forgetfulness. You retrieved it, knowing exactly which corner you'd find it in, and while you were there, decided to grab a small folded blanket and a sheet for good measure.

You rolled all this tightly together for the trip down the stairs and returned to a confused Kraglin. You threw everything on the frame, the mattress expanding back to life once you released it. You quickly fitted the sheet and shook the blanket open, floating it over the bed. You then retrieved the towel and your screwdriver from the floor, looked to Kraglin and said. "Done." and began to walk towards the door, shooing Kraglin on your way out. You hadn't thought to look for another pillow while you were in the attic, but the raccoon could survive without one for now. After all, there hadn't been one in the crib so he wouldn't be missing much. Not that you super cared or anything.

Kraglin kept looking at you strangely. "So, ya gonna go tell him now?" he asked, walking backwards for a bit while you made your way towards the end of the hall.

"Nope," you say, ditching the towel in the bathroom and then heading for the stairs. You were going to go find Gamora so she'd know she no longer needed to keep Rocket distracted.

"Is it a surprise?" he asked.

"Nope."

Kraglin followed you down the stairs. "Then why aren't ya-"

You stop on the stairs and look at him sharply. "You ask too many questions. Don't make it a bigger deal than it is, 'kay?"

Kraglin frowned, but stopped bothering you as you made your way downstairs. You ditched him in the hall and made your way to the back door. You open it just long enough to catch Gamora's eye and signal to her that her services were no longer needed. You close the door back up and turn around, jumping out of your skin to find that you had indeed, not ditched Kraglin in the hall.

"The hell, man!"

Kraglin laughed, apparently delighted with startling you, and excused himself around you to head outside.

You frown at his retreating form and decided it'd be better to not hover around the door yourself, thinking you might give the house a good dusting to occupy yourself.

***

After cleaning the house and a quick lunch you decided your garden could use a good tending, so you grabbed your earbuds and made your way to the back door.

You weren't exactly sure what made you look up, probably Yondu's warning about that the guys might boobytrap your doorways with water buckets, but when you looked up you spotted the biggest spider resting right above the doorframe and you froze.

You weren't scared or anything... spiders, at least giant ass ones like the one above the door, just tended to freak you out a little... Ok, maybe more than a little. The irony wasn't lost on you either that you had just hidden a rubber spider in Peter's bed that morning.

Yondu, who you hadn't spotted at the table when you walked in as you were preoccupied with finding a song title, saw you freeze and tilted his head. He then saw you take a hesitant step back from the door and decided to ask, "Whatcha doing?"

You startled at the unexpected voice and turned to him. Slightly blushing you said, "Um, nothing. Just-uh, thought I'd go tend the garden." You considered going to use the front door instead but worried it might look a bit odd.

Yondu took a sip from his water and set his glass down. "Ya know, pretty sure you'll get outside quicker if ya walk towards the door. Not sure how far you'll get backin' away from it."

You blushed a bit harder. "Yeah- uh right." Your eyes flitted back to the spider and you visibly jumped a step back as it scurried quickly about 20cm up the wall.

"What was that?" Yondu asked, "What ya look so nervous for?" He started to stand from the table. Was there something outside? Was there someone outside? If so, why not say it?

You could feel the blush creep down your neck and you let out a nervous chuckle. "Um- it's nothing. Really." You couldn't help but glance back at the spider, and regretted it.

Yondu followed your gaze as he walked over and chuckled, relieved it was only a creepy crawly and not that they had all been discovered. He wasn't in the mood to fight a bunch of assholes today. He was, however, always in the mood to tease. "Ya scared of that little thing?"

"No! I- uh.. just wasn't expecting... it."

Putting his hands on his hips, Yondu grinned and shook his head. "My mistake then. Wouldn't wanna keep you from your garden." He clapped you on the back and looked at you expectantly, a hint of humor in his eyes as he nodded towards the door.

"Yeah..." you say, however you hesitated, looking up at the spider.

After a moment Yondu speaks up, laughter in his voice. "Can't do it, can ya?"

You give him a sharp look. "I can!"

"Alright then. Enjoy the fresh air. It's behind that door in case ya forgot." The mirth in his eyes told you he was enjoying this.

You look back up to the spider. You could do this. You start to take a step closer to the door when suddenly Yondu cries out, "Watch out! I think it jumped!" while mimicking a running spider with his hand over the top of your head, making you jump right out of your skin and smack at his hand (which you totally knew wasn't the spider...) with a shrill squeak.

Yondu starts laughing at your reaction and you cover your face in embarrassment. When his laughter dies down you give him a mournful look.

"Jackass." you mutter, arms crossed over your chest and face red from embarrassment.

Yondu rolls his eyes, mirth still present on his face, and he whistles.

It happened so quick you weren't sure you had really seen it.

A whistle. A flash of red. The sound of something cracking into the plaster. Another whistle. He caught an object in his hand; the arrow you'd see strapped to his leg all the time for no discernible reason. He wiped the tip against the rubbish bin before placing it back in its holster.

You blinked. "What the hell was that?" Did he just- move that arrow... with his mind?? Or was it with that metal mohawk thing? It had streaks of red light glowing through it for a moment there.

Yondu just grinned. "Took care of yer little problem so ya could stop yer scared fidgeting and get out the door," he said with a laugh, not really answering your question.

You blushed again but before you could protest he looked to where the spider had been and winced. "Hmm. Might have overestimated the toughness of yer wall there though..."

You follow his gaze to see that his arrow had left a small crack and a chip in the old plaster where he had killed the spider. You turn back to him. "I think that could be forgiven, if you can agree there's no reason to mention it again..."

Mirth crinkled his eyes as he got the hint. You didn't want to advertise that you were scared of the 'creepy crawly.' Was almost cute if he was honest. Reminded him of Peter when the boy was younger. "I'll take that as a 'thank you,'" he said with a cheeky wink as he walked out of the kitchen and left you to your business.

You mumbled out a, "Hmm... yeah," and rubbed the back of your head as you made your way out the door.

***

Later that day Peter came to you and asked if you wanted to join the others to watch another movie. He had found another movie from when he was a kid, The Princess Bride, and he was excited to watch it.

You curbed your suspicion that he might be setting up for a prank and agreed to watch the movie, having nothing else to do.

You walked into the sitting room while Peter walked off to find the others and found Mantis already in there waiting, sitting on the floor in front of the sofa with Groot. Gamora and Yondu were also waiting, but they hadn't sat down yet, instead they were standing by the TV looking at the DVD case and discussing how they hadn't expected Peter to be into this type of movie, clearly assuming it was a fairytale love story rather than the comedy that it also was. Looking about and seeing that Kraglin and Peter didn't seem to be coming back yet, you thought this might be a decent time to break out that whoopee cushion.

You pull it out of your pocket and with a quick breath blew it up, garnering the attention of Gamora and Yondu, who gave you funny looks. You quickly stuff the whoopee cushion under the sofa cushion furthest left and take a seat next to Mantis on the floor, furthest to the right. You look up to them nonchalantly, your expression saying, 'What? I didn't see anything. Didn't do anything either.'

A faint smirk played over Yondu's lips but neither of them said anything. Gamora, because she wasn't going to involve herself, and Yondu, because he ain't a narc. Mantis and Groot, however, gave you confused looks, but you just put your fingers to you lips in a 'shush' gesture and Mantis's eyes lit up, correctly assuming you were playing a practical joke, and she loved practical jokes.

Soon after the rest filed in. You were asked by Peter why you were on the floor when there was room on the couch, and you flippantly answered, "Didn't feel like being pestered like last time," giving him a pointed look.

He almost looked guilty but then just waved you off and sat next to Gamora. More room on the couch then. No skin off his nose.

Like last time, Yondu and Drax took the armchairs, and Rocket settled in on the other side of Mantis. Kraglin was the last to sit and you bit your tongue to keep a straight face and look uninterested as you side-eyed to watch him sit.

It went off just as you expected. A loud fart noise as he sat on the far end of the couch, earning loud laughter from Drax, Rocket, and Peter. Mantis and Groot giggled adorably while Yondu snickered and Gamora only reacted in mild surprise, likely having not realized what the object you placed below the cushion would do.

Kraglin tried to deny it, but Peter only laughed harder and said, "Yeah right! The hole you just ripped in the couch says otherwise!"

Drax then spoke through his laughter that you weren't going to be happy that Kraglin damaged the couch, only for Peter to tell him that it was just an expression.

You start to shake your head at Kraglin, give him an unimpressed look to sell your innocence, when you were startled by the blue tint to his face.

"Uh..." you say, moving to a kneeling position, "Are you alright?"

"Hah. Very funny." Kraglin said, looking annoyed and standing and pulling the whoopee cushion from beneath the sofa cushion. "Ya really think I don't know what these are? Pete had like a million of these."

"No, really. You're starting to turn blue, are you having any trouble breathing or anything?" you ask. He was acting fine, but you knew turning blue couldn't be good.

Peter, seeing you were genuinely concerned, decided to fill you in. "Oh, don't worry about him. He's just embarrassed he still fell for that." He laughed and punched a grumpy looking Kraglin in the arm.

You raised an eyebrow.

Peter clarified, "His blood is blue, not red like ours. He's fine."

"Alright then..." you say, hesitantly sitting back down. You hear Kraglin state he's keeping the whoopee cushion and you roll your eyes at him as Peter finally started the movie.

You hadn't seen this one in a long time, and you honestly barely remembered anything aside from a few funny quotes and the fact that you knew you had enjoyed it. The last thing you expected was for the movie to make you feel things.

You were doing pretty good until the man in black and Princess Buttercup began to talk about her lost love, and you kept it together until the line, "Death cannot stop true love, it can only delay it awhile."

Then you got up to leave the room.

"Want us to pause it for you?" asked Peter.

"Nope," came your answer.

No one thought anything of it, until they heard you go upstairs and you didn't return.

After about 15 minutes Yondu got the sense you weren't coming back, and he briefly wondered why before his sleepy eyes closed, falling asleep during this movie as well.

He had been waiting up the past few nights to try and catch you sneaking out at night, but each night he never heard or saw you leave, because you didn't. Needless to say this made him a little sleepy, but at least with no crew to manage or ship to run he was free to take naps, even if Peter did tease him that he was getting old for falling asleep through the movie.

Rocket, however, was cursing himself. And you. He had just been about to slip out when you beat him to it. He wasn't enjoying the movie that much, and he had realized that this might be the first chance in three days to sneak up to the attic when everyone was occupied, and you just had to go and ruin it by flaking out on the movie partway through. Rude.

They finished the movie without you and you mostly stayed in your room the rest of the night aside for a bit when you came down to grab something quick for a late supper.

You were in the kitchen having just finished the sandwich you had made when Peter came in for a snack.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Hey," you say back, pulling down a small glass for some juice.

"Saw you didn't come back to the movie earlier."

"Yeah?" You didn't meet his gaze as he opened a packet of that space food and sat down. "Seen it."

Peter nearly chuckled, "Well, yeah. I'd think so, it was yours."

You shrug. "Just didn't feel like finishing it."

"Hmmm..." came Peter's response. His tone annoyed you, like he was about to suggest there was an ulterior reason for you skipping out on the movie without a word. Just because he would have been right didn't mean you liked it.

You walk to the fridge to pour some juice and have the thought that you might spruce it up with a splash of vodka, which you kept in the freezer. You pull the bottle and gesture it to Peter, asking if he'd like some. He shook his head and you just poured some into your own glass and went to return the bottle to the freezer. When you did you spotted a small forgotten bag of ice you must have purchased awhile back. It was open, and you got an idea. Sneaking one of the chunks you hid it in your hand and closed the freezer.

You leaned against the counter and sipped your, now alcoholic, juice.

"Nice one with the whoopee cushion today. Good to see you have a sense of humor." Peter smiled.

You shrug. You kept the hand with the ice folded across your body and tucked under the elbow of the arm holding your juice, trying to keep it natural looking.

"If you want, maybe you and I could call a truce, and combine our efforts against Kraglin."

You smirk behind your glass. Either this was a trap, or he wasn't very loyal to his friend. You placed your bets on the former. "I think you're just afraid I might accidentally punch you in the face again if you keep it up."

Peter rubbed the back of his head and laughed, "Well, there may be that... but I do think if we combined our efforts..."

He didn't get to finish that sentence. You had downed the last bit of your juice and started to walk his way while he talked. As you passed behind him you quickly dropped the chunk of ice down the back of his shirt and then even more quickly scurried away as he seized up and gasped from the cold.

You snickered as you heard him squeak, "Ah! Cold! Cold!" on your way out and only spared a glance back at the door to see him abandon contorting his arms behind him to try and grab the offending ice in favor of resorting to hopping out of the chair and doing a funny little dance to shake the ice out.

Once he was free of the ice he caught your gaze and an evil grin passed over his lips as he bend down to grab the ice from the floor.

Your eyes widened and you fled up the stairs, hearing him call out, "Get back here!"

You made it to your room just in time to shut the door and flick the lock before he could have his revenge. You could hear laughter in his voice as he said, "And to think I offered a truce!"

"You didn't mean it!" you called back through the door.

Peter laughed and said, "Well I definitely don't mean it now!" You were right. He hadn't meant it. He was going to try and convince you to pull a prank on Kraglin that they would then turn back on you, but clearly you weren't going to fall for that. He heard you laugh at his statement and shook his head before walking back down the stairs.

At least he had made you laugh.

***

After an hour you decided it was probably safe to leave your room to shower for bed. Also, Mantis was knocking at the door and you had to let her in anyway.

You had just finished your shower and were heading back to your room when a high shriek could be heard from Peter and Gamora's room. The others peeked out from their respective bedrooms to see what the commotion was. Rocket came up the stairs saying, "Thought I heard Quill screaming like a girl, what happened?"

On cue the door to Peter and Gamora's room opened and out came Peter holding the rubber spider by one leg.

The two of you lock eyes across the landing. Your eyes widen slightly and you flatten your lips.

"Any idea how this ended up in my bed?" he asked, looking pointedly at you and waving the toy back and forth.

Shaking your head, you say, "Nope. No idea."

Peter narrowed his eyes but smirked. "Oh really?"

You began walking toward the safety of your room. "Not a clue. Total mystery. Night."

You could hear snickers behind you as open the door, and hear Peter shout after you, "I'm keeping this!" as you shut your bedroom door behind you.

***

Rocket had a surprise waiting for him when he decided to go to bed that night, having walked into the bedroom with little Groot asleep on his shoulder.

He looked at the new bed in confusion. He wanted to ask Drax where it came from, but the big guy was already asleep, and he knew better than to wake him if he didn't want accidentally punched in Drax's startled waking.

He hopped up to the crib and laid Groot down to sleep before inspecting the new bed, sniffing it and checking under the sheets. He didn't really know what he was looking for, but looking couldn't hurt.

Eventually, when he could find nothing wrong with it, he decided to settle in. Better than sleeping in a crib. He could ask where it came from in the morning.

***

The house was dark and quiet, and Yondu was considering giving up on trying to catch you sneaking out again, at least for tonight. After all, you hadn't in several days, what's the chance you would tonight? Might as well sleep.

Then he heard it. The tiniest creak of a door. Then barely audible steps down the stairs.

He stood from his bed as quietly as he could, and made his way over to the door he had left cracked in hopes of being better able to hear when you'd leave.

He peered out, but only just saw the top of your head dip below the floor as you descended.

He waited a moment, wanting to give a little space so as to not risk you hearing him follow. Opening the bedroom door slowly, he made his way out into the hall and to the stairs. He could see in the dark better than a Terran, but still moved carefully as he quietly made his way down the steps.

He stopped less than halfway down, having barely caught sight of you sitting on the hall bench to pull your boots on, and there he waited, out of sight in the dark, until you stood and grabbed a jacket.

He made his way quickly and quietly down the rest of the stairs and just caught you as you were opening the back door.

He stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over his chest with a triumphant grin at having finally caught you before you could leave. He tilted his chin up and asked;

"So where ya sneaking off to?"

[yoonjinkooked]

Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien | Jimin

moodboard by the lovely and amazing @flajka, who was also my #1 helper and support through the torturous 10 month journey that this story was. 

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Strangers to lovers, smut, romcom

Warnings: explicit sex, slight exhibitionism (fingering, out in the open but not in public, boat sex, oral (f and m receiving) brief but gory painting description, a lot of cursing, Jimin will end you Word Count: 19k+  Summary: You keep meeting a handsome stranger in Paris. One coincidence after another leads to the most amazing trip of your life A/N: This shit took 10 months to write. Thank @flajka, Kehlani and Jimin’s sexy Paris photos.  Spotify playlists for this fic are: 1 / 2 / 3  - I had to separate them because you can’t put Edith Piaf on the same playlist as Ace Of Base.  Hope you enjoy! 

Looking up from the screen of your phone, you blink once, twice, three times – you are not where you are supposed to be and Google maps are the stupidest invention ever.

It took you two hours to find your Airbnb apartment yesterday, all because Google maps were not quite user friendly. Not to mention that your sense of direction was utterly pathetic.

Yet despite all of that, you were absolutely positive that finding ‘Shakespeare and company’ would be an easy task – after all, you were so close to it, having just spent 10 minutes mourning the fact that the Notre-Dame was still very much unapproachable. From there to the bookstore, the route should have been easy to follow but alas, it was not. Somehow, you have managed to confuse yourself even further.

Looking around in place, you breathe a sigh of relief when you see the green doors and a sign that tells you that perhaps your sense of direction isn’t as bad as you think it is – ‘Shakespeare and Company’.

There it is, the bookstore with such rich history, one of your must-see places in Paris, something that the ‘Midnight in Paris’ lover in you had to tick off the list – there it is, right before you and very much closed. You check the time, finding that it is almost nine – a quick Google search, which is something you should have done before leaving your apartment – tells you that it opens up at half past nine.

You don’t have time, you absolutely don’t have time to sit around and wait for it to open. It’s going to take you some time to reach the 7th Arrondissement and once you do get there, two museums await. Wasting time, waiting for a bookstore to open is not a luxury you can afford right now.

Perhaps you will have time before you leave. After all, you still have a week to spend in the city of light and although your plans are pretty strict and well-organized, you are aware that some changes are bound to happen. But you will leave that for the last day – right now, you only have a few minutes of your life to offer to a closed bookstore.

As you take photos of the famed location, you recall the comments your mother made before you left, about how a young woman shouldn’t travel alone in a foreign country. She had a point – one shouldn’t travel alone if they want to have at least one photo of themselves on the memory card. It sucks a bit but you don’t let it dampen your mood – you don’t need photos to preserve the memories. A selfie stick was always an option but it was also beneath you – something you’ve decided when they first appeared.

“Is it closed?” a voice asks from behind you, making you jump a bit, as you weren’t aware that you had company. The man looking at you seems to be about your age and a tourist, if the camera around his neck is anything to go by. The brief once-over you give him lets you know he is also unnaturally attractive.

“Yeah,” you tell him, offering him a compassionate smile when you see his expression sour. “It should open soon though – about half an hour, if Google is correct.”

“Thanks for the info,” he smiles, before he lifts up his camera and starts taking photos. You realize that the chit-chat is over, so you resume taking photos as well. Just a few seconds later, his presence gave you an idea.

“Hey, would you mind taking a photo of me?” you ask sheepishly, smiling when he nods his head at once. “I’m travelling alone and I just want at least one photo of me in the folder, you know?”

“I can relate,” he chuckles as he takes the camera from you. “How do you want to take it? Casually touristy, right in front of it or artsy, with you looking up at the sign in awe?”

“Artsy,” he laughs at your immediate response, to which you simply shrug. “When will I be artsy if not in Paris?”

“Touché,” he agrees, before directing you so that he can take a decent shot. “Turn a bit to the left.”

A few seconds later, it’s his turn. After settling your own camera around your neck, you take his and take a few photos of him as he stands in the same spot you did, looking up at the sign in fake awe. This gives you a chance to properly look at him for the first time. He is indeed handsome, insanely so. Dark brown hair swept away from his face, insanely clear skin and a jaw that could cut right through glass. Looking right at him is almost blinding and you rush to take the photos.

“All done,” you smile as you return the camera to him. “I think you have a few decent shots there.”

“Thanks,” he smiles as you adjust your backpack, ready to take your leave – Shakespeare will have to enjoy your company some other day. “Enjoy the rest of Paris.”

“Yeah, you too,” you smile back at the man, mumbling under your breath as you leave because it serves you right to meet the most handsome man ever half-way across the world.

By the time you finally escape the Parisian metro, you are dead tired. Musée Rodin was just as beautiful as ‘Midnight in Paris’ made it seem to be. You’ve spent the good part of the morning roaming it’s gardens, before finally moving onto Les Invalides, which housed the tomb of the oh so great Napoleon Bonaparte. That was arguably less exciting than Musée Rodin, with you actually giving up on it completely as soon as you saw his tomb. The comments you thought of while admiring the size of the tomb and him obviously carrying his complexes into afterlife were left to you alone, making you chuckle at random times and earning a few curious looks from your fellow tourists.

Your tourist escapades ended at Champ de Mars, with an impromptu picnic which included sitting on your jacket and eating a marvelous French feast made up from pre-packaged Starbucks caramel macchiato and salt&vinegar chips – mmm, so French it hurts. Originally, you wanted to wait for the infamous light show to start but after just an hour, you have already given up and made your leave, hoping not to get lost in the metro yet again.

Luckily, you didn’t. You were so tired by the time you got to the place you rented in the outskirts of Paris that you barely had the energy to shower. And tomorrow, with Versailles being your top priority, your day was bound to be even more tiring.

You are fuming, absolutely fuming, wanting nothing more than to curse out loud and stomp on the ground. You have been tricked and that was just the drop that made the glass overflow.

You woke up with a massive headache and after forcing yourself to eat a bit, you could finally drink medication. By the time you were ready to leave your rental apartment, the timetable you made for today was already long forgotten – you’re at least an hour late.

But that isn’t a problem. It’s not even the ever confusing metro, because somehow, with a lot of help from locals, you’ve managed to figure out where you should wait for the right ride to Versailles. All of it was a bit stress inducing but definitely not a problem. The real problem occurred when you were in front of the magnificent golden gates, which you couldn’t even see because of the massive line.

Clutching your fast pass ticket, you approach a smaller line leading to the entrance, hoping and praying that you weren’t wasting your time waiting there instead of in the massive crowd, hoping that your fast pass can actually let you pass, fast.

You were mistaken. Apparently, every single human being waiting in the long ass line also had the fast pass ticket. How long do people without a fast pass have to wait is a question you don’t even want to know the answer to. With a few huffs and puffs, you took your place in line, annoyed at anything and everything, starting from the stupid agency who sold you this worthless ticket, right down to your best friend who suggested taking this trip together, only to bail on you to let her boyfriend take her to Ibiza.

As if all of that was not enough to ruin your mood, rain had started to fall, damping your clothes enough so that they match your mood.  At least you were ready for it, having read up about the unpredictable early summer rains of Paris and making sure to never leave the apartment without your hideously yellow umbrella.

An hour and a half later, you finally put the damn fast pass into use and enter the extravagant home of some Louis – you’re not ashamed to admit to not know which one. After all, you were about to learn.

The inside of the magnificent palace left you with mixed emotions, in all honesty. On one hand, it truly is as grand and striking as you had always imagined it to be. On the other hand, the crowd was killing you. Teens running around and touching things they shouldn’t be touching, people looking at everything through the screen of their phones and cameras instead of actually looking… It all left you feeling a bit on edge and wishing you had a chance to attend a private tour or something. Knowing that you will probably experience the same thing later today in the Louvre wasn’t helping either.

Every time you would pass a window, you found yourself wanting to be outside and after an hour of torture and not being able to enjoy anything, you have finally given up – fuck the rain, fuck it all – most people are still inside to avoid the rain after all and you do have your trusted umbrella with you.

Stepping into the gardens of Versailles was the best decision you could have made and you regretted not making it sooner. There were very few people outside and even the light drizzle could not ruin the experience of such a beautiful place. It’s fascinating, really, to look from the balcony above and to not see the end to all the gardens, green labyrinths, with many fountains and statues placed at nearly every corner.

It was almost impossible for you to decide where to start, so you just decided to roam freely, with no end goal in mind. You don’t even bother with your camera much, once you reach the seemingly endless green maze. The view from higher ground is magnificent but as you walk around, all you see is green hedges, incredibly tall green hedges – a very literal maze of plants. The smell is comforting – a mixture of the familiar smell of rain and of plants – more specifically, grass.

You wander around, enjoying the peace and quiet. There are more people in the maze but they are far from you and compared to the crowd you were in just minutes ago, they are ignorable, unless they are heading directly in your direction.

You recognize him instantly – other than a few locals you’ve asked for directions, he is the only person you exchanged more than one sentence with – it’s the guy from ‘Shakespeare and Company’, walking towards you. Your fear of awkwardness makes you lower the umbrella so that you can pretend that you simply didn’t see him. You only lift the umbrella up when you see his feet walk by you.

It would be weird and awkward. What do you say to someone you recognize but don’t really know? Hey? What if he doesn’t remember you and you embarrass yourself for no good reason? No, this was completely ignorable, luckily for you.

You are not fast enough the second time. The next crossroad in the maze leaves you making eye contact with him, as he is standing parallel to you, with a solid distance in-between. Solid enough for you to still pretend you do not recognized him. The eye contact made you feel a bit uneasy because what if he remembers you too? The awkwardness you’ve wanted to avoid might have just doubled.

So you walk on, taking a left turn as soon as you find one, finding the first ‘hidden room’ of the maze and a breathtaking, extravagant fountain that all but begs for you to take photos of it. Consciously steering away from the direction he seemed to have been taking, you walk along.

Left, straight, left again, straight, a bit to the right – you even manage to lose track of your surroundings, hoping that you are heading towards the gigantic fountain you’ve seen from the upper balcony.

Yet somehow, you still manage to see him again and much to your dismay, make direct eye contact. He is standing parallel from you and before you turned around and started walking, you could see what looked like mild confusion on his face.

Crap. He must have recognized you to a certain extent and now you’re making it painfully obvious that you are running away from him. For no good reason, too. You could have simply said “Oh hey, I remember you from yesterday, enjoy Versailles” or something along that line and made your exit but no, god no, you just had to make a fool of yourself.

You’ve never taken pride in your title of awkward social potato and this little mishap has to rank pretty high on your list of embarrassing moments. Sure, weird eye contact isn’t that big of a deal but the fact that it could have been easily avoid it and wasn’t only makes it 10 times worse.

Surprisingly enough, as soon as you realize that you’re being ridiculous, you have a chance for a do-over.

By the time you’ve reached the grand fountain, with a very confusing yet majestic statue of horses in the middle of it, you see him again, standing right on the edge of it, luckily not looking your way. Once again you are reminded of just how good looking he is and it’s not helping you with what you are about to do, since insanely attractive men tend to make you nervous and tongue tied.

“Well, at least the Versailles was open,” you try to sound as casual as possible as you stand a few feet away from him, watching as confusion disappears from his face as he puts two and two together.

“I thought I recognized you,” he laughs and you realize that his laughter is as melodic as his voice. Damn him. “They opened yesterday minutes after you left,” he tells you and to that you shrug.

“Nine days in Paris aren’t enough – I had museums to see,” you tell him, watching as he nods in understanding, still smiling at you. “I hope you enjoyed it, though.”

“I did,” he tells you. “Since you’re here, would you mind taking a photo of me?” he sounds as sheepish as you did yesterday. “You’re the only stranger I’d trust with my camera,” he adds. He makes a simple sentence like that hit you like a full force flirt and by the time you actually take the camera from his hands, you are positive you are blushing.

You take a few photos of him, his insanely good profile in particular, hoping that you are not drooling all over yourself. “Return the favor?” you ask, lifting your own camera, to which he laughs and extends his hand to you.

Posing is always awkward, period. Posing to a hot stranger is borderline traumatic. You do it anyways, looking away from the camera because you’ve had enough “eye contact” with him to last you a lifetime. Awkwardly standing in front of him, you wait as he checks the photos before smiling up at you and offering the camera back to you. “Perfect.”

“Thanks. Enjoy the rest of Versailles,” you casually announce your departure, feeling relieved and regretful at the same time as you walk away from him, backwards. In all honesty, the kind smile on your face made you want to stick around for a while longer.

“Thanks, you too.”

You turn around and walk away, taking a deep breath to relax yourself. The Louvre awaits – hot strangers will have their turn some other time.  

Four days in Paris were enough for you to start your own list of unpopular, maybe even popular, opinions about the city. You were always interested in the city but never obsessed with it, like many are, so you’d say that your opinions are unbiased, at least to a certain extent.

For example, Parisians are nice and they actually do make an effort to speak English if you ask them something. Of course, not everyone has the same experience but the urban myth of them being condescending, rude and downright ignoring people who speak English was proven to be false.

Yes, the city is gorgeous but it has so much to offer beside a fairly tall tower.

And last, but certainly not least – the Louvre is overrated.

After waiting in rain, again (not the museum’s fault, obviously), you finally got inside, only to proceed and get lost four times. Actual four times, you had no idea where you were and where you were supposed to go next. You were nearly trampled in front of the Mona Lisa, all while watching in shock as the people were pushing each other to try and take a selfie with the iconic painting behind them. That was the first instance when you thought how much you hate people. The next one was when you saw a grown adult, a man in his 30s, grabbing an antique Greek statue by the balls.

It was at that point that the museum walking became torture to you. Paired with its confusing layout and the employees who either truly had no idea how to help you or simply didn’t want to bother with helping a pesky tourist, you ended up wandering aimlessly, looking at everything and nothing at all, wondering how much it would cost to get an exclusive, chaperoned, after-hours tour of the Louvre. Probably too much for someone who’s keeping cheap ramen in their rented apartment.

Muse d’Orsay, your present location, is something else entirely. It is painfully obvious that at least a third of the yesterday’s crowd only went to the Luvre because someone told them they should, you overheard a few say as much, and compared to that, the visitors of Muse d’Orsay came here on their own accord. It is decently full, but not crowded. The only place where you actually had to wait in line was in front of Van Gogh’s artwork, which was to be expected.

The entire place is casual, yet sophisticated, far less confusing compared to the gigantic mess that is The Louvre. You can take your time and go wherever, without having to consult a map and pray that you’re not confusing yourself even further. You can also sit and relax for a little while, which is something your tired feet are extremely grateful for but in a very unusual way, the people around you are making you feel uncomfortable. Most of them are casually sitting and sketching the gigantic clock, the centerpiece of Muse d’Orsay and while observing that is beautiful, it also remindes you that you are, to put it nicely, talentless in the same field.

So you keep on roaming, until you find your place on a bench set before an enormous painting. Definitely three times, if not four, your height, The Women of Gaul has your full attention. The piece is as eerie and hauntingly beautiful as it is confusing – like many times over the last couple of days, you’re not sure where to look first. What catches your attention, bizarrely, is the center character – a woman, standing tall and proud with an angry look on her face and holding a dead baby by the arm.

It appears as if she has killed the baby on her own accord – she’d rather lose everything she has than surrender. Admirable and scary at the same time. With all due respect to the masterpiece, she looks ready to bitchslap some soldiers.

“We meet again, stranger,” you only realize someone is talking to you when they sit a few feet away from you and you nearly choke on dry air when you realize it’s him – the Shakespeare guy, the Versailles guy, your unofficial photographer, in all of his ripped jeans glory.

“Wow,” you laugh. How big is Paris? How many people live here, how many tourists roam the streets every day? And yet three days in a row, you see him. “We keep bumping into each other.”

“Looks like our travel itineraries keep overlapping,” he chuckles. “I’m Jimin, by the way,” he adds, before the silence turns awkward. “It’s nice to officially meet you,” he offers you his hand, which you accept instantly.

“Y/N,” you shake his hand. “So, how’s Paris working out for you?”

“I love it,” he admits, looking away from you to focus on the much less friendlier woman in the painting in front of you. “I like it more than I thought I would, in all honesty.”

“Same here,” you admit, finding it quite easy to talk to him, given that you are usually definitely more apprehensive when it comes to people you don’t know. But hey, you know his name now – that counts, right? “From word of mouth alone, I thought it was a bit overrated but it has its charms. Plenty of them, actually.”

“Museums or city streets?” he asks, turning to look at you again. He has striking, dark eyes that have no trouble looking directly at yours – you, on the other hand, swallow a lump. “Which do you enjoy more?”

“A bit of both, depends on the day,” you sound way more casual than you feel. “You?”

“City streets,” he answers, focusing on the painting again. “Art is amazing but art is art, wherever you are. While cities… they’re all different. Each city has its own thing and as much as I enjoy looking at artwork, I’d rather pick… exploring the city, breathing it in. Polluted air and all.”

“Makes sense,” you agree, knowing just how right he is. A museum is a museum, whether it’s in Paris or the tiniest of towns. It’s fascinating but it’s still a building with four walls and a roof – outside, the streets, the people, the charm distinct to each city – that’s where all the fun is at.

“Have you seen the impressionism area?” he asks.

“Not yet, why?”

“Me neither,” he laughs, confusing you a bit. “Travelling alone is fun but at times it can get painfully dull. I thought maybe you’d want to look around the museum a bit more and then we can go somewhere?”

Oh. Okay. He wants your company. Surprising, yet flattering.

“I’d love to,” you find yourself answering, ignoring all the possible red flags you probably should have not ignored – after all, this is fairly similar to the plot of Taken, and you don’t have a Liam Neeson waiting to rescue you. Mr. Ripped Jeans Jimin has a point – travelling alone can be very dull. With how the two of you have been running into each other for days now, it seems like the universe wants you to have someone to talk to for a while. “Anywhere you’d like to go in particular?”

“Montmartre?” he suggests after considering your question for a few seconds. “The stairs in front of Sacré-Cœur are always a good idea?”

He isn’t wrong - Sacré-Cœur is very much on your bucket list – scheduled for tomorrow, right on time to see the sunset. But at the same time, you have no specific plans for this afternoon and Jimin does seem like he could be good company.

Why not?

“Sounds like a plan,” you agree, feeling a metaphorical punch to your gut when his face lights up once you agree with his idea. “Let’s see those impressionists first, shall we?”

The language barrier is quite something. Despite knowing a few basic French words and phrases, your pronunciation is so damn tragic, no transaction was possible without the use of English and sometimes, like right now, lots of waving and pointing.

Jimin was looking at you in amusement while you desperately tried to explain that you need one chocolate croissant. By the point the lady behind the counter understood what you wanted, you were more than happy to leave with whatever the hell she’d give you, even if it’s not your precious croissant.

“Do you want something? Are you hungry?” you ask, wanting to treat him to some food since he insisted on paying for the bottle of wine that is currently in his backpack.

He nods, proceeding to speak to state his order in what sounds like fluent French. “I got some for you too,” he tells you as he elegantly stands in front of you, taking out his wallet and smiling as he sees that you are about to protest. “No way,” he shakes his head. “I’m paying – I ordered more. Besides, if you are buying the chocolate croissant, you obviously have no idea what you’re doing.”

A comment like that could have sounded extremely condescending coming from anyone else, but from Jimin, with his kind smile? No way. “You did not just diss a chocolate croissant!”

“Oh, yes I did,” he chuckles as he rushes to offer money before you can – defeated, but a little glad, you return your wallet into the bag, thinking how maybe you will treat yourself to more than instant ramen for your lunch tomorrow. “I love chocolate as much as the next guy but the raisin one? Hell, even the plain one – much better,” he tells as he takes the bag and exits the bakery, leaving you to follow him.

“I’m all for experimenting but come on – it’s a chocolate croissant. It can’t be bad.”

“I’ve never said it was bad,” he laughs at you as you finally catch up with him and the two of you walk side by side. “I’ve just said others were better, which you will confirm once you try them. Now – do we walk or do we waste money on the lift?”

How can a question so simple be so complicated? Your feet hurt, you’ve walked more since you landed in Paris than you have the whole last month – of course you want to take the lift and avoid unnecessary stairs. On the other hand, stairs pretty much guarantee that you will have more time to spend with Jimin and so far, he’s been a decent companion.

“How about… we take the lift to go up and we walk on our way down?” you suggest.

“Deal.”

He didn’t have a chance to see Montmarte either, he tells you on your way up. Much like you, he had a schedule and he kept to it. Until today, when he spontaneously dropped his plans and invited you to spend the rest of the day with him. You did not have solid plans to begin with, so it wasn’t much of a change, save from the fact that you were in good company.

And good company he was – surprisingly, there weren’t many moments of awkward silence as the two of you tried to find a place that fits you both – that was a challenge, seeing as many people have gathered to enjoy the view, a nice drink and an impromptu performance by buskers. In the corner of the stairs, a little bit away from the crowd, the two of you sit and it’s a matter of seconds before Jimin is opening the bottle of wine with a swiss knife he pulled out of his bag – a bag that looks like it costs more than your monthly rent – not that you were paying any attention to it.

“So…” he starts, pausing to smile at you as he gives you your cup, before moving on to fill his own. “Tell me something about yourself. I only know your name and that we live in the same city.”

“And yet somehow we’ve met on a different continent,” you add, smiling when he ‘clinks’ his plastic cup against yours. “What would you like to know?”

“Anything,” he shrugs, nodding in approval at the taste of the wine. “Why Paris? Why alone? What’s your favorite color? An actor you hate but can’t explain why? Tell me anything.”

“Why Paris? Why not Paris? There are so many places I want to see, cities I want to explore and it all had to start somewhere. My friend had wanted to see Paris while I was pretty much up for anything. Of course, she then decided that Ibiza with her boytoy sounds like a better idea than Paris with her friend,” you add, sounding just a little bitter. It’s not the nicest thing she has done but you’ll get over it.

“And your boyfriend was not interested in the beauty of France?”

Now you are confused. His raised eyebrow and tiny, barely there smile, tell you that he is absolutely asking about your boyfriend for no other reason but to confirm whether or not you have one. However, this wouldn’t be the first time for you to completely misread signs and confuse flirting with casual conversation. You decide to play it safe and not waste time on reading between the lines.

“Don’t have one,” you shrug, looking away from him and focusing on the buskers. “It does get quite boring after a while. It would be nice to have a travel partner.”

“And if you don’t, you can always ask a random, kind stranger to take your photos for you?” you join in on his laugh, glad that you spoke up that day in front of ‘Shakespeare and Company’. If you hadn’t, chances are you wouldn’t have a conversation in Versailles, which then would not continue today.

If he can do it, so can you – the can of worms is wide open. “And what does your girlfriend say about you traveling without her?” you asks, before backtracking quickly. “Or boyfriend. Or one of each, really,” you add, making him laugh.

God, there really is no smooth way to ask about the relationship status of someone you barely know, someone you’re not even completely sure you like. If two are at a club, where the music is loud and they can’t even keep a conversation, ‘are you single’ is completely acceptable. And that setting is perfect for a rejection – if they say no, you just dance away to your drink or to the next person.

This? It’s a warm day in Paris and you are surrounded by people of all ages, families even. You have been talking about the city, travelling, art and now what, ‘are you single’ or ‘would you be interested in sleeping with me’ is the next topic of conversation? No, it doesn’t work that way. Especially when you’re not even sure what you want, much less what he wants.

“Well, I don’t have either of the two so I can’t really answer that,” is that a hint of a smirk you see on his face? Okay, you may not be a champion at flirting but it looks like things are heading that way.

“Interesting,” you mumble, earning an eyebrow raise from him. Shit. You panic and focus on the plastic cup full of wine, hoping that if you drink enough of it fast, the blush that is taking over your face can be attributed to the alcohol. It doesn’t help – you move the cup away and meet his eyes, only to find him obviously waiting for you to explain your comment.

“Are you going to explain why that’s interesting on your own or should I ask about it and force you to elaborate?” he asks and you immediately turn to your cup, making him laugh, loudly, in a way that makes his eyes crinkle and his whole body move.

“I’m awkward, please don’t make it any worse,” you tell him, a part of you hoping he won’t hear you.

“As you wish,” he is still laughing and you still want to die of embarrassment. That being said, him teasing you is a good sign, you think. Now, you’re fairly certain that you absolutely are in the flirting territory and while that doesn’t make things easier for you one bit, at least now you know you perhaps won’t make a fool of yourself if you are more straightforward. Or maybe you will. Who knows?! “Y/N, do you believe in destiny?” he asks and while you’re glad the topic is changed… really?

“That’s such a broad question,” you chuckle, pausing to think about it for a second. “I suppose I do, but you’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that. What kind of destiny?”

“Okay… first, do you believe that it’s all planned out? Like, your entire life?” he asks.

“Hardly,” you answer immediately, having thought about that already, many times in your life. “I suppose that to a certain extent, it is destiny. Like… the situations that you will be put in. But your reactions to said situations are your own. Destiny can’t control how you, or the people in your life, react to something. So I guess… no?” you try to sum it up, laughing at your own rant.

“Makes sense,” he agrees as he leans back, now almost lying down on the staircase, propped on his elbow as he looks away from you and towards the magnificent view of Paris. You realize once again that he looks like a full course meal, skinny jeans and all, and you reach for your plastic cup for solace, again. “Some things are set in stone… like where you’re born, who your parents are, maybe even who you’re going to be in life. But not the tiny details… like what kind of friend you are, if you can cook or not, who will be your first kiss and so on… Is that what you meant?” he asks, suddenly turning his eyes on you and faced with them, you nearly choke on the drink you’ve been hiding behind.

Damn him and his eyes. And his smirk. And yes, his ripped skinny jeans too.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“And what about us?” he asks, smirking your way again. “We’ve been running into each other all over Paris… that’s why I thought that there has to be a reason behind it… don’t you agree?”

“Could be,” you agree, knowing that no matter how skeptical you might be about the concept of destiny, even you have to admit that the amount of times the two of you have crossed paths this week is something unusual. “You think it was destined for two of us to meet and hang out on these stairs?”

“Why not?” he laughs, sensing the trace of skepticism behind your words, even though you mostly agreed with him. “I can accept that not every cute girl I meet is destiny playing its tune but we couldn’t have avoided each other even if we tried, could we?”

You’re cute. Okay. You can live with that. You can definitely live with that.

“What else does destiny want us to do?”

You’ll admit it, you feel bolder now, knowing how shamelessly he had admitted that he obviously thinks you’re cute. Sure, you’re not nearly as bold as you wish you were but… step by step?

“Well, there’s this party down at the 8th Arrondissement that I thought of going to. Nothing huge, just a regular club. We don’t have to, if you don’t feel like partying. If you do, we can sit here for a while longer and then take a cab down there or something?” he suggests.

First he thinks you’re cute. Then he wants you to go clubbing. Sure, he isn’t hitting on you per se, but he obviously wants to spend more time with you and knowing that makes you feel like you’ve won the lottery. Maybe it’s the butterflies that you’re feeling now, after ages of them being MIA, maybe it’s the way Jimin looks at you, with the tiniest of smirks gracing his face, or maybe it’s just Jimin himself – you’re not sure and frankly, it doesn’t matter. Bottom line is, he wants to spend more time with you and despite you not really giving a shit about destiny, you do want to spend more time with him too.

“Sounds like a good idea.”

And then he goes and bites his lip, mid-smile.

Yeah, there’s no way in hell you’ll survive clubbing with him. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try.

It didn’t take you long to realize that Jimin is a piece of work, in the best ways.

He is confident when approaching strangers, whether it was you, earlier today, or a random person to ask if the two of you could join their table. He can handle his drink and he does, in fact, drink quite a bit. His behavior doesn’t change – he’s still smiley, friendly, his words never slurring, his walk as perfect and sexy as it was when he was 100% sober – the only real change in his appearance is that three tequila shots in, he’s red in the face.

You? You’ve stopped drinking one shot ago, not wanting to push yourself into the state of ‘please fuck me in the alley behind this park, Mr. Stranger’ because you do tend to turn clingy after drinking a bit too much. No, this time around, you’ve kept yourself tipsy enough to throw away some inhibitions but sober enough to not jump on the guy in the middle of a crowded club.

And lord almighty, it is crowded.

You would have never thought that Parisians and a couple of tourists would be this into 90s trash music but here you are, dancing the night away with a hot as hell stranger to the tune of ‘Be My Lover’. You’ve been dancing nonstop for what feels like hours, the only break happening when he goes to the bar to get the two of you drinks and you take that chance to lean against the wall to catch your breath.

You want to chastise yourself for trusting a stranger with your drink but after debating it while you were still sober, you’ve come to the conclusion that you’re going to trust said stranger. 

Taking a deep breath, you rummage through your bag, trying to find something to cool yourself down with, settling for a brochure you had picked up in Musée d'Orsay earlier today. You fan yourself, staying comfortably away from the crowd that’s dancing like their life depends on it.

It’s hot, it’s crowded, you’re tipsy and if you’re being completely honest, you’re turned on. Yes, in a tiny, dark, hole of a club, with a 90s eurodance song in Spanish blasting through the speakers, you can still manage to feel that way and it’s solely because of him.

For the past two hours, he has been flirting with you in ways that make you wonder if he’s actually flirting of he’s a hallucination of your deranged mind.

He hasn’t stopped touching you all night, but he does so in ways that are not… obvious. He holds your hand while you are walking through the crowd. He puts his hands on your waist while you’re dancing, but they’re positioned in a way that makes you think he just enjoys having a dance partner, not that he wants to fuck your brains out. He is close, but not close enough to make you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wants to kiss you. It’s driving you insane and you’re feeling hot – literally and metaphorically.

The song changed to something a bit more bearable for listening, but still trashy enough, when you finally felt your body relaxing and calming down after the onslaught of senses it has been through in the last two hours. However, the moment you think you’ll manage to cool your head, you see him.

It’s not that he is hot. Sure, he is hot as hell and nice on the eyes, which is something you see others noticing, as they turn their heads while he walks past them, drinks in hand. It’s not that he is so damn charming, although that plays a part too. What’s really getting to you is simply the way he looks at you.

Even now, in the crowd, as he makes his way to your little makeshift hideaway, his eyes are directly on you. He’s not even paying attention on if he’s spilling your drinks or not – nope, he is looking right at you. And despite the feeling of panic that causes, you can’t look away. You can’t hide from it, you can’t fight it – you just have to keep eye contact with him, even though you feel like weak prey.

You’d lie if you say that there weren’t moments when his eyes would look… elsewhere. Your lips, your neck or at the tiny trace of cleavage your shirt lets him see (is that one a blessing or a curse?)…  That you could deal with, as much as you were figuratively on fire. But a man with confidence to look you directly in the eyes, all the time? Yeah, you’ve kind of wanted die.

Especially now, with him sliding through the cracks between people, smiling your way, eyes burning into yours. With mere seconds to get yourself ready for him, you take a deep breath, thanking your lucky stars that he looked away, enough to put your drinks on the table next to you.

“I know you didn’t want anything, but I got you a cocktail in case you change your mind later,” he tells you and the only reason you actually understand every word he is saying is because you are staring at his lips. The music is loud, loud enough to make you want to come closer to him and ask him to repeat his words but at this point, you are a certified lip reader because good god, his lips.

“That’s okay.”

You wanted to say more, you really did, but the moment he put those drinks down, his hands were on your waist and he was close now, closer than he was before, with just an inch of space between your face and his. And even this close, even with a damn inch between the two of you, he stares into your eyes, directly into your eyes, as if he knows what he’s doing to you. And frankly, he most likely does.

“Let’s dance, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You let him take you down into the crowd again, not even noticing the loss of your precious brochure you’ve used as a makeshift fan. You let him stay close to you and you let him keep his hands on you at all times. You let him take over your entire mind, knowing that at this point, you can’t think of anything that isn’t him.

Where? Where are guys like these? Where are guys who are confident, funny, charming and sexy, without trying to get into your pants like desperate teenagers? He has the right amount of everything and a part of you wonders where are others like him? But with him in front of you, directly in front of you, with barely an inch of thin air between you, does it really matter?

You’ve given up, totally and completely. You let him eat you up with his eyes, sway your hips to the beats of bad music in any direction he wants, smiling back at him when he smiles at you.

He is closer now, even closer than before, your noses brushing against each other every other moment. He is closer and you feel like you’re going to faint if he doesn’t do something, anything really.

It’s a weird feeling to describe. You don’t know what you want but you want it, bad. And while in theory, it would be easy to take the last step and just kiss him, you can’t do it. What’s stopping you – you don’t know, you really don’t. Yes, he hasn’t explicitly said that he wants you to do anything but his actions speak enough on their own. You could close the space between the two of you and end the misery but you can’t. Something is stopping you and at this point, it feels suffocating.

All of it. Him, the crowd, the sweaty bodies all around you – it’s too much. You need fresh air. Right now.

“What time is it?” you yell at him and you can see he’s surprised – you’ve mostly been quiet, overcome with everything else to form rational thoughts. Not only that, but you’re asking about time, of all things.

“Almost 1:30AM,” he tells you, after glancing on his wristwatch, before returning the hand back on your waist. “Why? Do you want to leave?” he asks and for one second, one damn second, you see a trace of something other than pure confidence on his face. It’s not insecurity or worry, not even disappointment. It looks like a mix of all three and something else, but it’s all very faint and lasts for barely a second before he smiles at you. “It’s okay if you do. Truly.”

“It’s not that I want to leave,” you mumble, before remembering you’re in a damn club. So, you close the space between the two of you and put your lips to his ear, brushing his skin as you speak. “It’s not that I want to leave. But I need some fresh air. We can come back if you want to.”

“You want me to go with you?” he asks as you pull away and you nod. “You sure?” he asks, looking at you with worry in his eyes. He’s questioning it, if only a little bit, probably worried that you’re running away and he’s being pushy. Which isn’t the truth. You are running away, but not from him, not exactly.

“Yes,” you laugh, taking his hand, as if to show that you mean it. He smiles back at you and leads the way. You think he’d go back to your borrowed table, so that he can finish his drink but he doesn’t seem to care. Instead, he leads the way to the area where you left your bags in exchange for 5 euros.

Seeing as you are the only ones leaving this early, the exchange for your stuff is quick and by the time you are breathing in the cool Paris air, it hasn’t been more than a few minutes since you’ve expressed your desire to leave. And the cool air helps. Well, it’s either the cool air or the fact that Jimin isn’t attached to you at this moment. With a bit of distance between you, you can actually use your brain.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he watches you take deep breaths. “We can walk it off if you’ve had too much to drink? I can walk you back to your place if you want to leave?” he suggests.

“No,” you smile at him, feeling a little bit overwhelmed by how helpful he is, as well as worried. “I’m not wasted. I don’t even know if I’m tipsy anymore,” you tell him. Sure, you might not be tipsy from the alcohol but he is a different story – you are very much drunk on him. But you won’t tell him that. “I just needed a bit of air. Maybe we can walk? Then come back or something?”

“Sure, yeah,” he nods and you lead the way. “You know, we don’t have to come back here because of me. I’m perfectly fine with just walking around. We can go somewhere else or find a bench to sit on. I can call a cab for you if you want to go back to your place.”

“I’m enjoying tonight very much,” you reassure him. There are… so many other things that you’d like to say, about him and the way he makes you feel, but you just… don’t have the balls to do so. So you simply settle with reassuring him that you’re enjoying the night. “Let’s just walk around and then figure out what we want to do next. The same goes for you – I’m fine with doing whatever you want to do.”

“You know, the last light show of the night is at 2AM,” he tells you, glancing at his watch quickly. “We can still catch it, if you’d like to. Maybe we even have time to go to the tower itself but we can definitely make it to Trocadéro on time?” he suggests and even though you normally refuse to be such a basic tourist, a huge part of you is excited at the thought of seeing the tower light up.

“I haven’t seen it yet. You want to go?” you ask, continuing with the tradition he had started of questioning everything for whatever reason.

“Sure, let’s go.”

There are people roaming around the area – of course there are, it’s Paris, there are tourists in every nook and cranny of the damn city. However, the numbers are smaller than they were when you went here the other day. You were definitely not alone but you did manage to find a section of the fence where no one was waiting with their cameras ready. Which is exactly what the two of you are doing now, waiting to capture the perfect moment of the tower lighting up.

You’ve been fairly quiet since you’ve left the club but it wasn’t the negative kind of silence, not at all. It was the silence that comes after a slightly overwhelming moment. You’re not sure if Jimin feels the same and if he does, he sure didn’t show it, but he was quiet along with you, speaking up only when you do, smiling your way whenever you’ve felt brave enough to make direct eye contact. It was comfortable and it made you realize just how much you have let this total stranger get under your skin.

“Doesn’t this feel a bit like the New Year’s countdown?” you ask, adjusting your camera so that the tower is right in the center of it – as much as Jimin is overwhelming, you still want to capture a decent photograph. It’s a once in a lifetime event. At least for us, non-Parisian commoners.

“It does,” he chuckles. “Ah, here we go!”

It’s impossible not to laugh at all the sighs of wonder you hear coming from around you. Yes, it’s a beautiful sight but… come on! It’s not a natural phenomenon; it’s a tower with lights on it! You sense Jimin reacting to it the same way you do, laughing a bit at the amazement of everyone around you but still taking a photo and enjoying the moment.

“Wait, let me take a photo of you,” he tells you and to your surprise, he doesn’t ask for your camera – he simply steps back with his. You don’t say anything and you try not to think too much of it but at the very least you are now expecting an exchange of social media or emails, knowing that you now have a perfect excuse of contacting him. Unable to hide a smile at the realization, you try to strike a casual pose, all while feeling like a complete idiot because he is looking at you again. “Wait,” he suddenly says and walks back up to you, reaching his hand closer to your face. “May I?”

You nod, not even sure what exactly you’re agreeing to here. Gently, he runs his hand through your hair, similar to the way he runs it through his own hair a few times a minute, messing it up a little bit. You don’t exactly have a mirror on you right now, but you imagine it’s the cute kind of messy, not the messy kind of messy. Why would he want you to look like shit for the photo? So, you let him, trying to ignore the way your pulse races because of him being so close. “There,” he steps away from you, smiling.

“Messy enough?” you joke, laughing when he does.

“It’s not messy, it’s sexy,” he tells you and yeah, your stupid heart is in overdrive, the butterflies in your stomach wilding and your face absolutely blushing. “It’s cute, natural. It’s more you than the preppy pose you’ve just tried to pull off,” and now he kind of insulted you.

“Hey!” you snap back, unable to keep a straight face when he starts laughing again. “You’ve known me for a few hours, how do you know preppy poses aren’t my thing?”

“I just know,” he shrugs. “Now act natural. Smile.”

You wanted to fight him back in a passive aggressive way and remain preppy but you just can’t – not with him making you smile. So you smile and giggle, pretending like he doesn’t have a camera in front of his face. If he wants you to be natural, you’re going to be natural.

After a few shots, he moves the camera away from his face and gives you the most blinding smile he had given you so far.

“Your turn,” you order him, unsure how you can even talk anymore. You feel like jelly on the inside and it’s actually quite worrying, seeing as you haven’t felt like this many times in your life. Of course, you liked people, you dated people, hell you’ve even loved a guy or two! But god good, they’re not Jimin. The guy has it all and all of it is affecting you in ways you didn’t know you could be affected.

You swallow a few lumps as you try to focus on the tower too, and not just him, because yes, it kind of needs to be in the picture too and that is the whole point of this, isn’t it? It takes you a few tries but you end up with a good shot. No matter how tonight ends, you’ll have a palpable memory of Jimin saved in your camera and you’d be lying to yourself if you say that doesn’t make you feel a bit more at ease.

“How can something be so tacky and so breathtakingly beautiful at the same time?” you ask while walking back towards the fence, letting the camera dangle around your neck as you stand next to Jimin.

“It really is amazing, isn’t it?” he chuckles. This time around, you are the one shamelessly staring – he is too preoccupied with looking at the tower. “I don’t know what it is. I don’t know if it’s Paris, or just tonight or maybe even you, but everything feels so… I don’t know, honestly,” he laughs, shaking his head as if he’s in disbelief. “I guess I’m just… really enjoying tonight.”

Here he is, this… beautiful, hot, kind, charming stranger, right next to you. Just a few days ago, he was no more than a fellow tourist. Just a few days ago, you didn’t think much of him. Today was a different story. Today, he didn’t let you push him into the back of your mind. Today he had made himself the focus of your day, night and quite frankly, this whole damn trip.

You don’t have to see him ever again if you don’t want to. If destiny keeps messing with you, you might run into him back home but by then, enough time would have passed for you to be able to keep your cool. If it goes good… it’ll go good. And if it goes bad, you can go back to pretending like none of this ever happened, and that your whole Parisian escapade was not Jimin centric. It might be easier said than done but you’re a tough cookie. You can do it.

Why not go for it? Seriously Y/N, why not go for it?

So you do.

You step closer to him and reach your hand out, putting it on his cheek and turning him to face you – he doesn’t have enough time to react properly but you can see the flash of surprise on his face. There is no time for him to say or do anything, because you lean in and press your lips to his.

Fuck it. Seriously, just fuck it. You’re here, he’s here and with doing practically nothing, he’d made you feel more than you’ve felt in months. As tacky as it is, you truly do only live once and you know yourself well enough to know you’d end up regretting not doing this.

You might regret it anyways, who knows. But you’d eat yourself away if you hadn’t gone for it.

You’d be lying if you said that the kiss is magical. Really, it’s awkward. Your lips are not much in comparison to his beautifully plump ones and while that could be overpowering, he technically isn’t moving. What you thought would be a kiss that would rock your world, ends up being nothing more than one slightly longer peck because he isn’t moving.

You can feel it – you’ve fucked up. You went for it and in hindsight, you shouldn’t have. Feeling absolutely mortified by his lack of response, you pull away, feeling even worse when you see the way he’s looking at you – no awe, no surprise, no excitement. He doesn’t look pissed either, or confused. It’s difficult to describe it but he’s almost… scowling at you.

You’ve fucked it up. But that’s okay. At least you won’t wonder about the ‘what ifs’.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, looking away from him quickly. As much as you’re trying to reassure yourself that it’s better to know than to wonder, you’re absolutely dying on the inside. If there’s a hole near here in which you could hide, right this second, you’d go there. Alas, you’re out in the open and have to deal with the mess you’ve made. “I guess I’ve misread the signals. I-“

With his hand on your back, he pulls you smack into his chest, not leaving any room between the two of you whatsoever. All that you see is him leaning into you with his eyes closed.

It’s not a peck – it’s anything but a peck. His lips guide yours to open and not even a second later, you feel his tongue moving against yours. He pulls you even closer to him, your bodies practically stuck together, with your hands squished between you. You feel him run his other hand through your hair, turning your head a bit towards the side so that he can have more access to you, as if he hadn’t had enough to begin with. His tongue is relentless and you’re absolutely sure that you’re about to faint, knees barely managing to keep your body standing.

You have never been kissed like this. Definitely not in public.

He pulls away slowly, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth as he goes. He’s not scowling like he was moments ago, but he’s also not the cute, smiley Jimin he was for the better part of the day.

And you? You’re honestly struggling to breathe. A kiss is a surprise itself but a kiss like that is not something that’s easy to survive. You’re well aware that you’re practically panting because of him but it’s hardly something you can hide. You’re affected and you’re going to be affected, no matter how embarrassed you are about it.

“If you’re going to kiss me,” his voice is low, much lower than before and it’s not helping your situation at all. “You should kiss me like you mean it.”

Fuck everything.

You grab his shirt and pull him towards you once again.

Life works in mysterious ways. Just this morning, you were a regular tourist, doing regular tourist things, sticking to your itinerary as you try to cram all of Paris into one week. And now? Now you’re pressed up against a wall of a random building in a part of town you haven’t ventured into before, making out with the hottest guy you have ever met, who is also pretty much still a stranger.

You don’t even care about how uncomfortable you are in this position – him kissing you makes it all better, very literally. He is a marvelous kisser – hungry, but not overpowering, with lips for days. He smells of cologne you have never smelt before but somehow know you won’t be able to forget anytime soon. Even the soft cotton of his white shirt that your hand is digging into feels heavenly.

Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. All you can focus on is Jimin, to the point of even almost managing to ignore a whistle directed towards the two of you.

You’ve had it coming, really – almost dry humping in the middle of the street. When Jimin starts to pull away, probably because of the wolf whistle, you still chase after him, desperately trying to keep your lips stuck together. He still moves away but not too far – he nuzzles into your neck, leaving you gasping for air at the feel of his lips attacking your neck.

Is it too far? Maybe. But too far is the exact direction in which you want to go.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” you suggest. You’ve never directly propositioned sex to someone you weren’t in a relationship with and while you were internally panicking, you also know he probably won’t refuse you. Unless the thing you’re feeling against your thigh is his phone and not him being happy to see you. “My airnbn is a bit far but we can go there?” you suggest, not wanting to be too direct and invite yourself to his place. Honestly, you’d even go into a public toilet at this point, but you’ll keep that bit of information to yourself.

He doesn’t respond immediately and you would have worried about it, if he wasn’t preoccupied with biting your neck, with enough force to leave marks and make you want to crumble. You shudder, actually shudder with pleasure as you feel his tongue run over your skin. “The place I’m staying at is just a few minutes away,” he finally speaks up, stepping away from you for the first time in what feels like forever. “Do you want to go there?” he asks.

The way he looks at you tells you he’s asking you more than to just go over to the place he’s staying at. You know it, he knows it. Even though it was your suggestion, he is still checking in with you, despite probably already knowing that you’d agree to pretty much anything. You laugh at his question.

“Jimin… I’m… I’m more than fine with going to your place, yeah,” you settled for that. Letting him know that you’d let him fuck you in the middle of the street, right here, right now, might be a bit too forward of you. Incredibly accurate but perhaps too forward.

The beaming smile you get from him when you agree serves like a confirmation to yourself that no, this is absolutely not a bad idea. This is everything you’ve hoped for but didn’t think would happen. This is the brief romance that novels are written about, a story you might remember when 30 years from now, your 20something-year-old daughter goes on her first trip to Paris and you remember him. Jimin will be your story, one that you might revisit often, depending on how the night ends.

Taking your hand in his, he leads the way and you follow blindly, enjoying his touch even during simple handholding. You want to do more, so much more, but if you do, you’ll never get to your end destination. Jimin must have sensed that, because the two of you are walking faster than you did this whole day – now you actually have a goal in mind. And what a goal that will be.

“Not to bring the mood down but we could have been going to your place a lot sooner if you’d kissed me back in the club,” you admit. Maybe that was a little bit unnecessary but you want to break the silence between you – and if you can compliment him in the process, why not?

“Hmm, maybe,” he sighs, suddenly letting go of your hand, only to hug you around the waist and pull you into his side, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “You’re not the only one that was worried about misreading some signals. I wanted to be sure, so I consciously waited for you to do something.”

“Thank fuck I did because that was a close one,” you laugh in disbelief, amazed to know how close you were to this simply never happening.

“Not gonna lie, I was worried,” he laughs too, giving you another quick peck. You’re positive that you’re blushing again. Every time he kisses you, your stomach does somersaults, excited at the thought of him wanting to kiss you as much as you want to kiss him. Which is a lot. More than a lot. “I’m glad you mustered the courage to kiss a guy that’s quite obviously wanted to kiss you all afternoon.”

“For future notice – be more direct,” you warn him through laughter. The lucky girl who gets to experience him next deserves to be spared the inner turmoil you’ve went through. He spent the entire night dancing on the line between being very direct and not direct enough. One step in either direction would have settled your dilemma, so hopefully the next person will have more luck.

“I’m a bit preoccupied with you right now, thanks,” he chuckles as he sneaks his hand down to your ass and squeezes it shamelessly. You jump up in surprise but don’t feel particularly troubled about being in public, seeing as there is no public around you, at all. It’s just the two of you, walking along the river, the boats moored along the way seemingly empty. Feeling brave, braver than you ever remember feeling, you’re the one who initiates the kiss this time, making sure to show him how much you want this. You move slowly, enjoy the feeling of taking the lead and the lazy movements of your tongues, interrupted only when you feel the need to bite his bottom lip, which is way more often than you’d be willing to admit. Somehow, you once again end up being sandwiched between him and the half wall behind you. Seizing the opportunity, you sit on the half wall, pulling Jimin towards you by the belt – his hands find their way to your waist as he situates himself between your legs. This time around you’re sure it’s not his phone you’re feeling. It’s a very prominent bulge, noticeable enough to make you salivate at the very thought of what’s hidden. You’re not the only one acting braver – for the first time tonight, Jimin’s hands find their way under your shirt, eliciting goosebumps on your back almost immediately.

It’s when his fingers move to the front and graze your bra that you remember the two of you are still very much out in the open. And while at this point you wouldn’t particularly mind letting him have you here and now, the last thing you want to add to your Paris story is being arrested for indecent exposure.

“If you keep kissing me like this, we’ll never get to your place,” you warn him and contradict yourself immediately, attacking his neck with bites that make him sigh and shudder.

“Thank fuck we’re already here.”

You reluctantly detach yourself from his neck, looking around in confusion – you don’t see a house around you, at all. There’s nothing but the walkway and the park across the street. And as much as you like Jimin, you’re not going to fuck him on a bench which he sleeps on. He sees your confusion and nods towards the river. It takes you a bit too long to connect the dots.

“You’ve rented a houseboat?!” you ask in surprise and he gives you a quick kiss, pulling away with a smile.

“Of course,” he chuckles. “Hotels are boring. Boats are awesome.”

“Who even rents a boathouse?” you ask in wonder, all the while feeling slightly pissed at yourself because why the hell didn’t you think of that? It sure would beat your tiny airbnb, with a building that has no damn stairs – nothing but an elevator. Why would you be locked in such a claustrophobic space when you can have a damn boat? Lesson learned.

“I do,” he smirks at you. “And tonight, I’m going to fuck a very beautiful girl on that boat. So I guess it was a good call. Don’t you agree?”

“Yep. Wholeheartedly. You win.”

You know you’re going to die of embarrassment when he realizes just how wet he’s made you but you’re past the point of caring. With the words he says and the way he kisses you, you and your pussy never stood a chance.

Before you can kiss him again and prolong the wait, he takes your hand and leads the way, first down a set of concrete stairs and then towards the second houseboat in a row; it’s close to the ones on its side, but not too close for comfort. Climbing up the stairs that lead to the impromptu balcony on the boat, you immediately realize the appeal of choosing housing like this – once you can take your eyes away from Jimin’s ass, that is. No, once you are not looking at it, you can appreciate the view the boat has – you can even see the Eiffel tower, a bit down the river. The deck has a huge table, a few chairs and way more plants that a boat deck needs. It looks comfortable, beautiful and with how easily accessible it is, just a bit dangerous. All the words you can use to describe the man who is now kissing your neck, standing behind you as you reach and lean yourself on the boat rail, hoping it is safe.

“I see you’re an exhibitionist,” you laugh when he pulls you back so that your ass is right against his crotch and good god, you can feel how hard he is as he rolls his hips against you.

“No. Maybe just a little,” he chuckles. You laugh too, until you feel one of his hands leave your hips and reach for the button on your jeans. You gulp, eyes widening and as if he can sense your alert, he doesn’t unbutton them immediately. “You?” he asks. God, consent is so fucking sexy.

You’ve never dabbled in it, never really thought about it either but now, in this predicament? “Maybe just a little,” your voice is low as you give him permission. You weren’t joking when you thought that he can do anything he wants, were you? It doesn’t matter, because you said yes and holy fuck, his hand is going down your pants.

You jolt immediately and how could you not, when he went straight for your clit, right off the bat. Jimin does not play around, that much is obvious. You can only pray the fence is secure enough to keep you out of the water.

“Didn’t think you’d be this turned on by foreplay in public,” he laughs directly in your ear because the moment he ran his fingers against your slit, you threw your head back to lean onto him more, afraid of your legs actually turning into jelly because of him. “I’m proven wrong.”

“You don’t know me well enough to assume my sexual preferences,” somehow, you manage to laugh and remain sassy, thought that is cut short the moment he returns his attention to your clit, circling it very, very slowly. “But I suppose you found out some.”

“And I have the whole night to learn, don’t I, Y/N?”

“You do,” you bite your lip to hold back a moan because he started rubbing his fingers against you, the sudden change from slow to fast catching you off guard.

“You don’t have to keep quiet baby,” he presses a quick kiss against your neck, pushing you more into the rail as he rubs himself against your ass in a manner that almost has you begging for more. You are, internally, but not aloud. Not yet, at least. “I don’t think anyone could hear you down here. And I know I want to.”

“Duly noted,” you moan out because he presses his fingers into you harder – with the pressure and the speed, you know you’re going to fall apart way sooner than you’d though.

There has to be some flaw, right? He cannot be this perfect, no human being can be this perfect. If you were to stick around long enough, maybe you’d find a personality trait of his that makes him less perfect than what he is now, in your eyes, but you won’t be staying long enough to find out. For tonight, you’re more than fine with letting him be your little perfection.

“Let’s go inside?” he suggests as he drags his hand away from you and that is by far the worst thing he had done the whole night. You never want him to stop touching you, but that can be arranged at a more appropriate location. You nod, or so you think you do, unsure of your movements and thoughts, and you let him pull you by the hand and towards the door, pausing to fumble with the keys.

He opens the door and you stumble inside as he puts his bag on a hallway table – you choose to throw yours on the ground, waiting for him to turn on the lights. The moment you can see him clearly, the passion takes over you.

Driven by it, you all but slam him into the wall, almost laughing as his eyes widen in surprise. You don’t though – you don’t laugh, you don’t say anything. You simply reach for the hem of his shirt and lift it up slowly, making sure that your fingers cross every inch of skin you uncover. Seeing him shiver is worth the torture you’re putting yourself through, because a part of you wants to drop to the floor and start unbuckling his belt. You fight your own instincts, wanting and hoping to give him at least a fraction of the pleasure he had given you just moments ago.

Soft to the touch but very well defined, his body is a work of art that could rival those that you have spent the last few days observing. The tattoo you discover on his ribs serves as a perfect imperfection, a blemish on the canvas that somehow looks so right. Gulping, you let him take off his shirt and as soon as he does, you’re against him, kissing those lips of his again.

You don’t stay there long – slowly traveling under his chin, down his neck and all over his chest, staying there long enough, pressing soft kisses and licks until he is properly panting. When his hips roll, subconsciously looking for any kind of friction, you decide to move further down, slowly kissing a trail down his stomach, looking up at him, enjoying the sight of him so visibly… distraught. The moment your eyes meet, he closes his. And now you know you’re doing it right, if for the first time he is the one afraid of eye contact and how deadly it can be.

“You’re killing me,” he chuckles nervously, his voice breathless. And you simply smile, slowly unbuckling his belt and pushing the pants down to his knees as slow as you possibly can. You want to offer a remark about how he’s clearly enjoying it but his cock is one major distraction, in the best way possible.

He’s hard and ready, the sight filling you with instant pride because you know that you did that. You made him like this. A little bit pliant, a little bit breathless and very much not ready for what’s about to come. He’s hard, twitching under your gaze, making your mouth water. You still take it slow, enjoying the pace set to tease him – slowly licking the tip of his dick, smiling as you watch his Adam’s apple bob from above you – he still can’t look at you.

“I love how you’ve been staring me down the whole night and now you can’t handle looking at me,” you admit as you slowly drag your hand up and down his cock. Of course, now he opens his eyes and looks down on you but the lump he swallows shows you that even though he responed to your challenge, he is still very much affected and you’re living for it.

“I see you like to tease,” is what he says, making you smile.

“Very much,” you nod, giving him a quick lick that is followed by another muffled curse coming from him. “But I can be kind too,” you conclude, before finally taking him into your mouth properly.

It’s a bit of a challenge but you are more than happy to take it, slowly sinking your mouth up and down his dick, enjoying the symphony of noises that is coming from him. Every sigh, every curse, every moan – it all just makes you even more adamant to give him the best head of his life.

“Fuck Y/N,” he barely manages to say, moaning as you speed up your movements. He gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail and slowly starts guiding you faster, eyeing your reaction, despite being momentarily distracted by the sight of you taking all of him into your mouth. “Fuck, you look so… You’re gonna make me come,” he lets out a slightly panicked laughter, gently pushing you away from him, to which you pout. Despite not being that big on blowjobs, giving one to Jimin felt somewhat like a privilege and you wouldn’t admit that lightly. Not wanting to stop completely, you squeeze him in your hand, slowly moving up and down, watching as he goes through another crisis. “Y/N,” he laughs in warning, making you stop, albeit reluctantly.

“Isn’t it the point to make you come?” you ask but still stand up when his hands grab yours by the elbows and he lifts you up to stand next to him.

“Absolutely,” his eyes don’t leave your lips and he gives you a quick kiss, biting into your bottom lip hard enough to earn a moan. “But not like that, not before I fuck you. Not before I have my way with you.”

The smile on his face looks sinister enough to make you even wetter than you were moments ago. He doesn’t sound like a man who makes promises lightly and you get your confirmation as he puts his hands on your hips and starts pushing you back towards the room behind you. You’re too fucked out to notice anything other than the fairly modern design of the furniture around you. Before you can notice anything in particular, your ass slams into a hard surface and you jump up, letting him settle between your legs again and kiss you even harder than he did all night.

You’re the target now, and good god, you’re loving it. His lips alter between being gentle and harsh, kissing you with so much passion before biting, as if he wants to show you that he’s the one in charge. And you let him. By god, you let him.

He takes your shirt and bra off quickly, not wanting to drag it out like you did, but the moment you’re half naked before his eyes, he slows down. If him staring you down made you feel nervous before, you are positively burning right now because he is eating you up. He doesn’t even have to touch you – just the sight of him, looking like he’s about to ruin you is enough to cause goosebumps to form all over your body. He comes closer, attaching his lips to your chest. You are losing your mind because he is purposely slow, kissing you all over before finally attaching his lips to your nipple, taking it into his mouth and slowly rolling his tongue against it. You swear you can feel him smiling, but you’re too far gone to check – especially not when his hand reaches for your other breast, squeezing it shamelessly. You’ve been able to control your noises for a little while, but the moment his teeth come out to play, you’re a goner. With his fingers and lips moving at the same time, you can only moan, reaching towards something, anything to hold and settling for his hair. You grip it, perhaps a bit too harshly if his moan is anything to go by – but he doesn’t stop you. In fact, he simply sucks harder, making you arch your back towards him.

He’ll ruin you. He will absolutely ruin you and you are perfectly fine with it.

After what feels like an eternity, he detaches his mouth away from you and your eyes meet. He truly is a sight for sore eyes, especially now when he looks so blissfully fucked out. His hair is a mess, his lips red from all the kissing and sucking, his torso a work of art. He looks so fucking hot, you moan. At the very sight of him, you moan. He’s not touching you, he’s not teasing you, he’s not doing anything but looking at you and that is enough to make you moan, moan and rut your hips in his direction, looking for friction which you find in the form of his thigh. He lets you, he lets you move against him. Your moment of pleasure doesn’t last long, because he steps back, fumbling to unbutton your jeans. You lay down, ignoring the cold of the table against your naked back, lifting your hips to help him undress you completely. Unlike the slow, sensual moves that you used on him, he is quick, taking them off as fast as he possibly can. When you’re left in nothing but your underwear, that is when he slows down again, crouching down out of your sight.

“Fuck!” you gasp in surprise when you feel him nuzzling his nose against your clothed center – you can feel how wet you are and you know, you know he can smell it, feel it, see it and you absolutely do not care. In fact, you’re even more turned on by the thought of it – he clearly is enjoying it and you want nothing more than to let him know how good he’s making you feel.

He doesn’t torture you for too long and other than a muffled curse, he doesn’t comment on how wet you are for him. Instead, he goes right down to business, using his fingers to move your underwear to the side and he immediately attaches himself to your clit, sucking on it harshly, with the same fervor as when he was sucking on your nipples.  

“Fuck, Jimin!” you moan out, gripping his hair with all the strength you have, knowing that that must have hurt – again, he shows no signs of having a problem with it. Fuck, he probably even likes it.

“What is it baby?” he asks, not waiting for your response and instead choosing to lick up your center. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” you manage to reply, momentarily distracted by the feel of his finger sinking into you.

“If you let me, I’ll eat you out for hours tomorrow morning,” he tells you, pausing to bite on your thigh, a bite that you know will leave teeth marks, but you don’t protest. “As much as I’d be willing to do it for hours right now, I really need you on my cock.”

“Yeah, okay,” you laugh, biting your lip at the feel of him sinking another finger into you, slowly dragging them in and out as he stands up, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. You say nothing more – you couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You move your hips in time with his fingers, riding them like you would, and hopefully will, ride his dick in a matter of moments.

“Bedroom?” he suggests as he stops his assault on you. You nod, somehow managing to sit up, nearly laughing at the sight of him. Half naked, with his jeans still hanging right above his knees, his member standing up proudly. How he could wobble you towards the table in that state is beyond you. You don’t have a chance to ask, too distracted with the sight of him licking his fingers, all while looking directly into your eyes. He’ll be the death of you, that’s for sure.

You stand up, leaning against the table as he loses the last articles of his clothing – you barely have the time to take a few deep breaths before he starts kissing you again, his tongue overpowering yours as you moan at the taste of him. You don’t bother opening your eyes, letting him lead you towards the bedroom, trusting him that you won’t end up overboard, hoping that if you do, you wouldn’t be too turned on to notice. You hit a wall and a door on your way there, giggling by the time he is pushing you onto a bed, finally letting you breathe. Standing above you, he somehow manages to look both menacing and hot at the same time. His eyes tell you to wait, which you gladly do, watching him as you settle yourself on top of the covers. You choke on your own breath when you notice his ass, for the first time without the barrier of skintight jeans – it’s a sight, alright. You watch as he fumbles through his suitcase, smiling at him when he turns around, waving a condom at you.

No matter how much you’re into him, there’s no way he’s fucking you without protection. You’re glad he’s on the same page, not even stopping to suggest going bare. While you’d like that and you’re guessing so would he, it’s simply not happening. He walks towards you, not putting the condom on immediately, instead choosing to give his member a few strokes, enjoying the view of you on his bed, naked and waiting. Though your lip bite was an unconscious reaction at the sight before you, he is affected, grunting at the sight – the moment the condom is covering his dick, he is rushing to get on top of you, finally letting you feel his whole body against your own.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he tells you before kissing you passionately, flicking his tongue slowly as he settles between your legs. He doesn’t enter you immediately, instead choosing to grind onto you, making the both of you moan into the kiss. You’re the one who pulls away, if only for a moment.

“Please,” you moan out, enjoying the feel of his dick rubbing against you, pushing you closer to the edge – too close, considering you didn’t even have a chance to feel him inside of you. “Please just fuck me.”

“Gladly,” he gives you a quick kiss before finally sliding into you. Slowly and with ease, he fills you up in a way that makes you moan – louder than you did the whole night, feeling absolutely shameless. You don’t care, you don’t care where you are or who can hear you, if anyone – he feels that damn good.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you gasp, taken by surprise with him slowly rolling his hips into you. It’s as if he can tell you need no more time to adjust to him, he starts moving a bit faster with each roll of his hips, making you curse out as you grab onto him, your fingers digging into his skin. It seems he enjoys you being rough with him, showing him how good he’s making you feel because he isn’t complaining and you know it has to hurt. He wastes no time, dipping down to take your nipple into his mouth, never stopping his dick from moving in and out of you in the best of ways.

“God,you’re so tight baby!” he grunts as his thrusts become harder and faster, so much so that you faintly notice the sound of the bed thumping into something, most likely the wall. You don’t care, you really don’t – you pull him closer to you, blindly reaching for his lips, enjoying the way he overpowers your senses, even smell - he smells like sex and expensive cologne, the most mouthwatering scent you’ve ever had the pleasure of smelling. The moment your lips touch, you feel his hand graze your clit, eliciting a particularly loud moan for you. Unable to focus on anything, you give into pleasure and let him do whatever he wants with you, the onslaught on your senses killing the little sanity you had left.

You dare and think it can’t get any better than this and right as you do, he delivers a particularly hard thrust, pinching your clit between his fingers at the same time. You weren’t ready – you weren’t ready for it at all and with his actions catching you by surprise, you lose the little control you’ve had, coming hard. The orgasm washes over you stronger than any orgasm in your recent memory, making you gasp and moan, holding onto him with all the strength your body has left. He is losing his cool too – his hands give in and he’s pressed up against you completely, lips grazing your ear. “Just like that, come all over my cock,” he urges you through your high, his words making it even harder for you to calm down.

Body shivering, you somehow calm down your breathing – it’s a challenge, seeing as he still hasn’t stopped moving completely. He slowed down enough not to send you in complete overdrive too soon. Even his consideration is a turn on – almost as strong of a turn on as him using your body to pleasure himself, still rolling his hips into you and moaning softly, directly into your ear, the moan turning more high pitched when he feels your nails running up and down his back.

Turning your head towards him, you search for his lips. He kisses you eagerly, stilling himself inside of you for a moment, as if he wants to focus on the kiss and kiss alone. Slowly, he moves away from you and leans back, running his hand up your thigh. He raises his eyebrows as he pushes your leg up, asking you for permission. You nod, moaning as he moves your leg towards the side. Quickly, you turn to your side completely and judging by the moan he lets out, that’s exactly what he needed you to do.

You want to do more, you do. You want to ride him till you can no longer move but he is so damn overwhelming, all you can do right now is just… take it. And you’re not complaining. Slowly but surely, the pleasure builds up again and you realize there’s a strong chance you’ll come again. Suddenly brave again, you look at him, directly at him, as you put a hand between your legs and start rubbing yourself. The moment he realizes what you’re doing, he looks down, lifting your leg up so that he can have a better view. “Fuck,” is all he says, followed by the sexiest groan you have ever heard a man make.

“I’m so close,” you warn him, wanting to feel all of it again but somehow not wanting it to end.

“Come on baby, come for me again,” he urges you on. As much as you want to, you really don’t want it to be over anytime soon - the buildup was so damn hot and you simply don’t want to stop. Thinking about his earlier promise about eating you out for hours is what pushes you over the edge. Feeling Jimin and think of the dirty words he whispered in your ear is enough for you to come again, your entire body shivering with pure pleasure. Looking up at him, you notice the way his face scrunches, the way his voice is deeper and his moans never stopping… he takes over you again.

“I’m going to come,” he warns you, making you remember that he can’t come inside of you and fill you up, which is something you would really, really like. You settle for the next best thing.

“Come on me,” you tell him, moving your leg out of his still firm grip, and spreading your legs as much as possible, now having a perfect view of him slamming into you, much faster than he did before. “Come anywhere you want,” you urge him, biting your lip as his hips lose rhythm at your suggestion. In the speed of light, he slips out of you, leaving you empty and wanting more, more of him, more of his dick, more of anything he’d be willing to give you. You watch as he takes the condom off in the speed of light, still rubbing yourself and ignoring the overstimulation you are feeling, absolutely urged by the hottest sight you have seen in your entire life: Jimin, stroking himself with a firm grip, moaning loudly as he closes his eyes, his face scrunched in pleasure.

You watch in awe as he finishes all over you, the streaks of his cum reaching all the way up to your breasts. You have never, never in your entire life, experienced anything hotter than this. You know now, there is nothing hotter than watching Jimin orgasm. And you have never in your miserable life had sex nearly as good as the one you had now.

Jimin’s body gives up and he falls directly on top of you, making you chuckle. Your hands roam his back, as if you are comforting him through the aftermath, completely ignoring the fact that his now softening member is still rubbing against you. Both of you are sweaty, your bodies covered in his cum but you don’t care and neither does he. Once he is finally able to move, he simply leans a bit to the side, just so that he can look at you. And he does. With the brightest, sweetest smile that shouldn’t belong to a man who fucked you as hard as he just did.

“Hi,” you speak up first, shocked at how rough your voice sounds. Perhaps you were a bit louder than you thought you were. He smiles and you feel yourself melting again, accepting that you are whipped for him, way more whipped than you should be for someone you barely know. He doesn’t make it any easier on you when he leans in for a kiss, his lips slow and lazy and yours following suit, ignoring the butterflies that are going berserk in your stomach again. You ignore it all, shutting your brain off and enjoying the post sex glow that he is radiating with.

He pulls away but not before caressing your face and pushing hair behind your ear – a very sweet action for someone whose mouth can do all those dirty, lovely things.

“That was… wow,” he admits and for the first time since you’ve met him, you think you see a blush on his face – a blush that isn’t caused by alcohol, that is. Is he suddenly shy? Is it the post sex blush? You don’t know and you don’t care, as long as you can keep looking at him.

“Wow seems appropriate,” you agree, joining in his laughter. He is still chuckling as he nuzzles into your neck, giving you a few quick pecks before pulling away.

“Do you want to stay the night?” he raises his eyebrows, giving you a way out if you don’t want to take him up on his earlier offer. “I could call you a cab or even walk you back to your place. I’d like you to stay the night though.”

“Good, because I don’t think I can use my legs at the moment.”

It wasn’t supposed to be such a funny remark but for some reason, he laughs hard and after fighting it for a few seconds, you can’t help but join in. If you look past his hotness and the ease with which he communicates with people, he really does have a comfortable aura around him – if he laughs, it’s contagious and you don’t mind joining in.

The two of you calm down and after a few moments of silence, he runs his hand through your hair again, pushing it away from your face as his eyes focus on different parts of it – first your eyes, then your lips, then your cheeks. It looks as if he is trying to memorize you and to that you can relate because this is one night you’d never want to forget, not one part of it. And not one part of him. “Let’s go and get cleaned up?” he suggests.

You’ve lost count of how many times you have let him take you by the hand and lead the way for the both of you. You are yet to regret those decisions, gladly letting him lead the way now, knowing that wherever he takes you… it’s going to be good.

You wake up feeling content, well rested and sore, all at once. With a dumb smile on your face, you giggle and bury your face in the pillow – it smells of him, making your memories of the night before even more vivid.

His promise of devoting hours to you and your body this morning did not wait until dawn. It all occurred the night before, with you still kissing one another by the time sun had started to rise and the birds had started chirping.

It all comes back to you in flashes, the bath you took together, the way he caressed your skin as he was washing you up, before his hands went a bit further south. Both the sweet words and the dirty talk are engraved in your mind forever, just like the way he made you feel all of last night.

You knew it before, you’re sure of it now – he has ruined you. He has absolutely ruined you, in the best way possible. And you don’t want it to end.

You knew it had an expiration date. This is a trip romance – short, sweet, steamy and memorable. It had an expiration date the moment the two of you shared the first smiles in front of ‘Shakespeare and company’. While the thought of it does leave a bitter taste in your mouth, you’re a big girl and you can live with it. Smiling, you decide to enjoy the morning, or early afternoon, with Jimin. You’ll deal with the negative side effects later.

“Afternoon, beautiful,” you hear him, turning around towards the direction his voice is coming from – he is leaning against the doorway, smiling at you, looking too hot for his own good with gray sweatpants, a white shirt and a part of his dark hair pulled back in a makeshift bun. “Did you sleep well?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” he smiles as you close your eyes and shamelessly yawn, remembering a second too late that you should put a hand over your mouth. You open your eyes just in time to see him sitting down on the edge of the bed, placing his hand on your naked thigh and slowly moving it up and down your skin. It’s not as sexual as his touches were last night – in fact, this feels more comforting than anything else. “How long was I out? Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, I slept like a log. And it’s 2PM now, so you’ve had a few hours.”

“2PM?” you’re shocked to realized you’ve already lost half the day. It was very much worth it, though.

“You have somewhere to be?” he teases you, probably unaware how he makes the butterflies in your stomach go nuts. You have a sneaky suspicion that he’s not aware of your dilemma – do you go, do you stay? Does he want you to go or does he want you to stay? What are you even supposed to say now?

“No, not really,” you shrug, cowardly throwing the ball into his court. You’ll admit it, you’re a whimp and you are more than happy to let him decide if you should be on your way or stick around a bit longer.

“Well, I’ve made us some quick lunch. I wanted to order something but wasn’t sure if you’d want to stick around for food… so I figured I’ll make something and eat both portions if you bolt,” he admits through laughter and you’re immediately relieved – you weren’t the only one uncertain about everything.

“I don’t have to bolt. And I’m also kind of starving,” you admit, shuddering when you remember that the last thing you ate was a croissant almost a full day ago – you’re absolutely starving.

“We can eat on the deck if you want?” he suggest, before breaking out into a sudden smile.

“What?” you ask, confused with how he’s looking at you. You either have something on your face or he’s going to make this whole thing 20 times more difficult and you’re afraid the second situation is more likely.

“Nothing. You’re just beautiful like that,” he shrugs as you let him run his hands through your hair.

“Half-dead and messy looking? I’m sure I am,” you roll your eyes.

“Not messy. Sexy,” he corrects you, the same way he did last night. With a sigh, he pulls away and stands up. “I’m starving too, so you’d better hurry up if you don’t want me eating you up instead.”

“I don’t think I’d mind that, to be honest,” you admit, hiding your face in his pillow, knowing that you no longer have the dark to hide the blush that appears whenever you say something a bit more straightforward.

You expected him to say something or maybe laugh – you absolutely didn’t expect to feel his teeth on your right ass cheek. You jump up in surprise, nearly hitting him in the head when your leg jerks, but that only makes him laugh. You’re smiling way too wide for someone who’s just been bitten on the ass and you decide to scream into the pillow once he’s away enough not to hear it.

“Your clothes and underwear are dry and clean but feel free to steal that shirt from me,” he winks at you. “I’ll wait on the deck.”

With that, he leaves you alone to get dressed, try to gather your thoughts and maybe, just maybe, control your emotions a little bit. It would have been a lot easier if he was the ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ kind of guy but surprise, he’s not! No, he fucked you like a full-fledged sex god, giving you the best night of your life, while caring enough to throw your clothes into the washer and drier and even wanting to feed you the next day. Nope, still no flaws in sight for Park Jimin.

You wash up quickly, slapping yourself a few times for good measure, hoping to calm yourself down enough to be able to turn around and leave very soon. You still don’t know if it had worked but your bag is packed and you join him on the deck, dressed in your jeans and the shirt he wore yesterday that he generously let you sleep in and steal for good.

He doesn’t notice you immediately, leaned back in the chair with his eyes closed. The sight of him sitting like that, with his dark hair pulled back and tied, his neck in full view and all but glowing in the sunlight makes you want to cry. The man is actually so goddamn pretty it almost brings tears to your eyes. It doesn’t help when he notices you and smiles at you, pointing at the two bowls set on the table.

“I know it’s just noodles but honestly, I’m too pretty to know how to cook,” he explains as you take a seat. You burst out laughing at his comment.

“Cocky yet very true,” you nod in appreciation. “Don’t worry, I love ramen.”

“It’s lame but I at least I’ve added poached eggs,” he tells you, looking oh so proud about adding an extra ingredient.

“Nothing beats instant ramen,” you reassure him. “It smells of youth, not having enough money and artificial flavoring. I’ve never felt more at home,” this time around, it’s he who laughs, wishing you a good meal as the both of you dig into the food. You weren’t lying when you said it’s more than okay – you just need some food in the belly and it’s not like you’ve expected him to greet you with a full course meal. It’s the thought that counts and it’s more than enough. Actually, it might even be too much.

Halfway through your lunch, the silence between you turns slightly uncomfortable. It isn’t anything that either one of you did – it’s just the entire situation. The clock is ticking, the both of you know it and neither one of you is quite sure how to act about it. You can’t stay here for another day, even if you wanted to – your stuff and a huge chunk of your money is back at your airbnb. Even with that little detail aside, you’re not even sure if you want to say – not to mention, if he wants you to stay or not.

But it feels… wrong. It feels wrong to leave just like that, pretending like he hadn’t given you an amazing night. Not only was the sex mind-blowingly good… even before that, he was a perfect travel partner yesterday. He’s good company and knowing you’ll be saying goodbye to all of that… it doesn’t sit well with you.

Despite avoiding eye contact for a few minutes now, you fail and the moment your eyes meet from across the table, you know you’ve reached that page of the little novella the two of you wrote. He knows it too, setting away his chopsticks, sighing as he leans back into the chair. You say nothing, watching him as he stares you down, slowly shaking his head.

“I don’t want this to end,” he admits. You stay silent, following his suit as you put away your own chopsticks and lean back into the chair, completely shutting down the rest of the world – you no longer hear the birds or passing boats. You don’t see the tourists walking along the river, you don’t even feel the subtle waves that gently sway the boat you’re on – you can only focus on him, on his face, on the way he looks bothered by this. “It feels wrong to end this but at the same time, doesn’t it feel like the only proper way to go about it? Am I making any sense?” he asks, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah,” you nod immediately, assuring him that you do understand it. “It feels good, it feels right, like it would be a shame to walk away from but… what else can be done?”

“Exactly,” he agrees, leaning towards you. “It feels equally right and wrong. What are we going to do?”

You can go back to get your stuff and spend the rest of the trip here with him. You can exchange numbers and meet up back home. It could lead to something beautiful, a continuation of a marvelous chapter one, just as easily as it can lead to a complete disaster. Life’s unpredictable and you don’t know if it’s worth it to possibly ruin this amazing… encounter.

How can you even find an answer to that? Not like this whole thing hasn’t been…

“You believe in destiny, don’t you?” you ask him, suddenly putting two and two together, smiling at the confused nod he gives you. “We met here so many times. Different days, different times, we somehow ended up together. Who’s to say that won’t happen again?” you ask.

“What are you suggesting here? To… see if we meet again?”

“Exactly,” you nod, feeling proud of the solution you’ve come up with. “You believe in destiny and I don’t. If we meet again, I’d be willing to question that belief. We go our separate ways. If it ends up being a onetime encounter, we’ll remember it with smiles on our faces. And if we meet…”

“I don’t let you walk away again,” he smirks at you. You don’t say anything as that smirk turns into a genuine, real smile. He means it, he actually means it. And if you meet him again… you will too. “What happens if we run into each other back home?” he asks.

You remember how you talked last night, realizing that the two of you were hanging around the same places before, perhaps even at the same time. It made you wonder how many times you have passed one another, without a second glance, thinking of other things, of other people. Running into him back home seems more likely than seeing him again here in Paris.

“Then we say hello and see where that takes us,” you answer adamantly.

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

He offers you his hand from across the table and you shake it firmly, suddenly a lot more hopeful than you were moments ago. No, you don’t believe in destiny but if there’s someone that could make you question that, it’s Park Jimin himself.

“Fucking hell,” you curse under your breath as you wrestle your way through the crowd – for the first time since you’ve arrived in Paris, you were stuck in the metro during rush hour and you have never felt so many backpacks smacking your face in such a short amount of time.

Trying to get Google Maps on, you make your way up the stairs and into fresh air, taking a deep breath when you do. If your phone is correct and based on your previous experiences, it’s probably not, you’re a five minute walk away from the Luxembourg Gardens.  A perfect way to end your last full day in Paris – outside and hopefully away from any kind of crowd.

You walk in the direction your navigation deems right, checking every few seconds if it had started spinning out of control like it did yesterday – there is nothing more stressful than your GPS telling you to turn right and once you do, immediately telling you to take a sharp left.

It’s the smell that makes you take a detour – it’s always the smell. Sure, you could continue to sheepishly follow your navigation but when the smell of freshly baked pastry smacks you in the face, you know where you’re heading. The bakery is fairly empty and you test your poor French as you order a plain croissant.

Damn him and his plain croissants. Something that should be so simple and so irrelevant now irks you, almost to the point of you changing your order to a chocolate one. You don’t, already knowing that you’re nowhere near proficient enough in French to explain your change of heart.

The lady behind the counter is a bit of a bitch, not waiting for you to put your wallet away before she hands you your meal, giving you a dirty look when it takes you a second too long to take it from her. Offering her a sour, kiss-my-ass smile, you take the pastry and head towards the door, now trying to juggle your food, phone, wallet and the door handle, all at once.

You’ve just managed to close the door behind you and turn around, nearly avoiding a collision.

“Jesus Christ!” you gasp, gripping your phone and the pastry harder, stopping them from flying out of your hand.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!”

Your heart stops at the sound of his voice. You slowly look up, scared of both confirming and denying your suspicions, unsure which one would hurt more – him being here or him being a product of your imagination. You know that voice and you know it well.

It’s him, looking panicked and checking if you have a hold on your things. “I’m sorry, I…” he goes mute once his eyes meet yours and he realizes it’s you.

Jimin stares at you, not saying anything. One second before the encounter turns uncomfortable, you watch in amazement as he grins at you, a grin so wide and genuine your heart skips a beat.

“I… I could have dropped my croissant.”

He huffs a small laugh at your horribly timed Vine reference, pursing his lips as he tries to hide his smile – why, you don’t know and don’t care to find out because he can’t do it. He can’t hide his smile and it’s evident that he’s happy to see you. So are you, thanking and cursing at destiny at the same time.

Taking your empty hand in his, he says nothing as he intertwines your fingers and starts walking, slowly leading you away with him. You follow him, desperately thinking of what to say, of what to do but somehow too panicked to actually do anything. It feels like one of you should do something and apparently, he thinks the same because he suddenly stops and turns your way.

He puts his hands on your face, pulling you in for a kiss. The moment your lips are pressed against his, you remember how much you’ve wanted to do this since the last time you’ve kissed him, before walking down the steps of his boathouse. The relief that fills you as he deepens the kiss makes you a reluctant but firm believer in destiny.

No words are needed, you know that now. So when he leans away and smiles at you, you smile back, reaching for his hand again. He leads the way and again you follow, knowing you’re definitely not going to regret it this time either. THE END

[local-cry-baby]

It's A Promise (Barry x Reader)

so sinnoh remakes (and premakes?!) has been confirmed and of course the first thing I had to do was write a short fic on one of my favorite rival of all time

Sorry but I had to ten year old me had a massive crush on this character lol

writing; short story

word count; 2781

genre; friendship & hurt/comfort (very subtle romance)

reader; gender neutral

au; takes place after the events of DPPt (also Barry has freckles if that counts)

summary; your plans for summer has been hijacked by a certain hyperactive boy

Image

Half asleep you heard the Starlys chirp and trill and the Kricketots chime in harmony with one another, announcing the arrival of morning. You shifted slightly in bed, pulling the covers closer to you and yawned. The best feeling in the world you believe was hearing the sound of the world rousing to the start of a new day and knowing you didn't have to wake up along with it. With a content sigh you roll on your side, slowly drifting off to sleep...

Tap! Tap! Tap!

You furrow your brows slightly at the sound but quickly relaxed, smiling softly to yourself...

TAP! TAP! TAP!

You assume it was just a Starly or two messing outside your window so you chose to ignore it, opting to pull the covers over your head. You sighed again, this time in annoyance, as you try to fall asleep...

Click! Scree!

"Psst! (Y/N), are you sleeping?"

Your eyes open in disbelief as you immediately recognize the voice and just process the fact that he happen to somehow open your bedroom window to ask the obvious. 'Say it ain't so.’ You turned to face your window to see Barry there, arms resting on top of the sill as he watched you with a curious expression which was soon beaming with excitement once he saw you. "Oh good, you're awake!" Like you weren't sleeping to begin with.

"Wha? Barry what are you doing here?" You asked groggily. "Aren't you suppose to be at Pastoria City with Wake?"

"It's summer, duh! Crasher Wake gave me the week off and since your school is closed for vacation I thought it was perfect to catch up and hang out together this week!" Barry had this lively vibe around him that practically made him glow like a ray of sun leaving you dizzy with exhaustion. You plop back in bed with a groan knowing your plans to sleep in till afternoon for the whole week was ruined. "So at first I was thinking of going to the Great Marsh like we use to for old time sake" Barry began as he climbed right in sitting at your windowsill. "But I heard today would reach the hottest temperature ever in Sinnoh history!"

"Really now?" You asked in a monotonous voice. How hot can it possibly be in the coldest region in the world.

"Get this, 72 degrees! Can you believe it?!" As someone who was born and raised in Hoenn, a region where temperatures can reach up to the high 90s during the late summer you weren't exactly impressed. "So change of plans! We're going to spend the day at Sandgem Beach so pack your things!"

You glanced at the digital clock on your bedside. It read 6:22AM. "Barry it's too early! Can't we go like at 10 or something?"

"No way! We have to go now otherwise it'll be full if we go any later!"

"When is Sandgem Beach ever full!? You can barely even call it a beach!" You turned away from your friend, wrapping yourself up in your blanket. You were not getting out of this bed.

"Come on (Y/N)!" Barry whined. "We haven't hung out in so long! I literally spent all night planning this week out and you're just going to turn me down?! If Lucas and Dawn were here they would've agreed in going!" You can hear the irritation in his voice but underneath it was a hint of dejection. Shortly after your journey with the trio came to an end things changed. Dawn moved to the Kalos region a year ago to continue her study on Pokemon and just a few months afterwards Lucas left to Unova for reasons unknown though you had a hunch that it had something to do with that officer Looker. Barry spend most of his days at Pastoria’s gym, training intensely with Crasher Wake. As for you your parents never supported your dreams of becoming a Pokemon Trainer and your battling skills were left to be desired so you dropped it to continue your studies and follow a more reasonable career.

Although you didn't look at him you can feel him gazing at you, presumably with a pout or with Lillipup eyes. You groaned in defeat. "Fine."

Barry barely let you finish your sentence as he responded, "Really? Awesome! Don't forget to bring your Pokemon along with you, alright? And don't show up late otherwise I'll fine you!" With that he jump out your window and let out a yelp. "Don't worry! I'm alright!"

You sighed, wondering how anyone could have so much energy so early in the morning as you practically dragged yourself out of bed to start the day.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Sandgem Town was quiet, the majority of the residents still asleep or just starting their day. You haven’t been in Sandgem in quite a while yet walking down the somewhat familiar road invoked a nostalgic feeling. You paused, looking at the houses on the street till you spot the familiar lab down the road. Professor Rowan’s lab. It almost felt like yesterday when you took your first step through Route 201 alongside your friends Lucas and Barry (although the latter practically raced his way there) to get here with your first Pokemon, Riolu. You couldn't help but smile at the memory before going on your way to Sandgem Beach. And, as you predicted, it was empty saved for Barry.

He stood at the edge of the boardwalk, his back facing you as he perform some stretching exercise. His team was already out of their Pokeballs, enjoying themselves. Infernape was meditating, Roserade, Snorlax, and Staraptor were sunbathing, Floatzel was swimming, and Heracross was attempting to bury itself in the sand, seeking warmth. Taking out three Pokeballs from your belt you released your team: Lucario, Lopunny, and Vaporeon. Your Pokemon looked around their surroundings before glancing up at you in surprise. When was the last time you actually brought them somewhere that wasn't home or your school’s campus? “Go on you guys. Have fun!” With that said your Pokemon went off to do their own thing.

Lucario sat beside Inferape, joining it in meditation and Lopunny bounded excitedly over to its long time crush, Roserade, the Bouquet Pokemon vastly annoyed that its peace was disrupted as it escaped from its crushing grip. Lastly, Vaporeon decided to take a swim, dipping into the ocean and blending itself into its surroundings, disappearing from sight.

The commotion between Lopunny and Roserade caught Barry's attention as he looked over to notice you. "Too slow!" He yelled running over to you. Not even giving you a chance to say something he grabs your arm and drags you over to the boardwalk. Once he lets go he begins to take off his shirt.

"Ready for what?" You asked.

“Barry!” You never saw your friend shirtless before so you couldn't help but feel flustered. Though he didn’t seem to care as he carried on anyways. As you assumed, Barry had a lean figure, what you didn't expect however was the amount of freckles he had. Although Barry had freckles dusting his cheeks and nose they were barely noticeable compared to the ones on his back and shoulders which were far more prominent. Realizing you were staring longer then normal you quickly turned away, trying to hide the awkward blush.

Luckily, Barry didn't notice. "Ready?"

"To swim!"

You look down at the blue water before dipping a bare foot in. It was ice cold. "It's freezing!" You exclaimed.

"It's not that bad!"

"Thanks but I pass" you said, waving a hand dismissively.

Barry pouted but it was soon replaced with a mischievous smile. "Alright then, suit yourself." He said, surprising you. Barry wasn't one to easily let things go without trying to convince you first. He's up to something, you know it. You were about to ask but he had already left your side as he jump right into the water, splashing you head to toe causing a sharp gasp to escape your lips from the sudden shock of being doused in icy water. Barry pop back up to the surface with a triumphant smirk, his bright eyes gleaming with playfulness.

"You suck!" You yelled causing him to laugh as he dived back underwater. Soaked to the bone there really was no point in staying out of the water in hopes of drying off soon, not with this cold breeze that made it impossible to warm up. You remove your hoodie and shorts revealing your (color) swimsuit before setting them down on the boardwalk and slipping into the water. Since you were already cold the frigid water didn't get to you, feeling more welcoming then before.

You looked around for your rival, trying to spot the blonde in the murky water but only saw his Floatzel which was lazily floating around. "Barry?” Something suddenly grabbed onto your ankle causing you to scream in surprise and flailing to get away, kicking away whatever touched you.

Barry appeared right beside you, clutching his left cheek. "Ow! Seriously?! You just kicked my face!"

"Well you shouldn't have grabbed me like that!" You said. He only stick his tongue out at you before swimming over to the boardwalk, crossing his arms and resting his head atop of it. You watched him as he stared up at the blue sky with a content expression, droplets of water clinging on to his hair as it shined in the morning light. Seeing him like this gave you the same flustered feeling from before. You couldn't quite wrap your head around as to why though. You’ve known him since kindergarten. So why all of a sudden you felt awkward around him?

"What’s up?" You didn’t even realize that he had stopped gazing up at the sky in favor of looking at you.

“What do you mean?” You said, turning elsewhere though it was in vain since he already caught you this time around.

“You were staring at me just now. It was pretty weird.” You try to think of something to say, mainly to defend yourself but to your relief he changed the subject. “So how’s school?”

You shrugged. “It’s alright. Senior year isn’t difficult compared to the other years since we’re more focused on applying for college.”

“Do you know where you want to go?” You noticed his words were a bit quiet and reserved unlike his usual chipper and noisy self.

“Well I was hoping to go to University of Unova since it’s known for having the best (career) course” you explained. “Though my parents aren’t too keen on me going that far so I might just stick to Goldenrod University.”

“I know that but...” He trailed off for a moment, thinking of what to say. “Can’t you just go to Canalave College instead?”

“Goldenrod!?” Barry’s sudden sharp tone made you flinch. “Why so far?” He was looking at you with a hurt expression that made you feel guilty despite the fact you didn’t do anything wrong. At least, you felt like you did nothing wrong.

“Well compared to Unova which is practically halfway across the world. Johto is just south of Sinnoh.”

“Barry, Canalave College doesn’t even have programs on what I’m going for.”

“Ugh, this is why I’ve always hated school” Barry grumbled, letting go of the boardwalk just to sink further into the water leaving just his eyes visible to you, glaring down at nothing in particular. He almost resembled that of a pouting child.

You didn’t understand why he was so upset about your plans or why he was trying to make you change your college decisions. Unless… “You don’t want me to leave?”

Barry barely let you finish your sentence as he quickly got up. “It’s not that!”

“Then what’s the problem?” You pressured.

At this point Barry wasn’t even looking at you, opting to just randomly glance around the area. “There is no problem! It’s just...” With a sigh he finally looked at you. Honey colored eyes stared at your (e/c) ones, his cheeks gaining a bright shade of pink. “I thought even though Lucas and Dawn left at least I still have you around.”

You couldn’t help but frown. You didn’t realize just how attached Barry was to you and the others until now. Naturally you felt bad but you certainly couldn’t change your plans for him either as much as it hurts you to see him like this. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would be this upset about it but it’s just how it is. Eventually we have to go our own way to live our lives. Right now you’re training with Crasher Wake to become one of the best Pokemon Trainer ever. At some point you’re going to leave Sinnoh to follow that dream, right?” He remained silent but nodded in response. “Just because we’re not going to be together like old times doesn’t mean we’re no longer friends. You’ll always be my best friend no matter what.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I guess I was being over dramatic.” You couldn’t help but smile when you saw his expression brighten. That was until he started giggling leaving you perplexed.

“Huh? What’s so funny?” You asked

“Sorry I just found the whole ‘you’ll always be my best friend’ bit kind of cheesy.”

“I was trying to cheer you up you douche!” You snapped unable to control your blush of embarrassment as Barry continued laughing. Seeking petty revenge you bought your fingers to your lips and let out a sharp whistle. Without warning your Vaporeon splashed out between you both before spouting water right in his face. He sputtered in surprise as he attempted to shield himself.

“So that’s how it’s going to be huh?” He challenged before calling for his Floatzel who immediately appeared by his side. Already getting the cue of what was going on the Pokemon retaliated by spraying sea water over you by spinning its propeller-like tails. Oh, it’s on now. Barry however was already a step ahead of you as he mounted onto his Pokemon’s back. “Good luck trying to catch me Slowpoke!” He taunted with a smirk before promptly swimming away from you. You knew Vaporeon was nowhere near as fast as Floatzel but you sure as hell weren’t going to let him get away so easily. You got on Vaporeon’s back and began swimming after the two, unable to contain the childlike excitement and determination you were getting from the chase.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

For the first time since you moved to the chilly region you truly felt the warmth of summer in Sinnoh. You and Barry sat on a bench right outside Sandgem Beach, not bothering to change out of your swimsuits as you ate popsicles and watch the afternoon go by. Residents glance at you both with odd looks since beachgoers rarely, if ever, visit their town but neither of you mind at all. After having that impromptu water fight you both decided to have a Pokemon battle, for old time sake. Of course you lost but you didn’t mind. Its been so long since you felt the fun and adrenaline that battles gave you that you completely forgot why you enjoyed them so much in the first place.

“Hey (Y/N)?” You looked at Barry who took a small bite from his orange creamsicle. “I know I said it was cheesy but is it true? I’ll always be your best friend no matter what?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.” You had just finished your (flavor) popsicle, dumping the stick in the trash can beside you. He remained silent and although he said he was fine you notice still a hint of sadness in his expression as he stared off in the distance. Placing a hand on his shoulder you diverted his attention to you as you beamed at him. “It’s a promise.”

There was a sudden shimmer in his eyes and you wonder if he was tearing up when he quickly rub at them. “It better be otherwise I’ll fine you ten million PokeDollars if you replace me!” You couldn’t help but giggle, Barry joining in.

“So what’s the plan tomorrow?” You asked.

“Well I was thinking the Great Marsh maybe. If you’re fine with that.”

You nodded. “I bet I can catch more Pokemon then you.” You smirked when his smile faded into an annoyed expression.

“As if! I’m totally going to kick your ass!” He said swatting away your hand when you attempted to ruffle his hair just to irk him.

Needless to say, you were pretty glad he woke you up this morning.

[vaindumbass]

do you know any linny fics?

oh boy DO i (yes, yes i do) 

luckily for you I’ve been reading quite a lot of them lately!! let’s get into it: 

anthems for a seventeen year old girl by @forestgreenlesbian (27k words, although you’ll barely notice it, rated T)

Luna’s here because it’s the first place she felt safe after weeks in the cellar. Ginny’s here because it’s where Luna is.

This fic is, in fact, the first one I thought of when you asked. It’s a lovely fic, that explores (trans!)Ginny and her relationships to other people after the war. Also I know I already put up the summary, but a honorary mention for these tags: ‘fuck the weird book misogyny everyone gets healthy nuanced female friendships’ & ‘the inherent intimacy of sitting in the bath while your best friend cuts your hair’

There’s Moonlight Caught In Your Hair by MagickGarlick (646 words, rated G)

‘I think you must be pretty.’ Ginny said, and the blood wasn’t the only thing that had gone to her head.

‘Why?’

‘Gut instinct honed by years of homosexuality.’ Ginny replied. ‘You may have a pumpkin on your head, but you sound pretty.'

A halloween fic, but let’s be honest, every day is good for a halloween fic, especially one as tender and sweet as this one! This Luna is, at least to me, remarkably close to perfect, the dialogue is deep and witty, and the prose is beautiful

getting up and falling (in love) by anonymous (4k words, rated T)

Luna hums, and her skin looks silver in the light of Ginny’s wand. ‘Pronouns are a fickle thing. Mine change regularly, most often between she/her and they/them.’

Then, she turns her blindfolded eyes towards Ginny, and suddenly it’s easy to understand why Luna had to wear a blindfold in the first place, because her gaze isn’t gentle. Not painful or anything either, but deep and thorough. ‘Pronouns,’ she starts, ‘aren’t the be-all-end-all. You can experiment with them, or even not use them, or make your own. It doesn’t have to mean something, although it could.’

Ginny makes a non-committal sound. ‘How are the Nadderbracks doing?’

-or: Ginny walks the road of gender exploration, possibly holding hands with Luna along the way.

I particularly enjoyed the new magical creatures introduced. Also, while this fic has Luna and Ginny getting together, there are quite a few scenes that center on Ginny and their development, without Luna there at all, and while this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, I thought you guys should know.

Sibling Solidarity by @tigerlilycorinne (9k words, rated T)

Sometimes Ron doesn't quite know how to show his girlfriend or his sister how much he loves them. Sometimes Luna's not sure what pronouns to use. Sometimes Ginny can't stop staring at Luna, who is not her boyfriend. Sometimes Hermione guesses feelings wrong. Sometimes after a war can be quite confusing.

But here's what's always true: Ron loves Hermione and Ginny very much. Luna is never not an angel, and Harry is never not a big-hearted idiot. Ginny is stubborn as the world is round. Hermione figures things out quickly. Everyone always assumes the worst.

And for everything that goes wrong, something goes right.

I adored this fic, and still do, and although I only read it recently, I’m sure it’ll become an all-time favourite. There are so many lovely dynamics in here, and I enjoyed every single one of them! It’s also ridiculously funny at times, and extremely sweet and adorable. 

come fly with me by @biginnyweasley (1k, rated G) 

“I’m missing something.”

“Oh,” Luna sighed. “I suppose I’ve been rather silly, haven’t I? Are we not dating?”

This was it. Ginny was actually going to fall off her broom this time. “What?”

Ginny teaches Luna how to fly and it’s just as adorable as you’d expect (which is very, very adorable). This one is also hilarious at times and cute at others and the definition of short and sweet. Definetely highly recommended, 10/10 WILL cheer u up 

okay i know this was about fics but I just remembered this art by @drunkdumbfucker, and I just think everyone should see it, it’s absolutely gorgeous & tender and both Luna and Ginny look amazing.

[mmvalentine]

Let Me Touch You Pt 10 | Feysand

High school AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9. Time for a lil smut? Yeah, I think so.

Over the break, Rhys and Feyre went on a camping trip. They packed their things onto Rhys' motorbike, and then rode out to the foot of the mountains north of the town, and cooked their dinner over a campfire. And then Feyre sat between Rhys' outstretched legs as he leaned against a log, and stared up at the night sky. This far out from the city, there were so many more stars, flung out like God's own freckles.

They had been planning this trip for a while now. Sometime when they didn't have to be focusing on school work. Somewhere where they could be alone. Someplace special for their first time together.

After their conversation about wanting to make sure they were both ready, Feyre thought it would just be something that happened naturally. But Rhys was intent on "doing it right," as he put it, said that behind the bleachers at a sports event was not good enough and he wanted to make it up to her.

"You don't have to make anything up to me," Feyre had said, "you had nothing to do with the last time." "I know," Rhys replied, 'but you deserve better and I want to make that happen for you." Feyre had rolled here eyes. "As long as I'm with you," she said, "I know it'll be perfect."

So here they were, warm and content by the fire, both relaxed but also brimming with the anticipation of what they planned to do that night. As much as Feyre wanted this, she had to admit, now they were actually out here, she was nervous. With Isaac, it had all been over very fast. He had zipped up his pants and wandered off to find his friends, while she needed more time to get her clothes right. It had been uncomfortable, and it hurt a bit, and while she didn't regret it she couldn't help but feel that sex seemed a lot easier for men than for women.

Luckily, Rhys didn't seem to be in any rush. His breathing was deep and even behind her back, and his fingers were laced through hers in front of her.

"Tell me about the stars," Feyre said. "Mmm okay," Rhys answered. "You know the constellation Orion, right?" "Yeah, there's his belt there." Feyre pointed up at the line of three bright stars, and Rhys linked his fingers back through hers as soon as her hand came back down. "Did you know Orion has two dogs?" "He does?" "Yeah, I think they are actually their own whole constellations but that one there," here he lifted their twined hands to point out a very bright star, "is Sirius, who some people say is his dog but I've also heard technically it's just the eye of Canis Majoris." "I'm glad he has a dog," Feyre said. "I always imagined Orion to be so lonely up there." Rhys nuzzled his nose into the crook between her neck and shoulder. "You're sweet," he said, and she shivered.

"Your nose is cold," Feyre said. "Sorry," Rhys murmured, and replaced his nose with his lips. He kissed slowly up the side of her neck, the sucked her earlobe into his mouth. Feyre turned her head, and he kissed her mouth.

Although the air was frigid, a viscous heat collected in Feyre's stomach. Rhys brought his knees up so his body was caged around Feyre, and she shuffled back so she could get closer to him. When their tongues touched, the heat in her belly moved lower.

"Do you want to get in the tent?" Rhys murmured. Feyre just nodded, and Rhys stood and then pulled her to her feet. He put the fire out and covered it with dry dirt, then held up his torch so that Feyre could see the tent opening. She took her shoes and jacket off as she ducked under the flap.

Once they were inside, Rhys put the torch in netting at the top of the tent so they could have some light, and Feyre unzipped the sleeping bags so they were like two large blankets. She shivered, colder now that they were away from the fire, and then the two of them lay down in the small, dark space.

Feyre rolled onto her side, and as she looked at Rhys the nerves fluttered in her stomach. But when he pulled her in and kissed her again, she found it wasn't nerves anymore, but some other feeling entirely that tingled all the way to her toes, and made her forget the cold entirely.

xxxxxxxxxx

It had now been three months and there was not one part of Rhys that didn't want to peel the clothes off Feyre and haul her naked body onto his.

But he was determined to do this right, and refused to fuck this up. Not with Feyre. So when her fingers shook as she put her hands on his chest, he kissed her slow and deep until they were firmly curled in his shirt instead. He let his hands be calm at her back, stroking between her shoulder blades, and waited for her to press hungrily into him. And then finally, when she had started to squirm and her breath was coming in heavy exhales, he smoothed his hand down her calf and hitched her leg over his hip. Feyre used this leverage to squeeze his hips closer to hers, and when his hand gripped her ass she moaned into his mouth, and he began to unravel.

So slowly, so carefully, Rhys' fingers moved under the hem of her shirt. He had slid under her clothes before, but never with the intention of actually removing them. Now, he worked her shirt off in increments, so she had the chance to stop him if she wanted. Instead, she ducked her head at the last minute and pulled it the rest of the way off herself. Rhys took a moment to take in the jaw-dropping sight of her in just a white cotton bra, brushing a hand over her breast, before putting his mouth back on hers. Then he had his shirt off too, and the touch of her bare stomach on his set his world alight.

Getting her tights off was actually easier, because Feyre was unbuttoning his jeans then, and he followed her lead. When they were both in their underwear, legs tangled and hands in hair, Rhys paused.

"Is this okay?" he asked. "Yes," Feyre said. "We can stop whenever you want," Rhys said. "I don't want," Feyre said. "Keep going."

So he kissed her again and when her bra came off he died a thousand deaths. Was there anyone as perfect as Feyre?

By the time they were both naked, Rhys' erection was a tight and demanding ache between them. They lay there, breathing in the dark, and searching each other's eyes for reassurance. Rhys found the condom and when he had it on, he asked her again.

"You sure about this?" Feyre licked her lips. "Yes," she said, and Rhys tried not to look too relieved as he kissed her again. Rolled her onto her back, and hovered over her. "If it hurts, or if you want me to stop, tell me, okay?" "Okay," Feyre breathed, and her voice shook but her eyes were sure.

Rhys nudged at her entrance, and Feyre breathed in sharply. "You okay?" Feyre nodded. Rhys pushed in a little, and paused again. The feel of her, even this much, was mind-meltingly good. He steadied his breathing, and watched her face.

"Sore?" he asked. "A bit," Feyre admitted. "But don't stop."

Rhys kissed her, and moved his hand down between them. He found her clit, and rubbed small, slow circles over her until her eyes closed and a low moan slipped from her throat. As his fingers grew wetter, he pushed himself a little further in.

This time, instead of a gasp of pain, Rhys was met with another moan, louder now. He sped his fingers up, let her adjust, and pushed forward again. Repeated the process, until he was all the way into her and she was so tight around him he thought if he moved he would come on the spot. He held still, waiting until the feeling passed, then pulled out half way before thrusting in again.

Feyre's eyes popped open, and a breath fell from her lips. He did it again, and the look on her face was something he never wanted to forget. Rhys started fucking her slowly, and meant to keep that pace but as Feyre's head fell back, she arched her back so that her naked breasts were pushed up toward him, and his control began to slip.

Now, Feyre was starting to lift her hips to meet his, and the sounds she was making threatened to undo him altogether. Rhys moved his hand back down between them, so that her own rhythm had her rocking against his thumb, and he watched the blush spread over her chest like a sunrise.

"I love you," Rhys murmured, breathless in Feyre's ear. "Gods but I love you."

And then between one inhale and the next, Feyre was breaking, coming apart under him and the sight was so beautiful Rhys almost stopped to watch. But it was also very fucking hot, and next thing he knew he was coming too, and her nails were digging into his back and he shuddered into her.

It was a good minute before Rhys raised his head from her collar bone, and looked into Feyre's blue-grey eyes. "You okay?" he whispered. "Yeah. You?" Feyre whispered back. "I've never been so good in my whole life," Rhys told her. Feyre giggled, and then full on laughed, and she looked so fucking beautiful under him with that flush over her cheeks and her hair fanned out around her head that Rhys was hard again inside her. Her laugh faded, and then the were moving together, and Rhys hoped this night would never, ever end.

Feyre fell asleep quickly after the second time. She had come faster, harder this round and by the time Rhys had tied off the condom and put it in their garbage bag, she was already asleep.

Rhys curled around Feyre, pulling her into his body, and tucked her head under his chin. He reached up and clicked the torch off above them, and then he fell asleep too with the lilac and pear scent of her hair in his nose.

****

And that's the end my chickens. As always, thank you so much to everyone who read this, this was quite different to what I usually write but it was such a joy, in the end.

If you joined the taglist for this fic only and would like to be tagged in new things too, please drop me a message (and I'm sorry for those who only just joined in at the end there!), otherwise it's been so lovely having you here and I appreciate you.

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @whythefuckdoiexist @teddytdr @loosingdreams

MASTERLIST

[inthelonelycoolbeforedawn]

tw: mentions of past animal abuse (nothing graphic and not portrayed in the fic itself)

Harringrove April Day 10: Peaches

Steve couldn't contain a smile as he stepped out onto the deck. Billy was sprawled in their double lounge chair, sunglasses on, Lemmy and Cookie flopped next to him.

"Hey," Steve said. "You gonna sleep all day?"

"Got bored waiting for you." Flashing a grin, Billy hooked his arm around Steve's waist and tugged. "C'mere. Celebrate with me."

"Nuh-uh," Steve said, planting one hand on the chair to regain his balance. "Dogs in the house, then I'll celebrate with you."

Billy heaved a dramatic sigh. "Fine. Hurry up."

Laughing, Steve called Lemmy and Cookie inside and slid the door shut. He felt a bit guilty about disturbing their nap, but he and Billy hadn't had much time to themselves in the last couple of weeks.

Besides, they had a lot to celebrate.

After eight years in L.A. they were both ready for a change. They weren't sure exactly what they wanted, but when they found a house away from the city on three acres of land, with a big yard for the dogs and an easy drive to the beach, they decided to buy it. They cashed in their savings and the last bit of settlement money from Starcourt, signed the papers making the house theirs, and officially moved in two days ago.

"Sorry, guys," he said, scratching the silky black-and-white fur between Cookie's ears. "We'll make it up to you. You want some treats?"

Both Lemmy's and Cookie's ears perked up at the word treat. But where Lemmy's bright eyes and barely wagging tail were his only indications of excitement, Cookie was practically bouncing up and down on her three legs, her entire body wriggling. Steve laughed and gave them both another pat before reaching for the box of dog biscuits.

A flash of movement by the window caught his eye, and his grip on the box instinctively tightened as he looked out to see what it was.

There was a small brown-and-white pony in their driveway, its thick mane flopping into its eyes as it snuffled at the ground.

Steve watched it for a minute, then went back to get Billy. "Um, Billy? Come see this."

Billy pulled his sunglasses off. "What?"

He hurried after Steve, and Steve pointed out the window.

"The hell?" Billy said.

"We should try to catch him," Steve said. "He could get hit by a car or something if he's running around loose like that."

"Yeah," Billy said. "I guess we can get him tied up somewhere and call animal control."

They went out the side door so they were ahead of the pony. It ignored them, taking a few steps and dropping its head again to mouth at some weeds.

"Here, uh - " Steve frowned. "Boy? Girl? Horse? Here, horsey, nice horsey."

"It's not a dog," Billy said. "Let's just try grabbing him. He doesn't look very fast."

They took a few cautious steps towards it. The pony lifted its head, nostrils flaring, but didn't move.

Steve and Billy inched closer.

The pony snorted and broke into a trot. Steve and Billy lunged for it, but that made it run faster. They stopped so they wouldn't chase it onto the road and watched it.

"Maybe he's hungry," Billy said. "Do we have anything he would eat?"

"Oh, yeah!" Steve spoke louder than he'd meant to. The pony looked up and moved farther away. "Oops." Lowering his voice again, he continued. "Carrots. I think horses like carrots. Go get them, babe." 

Once Billy returned with their longest dog leash and a bag of carrots, they each took one.

"Here, pony," Steve said.

"You hungry, little guy?" Billy said.

The pony looked at them, tail swishing.

They crept towards it, getting closer than they had before. The pony was watching them intently.

"Nice pony," Steve said, almost whispering. "Who's a good pony?"

"Steve," Billy said, his own voice quiet. "Go right."

They split off, approaching the pony from both sides. The pony stomped its foot but didn't move. They were almost close enough to grab it.

Holding his breath, Steve stretched his arm out a little farther. The pony snorted again, then reached out to take the carrot from his hand. Billy grabbed its halter while it was chewing.

"Got you," he said.

The pony flinched and quickly backed up a couple of steps, but when Steve grasped the other side of its halter, it stopped and stood, trembling.

"Hey, it's okay," Billy said. "You're okay."

"Good pony," Steve said.

Slowly and carefully, they looped the leash through one of the halter rings and secured it with the clip.

Now that it was caught, the pony seemed willing to follow them. They led it to the deck and tied the leash around a post.

Steve gave the pony a tentative pat on the neck. "One of us should probably stay here. Keep an eye on him."

"I will," Billy said. "Just, maybe grab some water for him? And the carrots?"

"Oh, yeah," Steve said. "All that fur, he's probably thirsty."

Billy grinned. "You know, he reminds me of Henderson, with all that hair in his eyes."

"He does not look like Dustin," Steve said, although he secretly agreed.

He retrieved the bag of carrots, then filled a big cooking pot at the kitchen sink and managed to carry it outside without spilling any. The pony stood quietly as Billy worked at a tangle in its shaggy mane.

"Wow," Steve said. "He's really calmed down."

"Yeah," Billy said.

"Well." Steve paused, not sure why he suddenly felt like he was doing something wrong. "I'm gonna go call. I'll be back soon."

Lemmy and Cookie crowded around him, and he petted them absently as he flipped through the phone book.

"It must have an owner," he said. "I bet it belongs to some little kid who'll be really happy to see their pony again, right, guys?"

Cookie licked his hand and Lemmy's tail beat against the floor.

Steve sighed. "Right."

He lifted the receiver and dialed the number for animal control.

A few phone calls later he headed back outside. He found Billy sitting in front of the pony, stroking its nose, a soft smile on his lips. The pony's head was lowered almost to his lap, its eyes half-closed.

It reminded him of the times he'd come home to find Billy and Lemmy, napping or reading or watching TV, Billy's hand resting on Lemmy's scarred side and Lemmy's massive, brindled head resting on Billy's scarred chest.

He stood there a minute, watching, before sitting down next to them.

Billy glanced over. "I gave him more carrots. Guess he's happy."

"Yeah, looks like," Steve said. "Oh, and uh, it's actually a girl horse. Her name's Peaches."

"Peaches?" Billy repeated. "Figures it'd be something stupid."

"I don't know, it's kind of cute," Steve said.

Billy stopped petting Peaches and turned to face him. "So. I guess that means you found her owner?"

"Yeah." Steve picked at the hem of his shorts as he spoke. "Animal control said there was a missing horse reported, and put me in touch with her, and - anyway, she's coming to pick her up."

"Oh." Billy looked away. "That was fast."

They sat in silence until the dogs barking and tires crunching on the driveway alerted them to Peaches' owner's arrival.

Steve squeezed Billy's hand, then got up to greet her. He came around the corner of the house just as a young woman climbed out of a pickup truck with a trailer attached, holding a halter and a thick, neatly coiled rope.

"Hi," the woman called. "I'm Nina. I'm here for Peaches."

"I'm Steve." He shook hands with her, then gestured towards the yard. "She's out back."

"So, you're new here?" Nina said as they walked.

"Yeah," Steve said. "We just moved, actually. How'd you know?"

"It's been empty for a while." She smiled. "I drive this way a lot. Our place is only a couple miles from here."

Billy was still sitting with Peaches when they rounded the corner, but he stood up when he saw them. Steve hurried to his side as Nina introduced herself to Billy, then turned to the pony.

"Peaches!" she said. "Hi, sweet girl. Oh, you scared us."

She gave the pony a quick once-over. Satisfied, she clipped the rope to Peaches' halter and handed the dog leash to Steve.

"Thank you for taking such good care of her," she said with a warm smile. "We were worried sick when she got loose. She's had such a tough time, poor girl."

"What happened?" Steve asked.

Nina's smile faded, her lips tightening into a thin line. "Her last owners weren't very nice to their animals. She developed back problems and couldn't be ridden anymore so they just threw her out in a pasture and left her to fend for herself. Luckily someone called us before it was too late."

"She's a rescue?" Billy said softly.

"Yes," Nina said. "Honestly, I'm surprised she let you catch her. She's still skittish around strangers." She patted the pony's shoulder. "She must like you two."

"Well." Steve ran a hand through his hair. "At least she's safe now, right?"

"Oh, she'll for sure have a home with us if she needs it," Nina said. "But we're a horse rescue. New horses are always coming in and space can be a problem. So ideally our goal is to get all our animals adopted out." She gave Peaches' shoulder another pat. "It might be difficult to find a good home for Peaches, though. She's a sweetheart, but most people want a horse they can ride."

Steve glanced at Billy, who was fidgeting with his ring and staring somewhere past Nina, jaw clenched.

"Hmm." Steve tried to sound casual, fighting to hold back an eager smile. "You know, I think I might know a place."

*

Steve and Billy stood at the fence, arms crossed over the top board, watching Peaches graze while Lemmy and Cookie frolicked in the far corner of the pasture.

Nina had agreed to let them adopt Peaches on the condition they volunteer at the rescue to learn how to take care of her properly. Nina, her family, and the other volunteers were glad to help with everything from answering questions to building the fence and a small barn on their property. They'd made several new friends by the time they were ready to bring Peaches home.

She'd settled in quickly, making friends with the dogs and spending her days grazing and playing. She loved being groomed, and Steve had teased Billy a few times about him spending more time on Peaches' hair than his own now.

Steve and Billy had settled in too. They'd used some of the extra land to plant a garden. Steve converted the garage into a woodworking shop and with a bigger space to work in, he started experimenting with larger pieces. Billy still surfed whenever he could. They took the dogs to the beach and discovered a few new favorite restaurants. It was everything they'd hoped for when they bought the house.

"I was talking to Mrs. Cooper today," Billy said, breaking the silence. "Her goats are having their babies, and I guess there's a lot of them this year. She said we could have a couple if we want."

"Goats?" Steve was so surprised he wasn't sure what else to say.

"Yeah," Billy said. "We've got room. They'd be buddies for Peaches, and we could sell goat milk and stuff eventually."

"Huh," Steve said. "Goats." He shrugged. "Why not?"

Billy grinned. "Great. I'll tell her we'll take 'em."

Steve grinned back, and surrounded by their dogs and their pony and their own happily-ever-after, he and Billy kissed in the soft spring twilight.

[raayllum]

any advice on fic writing? writing definitely isn't my strong suit, and i'd like to get better at it.

luckily i do have a writing advice tag here! :3 there is (hopefully) all sorts of helpful goodies there, about fic writing, some fandom stuff, some stuff that can also be applied to original fiction

my main advice when it comes to fanfiction is three simple rules

practice!! aka write as much as you can

post it even when you don’t like it

write what you want. chase the ideas that interest you

but luckily, since you say that writing isn’t your strong suit (nor was it always mine, lol), a lot of writing... isn’t actually about writing. a lot of it is thinking, yes, or typing. or banging your head against your space bar.

writing is a lot of psychology. and research. my fic “if time is money” has a lot to do with some pretty deep internal character introspection and discussions of mental health. or, on the opposite end, a lot of my fluff fics are just elongated headcanons stacked on top of each other and strung together with like, connective threads so everything is more coherent. and the crux of both of these types of fics (longer and more emotionally heavy VS short and sweet, or hell, even vice versa) is characterization.

which is to say: if anyone is having a hard time writing a fic, it probably, at its core, means you are having a hard time with characterization. 

fanfiction sits in a very unique place of having source material with strong characterization (usually, although there are exceptions). working with already constructed characters is very different than constructing them yourself the way you would in original fiction, because rather than engaging in creation, fanfic engages primarily in interpretation. which is very cool, really fun, and also sometimes really hard.

now, characterization has always been the thing i’ve cared about most in my 10 long years of fic writing. yeah, i might be tweaking or flat out completely changing these characters’ setting or background, but i still want them to feel like them. (which is also a very interesting discussion of nature vs nurture or a combination of both, but that’s a post for another day.) so, how do you figure out if your interpretation (aka characterization) is sound?

there are three main things i’ve learned in this regard.

1) you must have sympathy for the character you are writing. this is crucial when it comes to understanding where a character is coming from. even if they’re wrong! arguably, especially if they’re wrong. but chances are, they don’t think that they are. they think they’re doing the right thing. like, taken viren for example. horrible person, right? does lots of horrible things, manipulates people, tries to have children murdered on three separate occasions. but he still gets up in the morning and has to decide to do the things he does. if i can’t understand his justifications, then i can’t accurately write him, plain and simple. and if i have zero sympathy for him, or any other character, it will show in my writing that i am treating them more like a character than a person. this does not mean portraying all characters sympathetically, but you really do have to understand their bare motivations at least. 

2) they are the main character of their own story. like i said before, different characters are going to have different points of view. depending on what characters you want to write will privilege, likely, who gets to have point of view. for example: if you look at 2x03 from claudia’s pov, you can see how she could view callum’s actions as a betrayal. if you look at 2x03 from callum’s pov, her actions are a betrayal. and character’s points of view are inherently biased. soren, in s1, has a biased view of callum that’s mostly negative; callum, in early s2, has a biased view of claudia that is mostly positive. these are biases because these characters aren’t seeing the whole sum of each other’s personalities, strengths, and weaknesses. that’s one of the reasons why the trio - callum, ezran, and rayla - tend to have less biased views of each other because they see and deal with all the good and all the bad, and they work together through it all. 

which is to say, basically, taking your character’s perspective on morality, worldbuilding details, justifications, is important, but so are the ways they view other characters, and all of these things will, very often, loop back into each other or be impacted by one another. 

3) tracing. this is, quite honestly, probably the most important part of characterization. because the other two points i gave are great, right, but like - how do you figure out how one character views another? how do you figure out what their moral alignments are? well, ladies, theydies, and gents, do i have the solution for you! make your best guess and then trace it back to something in the show!

for example: since 1x09 i looked at rayla and went “baby girl has really bad self loathing issues” because of how much and how broken heartedly she blamed herself for the egg dying, in ways that ezran and callum did not. (see that nice little character contrast?) because even when callum tries to convince her that he’s also responsible - if not more so (“no, i should have trusted you. things only went wrong because we kept fighting”) - rayla doesn’t believe him. i extrapolated on this, yes. it’s a largely two line mention. but it fit with other parts of her we know - snarky, secretive about her own pain (1x06), guilty, hesitant to open up, self sacrificial - from s1. so when 3x04′s self loathing rayla slams in like a freight train, it was exactly the sort of set up, scenario, and character beat i had been waiting almost two whole seasons for.

or, for another example, i saw claudia in 1x03 not understanding harrow’s hesitance about the switching spell from a moral standpoint even when viren did, and went “there’s something disturbing about that girl’s mindset” and thus, absolutely nothing she’s done throughout the rest of show has surprised me. and you can see that similar thread following through, because claudia does the ultimate switching spell in 3x09, almost three whole seasons later. 

you can train yourself to look for these sorts of things. now, canon doesn’t provide all of the answers. half the fun of fandom is plopping characters into situations they would never be in, and there’s always room for a headcanon or two or some nice extrapolation. but i always try and trace things back to a specific line, if i can, or scene. for example, if you’re putting ezran into a situation he’d likely find stressful, how does he respond to other stressful situations in the show? how would he grow in the one you’ve placed him in, if he would at all? finding parallels are especially useful because they can indicate relationship or patterns in characterization, and tdp is gloriously full of them. 

anyway, this was a very long winded way of saying that practice is always good, studying the source material through a focused lens never hurts, and go have fun!! i can’t wait to see what you create!

[captainjanegay]

Where I’m Meant to Be | Stucky | Meet-Cute, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, No powers AU | Chapters 7/? | total 29k words | Ao3

Summary: Bucky is a single dad coming back from a work trip with a very bored, very whiney 7-year-old girl. A mysterious stranger with a kind heart and a notebook full of doodles comes to the rescue.

A/N: It's been... so long since I've updated this fic. I'm sorry but life got in the way and I couldn't bring myself to write anything. Here I come with apologies and hopes that you haven't forgotten about the adventures of Bucky, Alex and Steve. I'm gonna treat you with the longest chapter I've ever written (it's like 5.3k). I hope you'll like it, I got a bit carried away and my space-nerdiness is showing every now and then.

The chapters will probably come very irregularly from now on but I'll try my best not to have too long gaps between each update. I love you all and — as always — thank you so, so much for your continuous support. I cherish every single reader, every single like and every single comment you leave here :')

Chapter 7

(5.2k)

When Monday rolls around, Bucky faces New York’s chilly morning as he makes his way to work. It’s been only a few days since he got sick, but he feels significantly better now. His nose might still be stuffed and his throat might feel a bit scratchy, but he is mostly fine. No more coughing fits, no more fever. And it’s not like he could say no when his boss called him to check how he was doing and ask if he’d be able to come by before Christmas to do some required maintenance work.

But it’s fine, since the work at the Institute has slowed down, many people have already taken their days off for the Christmas break. It’s calmer than usual and Bucky can do whatever he’s supposed to do in peace.

It's a bit past noon and Bucky's mindlessly staring at the progress bar on his screen and enjoys his coffee. The peace and quiet — excluding his Christmas playlist playing in the background — is disturbed by the ringing of his phone. Slightly startled, Bucky looks around, searching for the device. After a quick glance at the screen, he answers the call.

"Hi, Buck!" Steve says, his voice soft and warm. "I hope I didn't wake you up or anything. Just wanted to check up on you, see how you're feeling."

"That's very sweet of you," Bucky says, his lips spreading in a smile. "And I'm fine, thank you. Currently waiting for the data backup to finish so you've disrupted my staring contest with the progress bar."

Steve doesn't appreciate the joke. Instead, he asks, "You're at work?" After receiving an affirmative hum, he lets out a slightly annoyed huff. "Why? You should still be in bed! Three days ago you've been barely able to get up for longer than 10 minutes. You should still rest, Buck."

"It's been six days ago, thank you very much," Bucky answers. "And I'm fine, Steve. I promise. I wouldn't come if I was still feeling sick, but the fever's been gone for a few days," two but Steve doesn't have to know that, "and I'm not coughing anymore. I'm as fit as a fiddle."

"I can hear you sniffle."

"It's the allergies," Bucky lies and that makes Steve laugh, although a bit exasperated.

"You're horrible," he says. "Bet you haven't even eaten breakfast or drink enough water or like... didn’t even wear a hat even though you’re sick."

"I did have a toast while I ran to catch the train. And now I'm having coffee for lunch. And it’s not even that cold."

An honest-to-God gasp escapes Steve's mouth after he hears that. Of course he's a Mr. Healthy Lifestyle, Bucky shouldn't even be surprised.

"How are you even functioning? You gotta take care of yourself, Buck."

Bucky's heart skips a bit. It's nice to have someone worry about him. Even if he's being dragged in the meantime. And it was nice when Steve took care of him and Alex back when Bucky was too sick to do this. Of course, he has people who do that. Clint, Tasha, Scott -- he can always count on them. But somehow it feels different with Steve. Steve hasn't been around for years like the others, he's known Bucky for just a few months and he still decided to offer his kindness and care. This thought made Bucky's heart do somersaults in his chest.

So did the fact that Steve had a nickname to Bucky's nickname. And he's been using it a lot. Bucky really likes it.

"I'm functioning very well, thank you. And so is Alex, because I'm not as hopeless in taking care of her, luckily," Bucky chuckles. Before Steve can't say anything, Bucky adds, "Besides, I've been able to survive 28 years like this so don't be overdramatic. No need to go all mother hen on me."

"Oh, you think this is overdramatic?" Steve asks, amused. "You clearly don't know what me being overdramatic is, pal. This is just some simple, friendly check-in."

"Okay, now I'm kinda curious," Bucky says. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much. "Hypothetically, what would one have to do to see what is Steve Rogers's definition of overdramatic?"

It makes Steve let out another laugh. "Careful what you wish for, Buck." It sounds like Steve wants to say something else but there's some noise in the background and his voice becomes distant and inaudible for a moment. When he comes back, he says with a sigh, "Sorry 'bout that. I need to go back to work. I'm glad you're feeling better but eat a proper meal or I'll hunt you down."

"Oh, so no mother hen anymore, were going straight to threats, okay." Bucky nods to himself and Steve huffs out a laugh. "Thanks for the call, Steve. It's very sweet of you. Have a nice day."

"You, too. Say hi to Alex from me."

"I will. Bye, Steve."

.

A small smile is still present on Bucky's face when a few hours later he's picking Alex up from school. It grows bigger when she runs towards him down the stairs, her haphazardly wrapped scarf fluttering behind her. He takes a moment to tuck it properly and then takes Alex's backpack from her.

“How was school today?” Bucky asks as they head home.

“Fine. We played soccer and I scored once!” Alex answers proudly. “Even Adrian didn’t and he’s very good. Maya didn’t want to play ‘cause she says girls shouldn’t play soccer.”

“Jokes on her, because we have a women’s national soccer team and they’re the best. They’re the world champions.”

A gasps escapes Alex’s mouth. “Really? That’s so cool! I want to be a soccer player when I grow up!”

“Not a ballerina, anymore?” Bucky asks, with a small smile.

“No, I’m gonna be a ballerina but I’m gonna play soccer sometimes, too. But that’s after I’ll fly to the moon!”

Bucky only nods and grins at her. He wouldn’t be surprised in the least if she actually pulled that off in the future. There weren’t many things that could stop her since she decided upon something.

“How’s space?” Alex asks, swinging their hands back and forth.

Bucky chuckles. It’s a bit of a tradition at this point. He doesn’t really remember how it started but now she never asks him “how’s work” but it’s always “how’s space?”. Personally, Bucky loves it. It makes him feel like he’s doing much cooler things that he really does.

“Pretty boring, sadly,” he admits. “Didn’t have much to do today and many people are on their breaks so no fun space facts to share today. I chatted on the phone with Steve and he wanted me to say hi to you.”

“Oh, is he coming over today?”

Slightly confused with the question, Bucky shakes his head. “No, he’s not. We just talked on the phone. Why?”

“I don’t know, I thought you liked Steve.”

“Well, I do. I like uncle Scott too but we don’t hang out with him every day, either. Steve has his own life and stuff to do, so we shouldn’t bother him all the time.”

Alex makes a small hum and Bucky’s not sure if it’s a dismissive or an agreeing one. After a moment, she adds, “I bet he wouldn’t mind though. He told me he really likes you.”

“What? When?” The revelation almost makes Bucky stop in the middle of the pavement. The biggest surprise is not that Steve likes him, Bucky has figured out this much after all those times they’ve hung out together. What really takes him aback is that apparently his daughter and Steve are having conversations about him when he’s not there.

“When you were sick and Steve went to ballet class with me. I told him he’s cool and I’m happy you have him so you’re not so lonely. And he said he thinks we’re really cool too and that he likes us a lot.”

This time Bucky slows down and eventually stops. There’s a furrow between his brows when he looks at Alex.

“Why would you think I’m lonely, munchkin? I’m not, I have you and mama, uncle Clint and Scott. And now Steve. I’m more than fine.”

“Well… Okay, maybe I didn’t mean lonely. But sometimes when you have a lot to do and you worry and mama or uncle Clint are busy you do this—” Alex furrows her brows and pouts, apparently imitating a worried Bucky “and you’re quiet and worried. And now you smile even more than you did. You smile all the time when you text Steve.”

For a moment, Bucky only gapes at her, not sure how to react. That’s a lot of information coming at once from his 7-year-old daughter.

“I’m— Well, I’m okay, even if I worry sometimes. And I couldn’t be lonely, having such a sweet little munchkin by my side,” he smiles, bopping her on the nose and getting a smile in return. “But thank you for caring about me, sweetheart. I love you to the moon and back.”

“And I love you to Jupiter!” she answers.

“But not back?” Bucky raises an eyebrow.

“Nah, it’s already so far away, it’s enough.”

The conversation with Alex stays in Bucky’s head for the rest of the day. It’s gnawing at him enough that before he goes to bed, he takes out his phone and calls Natasha.

“How’s my favourite co-parent doing?” she greets.

“Do you have any more co-parents?” Bucky asks instead of answering.

“Nope. That’s what makes you my favourite.” Bucky only sighs so she continues. “Did something happen? You’re usually in the mood for late night conversation when something’s on your mind.”

There’s no point in denying it since Natasha would see right through him. “It’s nothing bad. Apparently Alex thinks I’m lonely.”

“Well, she’s not wrong.”

“What? Tasha, no. I’m not lonely, where did you two get that idea?”

“James, it’s not my fault that you’re an idiot. I know that you have people who love you around. You know that, too. But I know and you also should know — but here’s the ‘idiot’ part — that it might not be enough sometimes. And I’m pretty sure we’ve had a similar conversation like a month ago, so I don’t know why you act all surprised now.”

“Remind me, why did I even call you?”

“Because I am incredible and you value my opinion like no one else’s and also you love me deeply,” Natasha explains dutifully. 

Bucky huffs out a laugh as he sits heavily on the side of his bed. His eyes land on the comic from Steve, still laying on Bucky’s bedside table, propped against the lamp. “Sounds fake, but okay.”

“Did our daughter have any more revelations for you?” Natasha asks.

“Well…,” Bucky hesitates for a moment. “She and Steve gossip about me when I’m not around. And apparently I’ve been smiling more lately. But that’s about it.” 

Natasha hums but even through the phone Bucky can hear that she’s rather amused. 

"What?" Bucky asks.

"I didn't say anything!"

"I can hear you laughing, just say whatever mean thing you're going to say and let's get this over with."

"I'm not gonna say anything mean! I was just wondering when we'd mention Steve in this conversation," she chuckles. "But really. Even your daughter can see that a relationship would be good for you. And that you like Steve a lot. Why not kill two birds with one Steve?"

Bucky sighs. "Because one Steve is also enough to kill this friendship we have."

"Why do you always just automatically assume that things will get fucked? It doesn't have to be the case. I'm serious, you'd better take a grip on yourself and ask him out or I'm back in three days and I'll do this for you. And I'll be as obnoxious and embarrassing for you as I can."

That's actually a pretty horrible threat. She would do that. And it would be both mortifying and horrible to experience for all the involved parties — maybe except Natasha. Bucky laughs, trying to imagine it, but the laugh is short-lived.

"Come on, Nat," Bucky starts after a moment, getting serious. "Steve is great and it's great having him around. But what if I make a move and he's not interested? I don't want to freak him out. Or remember that message I accidentally saw on his computer? He might be seeing someone already or be interested in someone else," Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. "Plus, I know from experience that no matter how much he might seem to like me, a guy with a kid can turn out to be a bit much for people. I don't want to get hurt. I don't want Alex to get hurt. She adores Steve and I don't know if I can risk it."

"But I'm telling you, nobody's getting hurt anytime soon," Natasha chimes in. "You're overthinking, Yasha. Those are all valid concerns but you know what the counterargument is?" She takes a small break but she's not expecting Bucky to respond. "Steve's a good guy. He likes you. He likes Alex. He came to a primary school dance recital after knowing you for like a week just because you and Alex asked him to. Even if he doesn't want a relationship, it doesn’t mean that your friendship has to end. From all you've told me, he doesn't seem like the kind to trample on your hearts like this. Give yourself some time, but promise me you're gonna think about it, okay? And call me if you work yourself up into an anxious mess again, okay?”

“I will try not to be an anxious mess, but I’ll let you know. And I’ll think about it. Thanks, Tasha.” Bucky says.

“I love you no matter what, you dumbfuck. Bye.”

Bucky barely manages to say it back before she hangs up. He shakes his head with a small smile and retrieves his charger cable from behind the bedside table. As he plugs his phone, he accidentally knocks down the drawing from Steve. He picks it up, staring at the soft lines for who-knows-which time. His thumb gently traces the “Get well soon, Buck! x” scribbled at the bottom.

Looking at it, Bucky imagines the moment when Steve was writing it down. In his mind, he sees both Steve and Alexandra at the kitchen table, both leaning over their respective pieces of paper, focused on whatever they’re drawing. They are smiling, chatting about whatever common interest they’ve currently discovered. It’s a very nice picture. Enough to make Bucky’s heart ache.

Because Natasha is right. This is exactly what Bucky craves and what he’s been ignoring for years. That domesticity, that warm feeling one gets when looking at someone they care about. That happiness. He can almost imagine himself joining the picture he’s created in his head, walking over to that table and dropping a kiss first on Alex’s head and then on Steve’s, before he starts preparing the dinner. It feels right. 

Maybe it’s not usual to imagine this calm, family life with someone he’s not even in a relationship with. Most people probably think of tons of other things, things that are not so… settled. Not as serious. Sometimes they never reach this part. But Bucky has figured a while ago that it doesn’t really work for him. He already has a family. And this family means everything and more to him. If he ever was to date, he has to make sure that the person would fit into his and Alexandra’s life. He has to skip ahead to make sure it’s worth going through the dates and the passion and all the work a relationship requires, without it all ending in a heartbreak. But Steve… 

Steve fits so well into this picture, it scares Bucky a bit. Because this would be even harder to let go, if things didn't work out.

It's pretty clear, now that he allows himself to think about it, that he has some feelings for Steve. Besides the friendliness and sympathy, that is. They're the romantic kind and they're still fresh and shy but they're here. And Bucky has absolutely no clue how to deal with them. It's not even that surprising, he realises. Because how could he not catch feelings for Steve? For the kindest, most thoughtful and most selfless person in the world? For someone with his heart made of gold, who always knows how to make Bucky laugh? Someone who gets so passionate about the things he loves and just as much about the ones he despises? Who cares deeply, laughs with his whole body and who next to all this softness and kindness, is also a stubborn little asshole? Who — and this is the most important of all — adores Alex and whom she adores just as much?

Bucky's heart was a lost cause from the start.

Steve has a lot of qualities that Bucky would fall for if he looked for a partner. And that he accidentally might have fallen for anyway. And that's all without even mentioning that Steve is so ridiculously attractive that it might've skewed Bucky's view on beauty forever. 

The point is — Natasha is right. That this could be a good thing. They could be a good thing. But what they have now is already good and Bucky really values this friendship. He isn't sure if pursuing a hypothetical picture in his head is worth putting it at risk. Because he still can't be sure if Steve's interested. For what Bucky knows, he's kind and caring towards all of his friends. It doesn't mean that Bucky and Alex are special. 

He can almost hear Natasha's voice in his head, calling him an idiot and yelling that he won't know until he tries. Which is right, since Natasha always is. It doesn't help him stop the — partially excited but mostly terrified — somersaults his insides make. With a small sigh, he puts the drawing on its place by the lamp, flicks off the lights and burrows himself under the covers. He doesn't have to have everything figured out straight away. Letting himself even consider it is a big enough step for now, he decides as he drifts off to sleep.

.

The next day is Bucky's last day at work before the Christmas break. He doesn't really have much to do, just finishing some last updates and dealing with whatever paperwork he was putting off earlier. Most of the time, he chats with Scott, who has been wandering aimlessly around the institute for the lack of work and eventually landed in Bucky's tiny office. They've been chatting about their Christmas plans — nothing too elaborate for both of them, just simple time at home with their families — and now they started discussing where they should go to grab some lunch. Just as Bucky almost convinced Scott that they should go to this sushi place down the block instead of the Italian place, there's a knock on the door.

Bucky sends his friend a confused look.

"It wasn't me," Scott raises his hands in defence.

"Come in," Bucky calls after another second passes. It's probably someone having a last-minute computer problem or one of his co-workers wanting to drop by with Christmas wishes.

Except, when the door cracks open, Steve's head pokes in. Its hair is messy, its cheeks reddened from the cold and its lips spread in a smile.

"Hi, Buck. And hi Scott, it's nice to see you again," he says. "I'm not interrupting?"

And because Bucky's brain is still processing the fact that for some reason Steve's come to visit him at work, Scott's the one who says, "Not at all, come in."

Steve hesitates for another second. Bucky's brain finally kicks in and he smiles which is apparently the invitation Steve needed, because he finally fully walks into the office.

"Hi, Steve. I didn't expect you here," Bucky says, his smile growing bigger.

"Well, you should. Because after our talk yesterday, I decided to bring you lunch," Steve says, proudly showing a big paper bag in his hand. "I told you you haven't seen shit, and especially not overdramatic me."

This makes Bucky laugh out loud as he shakes his head in disbelief. How is Steve even real?

Scott is watching them with a slightly confused but endeared smile on his face. Before anyone can say anything, he gets up from the chair, slapping his thighs as he does.

"Okay then, I'll leave you to it," he says, walking towards the door.

"There's plenty to share, if you want to join us," Steve offers, because of course he does. His gold-heartedness wouldn't have it any other way.

But Scott only shakes his head at that. "Nah, I'm in the mood for some sushi today. Thanks, though."

"Asshole," Bucky narrows his eyes at Scott. "I hope you'd choke on it."

His friend only laughs at that, "Enjoy your lunch date! It's been great to see you, Steve. Merry Christmas."

"You too, Scott. Say hi to Hope and Cassie from me."

With one last grin aimed at Bucky — and a very pointed look behind Steve's back — Scott leaves them alone. Bucky tries not to dwell on the fact that Steve didn't even bat an eye when Scott called it a lunch date.

"Why should he choke?" Steve asks with a chuckle.

"I've been trying to talk him into going to that sushi place for almost twenty minutes before you came," Bucky sighs and then notices that Steve is still hovering by the door. "Come on, take your coat off and sit down. I can't believe you've brought me lunch."

Steve shrugs off his coat and leaves it on the hanger by the door, next to Bucky's. Today he's wearing a maroon sweater that really suits him and a pair of dark jeans. He pushes his sleeves up before he digs into the bag and Bucky tries not to stare too obviously.

"Someone's got to make sure you eat, since after yesterday I've gotten an idea you're not good at it yourself," Steve says. "Guess it wasn't necessary. Sadly, I don't have sushi but maybe you're in the mood for Thai?"

"Depends on whether you've brought me the dumplings or not," Bucky answers.

Steve laughs in response and takes out one of the boxes and hands it to Bucky. "I did. I also have green curry for you? I hope I remembered correctly that you like it? If not, I'm sorry, we can switch—"

"Steve." Bucky says solemnly, placing his hand on Steve's forearm, to stop him from fumbling with the food. "You not only brought me food but you remembered my favourite after I mentioned it one time. You are an angel. You should hide it better, because you make us mortals look bad."

He's only half joking. Steve does seem like a higher being of some sorts and it's unfair that Bucky's poor heart is supposed to handle it. It doesn't do a great job. Especially not when Steve laughs, his eyes crinkle so much they turn into thin slits.

"And I am the overdramatic one?" Steve asks, unpacking the last things and finally sitting on the chair across from Bucky. He's still smiling but there's a blush colouring his cheeks and creeping down his neck.

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek to contain a grin but the truth is, he's immensely proud of himself for pulling this reaction out of Steve. To stop himself from saying something stupid, he digs into his food.

"By the way, how did you find me here?" Bucky asks, his tongue sticking out a bit in concentration as he fishes for a dumpling with his chopsticks. 

"Clara let me know where your office is, she was very helpful."

Bucky furrows his brows. The surprise makes him drop his dumpling back into the container. "Clara, as in Clara Oswald, our receptionist? How do you know her?"

"I don't. We've chatted for a few minutes and I explained why I'm here and she told me how to get to you."

"Ah, of course it took you about five minutes to charm her and get into a government building just like that," Bucky chuckles.

"I didn't charm anyone! I just politely asked and she helped!"

If it wasn't Steve, Bucky would take it as fake modesty. But the truth is that Steve really seems to be completely oblivious to the effect he has on people. It’s endearing to see him do this.

"So here's when you do your cool space stuff?" Steve asks, changing the subject.

"Here's when the real scientists come searching for help when there's some IT-related issue," Bucky corrects him. "I don't do anything cool. I make sure all the data is where it's supposed to be and that whatever equipment they need is ready and working properly. Or part of it, Scott's an engineer and he takes care of the rest. I do get to read some space facts first hand, though."

"That's still cool space stuff for me," Steve shrugs with a small smile. "What kinds of things are you researching here? Like some particular aspects of outer space, or—?"

Normally Bucky would just give the shortest answer possible. People usually get bored quickly when he starts talking about it. But something in the genuine interest on Steve's face, the way he is looking around the office — which is nothing special, the only nice things are the sky maps and some spaced themed art  — makes Bucky think that maybe Steve wouldn't mind getting the longer answer.

"Well, we mostly study the weather. Both the Earth's and the one in the solar system, like the solar winds and magnetic storms, stuff like that. We study exoplanets and try to discover or guess as much as we can about them," Bucky says. "I helped to create simulations that predicted how they could look like and develop, to see if there's a possibility to inhabit them. We did it by basically dumping all the data we have into an elaborate computer programme and waiting to see what comes out." Bucky laughs and Steve does too, but he has the look of utter fascination on his face as he listens. "And all this helps with some more down-to-earth stuff — pun not intended. Like, we've done tons of studies in climate change."

"That's—," Steve starts when he makes sure that Bucky's done. "All of this sounds incredible. And you're a part of all those amazing things, how great is that?"

Bucky feels that his cheeks start to burn. There's another reason he usually sticks with the short answer. As much as he's proud to be working here and as much as he loves it, the impostor in him always makes sure that he understands the difference between his work and the actual research, analysis and all the heavy lifting that the astronomers do. He helps, of course he does. He does a great job at it, but there's still a difference. And such praise usually makes him squirm uncomfortably.

"And don't even try to get all modest with me again," Steve warns as if he's been reading Bucky's mind. "You've said that you don't do cool space stuff and then admitted that you've helped to create a program to imagine how exoplanets can look and change. So I know you're full of bullshit."

Steve raises an eyebrow in what's supposed to be an unimpressed look but it's not even close. The smile and the curious, bright eyes that are stating right at Bucky are destroying the effect. The blush on Bucky's cheeks only deepens, especially as Steve adds. "I've been impressed before but— Wow. Really, you guys are doing such incredible things here, I can’t wrap my head around it."

"We really do," Bucky agrees, eventually.

The beaming smile Steve sends him feels like a reward Bucky didn't know he deserves.

"So you've always liked space? Or was it an accident that brought you here?" Steve asks.

"No, I've always loved it. It's just so fascinating and there's always so much more to learn about it," Bucky doesn't even try to hide his excitement. "I've never fully understood all the science behind it but I loved staring at the sky, trying to find all those constellations and planets and galaxies. I've figured a way to somehow connect it to what I was good at and make it my job. Which is amazing. But now I mostly stare at the computer screen instead of the stars. "

He doesn't want to sound ungrateful but he must admit that it does kill some of the fun. But not even the astronomers simply state up at the sky to admire the view.

Steve only nods in response. "Alex mentioned that you guys went on a trip out of town to watch the stars. It must've been great."

"We did! It was like… almost 2 years ago, I think? I borrowed one of those fancy telescopes they have here. I needed to pick Alex up every time, cause she was too small to reach it," Bucky laughs as he brings out the memories. "It was fun, we should do that again, sometime. But I don't have much time now, so it’ll have to wait."

"It does sound great," Steve smiles that soft smile again. "I hope you'd find some time as it gets warm enough for such trips. I bet Alex would be delighted."

"Yeah. I'll let you know if that happens, in case you'd like to join," Bucky says before he can think better of it.

There's more of the childlike excitement on Steve's face as Bucky mentions it so maybe it wasn't that bad of an idea.

An actual bad idea comes out of Bucky's mouth a bit later, just as Steve is getting ready to head out. Bucky's lunch break is long gone and forgotten, because it's been two hours that Steve spent here. He apologises for staying so long and the assurances that Bucky didn't have any more work to do doesn't help.

"I'm sorry for taking your mind away from your responsibilities, but it was great spending time with you," Steve says.

So of course, because Bucky's heart doesn't get any chance to regroup, he doesn't have time to think before he blurts out. "We should have dinner together."

It's certainly not something Steve was expecting to hear. He just stares at Bucky. Before he has a chance to say anything, Bucky continues, "I mean. You should come for dinner. Clint and Nat are always around for a dinner, sometime between Christmas and New Year's. If you don't have any plans, it would be great if you came. But it's okay if you can't or don't want to."

Another moment passes and Bucky tries not to squirm under Steve's gaze. Luckily, Steve finally blinks and smiles as he says, "No, Buck, of course I'd love to come! I don't have any particular plans, will probably hang out with Sam for most of the break but I'll have plenty of time."

"You could take Sam with you," Bucky adds. He desperately tries to regain the control of his own mouth. "It'd be great to finally meet him."

"I'll let him know, I bet he’d be happy to come, too. Thanks again for the invite," Steve smiles as he cracks open the door. With a little wave, he walks out of the office. "Bye, Buck. Have a nice day."

"You too, Steve," Bucky says to the already closing door.

When Steve's gone, Bucky exhales heavily through his mouth as he leans back in his chair. Both of his hands go up to thread through his hair, tugging at it lightly.

Apparently, he has a dinner to prepare.

taglist: @steverrogers​ @till-the-end-of-the-line-punk​ @buckyshappyending

[winetae]

⇾ what you did last summer (m).

⇁ female reader x yoongi

⇁ smut, trophy wife!au

⇁ slowburn, dom!yoongi, age difference, consensual non-monogamy, power imbalance, semi-public sex, objectification, face-fucking, derogatory language and possessive behavior during sex, creampie, cum marking, unsafe sex, everyone is kind of slutty, not as wildt as warnings may imply 

⇁ unnecessarily long for a pwp. 33.8k. phew.

. . .

Yoongi was fine with a lot of things—you maxing out his credit cards to buy ridiculously expensive items of clothing that you never wore more than once, you taking out his newest ride for a spin without permission, you spending an extra thirty minutes on your hair and makeup when he was running late for a dinner function. 

What he was not okay with, however, was you sharing your pussy with barely-out-of-college boys who were incapable of going five seconds without creaming their pants.

No, that was where he drew the line.

↳ alternatively titled; How to Get Dick - an autobiography written by (you) 

author’s note | while this fic does contain a semblance of plot, the focus is more on characterization which i understand can make for a boring read. also note that i have done (0) research and despite having owned a pool, still to this day do not know how to clean one. 

written for 1 of my closest friends @tayegi as the most belated bday gift to have ever been gifted. ily :( ty for having passionate naruto-related discussions w/ me at 6am. u r the real deal ! 

(!) pls read the warnings. uncomfortable subject matter if delved in too deeply. tbh i didn’t know how to tag. also yoongi is older in this fic - an age gap is there and implied although none of the characters’ ages are specified. 

song inspo: needy - ariana grande. that’s all! enjoy! hopefully! /cries

.

.

{THURSDAY. 10:23 am.}

.

“Hi, um, I’m Jungkook.”

The man shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling all sorts of self-conscious.

In stark contrast to his casual appearance, you looked neatly put together, not a strand of hair out of place. His well worn jeans and simple white tee looked terribly shabby in comparison to the tailored cream colored dress that hugged your figure. Jungkook didn’t need to check the original price tag or the label stitched onto the fabric to know that your outfit was Expensive (with a capital E for emphasis).

Doubt made his stomach turn. Had there been a dress code stated somewhere in the job description? Given Jungkook’s disposition, it didn’t seem very likely that he had overlooked such a crucial detail. He was the type to obsess over the smallest details, always double-checking everything before giving the go ahead.

Yet despite all of the precautions he was certain he had taken, Jungkook was unable to shake off the feeling of being disgustingly underdressed.

Worry bubbled in the pit of his stomach. His palms began to sweat as his gaze flitted back and forth between the pale pink freshwater pearls hanging off your neck and the clothes he had haphazardly thrown on this morning.

Well at least they were ironed, he mused. It was but a small consolation—the denim was faded from one wash too many and the frayed holes near his kneecaps made his jeans look tattered. Had he known the neighborhood would be this posh, he would have chosen his outfit with greater care. Right now he regretted not putting in more effort, if only to blend in with his surroundings. As he was now, he looked distinctly out of place. Almost as ridiculous as Samsung’s CEO taking a leisurely stroll through the downtown dollar store.

Jungkook half-expected you to take one glance at him, upturn your nose and slam the polished oak door in his face. In his panicked state, a number of embarrassing scenarios reeled through his mind, each one filling him with nauseating dread.

It was your expectant expression that snapped him out of his daze. He slowly blinked back into focus, realizing he had paused for a few seconds too long, and he cleared his throat.

A smile stretched across his face, not quite of the genuine kind. He squared his shoulders for good measure, doing his best to conceal the stress shaking up his insides.

“My name is Jeon Jungkook. I spoke to Mr. Min on the phone yesterday. I was expected to arrive at ten thirty?” His voice rose a little at the end, uncertain. It hadn’t been meant to be phrased as a question but his nerves made his voice quiver.

“Ah, yes, of course. And right on time, too.” Jungkook had made sure of it; he despised running late. “Nice to meet you, I’m ______,” you greeted, voice as smooth as velvet.

He tried not to openly stare because wow. Your blinding smile looked straight out of a Colgate advertisement, a tad too white to be completely natural.

Once again, you had him feeling self-conscious and all too aware of his own, less than perfect appearance. Whether it was the anxiety or the scorching heat beating down his back—or an unpleasant mix of both—a film of perspiration formed over his skin, leaving him sticky and uncomfortable.

Jungkook discreetly wiped off his palms against his denim clad thighs before taking your outstretched hand in his.

Despite your small size, your grip was surprisingly firm. If you noticed how abnormally clammy his hand was, you refrained from commentary. Instead, you held the door open a bit wider and ushered him inside the imposing abode.

“You can follow me. I’ll show you around to the back.”

He gave a little jerky nod and let you take the lead. For a moment, all he could hear was the nervous beat of his heart and the steady click-clack of your heels against the immaculate white floor tiles.

Jungkook blushed, quickly turning his head the moment he caught himself staring at your swaying hips. He wet his lips, his eyes darting around for any kind of distraction.

Inwardly, he scolded himself as he pinched the bit of flesh between his thumb and index finger.

Workplace crushes were never a good idea. Wasn’t it, like, written down in the code of conduct or something? It didn’t even have to be a rule. It was just common sense.

And Jungkook had no plans to fuck this job up. Summer jobs that paid this kind of money were scarce and hard to find. For someone like him who needed the money desperately, this job was a godsend, one that he would never dare pass up.

From the moment he had set foot onto Mr. Min’s property, Jungkook had realized that this wouldn’t be anything like his other part-time jobs that had consisted of repainting his neighbor’s fence and watering Mrs. Anderson’s flowers whenever she left town to visit her son. But this? This wouldn’t be just another pool cleaning job, that was for sure.

For one, the mansion, like every house in the vicinity, reeked of money. In his eyes, they all seemed to be competing against each other, with ridiculous, Disneyland-esque shaped hedges and wide, winding driveways capable of fitting several imported cars at a time. On the drive over, Jungkook had even spotted a marble fountain planted in the middle of someone’s front yard, clear water spouting out of a cupid’s arrow. He half expected peacocks and other exotic animals to parade across their lawns like some kind of zoo.

He could only assume that most of these ostentatious properties were owned by business tycoons or AAA-list celebrities. He cast a glance around as he tried to guess which of the two categories his employer belonged to.

To his dismay, there was nothing that particularly stood out to him. In all honesty it was…a little underwhelming. Jungkook had been expecting something jaw dropping in its obnoxiousness but he could spot no cupid fountains or gigantic aquariums built in the wall or pet tigers in gilded cages.

Mr. Min, whoever he was, seemed to favor subtlety. There were no life-sized cutouts of his person, no trophy collection showing off his achievements. The walls were painted an off-white, only decorated by the occasional painting. There were no family portraits, no personal belongings indicating that a person actually lived and breathed in this house. If he hadn’t known beforehand, Jungkook would have believed himself to be in some fancy hotel, not a home.

But the lack of personal ornaments did nothing to quell Jungkook’s growing curiosity. Questions whizzed through his brain. Was his employer a successful plastic surgeon? The living space somewhat reminded him of his dentist’s waiting room. Very clinical and clean. Then again, there was really no telling who he was working for. Maybe they were one of those Wolf of Wall Street stock brokers that owned dozens of unused vacation homes. Or, perhaps, Mr. Min happened to be one of those top-of-the-food-chain entertainment producers… His name did sound awfully familiar for some reason he couldn’t—

Jungkook hadn’t even realized his footsteps had slowed down, too caught up in his thoughts.

“You enjoy art?” The sound of your voice roused him from his ruminations. He jumped, head snapping in your direction so fast his neck throbbed.

Your head was tilted in what seemed to be—interest? The angle drew attention to the slope of your neck and for a few short seconds, Jungkook freaked out, wondering if it was normal to find the delicate curve of someone’s neck attractive. Was that too weird? Luckily he hadn’t been outright staring but he could still feel the tips of his ears heat up in embarrassment.

A beat passed as he finally registered your question. Did he like—? Oh. Somewhat belatedly, he realized that you had been talking about the work of art hung up on the far right wall. He must have been staring at it earlier without noticing. Was it a painting? A sculpture? He scratched his neck, not really knowing how to identify it. He couldn’t tell what it was supposed to represent, either, no matter how long he examined it.

“Not particularly... I mean,” he quickly backtracked, suddenly worried this was some kind of test. “I like it, I just don’t know much about it.”

It was easier to settle for honesty. Lying had never been his strongest suit. Besides, as much as he’d like to impress you, he had no actual knowledge to show off. And he’d rather be ignorant than a liar. Knowledge—well, he could always catch up on and learn what he didn’t know. Trust, however, was hard to earn back when lost.

“I find certain pieces nice to look at but my appreciation for art is rather superficial.”

Although you covered it well, he could tell you were slightly put off by his answer, almost as if you had been expecting something else. Jungkook worried his bottom lip, nervous he had said the wrong thing.

“I see...” Your eyes slid over to the artwork. “Beauty is subjective, isn’t it? Art is supposed to adhere to those rules, too. Some people will find this pretty, some won’t. And yet... It’s not that simple, either. Who assigns value to a piece? The artist or the consumer? I wonder about that sometimes.”

Jungkook nodded, unsure what else to say. You didn’t seem to mind the lack of commentary, continuing on, “I think about it a lot, actually. How do you define someone’s worth?”

Your expression shifted into something indecipherable, gaze slightly glassy, mind elsewhere. Remembering yourself, you covered it up with a polite smile.

“That there is a Rudolf Stingel piece, worth just a little over 5 million. It’s one of my favorites.”

He covered his shock with a loud cough that sounded more like a choke.

“Five million?” Disbelief colored his tone. Five million. Holy shit. “I-Is Mr. Min an art collector?”

Bitterly, Jungkook thought about how he could spend the rest of his life cleaning pools and never make enough to buy a scrap of metal signed Stingel. Not that he wanted to own one. It was just... The idea of being rich enough to spend millions on junk was—

He swallowed, forcing the feeling down. He tried very hard not to think about how one piece of metal could pay for the entirety of his tuition and then some. If he did, he’d likely spiral into depression. Being a broke college student sucked.

“You could say that...”

You shrugged, half smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It wasn’t like the blinding, 100-watt beam you had flashed his way the moment the front door had swung open. This version was less overwhelming, but certainly no less potent. The slow curl of your lips made it easier to admire the defined features of your face. Jungkook swallowed.

Beauty was subjective? Maybe so. Jungkook had no taste for the two-dimensional. He wouldn’t be able to discern a Monet from a Picasso if asked. But something about you had him inclined to change his mind. 

Jungkook had seen beautiful women parade before him—but none like you. Your beauty was eerie—pretty in an almost unnatural way. You looked like a painting brought to life. There was something soft and sharp about your traits, like the definition of a marble statue and the roundness of a paintbrush stroking a canvas all in one. 

“—He does buy a lot of it.”

“I see...” If Mr. Min had objects worth 5 million casually displayed in plain sight, he had to be the type of individual Jungkook would never cross paths with in his everyday life. They belonged to two different worlds, their orbits never meant to cross paths.

“Come on.” You smiled kindly, yanking him out of his stupor. “I still have to show you the pool.”

Dutifully, he followed after you, his steps measured and careful. Now was not the time to go breaking million dollar vases from the Qing dynasty or whatever other valuable pieces Mr. Min had acquired over the years. He sure as hell didn’t have five million in his bank account around to spend on damages. The mere possibility of getting fired on the first day, 5 million in debt, made his skin crawl unpleasantly. He shuddered.

“It’s a bit cold in here,” you apologized once you noticed him rubbing his arms. Goosebumps had raised on his skin. “Should I turn the AC off?”

“I’m fine! Really. Please don’t worry. I’ll be working outside, anyway. Unless… Is it, uh, an indoor pool?” He hadn’t considered that a possibility until now. Maybe there were even multiple pools to clean.

“No, no, the pool’s outside.” You continued your explanation as you led him through the conservatory. The glass ceiling allowed for natural sunlight to filter through, enhancing the aesthetic appeal of the room. Out of all the rooms he had walked through so far, this one seemed like the most inviting.  “You can see it from here. See? Just through here. There’s no justifiable need for an indoor pool since the one we have is heated.”

Jungkook picked up on the strange use of pronoun—we—but didn’t question it. His thoughts were all jumbled up, anxiety making him unable to focus on one topic for too long. “Although, I suppose you could say there isn’t much need for this one, either. It rarely gets used… Honestly, I can’t remember the last time Yoongi went for a swim. It’s almost a waste.”

It took him several seconds for him to realize you were referring to Mr. Min. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered how long you had worked under Mr. Min to be able to address him by his first name. Or maybe his boss was lax about these kind of things? Jungkook somehow doubted it. The man he had on the phone last night hadn’t given off that impression at all.

���Is Mr. Min not home often?” he asked tentatively, hoping his interest wasn’t blatant. Jungkook wasn’t sure if his questions were appropriate or not but thankfully you didn’t seem to mind his curiosity. “Will I meet him today?”

“He should be stopping by later for lunch...” Your voice trailed off before you remembered his first question. “But, no. He spends most of his time locked up in his office, so I doubt you’ll see him very often.”

You said this as you turned your face away. Eyes downcast, you failed to notice when Jungkook caught your grimace from the glass door’s reflection. Jungkook diverted his gaze, somehow feeling like he had seen something he shouldn’t have.

“Ah, here we are.” You slid the glass door open and a gust of warm air blew in his face.

Jungkook stepped out onto the deck, one of his hands raised to block his view from the sun. The garden was in full bloom, a colorful arrangement of hydrangeas, astilbe and daylilies lining the stone pathway that wound down to the gazebo and the pool. A thick, sweet scent hung heavy in the air, so strong it made his nose twitch.

He followed you down the patio, watching in fascination as you walked atop of uneven stone steps with expertise despite the thinness and tallness of your heels.

“I’ll have to get another key double made for the shed, I forgot to get another one done. We keep all the cleaning equipment in here. Next time you come, you can come straight back here after someone’s buzzed you in.”

Jungkook nodded as you showed him where to check the water circulation.

“Do you have any questions? Hm, I think I covered everything. Although I’m sure there’ll be things I’ll need to tell you along the way because I tend to be forgetful.”

It occurred to him that he didn’t know what kind of job you occupied. The question balanced on the tip of his tongue. Would it be considered rude to ask? He swallowed it back down after failing to muster the courage to ask.

“Hm?” You made an inquisitive sound, head tilting slightly. “What is it? You can ask me anything.”

“So, uh, have you worked here long? Do you like it here?”

“Worked here…? Oh. Oh!” Your look of surprise morphed into one of amusement. The corners of your mouth pressed down together in an effort to hold back a laugh.

Jungkook grew uneasy. Somehow, without needing an explanation, he knew he had said the wrong thing.

“I don’t work here. Well. I suppose being a housewife is an occupation in itself, so I guess… Almost a year?” You fiddled with the ring on your index finger, the encrusted diamonds sparkling as the facets reflected the sunlight. “It’s our anniversary on the twentieth. So, yeah, almost a year.”

Jungkook stared at it without comprehending. It was like every cog in his brain had screeched to an abrupt halt.

“Housewife…?” Jungkook’s mouth fell open as he put two and two together. His brain had begun to catch up but it was still buffering like some early 2000 computer that was unable to process large amounts of information without crashing. “You’re—but you’re so young—? Not that that’s a reason for—I thought, I mean, I shouldn’t have—”

Stop talking. Stop. Talking.

“Sorry. For, you know. Assuming. It was wrong of me. Um.” He knew he should stop talking. He knew it and yet— “H-happy anniversary?”

His ears burned with mortification. If the ground could split open and swallow him whole, now would be a fantastic time for it to do so. He had always had shit brain-to-mouth filter but this was… Fuck. He wanted to bang his head against a wall but refrained from doing so, not ready to risk losing more brain cells.

You burst out into laughter, your shoulders shaking from the force of it.

“The look on your face,” you snickered, finally pulling yourself together. “I don’t usually get that kind of reaction. People are usually a lot less... Well. It doesn’t really matter what they’re like. They don’t matter.”

Jungkook hastily apologized again, fearing he had vexed you.

God, you probably thought he was the world’s biggest dumbass. He sure felt like one.

In his defense, your marital status hadn’t been a painfully obvious fact. Jungkook hadn’t even considered the possibility that Mr. Min was a married man. The house he had walked through earlier had lacked convivial warmth, giving the impression of vacancy. There were no wedding pictures framed on the mantle or any other piece of evidence of a lover.

Perhaps it was the age that had further thrown him off—you couldn’t be that much older than him. Maybe two years older? Five, at the most? The deep voice he had heard over the phone last night had given off the impression that Mr. Min was eons older. In Jungkook’s mind, he pictured a man with a balding head, fine lines near his eyes. Maybe Jungkook had been completely off from the start. But then again, Mr. Min couldn’t possibly be that young, either.

He did some quick mental math, trying to calculate and estimate how young Mr. Min could be. Sure, he had seen movies depicting extremely young and successful CEO’s but the real world worked differently. Mr. Min had to be in his thirties…at the earliest.

“Don’t worry about it.” You waved his concerns away with a flick of your wrist. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. Trust me…I’m really good at knowing when someone’s being intentionally insulting.”

The last part was said carelessly, like the words hadn’t actually meant to be voiced aloud. His brows scrunched up in confusion; try as he might, he didn’t understand what you meant.

“I’m really sorry,” he squeaked out, his ears still uncomfortably hot. He wiped his brow with the back of hand. 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not something that bothers me.”

Jungkook only allowed himself to relax when he caught sight of the easygoing smile gracing your lips. “Well then, I think I covered about everything. If you don’t have anything else you need explained, I’ll let you at it. Why don’t I head on inside and get you some refreshments? It’s so hot out today—I wouldn’t want you to get a heatstroke.”

“That’ll be great.” Jungkook nodded in thanks. Now that you mentioned it, his mouth felt unbearably parched. He made a mental note to bring a water bottle for next time.

“Want anything in particular? I think we have just about everything stocked up in the fridge. Juice, sparkling water, cola...?”

“Water sounds perfect, thank you.”

Jungkook tried not to stare when you turned on your heels and walked away. He really did. Except it was hard not to notice how well the dress you wore flattered your figure, emphasizing the curves of your body in all the right places.

It was a futile battle; his eyes refused to cooperate with his internal demands. Honest to God, he tried really hard not to look but your legs looked fa—

He shook his head as if the action would somehow help him clear his thoughts. Get a fucking grip! his inner voice of reason yelled at him.

You were married.

To his boss.

He let that sink in. Or tried to. Jungkook didn’t need to have an IQ of 155 to know that having the hots for the woman married to his boss would ultimately result in disaster. Nothing good would ever come out of it. Why would you even consider looking at other men? Only a dumbass would think he stood a chance. Your husband probably provided everything you needed and more.

But what should have been sufficient incentive to put an end to his cru—whatever the hell it was—wasn’t doing jack shit. The only resounding thought in his mind right then was a constant loop of I’m so fuuucked. Because if there was one thing Jungkook was good at, it was spotting a losing battle when he saw one. But one thing he was bad at? Abandoning a sinking ship.

.

Back in the kitchen, you were feeling similarly distressed.

The corners of your mouth downturned into a frown as your eyes raked over the familiar penmanship.

Don’t wait up for me tonight.

You peeled the post-it note off the fridge, checking the back of the yellow paper to make sure you hadn’t overlooked any words he might have tacked on as an afterthought. Foolishly, your heart hoped to find any semblance of an apology—anything that would prove that somewhere behind his impassive mask he still loved you.

It was, unsurprisingly, blank.

Admittedly, your husband was a man of few words. He had never been known for flowery speeches, preferring to keep it curt and to the point. Efficiency, he called it.

Realistically, you should have known Yoongi wouldn’t have been able to spend the day with you. More often than not last minute work emergencies called him into office, interrupting whatever plans you had made for that day. This wasn’t outside the norm. Yoongi’s work came first and foremost. You had never deluded yourself into thinking otherwise and had never resented him for it, either.

Still...you remembered a time when he had put in more effort than a half-assed, scribbled note. Before he had tied the knot, Yoongi had been more attentive and thoughtful. There wasn’t a day that you didn’t wake up to the smell of fresh flowers, hand-picked and arranged in a crystal vase by your bedside. He never failed to call during the day between board meetings to check up on you and always made sure to make up for his absences one way or another.

Being with Yoongi came with its set of disclaimers and downsides, but like any worthwhile relationship, you had been willing to overlook these hardships. It wasn’t difficult to, not when Yoongi always showered you with prettily wrapped up gifts and hot mouthed kisses, erasing any doubts that sprouted within you. 

Gradually, all that had changed. There were no more flowers, no more impromptu calls, no more candlelit dinners.

Whatever love that had previously existed was nowhere to be found. The notes he left around the house had become sparse and dismissive. You looked back down at his message and held back a scoff. The paper creased between your fingers and you had half a mind to ball it up and throw it away, along with the frustration simmering under the surface of your skin.

It was impossible to pinpoint the exact moment change had happened but somewhere down the line, the affection that used to gleam in his eyes had melted away, leaving behind a stony face devoid of warmth. You could imagine his face as he had written the note, features smoothed over into the same inscrutable look he reserved for his business clients.

“Guess it’s just going to be me and Euna today.” You glanced at your watch, the steel heavy around your delicate wrist, and desperately attempted to refocus your attention.

Your stomach twisted unpleasantly but you forced the nauseating feeling down with a forced out sigh. 

Everything was fine. Besides, life went on and it wouldn’t wait for you to get your feelings under wraps.

You had been looking forward to having brunch with your sister and husband, but. Things happened. It was nothing to be upset about. You’d get over it after stuffing your face with a croissant or two.

When you came back with refreshments, Jungkook could tell something was wrong. He could see it by the hunch in your shoulders, the straight line of your mouth.

“Change of plans.” You set the sterling silver tray down with a thunk. The glass pitcher’s content sloshed around, threatening to spill over. He noticed there were bits of cut up—cucumbers?—floating around in the water. Weird. He wondered if it was considered rude to pick them out.

When he looked back at you, all of his inner ramblings ceased. Even though he didn’t know you well—or at all, really—worry still niggled at his heart. He wasn’t sure what exactly had happened in the last ten minutes, but the look on your face was cause for concern. He just...didn’t know if it was his place to ask.

You took a glance at your wristwatch unaware of his silent predicament.

“You’ll get to meet Yoongi some other time, hopefully. I thought I might get to introduce the two of you today when he stopped by for lunch, but it’s work related business and you know how that is.”

Jungkook nodded, knowing better than to speak. You smiled and shrugged, but he could detect an undercurrent of frustration. The smile looked different than the one you had on when you had doubled over in laughter—this one was a little strained at the corners, too wide to be completely genuine.

“Sorry to leave you here like this. I know it’s your first day.” You breathed out a sigh, shoulders drooping. “But I’m meeting my sister soon and I don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”

“’s cool. I’ve cleaned pools before, I should be able to handle myself fine.”

“Oh, and if you want a refill, just head on inside and ask June. She’ll get you whatever you like. She’s cleaning the upper floor right now, but she’ll be in the kitchen later. She’s a real gem, I bet you’ll like her.”

“Thanks—for this and everything else.” Jungkook’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he sent you a smile. “I’ll look forward to meeting your husband some other time.”

“It will be his pleasure,” you said, not realizing how spot on your statement would turn out to be.

.

.

In hindsight, maybe you should’ve cancelled your outing altogether and stayed home—if only to spare you from the embarrassment brought on by your sister’s sudden exclamation.

“What do you mean he doesn’t want to have sex?!” Euna’s voice rose in incredulity.

It was louder than what etiquette dictated as appropriate, and you had to hide your flinch behind a strained smile. You felt eyes bore into you from all sides as people swiveled around to stare in your direction.

An elderly lady dressed head to toe in Chanel tweed snickered into her napkin after giving you a once-over.

“Will you. Keep. It. Down.” You reclined back on your chair, your shoulders hunching in on themselves defensively. “We’re in public, Euna. So if you don’t mind, I’d prefer it if everyone here wasn’t up to date with my sad and pitiful sex life, because that’s really the last thing I need right now, thanks.”

“Oh no.” Euna dabbed the sides of her mouth with a napkin, deathly serious. “We’re talking about this now. I know you. You haven’t told anyone else about this. Not that I blame you, honestly. Your friends are all attention craving socialites. And it’s not like you’d ever go tell Mom about this. Not when she’s expecting you to pop a baby out soon. She’d probably find a way to lock you and Yoongi up in some room until you conceive her first grandkid.”

“Can we not talk about babies right now? Or Mom.” You repressed a shudder because fuck. That was another problem altogether—one that you were not equipped to handle at this very moment.

“Fine,” she agreed easily. “Talk to me about your dick problems instead, then.”

“What do you want me to say?”

Your attempt at nonchalance was weak at best. In front of you, the porcelain plate, stacked high with delicious French and Danish pastries, remained practically untouched. Usually by now half of them would have been devoured, down to the very last crumb. If that wasn’t an indicator that something was wrong then what was?

“There’s literally nothing to talk about. We haven’t had sex in weeks. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Weeks?!” Her glossy lips parted in shock. The emphasis on the plural form made you wince. As if you needed the reminder. “What the fuck.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” you said glumly, allowing a frown to draw on your features. As much as you liked to pretend you were fine with your husband’s increasingly distant behavior, it was impossible to keep up the pretense in front of your sister. She had a way of extracting the truth from you—even if it was a truth you were reluctant to face.

“Do you think... Um.” There was a slight pause as Euna gathered her thoughts, still trying to get over the shock of your confession. She lowered her voice to a whisper, perhaps finally realizing that the couple seated next to you were doing a piss poor job at eavesdropping. “D’you think he might be...cheating on you?”

Your rebuttal came out immediately, without a single trace of hesitation, “No way.”

“Are you sure?”

Your hardened expression did nothing to deter her from pressing the issue. “I mean, it’s not too far-fetched to imagine him having a sizzling office romance with a coworker. Or maybe there’s a rival executive he could be sticking his dick in to seal a—”

“No. Yoongi’s not. He’s not like that.” You shook your head, trying to clear your vision from the offensive images her words had conjured up. “He’s just been busy and stressed with work, that’s all. There’s a big merger happening soon and there are still a lot of things under negotiation right now so he has a lot going on.”

“Well what about a blowjob? No? Not even an under the desk handjob?”

Her Alexander Wang silk blouse wrinkled under her crossed her arms. The look of betrayal painted on her face made it seem like you had offended her on a personal level. Honestly you weren’t sure why she was getting so worked up over this. It wasn’t her dick getting neglected. “Look, I don’t know about you, but I’ve never had a guy refuse a good ol’ dick sucking.”

“Well good for you.” Your voice lacked sincerity, dry as the desert.

“And I’m 90% sure all the pent up cum that accumulated in his balls is the reason Yoongi’s acting like such a grade ass prick.”

“Read that in Science Weekly, did you?”

“As a matter of fact,” Euna narrowed her eyes at your tone. “Doctors say that blowing your load on the regular is the secret to a long and prosperous life.”

“The ‘expert’ opinion in Cosmo isn’t considered medical backup.”

“Well are they wrong? If you got dicked down more often I bet you wouldn’t be so fucking snappy all the time. Frowning like that is only going to give you premature wrinkles. And that’s a fact.”

“Why do you have to make it a matter of dick or death. Jesus, it’s not that dramatic. I bet all couples go through these dry spells every once in awhile. It can’t be that uncommon.”

“It is! Keeping your vagina happy, keeps you happy. As an extension of—”

“Would it kill you to be serious for a second?”

She huffed, feeling wrongfully rebuked. “It’s your sex life is on the line, not mine.”

That sobered you up a lot more quickly than you would ever like to admit. “I’m well aware...” You pursed your lips into a pout. “Look, it’s not that he doesn’t want sex with me. He just doesn’t have time for it. Because of work. I’m sure everything will go back to normal in a few weeks.”

“In a few weeks? Uh...” Euna trailed off. “Can you even hold off that long?”

“Ha, your faith in me is astounding. I’ll have you know that I’m perfectly capable of going without sex for a month. Or two. I’m sure it won’t kill me... It’s not, like, the end of the world or anything.”

Euna’s raised brows made it clear that she didn’t believe you for one second. “Wasn’t the last time you abstained from sex for more than a month in—” She stopped, deep in thought. “When was the last time you took a break from sex? You have the sex drive of a rabbit.”

“That’s not important,” you snapped, stabbing your fork into a cheese tart. The rich, creamy texture melted on your tongue as soon as you bit into it, but for some reason your favorite dessert tasted like ash in your mouth. “I know you’re trying to help, but sex isn’t the magical solution to everything. It won’t fix anything. Not that anything needs fixing, I’m just saying.”

Sensing that the conversation was drawing to a close, Euna scooted backwards in her chair and stretched her arms. “Mhm, okay, if you say so. Good luck with all that... I sure wouldn’t want to be in your place, that’s for sure.”

That made two of you. 

“Thanks,” you sighed. “Just. Whatever, it’s okay, I’m fine. It’s really not a big deal.”

“Uh-huh. Well if things ever start to become...not okay...you can always—”

“I said everything’s fine,” you cut off sharply, effectively putting the conversation to rest. Your appetite lost, you set your fork down.

Regrettably, Euna’s words rattled you more than you cared to admit. You couldn’t shake off her warnings and advice no matter how much you tried to. Throughout the day, you found your thoughts wandering back to the conversation with your sister. Could she be right? The longer you let yourself ponder the issue, the more your doubts grew.

Despite your best efforts, you had no way of stopping these poisonous thoughts from plaguing your mind. No one was around to help you get rid of them and without an outlet, they grew and grew, culminating into an unbearable ache. 

You hated the feeling of loneliness—of being alone and helpless, with nothing but your own thoughts to entertain you. You wished Yoongi would hurry up and come back home so that you could find refuge in his embrace. The bed was too big for just you alone and you hated seeing how empty it was without Yoongi snuggled up next to you. It was always during the time before sleep claimed you that his absence was the most painful to swallow. The overwhelming feeling of loneliness kept you awake for hours. Sometimes, no matter how exhausted you were, your body refused to cooperate unless it knew Yoongi was laying down at your side.

It was with no surprise that you found yourself all alone in the king sized bed that night, Yoongi’s side untouched and unoccupied. Your fingers reached out to where his sleeping figure should have been. Instead of a warm body, you grasped a handful of air. The only reminder that he slept next to you was the faint trace of his aftershave that clung stubbornly to the sheets. You tried not to sigh out in disappointment. You had been doing too much of that lately.

Turning over, you checked your phone for any message notifications despite already knowing that you wouldn’t find what you were waiting for. You curled up in a ball, feeling colder than you had been a few moments ago. Ordinarily, you’d try to stay up and wait for his return, but the day had been so emotionally draining that you slipped into a dreamless sleep the second your eyelids drooped to a close.

.

{SATURDAY. 11.18 am}

.

Despite the unlimited number of TV channels provided, none of the current programs had been interesting enough to capture your attention for longer than a few seconds. Your focus had drifted from the flat screen a long time ago. An infomercial on a 10 speed juice blender buzzed on in the background, but you paid it no heed.

Summer was supposed to be synonymous to leisure and fun. Yet here you were, splayed across the living room’s couch with no tangible vacation plans.

The worst part was that you were alone, with no one to distract you from how utterly and entirely boring your existence had become.

Not that you’d ever confide these innermost feelings to anyone in your entourage. You could already hear your mother’s condescending tone ring through your ears, chastising you for not living your life to the fullest (i.e. spending all of your husband’s hard earned money on luxurious vacation trips to St. Barts or wherever). And sure, trips to St. Barts and St. Tropez were fun—but they weren’t what you wanted. There was no point of going so far overseas when the person you wanted to spend time with was stuck back home. At least here you could see Yoongi from time to time, even if those times were becoming a rarity.

Your friends wouldn’t understand. They had no qualms jetting off every weekend to their private resorts and eating out of season, imported delicacies plated on shining, sterling silver dishes.

Speaking of friends, you flicked through their Instagram accounts, envy stirring in your lower belly as you swiped through their recent pictures, each snapshot showing off lavish hotel rooms equipped with balconies overlooking exotic landscapes and modern skylines. But the designer handbags dangling off their arms weren’t what made you froth at the mouth—you had enough of those lining up your walk-in closet.

No, what you envied the most was how fucking happy they seemed in every single shot. Pic after pic, their whitened smiles never waned.

You blew out a sigh, the heavy sound drowned out by television static.

God. What were you even doing with your life? Was this what you had to look forward to for the next twenty years? Would you and Yoongi even last until then?

This wasn’t how you had imagined your life would turn out when you accepted Min Yoongi’s proposal a year ago.

The honeymoon phase was long over. Even in your company, his attention never strayed too far from his work phone. And that was when he was home. Over the course of the past few months, he had reverted back to the workaholic man his friends and family had always known him to be, leaving behind no trace of the person you had become so taken with.

Working for his attention had always been a challenge. That was what had initially drawn you to him. Out of all the possible suitors lined up for a taste of you, only Min Yoongi’s detachment and feigned disinterest had stood out from the lot. There was something exciting about it, something that kept you on your toes, as opposed to the throng of other candidates that would easily bend to your will. His handsome looks had just been an added bonus.

But somewhere along the way, there had been a shift, too minute to notice on the spot. Now, when Yoongi brushed you off, there was no gleam twinkling in his eyes, no smirk on his lips. It didn’t matter if you wrapped your body up in lace and the finest satin, or stayed up until the early hours of the morning for him to return home—he always asked for a rain check, claiming fatigue.

Eventually, you had stopped trying so hard. There were only so many times you could handle being pushed away again and again before it started to hurt.

As much as you had enjoyed earning the praise and attention in the past, you didn’t like...whatever this had become. It wasn’t a game with rules and limits anymore. When Yoongi pushed you off of him, he meant it. So as much as you appreciated a man who was hardworking and dedicated to his job, you couldn’t help but crave the attention he had stopped giving you. 

The pressure weighing down on your chest increased, making it hard to breathe. Invisible hands had wrapped themselves around your lungs and squeezed hard, leaving no room for air. For an interminable moment, you felt like you were drowning, the sound of your heartbeat drumming in your ears.

When you blinked and swallowed, the feeling had disappeared, leaving you feeling hollow, like someone had dug out your heart with a chisel.

It took a while, but you pushed yourself up into a sitting position and finally made up your mind.

What you needed was a distraction, something to keep your hands and mind busy. You couldn’t stay put like this, trapped in your own thoughts and feelings. If you did, you’d surely go mad.

...The only problem was that there weren’t that many distractions available. You could go out on your own into the city to shop or eat but you dismissed the thought as soon as it had a chance to take form. Your closet was already full to the brim with clothes you hadn’t yet found the chance to wear.

As if she had somehow telepathically perceived your difficulties, June, your housekeeper, materialized into the living room, holding a laundry basket against her hip. Quickly, you gathered to your feet, excited by the prospect of finally finding something to do.

She jumped up in surprise, a high-pitched squeal leaving her throat, not expecting to see you appear in front of her with no prior warning. A strand of her curly hair escaped her wound-up bun but she deftly pinned it back in place after readjusting her hold on the laundry basket.

“Is there anything I can help with?” you asked eagerly.

“Sorry? I don’t quite understand...” 

“Like... I don’t know... Maybe some dishes to clean or socks to fold up...” 

“You want to clean dishes?” she echoed, looking at you as if you had suddenly sprouted a second pair of limbs. 

You tried not to take offense and pursed your lips.

“Yes,” you confirmed with a firm nod of your head. “Any tasks that you might need help with.”

“Are you feeling okay ma’am?” she queried instead, the lines on her forehead expressing genuine worry. “Do you need to lay down? Should I get water? The heat might be—”

“I’m fine! I just.” You wrung your hands in agitation. Why the hell was this so complicated? Since when did cleaning require justification? “I need something to do. I’m so bored I feel like I’m losing it.”

“Ah. I see...” She looked unconvinced by your words but knew better than to voice her concerns. “Alright. In that case you can do the—ah. Hmm. Why don’t you prepare some cold drinks for the pool boy? The weather must be giving him a hard time.”

“That’s it? You don’t need any help with the cleaning? You had the feeling that she didn’t entrust you with the more ‘serious’ household chores because she was worried you’d inadvertently blowup appliances or flood the laundry room again.

(It had happened once. Forever ago. Wasn’t it time to let it go? How were you supposed to know that you needed to measure the detergent before dumping it in?)

“... Maybe later. I’ll be sure to let you know if I need additional assistance, but thank you for offering.” She shot you a professional smile, putting an end to the discussion.

You trudged back to the kitchen, dragging your faux fur slippers across the floor in defeat.

It wasn’t what you had hoped for, but at least you had something to occupy the time with. Knowing that this was your only distraction, you planned on prolonging this task for as long as humanly possible.

What should have taken less than a minute to complete had turned into a tedious chore. You cleaned each strawberry by hand, cutting out the stems with unneeded precision, before slicing them into thin, even pieces. You did the same with the mint leaves and mixed it all into a glass pitcher.

Satisfied with the end result, you poured a generous amount of lemonade into the tall glass before storing the rest in the fridge for later. It was hard to keep the drink balanced on the tray as you slid open the glass door, but you somehow managed to not make a mess.

The heat hit you all at once and you frowned, feeling bad for whoever had been sent out today to clean the pool. It was laborious work and the weather did nothing to alleviate the situation. Nobody wanted to work outside in these less than pleasant conditions which was why it had been a pain the ass to find suitable candidates that were up for the job.

You had tried finding solutions around this problem—like raising the pay rate and alternating between different cleaners every couple of days so that the same one wouldn’t be subjected to the grueling heat all week long. You had been surprised to see how many people sent in applications—not that you were complaining. The only one who had something to say, was Mrs. Kim, the widow from across the street, who liked to grumble about how you were stealing all the good ones.

At the time, you hadn’t quite understood what she had been trying to insinuate. Weren’t all pool cleaners the same? But as you approached the pool, tray balanced dangerously on one hand, it all started to make sense.

Time slowed down like it did in those cheesy, over-the-top kdramas that were all the rage amongst housewives. How many times had you seen the same scenario play out whenever the male protagonist appeared on screen for the first time and met eyes with the heroine from across the room?

It was like you had suddenly been thrust into the drama lead’s shoes. Everything else seemed to fade away, your gaze drawn to man in front of you like a moth to a flame. It was impossible not to stare. Some invisible magnetic force kept your eyes fixated on him. The world could have been crumbling around you for all you knew.

His damp clothes clung to his body like a second skin, revealing sinewy muscles worthy of Calvin Klein billboards. Greedily, you drank in his figure, your gaze lingering on the attractive curve of his ass and the outline of his abs visible through the now see-through white shirt.

You gulped audibly, your mouth unpleasantly dry. It was distracting. He was distracting. Only a miracle had kept you from dropping the tray you were holding. 

Eyes closed, the man tipped his head back and brought his right hand up, carding his fingers through his wet locks. Like a magnet, your eyes were immediatley drawn to his bare neck.

You were transfixed. There was no other word or explanation for it. Even if you had been able to, the chance of you peeling your eyes away from the spectacle in front of you was slim to none.

It hadn’t even registered how ridiculous you probably looked, with your feet planted to the ground and your mouth parted in evident awe.

You took a much needed moment to appreciate his profile—your eyes running down the sharp line of his jaw and down the slope of his neck towards his exposed collarbones. Water droplets dripped down his handsome face and in that very moment you swore that he looked like he had stepped out of a high-end underwear advertisement.

He strung a spare towel around his neck before turning his full attention onto you. Instantly, you were struck by how alive his eyes appeared. They glinted with thinly-veiled mischief. That, the fullness of his lips, and the confident smirk he sported, gave him a youthful and playful mien that contrasted with his virile and attractive build.

“Er...” You coughed, politely averting your eyes from his body. “Do you— Do you need me to get you a spare pair of swim trunks? Yours look a little, um, small.”

You winced, knowing it had been the wrong thing to say.

“Oh?” There was a teasing lilt to his voice that had you looking up at him in alarm. His smile widened, the corners of his eyes creasing into crescents. “Please don’t bother. I work better in these.”

“Oh...well... If you’re sure.”

“Certain.”

He licked his lips. His eyes were hooded, heavy lids doing nothing to subdue the sultry look aimed your way.

“Alright.” You swallowed and paused, searching for the appropriate words. In the span of a few short seconds, your brain had short circuited. You got the next few words out, tongue heavy in your mouth. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Your name would be nice.” An easy smile sat on his lips.

“______.” You included your last name, hoping he’d get the hint. Briefly, you remembered your interaction with one of the other pool boys, Jungkook, and how flustered he had gotten over his mistake. The one standing in front of you couldn’t have been more different.

“Park Jimin. You can call me Jimin.” He glanced down at the platter you gripped onto with both hands. “This for me?”

Light reflected off the metallic surface of the tray and you were reminded of what you had stepped out the house for.

“Yes, please have something to drink. I made it earlier, I hope it’s to your taste.”

“Thanks for thinking of me.” He took the glass of freshly pressed lemonade off the tray, using the opportunity to step closer to you. The sharp scent of chlorine tickled your nose but to your surprise, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “It gets awfully hot out here and I get so thirsty. You know what I mean, right?”

His voice was as sweet as cotton candy. It took a moment for you to realize he had stopped talking and a few seconds more for you to remember how to form words of your own.

“I try to make refreshments available for all the staff. Everyone works really hard, even in this weather, so I’m thankful,” you said, trying to retain a certain air of professionalism. Hopefully it would be enough to stop him from seeing through the bullshit spouting from your mouth.

Jimin jutted out his bottom lip in a pout before raising his glass to his mouth. He took a big gulp, probably all too aware of the way you were tracking the movement with your eyes. In what was probably a calculated and premeditated move, the pink of his tongue darted out to lick the sweetness off his lips. Distantly, you noted how full and rosy his lips were.

“Aw. And here’s to thinking I was special.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh and shook his head. Water droplets fell from his wet fringe, the soaked strands sticking to his forehead. “So what’s a pretty thing like you doing shacked up, hm?”

“What?” The bluntness of his words caught you off guard. You were used to people being coy, hiding their pretenses behind smiles and well-versed pleasantries. Jimin’s forwardness left you momentarily dumbfounded and at a loss for words.

“Gotta admit, when I took up this job I was expecting to land the standard.” Jimin laughed, pleased. “Can’t deny this is a welcome surprise. Nothing wrong with the older crowd, but you’re definitely something else.”

“E-Excuse me?”

“So what’s your story?” His eyes raked over your form. Unabashed, he lingered on the swell of your breasts, the dip at your waist. You blinked, the apples of your cheeks warming as you remembered you hadn’t worn a bra. You hadn’t thought much about your choice of outfit before—it was thin and comfortable enough to wear around the house, the silky material soft against your skin. Jimin seemed to appreciate the selection, too, if the way his eyes darkened in approval was any indication.

He tapped a finger against the pout of his lips in mock contemplation. “Let me guess. Married a geezer who’s too busy banging his hot secretary to look after you. And when he does, you wish he didn’t because his stamina is shit. Can he even get it up? Heard old age does that to you, not that I would know...”

He shrugged, the smile on his lips sympathetic.

“Yoongi isn’t like that,” you denied right away, a frown ruining your expression. You knew that the conversation was most definitely crossing lines that shouldn’t be crossed. You kept telling yourself to put an end to it before it could get out of hand.

“No?” Jimin leaned in, close enough for you to feel his hot breath fan across your skin.

You didn’t dare move, let alone breathe. Any closer and your breasts would graze his chest. The shocking part was that you almost wanted it to happen. Not that—not that you wanted it to happen with Jimin, specifically. You just wanted. Your body had been suspended in a constant state of yearning for so long that it didn’t take much to stir its interest.

He stepped back to properly appraise you. A shudder ran down your back as you struggled not to let your emotions show. “You look awfully desperate for someone who should be getting dicked down on the regular.”

You opened your mouth to retort but no sound came out.

The heat in his gaze left you breathless. Yoongi used to look at you the same way, before. You remembered the hunger, the way your body used to warm up and ache and squirm under the power of his gaze. Whenever he looked at you with those eyes, your knees would buckle and you’d fall to your knees without question.

“Trust me,” Jimin continued on, oblivious to the perverse thoughts running through your mind. “If that was my ring on your finger, you’d never leave our bed because you’d be too fucked out to even get up. What’s that husband of yours thinking?”

He shook his head, not expecting a verbal answer from you. When he spoke up, his voice had a dangerous undertone.

“It’s because he’s not satisfying your needs,” he said matter of factly. “If he wasn’t as disappointing in bed as you claimed, there’s no way you’d be out here, panting for my dick down your throat instead of his. Isn’t that right, sweetheart? You need a nice, thick cock to fill you all the way up. And I can give you what you want, you just gotta say the word.”

Were you being that obvious?

You bit back the whimper threatening to claw its way out your throat. His words kindled a desire deep inside of you—a primal desire you had valiantly tried to suppress for the past month. Yet with only a few well chosen sentences, he had coaxed that need back to the surface, putting all your efforts to waste.

Different scenarios and possibilities flashed in front of your eyes like a fast-forwarded montage. You were so caught up in your thoughts, the infinite could if’s, that Jimin’s disappointed sigh had become background noise.

“Too much?”

You blinked up at him owlishly, not fully grasping the situation until he had taken a few steps back. Even as he backed off, the smirk never fully melted off his face which was a little disconcerting.

Thankfully, the newfound space separating both of you made it easier to breathe, to think straight.

With a surprisingly steady voice, you spoke out. “Jimin, I’m married—”

“I know.” Jimin shrugged as if what you had told him was an inconsequential detail.

Nonplussed by Jimin’s behavior, you bit the inside of your cheek.

Shouldn’t this guy have some morals? Usually men backed off at the mention of a husband but Jimin refused to conform to the norm. Based on what he had previously insinuated, he probably had fucked his fair share of married women. So was it all a game to him? A kink? An ego thing? Were you doomed to be just another notch on his belt? You furrowed your brow, trying to figure out the conundrum that was Park Jimin.

He misinterpreted your silence and sighed, an exaggerated pout on his pink lips.

“It was worth a try... The offer still stands, if you ever change your mind.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. I’m not going to force myself onto you or anything.” He grimaced at the thought. “But you should know that the option’s there. I wasn’t lying about what I said earlier... You deserve to be with someone who knows what he’s doing... And by the looks of it... He’s not fucking you nearly or well enough to keep you satisfied. I’m more than willing to be of service in any way I can. I promise you won’t be disappointed, I’ve never gotten complaints before.”

He pushed his hair back as his eyes perused your form again, his gaze half-lidded. You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked away. You hated how correct most of his assumptions had been. And what you hated even more was how certain he seemed about it all, like his words were the absolute truth.

Something about that irked you. You hated being read so easily—by a stranger, no less. It was embarrassing, how easily he had assessed your situation and lumped you with the countless other bored housewives he had undoubtedly had his way with.  

“Well, thanks for the offer, but no thanks, I’m good. I’m perfectly fine. I appreciate your concern, but it’s not needed.” Even to your own ears, your speech failed to sound convincing. At this point, you weren’t sure who you were trying to persuade—Jimin or yourself. Either way, you weren’t proving to be very capable; your words rung out false and hollow.

“Enjoy the rest of your drink. I hope it quenches your thirst.”

And with that, you turned your head and scurried back into the sanctity of your house, far away from sin and temptation itself. Heart palpitating, you swore that you felt Jimin’s gaze follow you all the way to the door, clinging to you like a shadow. The look he had given you right before you scampered off was one that you’d spend the rest of the day trying to forget.

Unfortunately for you, time was not a sufficient balm to soothe over the heat Jimin’s words ignited. Long after the sun had set, the utter filth that had spilled from his lips kept running through your mind, keeping you up.

Sleep was impossible to find, not that you were surprised. It was becoming a regular occurrence and you figured that you should go seek a doctor’s help if your condition didn’t improve soon.

But you knew that what you needed were neither pills nor herbal concoctions—your body needed Yoongi. You missed his presence, the way he stroked your cheek after you pulled back from a kiss, the way he kept eye contact when he pushed his thick cock between your legs.

God, you fucking missed that asshole.

You hadn’t always hated how much you depended on your husband. You had wealth of your own—or rather your family had wealth of their own—but all your personal expenses and whims had been funded and provided by Yoongi. All of your possessions had been bought with his money—everything from the imported cars, the luxury bags, the designer goods, and the summer residence in The Hamptons you visited every now and then.

The dependence hadn’t bothered you before. And it still didn’t—not in the way that it might bother or embarrass others, anyway. You never felt like you were in his debt after spending hefty amounts of money; that was not how your relationship worked. 

What made you uneasy was how physically dependent on him you had become. It wasn’t until you had been repeatedly denied from his touch that you realized how much your body craved it, ran on it like how a car needed fuel.

Tonight was the night, you finally decided, determination set in your features.

Reaching into the closet, you pulled out your most recent purchase from La Perla and slipped it on, making sure it still looked as good as it had a week ago in the dressing room mirror. You hadn’t found the right moment to wear it and figured it wouldn’t hurt to put the expensive lingerie to good use.

A nervous energy tingled down your spine as you got ready. Anticipation was building inside your belly but you couldn’t tell if it was the good or bad kind. You were brought back to a time when it had been fun to surprise Yoongi. Those had been the best nights—even the mere memory of them had your thighs squeezing together. Back then, the possibility that he might shut you down hadn’t existed.

Maybe you already knew, deep down, that you were setting yourself up for failure.

It still didn’t stop your chest from constricting painfully around your ribs when Yoongi reacted exactly the way you had feared he might.

“What’s gotten into you?” His face conveyed confusion, his gaze flickering from the lit candles around the room to the way your body was splayed out indecently on the bed, body covered by the barest scraps of frill and lace.

On any other day, the sharpness in his tone would have been enough to cut through your confidence and back off. You would have dropped the subject and moved on. But this time the sting of rejection wasn’t easy to dismiss, repetition only making it worse.  

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you snapped, frustration getting the best of you. You sat up from your position on the bed, not missing the way his gaze dropped down to your exposed chest. To your great disappointment, you couldn’t spot any arousal in his expression. He might as well have been looking at a blank sheet of paper. What had changed? Was it him—or was it you?  

Your sister’s words from a few days ago were creeping back now, reinforcing all the doubts and dejection you had fought so hard to suppress. Why didn’t he want you? Were you not desirable anymore? Had he found someone else to fulfill his primal needs? And if he had, what did that mean for you?

What the hell were you supposed to do with a husband that refused to touch you, let alone talk to you?

A sickly feeling rose up your throat, the acidic taste of bile flooding your mouth.  

“Do you not love me anymore?”

The question was meant as an accusation, the words supposed to carry the weight of all your pent up fury and bitterness. Instead of the harshness you had intended, your voice came out feeble and wrung out. The truth was that you were afraid of his answer and what it would do to you. Yoongi’s words were the only ones capable of breaking through the armor you had built around yourself. You didn’t care for the gossiping housewives or the scummy tabloids. But Yoongi? He had always been different. Important. Yours.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It doesn’t suit you,” he chided none too gently.

“Can you stop that?” In the bedroom, the authority he wielded aroused you to no end. But sometimes, like now, Yoongi’s tone and wording rubbed you the wrong way. Did your feelings not matter anymore? When he spoke like that, it made you feel so small. And not in a good way, not the way you liked to feel like during good sex or when he hugged you, limbs wrapped around yours like your own personal fortress.

You pulled the strings of your robe together, your body turned to ice. The see-through material was lightweight and flimsy, doing nothing to obscure your body from view or keep you warm. 

Why had you tried in the first place? Like Yoongi said, you felt ridiculous.

Pride bruised and battered, you attempted to keep your wobbly voice steady.

“God, you can be so condescending when you want to be. I’m not a plaything you only listen to and take care of when it pleases you. I’m your wife, not some plant you need to water every two weeks, don’t you get that?” You weren’t even angry anymore. All you wanted was for this to be over and for your relationship to go back to the way it was before. You were tired of feeling insecure, tired of waiting and wanting. Just...tired.

Yoongi’s brows furrowed, his mouth opened as if to voice his immediate protest.

“I’m not—” He cut himself off, lips thinning into a frown. The deep line between his brows never smoothed over, as if permanently etched onto his features. He bit the inside of his mouth, taking a moment to choose his next words carefully.

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but he suddenly appeared older, closer to the age written down on his official documents. Genetics had given Yoongi smooth skin and good looks that made him look more youthful than his actual age. But as he stood there in front of you, you could tell that Yoongi’s beauty was marred by evident signs of fatigue and stress. 

“I... I didn’t know I made you feel that way,” he confessed sounding genuinely regretful. “I wasn’t—it wasn’t my intention to. I’m sorry it came off that way. I don’t think of you like that, just so you know.”

The silence that followed his words stretched on for several long seconds.

He didn’t look away from your probing gaze. Even without searching, you knew his words to ring true. He was a bad liar. Good at keeping his feelings locked under key, yes, but never one to outright deceive others. Yoongi had always been bad at expressing affection. He was also bad at reading feelings. He was probably so caught up with his workload that he hadn’t noticed at all.

In retrospect, your outburst had been somewhat unfair. Maybe you were being unreasonable, adding on to his extensive list of worries.

But, no. That didn’t sound quite right, either. Just because he hadn’t been aware that your feelings had been hurt, did not mean that what you felt wasn’t valid. You weren’t selfish for wanting to be happy. You shouldn’t have to feel guilty for wanting to be loved.

“I know,” you said, voice quiet enough to pass as a whisper. 

Yoongi’s sharp eyes softened. The hard lines around his mouth rounded into a small smile.

“Come here.” He walked over to the bed, his legs spreading as he sat down.

The open invitation was one you were powerless to resist. Although you knew the conversation was far from over, you had missed his warmth and his touch far too much to refuse him. Your entire body hummed, itching for the close physical contact that you had been denied for so long.

His thighs flexed as your fingers dug into his silk pajamas for leverage. From this distance, you could see how haggard he truly was. Purple lined the underside of his eyes, making them look swollen and bruised. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and his cheekbones more prominent than you remembered them to be. When had he last had a proper meal? You suspected that he hadn’t been taking care of himself, no matter what he tried to make you believe. Whenever he got into that serious headspace of his, nothing else mattered but his work—not food, not sleep, and certainly not you.

Cold hands inching up your back interrupted your train of thought. You had been so touch-deprived that any amount of attention directed your way made your body vibrate with ill-concealed excitement.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been neglecting you. Things right now are...” He exhaled sharply, his shoulders slouching under the weight of his worries. “Work has been keeping me busy, that’s for sure. I’m afraid I can’t do much about that. I promise I’ll make it up to you in a few days, once this blows over and we secure our terms.”

“You’ve been so stressed,” you remarked as your own hands wandered up his arms and shoulders. His lean muscles were unnaturally tense under your touch. It had been so long since you had touched him properly that the planes of his body felt like unfamiliar territory.

When he didn’t move away or show any signs of protest, you leaned in to press your lips against his. The kiss was slow, your mouth melting against his like snow falling on a furnace. 

The silky material of his clothes facilitated the glide of your hands down his chest. But before you could reach any lower, Yoongi grabbed you by the wrists, effectively halting your movements.

“Not tonight,” he whispered roughly against your lips, short of breath. 

“When?” You hated how whiny and petulant the question made you sound, but you couldn’t help it. 

“Shall I pencil in an appointment, then?” he humored. “Would you honestly be happier I gave you a time, place and date?” 

“Not really, but I’ll take it.”

“Is sex really the only thing that matters to you?” he asked, half fond, half exasperated. 

“It’s your fault for marrying a slut. You should’ve known what you were signing up for.”

You shared a smile. For once nothing felt awkward or strained. You tried to cherish the moment while it lasted.

Yoongi’s expression eventually morphed into the apologetic one you had grown accustomed to seeing recently. You tried not to let your stomach sink in disappointment, already anticipating his rejection before he could voice it.

“I’m sorry, I’m just not in the mood. You know I can’t focus when there’s so much going on at work.”

“You won’t even need to do anything!” you tried despite knowing that your chances of convincing him were slim. “I’ll top and do all the work.”

“If that’s the case, can’t you just use a sex toy?" Yoongi rolled his eyes. “What’s my use if I’m just going to lay there and take it like a starfish?”

“Did you think I wasn’t using a sex toy all this time? I have a high sex drive... I wasn��t going to just sit around and not take care of myself.”

“Then what’s the problem? It doesn’t matter how you get your pleasure. I’m not one of those men who get weird over their partners using toys. It won’t be a blow to my pride, or whatever.”

“It’s not enough, okay?! I need your cock filling me up, fucking me into the mattress. Every time I cum on my own, it’s not enough.”

“I said no.” He sighed. “Look, it doesn’t matter to me how you deal with it but I can’t take care of it.”

“Take care of it? Is having sex with me a chore or something? Jesus.” You pushed him away with an annoyed expression. Yoongi’s hands dropped from your waist, not putting up much of a fight when you left the seat of his lap.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he said ever so patiently, almost like he was talking to a child.

You huffed, scooting further away from him. It didn’t escape your notice that he made no effort to close the physical distance separating the two of you, his hands laying limp at his side.

“So you’re saying you don’t care how I get myself off? You wouldn’t say anything? Not even if I went and got myself a real cock to fulfill my needs?”

Yoongi raised his brows, the insinuation taking him by surprise. Clearly he’d underestimated your level of desperation. You watched his face closely, hoping to decipher what was running through his mind. Unfortunately, you couldn’t tell if the tightness in his features hid displeasure or interest.

His lips were drawn into a thin line as he mulled the proposition over. After a moment of silence, he said in an even tone, “Go ahead, if that’s what you want.”

What.

You hadn’t actually expected him to agree. Turn you over and spank you for suggesting something so outrageous. Get angry for pushing an issue he wanted to drop. But not... You didn’t think that he’d actually be okay with it. Did that mean that he had stopped cari—?

Before you had the chance to finish that thought, he continued on, the dark of his pupils pulsing, “You know that I’ll never deny you. Everything you want is yours. That is my promise to you.”

You opened your mouth to contest but he beat you to it. 

“Whether it’s my cock you need, or another’s. So be it—if that’s all it takes for my needy wife to be satisfied.” A slow smirk pulled at the right side of his mouth. When he spoke, it was gruff and laced with arousal. “You can try to find all the substitutes in the world, but you know that the only one capable of giving you the pleasure you crave so deeply is me.”

Ribbons of heat immediately curled in the pit of your stomach. Dimly, you thought how unfair your dynamic with Yoongi was—all he needed to do was snap his fingers and you’d happily spread open your legs for him. You had always been eager to please him, but you had to admit that the time spent away from him hadn’t fixed such matters.

His hand reached out to trace the outline of your lips. You didn’t dare breathe as the touch of his fingertips lingered, the ghost of a promise making your heart jump in anticipation. Your lips parted in silent invitation, giving him permission to ruin you.

He leaned in so that his breath caressed your skin, the gentle whisper carrying a dark undertone.

“So be patient, darling—or I’ll give you nothing.”

Whether this was a promise or a threat, you were left unsure.

.

.

{MONDAY; 11:19 am}

.

This was a bad idea. A Very Bad Idea.

But bad ideas had never been enough to stop you from getting what you wanted in the past. You called it determination. Some people would disagree with the sentiment but when had their opinions mattered?

Two weeks ago, you wouldn’t have considered going through with this. But your last conversation with Yoongi had been the final push you needed.

Your face broke into a scowl as you remembered his parting words. The infuriating part was what had been written all over his face—the haughty certainty that you’d never rise to the challenge he had issued. That was what had ticked you off the most. You hated losing, but you hated being underestimated and easily dismissed as a non-threat even more. And Yoongi? He knew that about you—and had used it to his advantage.

The question was…could you go through with it? You had never dared to go this far in the past. 

In truth, you hadn’t even considered it. The only person you were interested in was Yoongi. It didn’t matter if other men were closer to your age, richer, brawnier, or more traditionally handsome. The only one you wanted was Yoongi. That would always be your constant variable.

So why were you out here in this gross heat, instead of inside the comfort of your house?

Beads of sweat accumulated near your hairline and dripped down your neck. You resisted the urge to grimace. There was nothing you hated more than sweating in a context that wasn’t good sex or a pilates class. 

Not that your sacrifices mattered anyway—you knew for a fact that Taehyung hadn’t spared you a second glance since he had gotten to work.

You risked a peep over the latest issue of Vogue you had been pretending to read, your sight zeroing on the person in charge of cleaning your pool for the day. He was ridiculously handsome, with strong, defined features and a lithe build, and had this habit of sticking out his tongue whenever he was particularly focused on a task.

Kim Taehyung was maybe a little too absorbed in his work. Was it normal to be this hardworking? Not that you would know what the norm was—you had never worked a day in your life whereas your husband took his job way too seriously. Judging by what you had witnessed in the last hour, you were inclined to believe that being unhealthily dedicated to your work was the norm. The poor kid had yet to take a water break.

You hid a sigh by sipping your fruit smoothie. 

In theory, porn made seducing the pool boy seem like an easy and achievable task—but the truth was that you had no idea how to go about it. It was a shame the clichéd porn scenarios hadn’t covered what to do in case the pool boy in question failed to acknowledge your presence altogether. 

He had worked nonstop since he had arrived, barely looking up from his crouched position near the edge of the pool, too busy fishing out floating leaves and dried flower petals with the help of a skimmer.

You looked down at your bathing suit just to check that your cleavage was still on obvious display.

It had been a long time since you had to work for someone’s attention that wasn’t Yoongi’s. Were you rusty? Or had you really become that undesirable? It didn’t seem to matter that you were wearing a risque bathing suit. You might as well have been a potted plant.

Taehyung had the defense of a wall of steel. It didn’t matter what tricks you resorted to catch his eye—he never budged an inch. Even when you stretched your limbs, nylon straining to keep your decency in tact, Taehyung didn’t bat an eye. 

Needless to say, it was a huge blow to your pride.

Glad that no one else was around to witness your embarrassing attempts, you nonetheless wished to erase your existence from this earth. You gripped the sides of the magazine tighter to cover the entirety of your face and prayed for his shift to end soon.

“I could have been naked and he wouldn’t have noticed,” you despaired the next day, pressing the phone closer to your ear. 

“Maybe he just prefers dicks?” Euna tried to comfort. “Or... You know... Maybe he values his job and doesn’t want to get fired for sexual harassment.”

“I wasn’t—” You spluttered. “I’m just saying he wasn’t looking. The plants were more interesting than me! He just... I can’t believe I got bested by fucking weeds.”

“Tough luck. You shouldn’t get sulky because someone would rather work than bone you.” She paused, perhaps realizing how deep rooted your insecurity was. “Relax. It’s not the end of the world! He’s just one guy, they’re not all like that! You’re not the problem here. Sometimes guys... They need you to be more direct. They don’t understand subtle. Like, you just have to go for it. Batting your eyelashes and showing some sideboob isn’t going to suffice.”

“What do you mean go for it?” Your nose wrinkled in disdain. Yes, you were dick deprived, but not to the point that you’d jump on the nearest available dick like some savage.

“Haven’t you ever watched porn?”

“I’d rather die than deepthroat a popsicle.”

“Oh please. Like you haven’t done worse than that. ” You could hear the eye roll that accompanied her comment. “I’m telling you that men are thick in the head and sometimes need you to spell it out for them, letter by letter, word by word. None of that coy shit. The only ones that fall for that are men like your husband.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 

“Hmph. He has the emotional range of a pea—”

“You’ve only talked to him three times in your life?”

“—so it’s surprising how well the two of you get along, all things considered. Though I suppose if anyone’s gonna get an emotionally constipated person to confess their feelings, it’s you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Did you think I was complimenting you? Oh - I gotta go now, Mom needs me in the kitchen. I’ll call you back tonight!”

“Can’t. I have T&S’s premiere launch event to attend.”

“Oh fine. Good luck, then. Get that dick! Wh— Yeah, it’s your other daughter. Oh fine. Yes, I’ll let her know.” Euna turned her attention back to you and let out a small noise of exasperation. “Mom says she’s happy to hear you and Yoongi are doing well. She’s wondering when you’ll share some, um, good news with her.”

Her words were laden with meaning. You didn’t need her to elaborate any further, having already been roped into the same conversation countless times before.

Somewhere in the background, you could hear your mother yell get that dick! with all the aggressiveness of a cheerleader during the last five minutes of a game.

Ignoring her was the wisest move. You hurriedly bid her goodbye, eager to end the call, knowing that if you didn’t you’d have to be subjected to another hour of your mother’s ceaseless nagging. And—ugh. You had other pressing matters on your hands.

Like, for one, getting that dick.

.

.

{WEDNESDAY. 11.45 am}

.

Getting dick was—surprisingly—not an easy feat. College!you would be crying if she saw how much you were currently struggling.

Your busy husband remained unswayed, no matter how often you tempted him to yield. 

That only left you with so many options, the next one being: OSTPB — Operation Seduce the Pool Boy. 

...Although that option wasn’t proving to be as fruitful as you had hoped.

Where had it all go wrong? You would have thought that your pride was enough to overwrite any subsequent embarrassment. Even if your self-esteem suffered as a consequence of your actions, you had been determined to see this through. 

Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined failing for a second time—but such had been your fate.

A glower broke out across your face, tiny creases forming between your groomed brows. Your most recent non-success had gone spectacularly awry and every time you thought back to what had happened, your stomach turned over in mortification.

Unlike Taehyung, Kim Namjoon had seen you coming from a mile away. His sharp stare had pierced straight through you, uncovering all of your secrets with the force of his gaze alone. It had taken one look at your scantily-clad body for him to correctly assess the situation and act accordingly.

Somehow that had made his disinterest all the more disheartening and humiliating. The experience forced you see your situation in a different light. You couldn’t help but pity yourself a little. A married woman throwing herself at any handsome man that came her way? That was pathetic, even by your standards.

Maybe you were better off calling the whole thing off. At least, that’s what you convinced yourself. You hadn’t counted on a third opportunity to present itself.

“Bad day?” 

“That obvious?”

Hoseok smiled. “I’d say so, yeah. You’re drinking before lunch. That’s never a good sign.”

He had a point.

Crinkling your nose, you explained, “I had to attend a baby shower this morning... It’s the third one this month! Honestly. What is it, mating season?” To you, it all served as one big reminder that everyone was getting it on except for you—which naturally put you in the brightest mood.

“Then why bother going? I’m sure you could find other activities to do instead.”

“Free Dom Perignon,” was your automatic answer, albeit not a truthful one. Hoseok cracked a smile.

“I wouldn’t have thought that to be a problem...” He eyed the flute of sparkling champagne you were currently nursing.

“It’s the principle. But... You’re right. They’re always such a chore. And I could definitely pass up on Sohee’s constant nagging. God, she never shuts up. Especially after starting on the champagne. Fucking lightweight,” you glowered, lipstick stained mouth thinning into a straight line. “All she ever does is gloat and provoke me. Whatever. She’s just mad the man she got married to is nearing 60 and balding. I’d be mad, too.” 

Hoseok laughed. It tumbled out of his parted mouth, loud, unrestrained, and so unlike the artificial pleasantries you had been subjected to all morning. The sound was clear and infectious, ringing through the summer air like wind chimes. 

You gulped down the remnants of champagne, the golden bubbles sliding down your throat smoothly. It wasn’t your first flute of the day. By now, the alcohol was flowing pleasantly through your bloodstream, warming your skin to a glow. The muscles on your face relaxed.

“But think of all the free fancy ass booze and food you’d be missing out on. If you hate the others so much, just go sit in a corner and eat your truffle hors d’oeuvres and caviar canapés in peace.” 

“If only I could,” you said, followed by a very dramatic eye roll. “I’ve got an image to keep up, you know. The gossiping crones already see me as some dumb bimbo who whored herself out to land a nice, rich, young husband.” You tried to keep your voice light and airy, but shades of bitterness could be heard despite your best efforts. 

Your marriage with Yoongi had caused quite the stir... Even now, a good year after the wedding, people still had your name on their lips, tainting it with disdain.

What bothered you was that they thought Yoongi was easy. Did they think all it took was a nice rack and a tight ass to win him over? Sometimes you wished your husband only thought with his dick—it would make things a lot easier for you, that was for sure—but that wasn’t the kind of man he was. And at the end of the day, that wasn’t the kind of man you wanted him to be, either.

“Ah, come on, it can’t be that bad.” Hoseok’s lazy smile drooped. You turned your face away, hating the sympathy you could see in his eyes. You didn’t need to be pitied. Annoyance made you take another sip.

The smart move would be to agree and end that particular discussion with a swift conversation change. It was what you were used to doing. 

But an invisible force stopped the words from shaping. Later on, you’d blame it on the liquor in your veins muddling your judgment and the sweltering summer heat making you dizzy. Instead of the prepared answers you were used to dishing out, your genuine emotions bubbled to the surface before you could filter them—and once you got started, it was impossible to stop. 

“It is. I’ve heard them. They’re not discreet, nor do they want to be.” You adjusted the sunglasses perched on your nose bridge, glad you had something to hinder Hoseok’s attentive gaze. He was too observant for his own good. “They’re always equally surprised and disappointed when they learn Yoongi hasn’t filed for divorce and put himself back on the market. Sohee’s only two years younger than me but she keeps asking me for tips.”

“Tips?”

“Yes...” To your chagrin, you found that the flute of champagne was empty so you set it down. “She always rubs her age in my face as if a two year age gap is that big of a deal. Hmph. According to her, the only reason Yoongi would stay with me for so long is because of my evil feminine wiles.”

“Didn’t you say she has a husband? Why does she care what you do with Mr. Min?”

“Yeah, well, joke’s on them because I don’t do anything.” Something sour ruined your expression. At least your Gucci shades gave you something to hide behind. “Not for lack of trying, anyway,” you added bitterly.

Hoseok tilted his head to the side, his expression one of polite confusion.

“...You don’t do anything?” he parroted, trying to make sense of the words. It was the first time hearing you profess yourself so frankly, without pretense or filter.  

“I don’t want to spell it out for you,” you grumbled, not daring to meet his eyes. You were pathetic as it was... No need to make yourself look even worse. As if you needed Hoseok pitying your nonexistent sex life on top of everything else.

There was a moment of silence, only broken by the sound of birds chirping and the distant sound of your neighbor’s dog barking. You let your eyelids flutter close, feeling a strange sensation of calm wash over your body.

Admittedly, getting your inner frustrations off your chest had been relieving, in a way. It had been nice to have someone listen to you rant, even for a moment. Talking with Hoseok was a nice change from the stilted and repetitive conversations you had during your obligatory social run-ins with other housewives. 

Speaking of Hoseok, you didn’t need to open your eyes to know that he had probably gone back to finish his job, not knowing what to say without making it awkward or crossing boundaries. You didn’t have the heart to open your eyes and check. As long as your eyes were closed, it was easier to maintain the illusion of peace you had found momentary refuge in. 

The sound of quiet rustling made you crack open an eye. Surprise had you opening both. While you had been stuck in your inner musings, Hoseok had gotten up from where he had been sitting to plop down next to you. 

You didn’t dare move. Not only because the abrupt move had caught you off guard, but you were worried that if you tried to squirm away to give him more room, you’d topple off and hit the ground. The chaise lounge was too narrow to comfortably accommodate two people but somehow it worked. When he adjusted his sitting position, the material of his swim trunks brush your outer thighs. Hoseok was so close that you felt the heat radiating off his body.

He reached over, grabbing a bottle of tanning lotion you had set down next to a pile of magazines. As he looked up, he saw your wide eyes and hastened to explain, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look really stressed.”

No shit, you wanted to snark but he cut you off before you had the chance.

“You should let me,” Hoseok suggested while shaking the bottle in his hand. “I’m pretty good at working out knots. I don’t have a certificate or anything, but—my body gets really tense after dance class, and sometimes I don’t have the time or money to go to a salon. I’ve read books and watched a lot of YouTube videos, which, I can understand may not sound very convincing but trust me, I know what I’m doing.  Of course, doing it to yourself is fine, too, but it’s a lot more effective when someone else takes care of it.”

All you could do was stare. The bout of silence was enough to make him lose a bit of confidence, and he sent you a sheepish smile. 

“I mean, it’s up to you. I’m definitely not as good as the pros but I’m not terrible, either. Some even say my massages are better than orgasms.” The sudden grin he sported was so wide that you couldn’t tell if he was exaggerating or not. “I just figured… I can’t guarantee a 100% success rate but I’ll do this free of charge, so that’s something to consider. This is a limited time offer.”

“You know I’m not one to turn down freebies,” you said through a smile, not taking as long as you should have to consider his proposition. Maybe you should have thought harder about the implications but right now his offer seemed too good to pass up. A massage that was better than nutting? Sold. “Should I…?”

“Yeah, why don’t you roll around onto your stomach for me? I can start on your back,” Hoseok said while he uncapped the bottle and squirted a dollop of tanning lotion onto his palm. He rubbed his hands together, warming up the liquid, before pressing the pads of his fingers into the meat of your shoulders. 

“This okay?” he asked as he hovered above you. “It’s better when I use scented oils like lavender but this will have to do. I didn’t bring any of my usual stuff with me.”

“Mhmm.” His voice sounded far away already. “It’s good.”

His hands covered every inch of your skin, slow in their study. Slender digits alternated between rubbing circles and squeezing flesh. From time to time, flashes of pain spread across your back as he worked on your muscles. The soreness melted away just as quickly; Hoseok seemed to know just how much pressure to exert for you to go boneless in his grip.

Slowly, you felt yourself relax under his ministrations, your head drooping further into the cushion as he worked his magic on you. You had to bite your lip to prevent any embarrassing sounds from filtering out whenever his strong hands kneaded a particularly sore spot. It felt so good that you were convinced Hoseok had been a professional masseur in his past life. Not even the ladies at the spa you regularly frequented could get you to unwind this efficiently. If you could stay in this blissed out state forever, you would. 

You heard him saying something about what pressure point he was massaging but his voice came out muffled, as if a thick stone wall was separating the two of you. His words had been tuned out the moment his hands had drifted lower to work on the bottom of your spine. Nothing else mattered but the firm press of his fingers against your heated skin made easy thanks to the slickness of the tanning lotion. 

Slightly dazed, it took a moment to register that Hoseok was repeating your name in an attempt to grab your attention.

“Is it alright with you if I untie this?” His voice was warm and syrupy like molasses. You had the strangest desire to bathe in it.

You nodded your assent, breath hitching as you felt his long digits work on the knot of your bathing suit. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before finally pulling the strings apart.

The tension in the air was palpable. All pretense of a simple and friendly massage having been thrown out the window the moment he had asked to remove your clothes. After all, there had been no sound and logical reason to—it wasn’t as if the thin piece of fabric tied at your back had hindered his movements in any way or obstructed his work. 

Hoseok had asked for your permission to go further and you had given it to him without a second thought.

“Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?” He waited for your verbal confirmation to continue. His fingers had stilled, no longer working your skin like dough. On one hand you were thankful for him giving you ample time to back out, but on the other hand...

Now that you had been given a preview of what he was capable of doing, how did he expect you to turn him down? Maybe that had been his plan from the start—wind you up to your breaking point until you had no choice but to beg and plead. 

The top of your bikini slid off your body as you propped yourself up on your elbows. You had to crane your neck to throw him a look over your shoulder, your hair cascading down the arch of your back as you did so, but the slight discomfort was well worth it. 

The rough pads of Hoseok’s fingertips dug into the divots of your waist. To keep you still, maybe. But you could tell by the clench of his jaw that he was holding himself back. 

A sudden surge of power coursed through you. Speeding, top down on the highway and riding twisting rollercoasters...none of these came close to giving you the same high that surged through you when you were wanted, coveted, and lusted after. There was nothing more empowering than knowing your presence made men weak in the knees.

“It’s okay if it’s you, Hoseok.” You batted your lashes and let a slow smile spread across your face. 

It was an enticing invitation, one that Hoseok had no heart to refuse. He raised a tentative hand towards the scruff of your neck, letting his weight rest there as if testing the waters. When he saw that you weren’t going to retract your words or shy away from his touch, he let his palm drag down your bare back. 

There was no way that he didn’t notice the way goosebumps littered the skin he touched, the way you trembled with want. 

There was no reason to be nervous, you thought as his fingers danced on your skin. The words spoken to yourself weren’t intended to reassure—you were stating facts. Hoseok was safe and secure. You knew that if you wanted to put an end to everything right now, he’d do so without complaint.

As if reading your mind, he smiled in promise, “I’ll take good care of you. Why don’t you turn around. Let me see all of you.” He nudged you, fingers stopping short of your pale blue bikini bottoms. 

Hoseok tensed when you twisted around to lay comfortably on your back. Although he had been the one to suggest it, the sight of you topless momentarily robbed him of speech.  

“You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Awe colored his tone. His eyes mirrored the sentiment, wide with wonder.

He squeezed more lotion into the palm of his hands and wasted no time reaching for the dip of your waist. Warm hands slid up your sides, tickling your ribcage as they reached higher and higher. 

A shaky breath left your lips when he finally enclosed his hands around the globes of your breasts and gently squeezed. 

Desire lit a fire in the pit of your belly.

There was something undeniably sexy about having to face him while his hands freely roamed your body. When your head had been nestled in the crook of your arms, it had been easy to let your mind drift away. But your current position now made that impossible.

Hoseok’s presence was overwhelming. All you saw was him—the fiery depths of his eyes, the pretty slope of his nose, his fucking arms, and the way his long fingers were currently cupping your breasts, his thumbs rubbing the peaks insistently until they ached. The upward tug of his lips told you that he was well aware of how well he was affecting you.

“Good?” It was a rhetorical question. You were putty in his hands, as pliant and malleable as a ball of clay.

He readjusted himself between your legs and used his knees to keep your thighs spread open for him. A whine worked its way up your throat. Much to your frustration, his new position prevented you from rubbing your legs together and getting the friction you so desperately needed.

Your lower lips felt uncomfortably wet, and by the way Hoseok ran his tongue over his lips like a famished wolf in front of a long-awaited meal, you knew your arousal to be evident. By now the expensive piece of swimwear was surely stained with your juices.

Hoseok’s hands had wandered back down your body, digits now tracing your hipbones, while his gaze resolutely fixed the spot between your legs. For a reason unknown to you, he didn’t dare go any further than slip his thumbs beneath the material of your swimming suit.

Exasperation built up inside of you the longer the teasing went on. You didn’t know what he was waiting for. It was clear that he wanted it as badly as you did—if the tent in his swim shorts was any indication—so what was holding him back? How long were you going to keep staring at each other before the weakest died of blue balls?

So you did what any woman of action would have done and pulled at the strings holding up your bikini bottoms. Two quick, efficient tugs later and you were stark naked, bare as the day you were born.

Hoseok’s eyes bugged out. 

To your dismay, your forwardness failed to have the desired effect. Instead of urging him into action, all he did was freeze up.  In fact you feared that you had broken him—his mouth opened and closed once, twice, three times, but no sound came out.

“Do you need a hand written invitation?” At this point, you were running out of options. God, what did it take to get fucked around here? Like. Bless thee who invented dildos because without them you would have lost your mind a long time ago.

Finally he shook his head, hands reaching down to grip your thighs. His tongue poked out to lick his lips. “You’re something else...” 

“In a good or bad way?” you asked, the hitch in your breath audible. His hands hands had inched dangerously close to where you wanted him to touch the most.

His lips quirked into a grin. “I’ve never seen someone get this soaked over a small massage. You’re literally perfect.”

Words that should have embarrassed you were balanced out with praise. The mix of the two made your insides tighten. 

“Eager, too.” His grin widened. “That’s how I like them.”

Before you could quip back, he swiped his pointer finger through your slippery folds. The initial touch made your entire body jolt. It had been so long since someone had given you attention that your body ate everything up like it was starved. You couldn’t remember the last time a man had touched you properly, especially one that wasn’t your husband.

The thought of Yoongi only made your heart thump harder against your ribcage. You had no time to dwell on your feelings, however, not when Hoseok added a second digit to the mix. 

His brow was furrowed in concentration. Guys your age had the tendency to rush through their motions, fueled by the need to get off. Sometimes they even skipped foreplay entirely. Hoseok was not like other guys your age. He took his time running his digits through your slick lips, not caring about his own erection straining his shorts.

It didn’t take long for you to get impatient again. You had always had a problem with waiting and being patient—and the last month had seriously tested the limits of your self-restraint. 

Just when you were about to voice your frustration, Hoseok gathered your arousal until his fingers were thoroughly coated with your juices. He honed in on your aching clit with expert precision. Your thighs tensed as you tried your best to keep your hips still and your legs open. 

It didn’t take long for it to feel really good. Better than the expensive bullet vibrator that you had been using religiously for the last few weeks. You were 100% certain that you would have hurled prematurely to your end if Hoseok hadn’t eased up on the pressure, his touch now feather-light and teasing. The abrupt change in pace had you reeling.

You slumped back into the chaise lounge, the back of your head hitting the twined material with a dull plonk. Fate apparently wanted to deprive you of a good orgasm until the very end. That petty bitch.

Hoseok chuckled and you tried not to take offense. You’d like to see him last as long as you had. 

“You’re not relaxed at all.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” you deadpanned.

It was hard to keep the pout on your face when his fingers resumed their ministrations. Your knee jerked when he brushed over a particularly sensitive spot and you had to bite your tongue to keep any moans at bay.

“Ever heard of the saying ‘good things come to those who wait’?”

“I’ve been waiting plenty long!” 

“Is that so?” His tone turned sickly sweet, almost mocking. “Guess I have to reward your good behavior.”

Before you had time to second that thought, he thrust a finger up to the knuckle, the sudden intrusion catching you by surprise. It was like someone had punched the air out of you. Your mouth parted in a silent cry as his finger soon turned to two.

He kept up an easy rhythm, his fingers curving every so often to drag along your inner walls. Every single one of your nerves were on fire. 

Bit by bit, the constant and steady pressure made you unravel. Any control you had over yourself and the situation was slowly slipping through your grasp—but the loss didn’t bother you as much as it normally would have. 

“How does that feel? Shit.” He stifled a groan when he felt you clench around his fingers, no doubt imagining that it was his cock buried inside your warm pussy instead. “Shit, you’re so fucking hot.”

“You’re doing so good,” you panted between two breaths. “I’m, ah, going to cum soon.”

“Already?” he asked, equally surprised and pleased at the admission.

Your words fueled his desire to see you fall apart. His pace picked up, the force of his thrusts making your back arch every time he buried his fingers into your heat. The brush of his fingers against your velvety walls felt so good that you could have cried fat tears of gratitude. Hoseok reached so much deeper than you ever could, stroking places inside of you that you had a hard time reaching on your own.  

Hoseok must have a PhD in fingering, you thought, half-delirious from the amount of pleasure he was giving you.  It had taken him an extraordinarily short amount of time to find and zero in on all your erogenous zones. Just like how he had known which spots to press during the massage, he seemed to be eerily attuned to your body and its needs. Not that you were complaining—far from it actually.

All of your inner ramblings ceased when he squeezed in a third finger, stretching your walls to accommodate the extra digit. You expected it to burn—three fingers was nothing to scoff at, especially ones as long as his. What should have been an uncomfortable experience wasn’t thanks to how fucking wet he had made you. 

He drove his fingers in and out of you, alternating between swift and slow, rough and sweet. The wet squelches were obscene, so loud that you were convinced your neighbors could probably hear you if they tried hard enough.

Distantly, you realized what a shocking pair the two of you made. If your housemaid bothered to look out the window, she’d see you naked and getting fingered by someone who was most definitely not your husband. Now wouldn’t that be scandalous?

The mere thought of Yoongi brought you closer to the edge. Your eyes fell shut of their own accord, images of your husband replacing the ones of Hoseok. Lost in your favorite fantasy, it didn’t take long for you to reach your end. It never did when you started imagining your husband pleasuring you. 

With the memory of Yoongi’s smirk painting the dark of your eyelids, you came, walls contracting around Hoseok’s hand like it was trying to milk cock. Your back arched off the chaise, your entire frame trembling from the force of your overdue orgasm. Spots of white dotted your vision and you had to forcibly blink them away. Only then did you realize that the yells puncturing the air had belonged to you.

“So fucking pretty. How are you so fucking soft? Shit, this is way better than what I imagined.” 

“Think about me a lot?” you asked once your heart had calmed down to an acceptable rate.

You expected him to deny it but to your surprise his concession came easily. “Can’t help it.” He deliberately looked away from your look of wide-eyed curiosity. “You’re… Seriously, you could have anyone.” 

“I’m not sure about that.” You reached for the hand settled on your thigh. It was only when you interlaced fingers that he looked up at you.

There had been a time when you had felt invincible, capable of bewitching any individual of your choosing, no matter the status or experience. It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

But Hoseok spoke with such sincerity that you couldn’t help but eat up his praise. The way he touched you—stroking your body like he was handling an expensive piece of artwork, like you were valuable and untouchable—made you believe him. You wanted to be convinced. 

“I’ll show you, if you’ll let me.” He kept his gaze steady and you found it hard to look away from the intensity burning behind his stare. “Want to make you come on my tongue. Let me take care of you.”

You felt your muscles pull as you spread your legs wider, putting your glistening folds on crude display. Hoseok swallowed thickly and wasted no time diving in, one of his hands maneuvering your lower body until one of your legs hooked over his shoulder, giving him better access to your dripping core.

He leaned in, close enough for you to feel his breath warm your skin. It was the only warning you got before he darted his tongue out, the flat drag of the muscle making your toes curl. 

It was slow, sweet torture. As much as you wanted more, wanted to grind yourself on his face, Hoseok kept a sturdy arm braced over your stomach while the other wrapped tightly around your thigh. You had no other choice but to just take it the way he wanted to give it, completely at his mercy. 

The steady, insistent flicks of his tongue over your clit had you gushing, your hole clenching sporadically in hopes of getting filled up again. You pulled the silky strands of Hoseok’s hair in an attempt to get him to satiate your need for more—but to no avail.

Hoseok refused to speed up, even as he felt your thighs tremble under his hold. If anything, your frustration seemed to amuse him. He chuckled against your clit, the vibrations setting each and every one of your nerve endings on fire.

“Hhn, puh-” you sucked in air. “Shit, I’m so, so close.”

He hummed in encouragement, smile hidden between your folds. 

You knew you were cumming before it actually happened. It started slowly, your toes curling and knee jerking, and then worked its way up your spine. Stars blotted your vision until all you saw was white.

If he hadn’t kept you firmly pinned in place, arm muscles flexing as you resisted, you were sure you would have crushed Hoseok’s head between your thighs. Or accidentally kicked him in the shins. The force of your orgasm was a tangible force, one that knocked the wind out of you like a punch to the gut.

“So good.” He sucked his slender fingers until they came off clean.  

Sitting there between your legs, he looked like the picture perfect definition of debauchery—red lips and chin glistening from your juices, face splotchy in the cheeks,hair mussed up and knotted by your hands.

His eyes didn’t leave yours for a second, even as he licked the last traces of you off his hand. Your core throbbed. There was something undeniably arousing about a man who genuinely enjoyed giving head, who did it because he wanted to and got off on it, not because he felt obligated to or because he wanted something else in exchange. 

“You’re so fucking sweet.” He glanced down and groaned. “I’m so hard, fuck.”

“Do you want me t—”

“No, no, just. Give me a moment.” He palmed himself through his swim trunks but kept his gaze fixed between your legs, his attention unwavering. “I’ve made such a mess of you... Look at your thighs, they’re soaked. And that stain’s going to be impossible to clean off. What are you going to do if someone asks you what happened? It’s way too big to miss.”  

You spread your thighs a bit more, intrigued by the way his hand seemed to press down harder at the visual provided. “What do you want me to tell them? I can’t possibly tell them the truth... If any of the housewives found out how good you are with your hands, they’ll end up stealing you from right under my nose.”

“I don’t care about them,” he dismissed seriously. “Why would I when the sweetest pussy is right here, all swollen and dripping for me.”

Your cum was still slowly trickling out of you. Upon hearing his words, your core clenched and the contraction made a fresh gush of opaque fluid drip down between the crevice of your ass. You resisted the urge to wipe yourself off, knew that the slight discomfort was well worth it if it meant witnessing Hoseok’s unraveling.    

Hoseok was so enraptured by the sight in front of him that he was probably unaware of how deathly attractive he looked at the moment. It wasn’t a trick of the light or an ephemeral thought. Hoseok had always been handsome in your eyes but there was a distinct difference between when he was working and when he was set on giving you the high of your life. You had never been subjected to the brunt of his charisma, but now that you had, you could tell how much control he had over himself. Even now, his sexual energy was focused and restrained. 

His eyesight had zeroed in on your pussy like a hawk sweeping in for its kill. His toned chest rose and fell, drawing attention to the sheen of perspiration lining his muscles. 

“Hoseok.” The neediness in your voice broke him out of his trance. 

When his eyes met yours, you felt your core clench up again. The sight of him shirtless, his lean muscles tensing every time his palm rubbed over the head of his erection through the material of his trunks, was enough to get you aroused all over again despite your recent orgasm. 

“Please cum on me,” you asked sweetly.

He groaned in response, the sound low and guttural in his throat. 

You hadn’t thought it possible, but his eyes darkened, black pupils swallowing up the brown of his irises until there was nothing left but raw arousal. 

“Yeah? You’d let me?” He shifted onto his haunches and hastily tugged down his shorts low enough to relieve his aching member from the confines of the fabric. His red cock stood stiff, the tip leaking pearly precum everywhere.  

A pleased smile stretched across your face. By the looks of it, he had been hard for a while.

The thought made something in your stomach curl pleasantly. You had done that, not anyone else. That alone was enough to spread heat throughout your body.

“I want you to cum all over me.”

“Fuck, when you talk like that I want to give you everything.” Hoseok held up a hand to your mouth and ordered in a gruff voice, “Spit.”

Doing as he commanded, you gathered as much saliva as you could and let it pool into his cupped palm. He muttered quick praise and wasted no time slicking up his length with your spit—not that it was needed.

It didn’t take long for him to cum.

“Where do you want it?” he asked between gritted teeth. Not once did his pace falter or slow down as he raced toward his end.

“Right here.” You didn’t need to think twice about it, your hand already reaching between your legs to open yourself up for him.

He growled as cum painted your inner thighs white. His hand stroked him through his orgasm, not stopping until he was certain he had nothing left to give you.  

When Hoseok hunched forward to slot his mouth over yours, lips tasting of you, there was no mistaking the victorious smile adorning your face.

 .

{FRIDAY. 10.21 am}

.

Something in the air had changed.

It felt like the world had tilted on its axis and the stars had realigned themselves in the sky. It was like getting your contact lens prescription strengthened—the world just looked different.

Your midday tryst with Hoseok had been the catalyst behind it all.

The reverence illuminating Hoseok’s eyes as he watched you come apart was still fresh on your mind. It filled you with bubbly giddiness. And that feeling—that swarming of butterflies in your stomach—was undoubtedly an improvement from the paralyzing numbness you had grown accustomed to over the last few months.

For the first time in a while, you had been able to sleep soundly. The results of a good night’s sleep were perceptible to the naked eye. Your skin was dewy and radiant, clear of the usual imperfections brought on by anxiety and exhaustion.

“You look well this morning,” had complimented June as she filled your empty glass with freshly pressed orange juice. You had hummed around a bite of gluten free toast, pleased with yourself.

Your good mood lasted all throughout the morning. It was Wednesday, you realized.

There was a bounce in your step when you realized what day it was and who you’d inevitably be seeing. Even though it hadn’t been that long, time tricked you into believing eons had passed since your last encounter. So much seemed to have changed since then.

You didn’t feel like the same person, for one. There was no more awkward fumbling or nervous lip biting, no sudden urge to cover your scantily exposed body with a bathing gown. 

The confident stride towards the pool’s edge felt less like an act. When you sat down at the ledge, dipping your ankles into the lukewarm water, you didn’t feel like some kind of fraud. You were no longer trying to emulate the person you had once been—you were that person. It had just taken a while to find her again.

Jimin rose to his feet. He had been changing the water filter before your arrival had made him halt mid-activity. 

For now you didn’t pay him any mind. You stretched your neck to the side, soaking up the summer sun. You were sure that you would have painted a much more seductive picture if your ass didn’t feel like it was on fire. Literally.

The stony edge of the pool was too hot, bordering on burning. You wriggled around, hoping you’d eventually adjust to the heat but in the end couldn’t handle it.

You slid in, water splashing around you as you submerged yourself. The water barely came up to your chest, which was probably for the best because your makeup wasn’t waterproof. And runny mascara? Not your best look.

When you looked up, Jimin’s unimpressed stare met you head on.

And, granted, choosing to go for a swim while he was cleaning the pool was not the smartest or most logical feat.

You weren’t here to swim, though. And Jimin knew it, too.

Jimin didn’t shy away from your gaze. On the contrary—he seemed to enjoy the scrutiny, preening. Your shameless admiration did nothing but stroke his already well inflated ego. 

He raised his brow in your direction, half-expecting you to run away again. It felt like a challenge—one you were more than happy to take on. 

In truth, you had been waiting for this opportunity. 

Jimin didn’t disappoint. With a splash, he dived in and swam to your section. He stopped just short of you, close enough to clearly see the water trickling down his body in rivulets. 

“Is this a hobby of yours?”

“Hm? What is?” He flicked his wet bangs to the side.

“Seducing married women.”

The smile he wore told you that he found your question amusing. “...Have I seduced you?”

His remark wasn’t enough to deter you. By now, you had gotten used to his teasing and it was getting easier to ignore his attempts at winding you up.

“Why do you do it? I’m sure you could have any young and pretty thing lining up to date you.” You genuinely wanted to know. Ever since you had met him and he had made his intentions clear as day, you had wondered why he’d ever bother chasing married women. What did he expect from it? Love? Money? Was this just something to pass the time? Or was this a way to prove his sexual prowess and attractiveness?

Life had taught you that nothing in the world came for free. There was always a price to be paid. Jimin seemed to have that lesson ingrained in him as well. It was in the way he carried himself with confidence, the way he knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it.

In many ways, Jimin reminded you of yourself—or the self that had existed before your insecurities had made your outer layer crumble.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “But I’m not interested in dating any pretty, young thing. To be frank… Dating holds no interest for me. I’m not that kind of guy.”

“You’re just looking to wet your dick,” you translated. 

“If I wanted to ‘wet my dick’,” he quoted with a roll of his eyes, “I could get that on campus. It’s not that hard to get laid when you look like I do.”

“Maybe you have a preference for cougars?”

“I’m serious. You of all people must know that relationships are about giving and taking. Compromise. I know what I can offer and what I’m willing to give up and none of those things people want.”    

The honesty in his voice made you pause. You couldn’t claim to understand what he meant—because you didn’t. If he didn’t want sex and if he didn’t want a relationship, what did that leave? If it hadn’t been for the truth coloring his tone, you would have called him out for his bullshit.

“Seduce… I guess you could call it that... But it’s not as bad as you probably think it is.” His plush lips pressed into a thin line. “There’s no trickery to it. Every single person I get involved with knows what they’re getting into. I tell them what I’m willing to offer and they name their price. It’s a fair exchange, don’t you think?”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. You blinked in realization. “You’re saying you’re in this for the money?”

Jimin was quick to correct you. “It’s not always money. Apparently they think it’s crass to give cold hard cash, they think it diminishes my worth or something along those lines.” He smiled and shrugged. Your eyes strayed to the curve of his collarbones. “Personally I don’t mind either way. Gifts are gifts.”

Looking at him now, you could picture it. He was young and attractive, willing to entertain bored and unsatisfied housewives while their negligent husbands failed to keep them happy. You could see why they’d be enthusiastic to take him up on the offer—Park Jimin was charming in a way that made you hang onto his every word. It was the way he carried himself, the way he talked, the way he looked at you. He was hard to resist and he knew it.

“Sometimes it’s not even sexual,” he went on to explain. “I think… Some of them… They just seemed... Not sad. But, like. Lonely, you know? And some of them… Sometimes I don’t really do anything, nothing that crosses lines, nothing that would get my dick chopped off if their husband watched the CCTV footage. Really, what I do is not as salacious as you’re imagining… Most of it is quite tame.”

“Tame?” Jimin didn’t fit the definition of tame by a long shot. Your eyebrows scrunched up together, skepticism etched deeply onto your expression.

“Well. I’m hot,” Jimin stated, serious. “So that already takes care of half of it.”

You laughed, silently wondering how it was possible for a person to be so shameless. Although you supposed you weren’t one to talk. You were as vain as they came. It was just shocking to see someone not even try to fake modesty. The near perpetual smirk on his face would be insufferable on anyone else, but Jimin made it work in his favor.

“I don’t do anything special. Well, okay. Maybe I make a show out of cleaning the pool, but that’s about it.” 

He glanced down at his choice of swimwear and you eventually caught on to what was insinuated. Much like the ones he had on during your last encounter, his swimwear seemed to be a size too small for him, hugging his thick thighs and putting his impressive muscles on display. Even the chastest person on the planet would have difficulty abstaining from ogling his build. Thirsty housewives wouldn’t stand a chance.

A half-naked, attractive man doing manual work? “I can see what you mean,” you agreed. “I don’t doubt your popularity among the married crowd.”

“Oh?” He tilted his chin so that he could stare at you through wet lashes. The water droplets gave the illusion that his eyes were framed by minuscule crystals. When he blinked, you couldn’t look away, spellbound. “Are you including yourself?”

Something in your expression made the shade of his irises burn to black, the heat in his eyes as smothering as burning hot coals. Your already unstable heart found it hard to function. It knocked loudly against your chest and you were afraid it would burst from the force of it.

As a last ditch effort to regain control of the situation, you hurriedly asked, “Do you have anything off limits? Or are you okay with doing anything?”

The string of questions broke the oppressing sexual tension that had threatened to consume you. His alluring expression shifted back to a neutral one.

“Depends on the person,” he answered after thinking it over, serious once again. “I can’t fake arousal. I’m either hard or I’m not, you know?” 

“You’ve had sex with some of them before though, have you?”

“Yeah.” It was an easy admission. Jimin wasn’t boasting but he wasn’t ashamed of his past deeds either. “Not often and never off the bat, but yes. Can’t say that I haven’t.”

“Inside or outside the house?”

“Once inside the gardening shed, against the door. Wouldn’t recommend unless you fancy a trip to the hospital to remove all the splinters on your back. I’ve also done it in the bed they shared with their husband. That was...something.” The way he said it made it sound like the understatement of the century. 

Before you could press, he continued, “Sex isn’t really something I’m up for all the time though. I’ve learned the hard way that it’s easy to let things get out of control...” A grimace, a pause, and then, “It’s easy for people to get confused. Feelings can develop and that’s... I’d rather avoid those complications if I can. There’s nothing fun about making women cry.”

It sounded like a warning.

You wondered how many times he had to reiterate his stance, how many times he had to draw lines and keep them clear to avoid breaking hearts. You wondered how much of his story was laced with truth and how much of it was twisted to deceive you.

How many before you had been presented with the same backstory? How many of them had let themselves be tempted by his proposition? It seemed like a good deal, after all. Who would be willing to refuse such a irresistible offer? You could only imagine how excited they had been at the prospect of having their appetite sated by such a young and handsome man.

You had never been under the illusion that your liaison would evolve into a whirlwind romance worthy of the greatest love songs. Unlike the countless others who had eagerly emptied out their purses just to get a taste of him, you had no plans on taming his wild heart. His love, his feelings—they weren’t what you were after. 

“What’s something you’ve never done before?” you dared to ask, angling your head to peer up at him through your lashes. It was a good angle, one you knew from experience that worked.

“Never done? Well, let’s see...” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve never kissed any of them. Properly, on the mouth.”

Your brow raised. You hadn’t expected that answer. Kissing did seem tame in comparison to the exploits he had previously listed. “How come?” 

“It gets too personal, I guess.” Jimin refrained from elaborating any further. Not that he needed to—you could tell from the way he skirted around the question that kissing meant more to him than he would rather let on.  

Immediately, you knew what you wanted. 

“You said that you’d give me anything I ask for.”

Jimin wasn’t dumb; he quickly caught on.

“You want me to kiss you.” He tilted his head, a strange glint in his eyes. They flickered down to your mouth for the briefest of moments.

Your heart raced. A wary expression had crossed his face. Like he was finally seeing you differently—not as another conquest who would eat out of his hand and bend over backwards just to spend some time by his side, but acknowledging you as an equal who set her own terms and played by her own rules. A player, not a pawn.

Soon, the cautious attitude was replaced with excitement. Like the idea of playing a new game excited him.

"And what do I get in return?"

You blinked. Of course. It had been silly of you to think he'd give it up for free.

"What do you want?" You hadn't thought very far and your mind raced as it tried to find a suitable method of compensation. Expensive wristwatches, art work...

"I don't want anything you'd be willing to give anyone else." Jimin cut in, interrupting your inner musings. "I want something you'd only be willing to give your husband."

How very specific.

"I don't..." you trailed off, lost in thought. There was no time to question the nature of his request, not when your mind was caught up trying to find something, anything, that fit his criteria.

"I'll blow you."

You wet your lips. It was meant to be seductive but you were too nervous to properly pull it off.

Jimin raised a brow in response. It was impossible to tell if the answer was favorable or not, so you rambled on. "I've never... Since we started dating, the only... I've only been intimate with my husband.”

Until recently, was left unsaid. You weren’t sure if Hoseok counted. Maybe you should rephrase to avoid misunderstandings.

“I’ve never had... I’ve never sucked anyone else off.” There. Now you weren’t lying. “Even before Yoongi and I dated, I never did it that much. Not because—not because I don't enjoy it, but. I've always been more on the receiving end."

"You're a selfish lover," concluded Jimin, nodding in understanding like he hadn’t expected anything less.

You frowned. "I get that it sounds that way, but it's not! Sex doesn’t boil down to oral."

"Oh, I know," he smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I'm intrigued... But who’s to say your oral skills will live up to my standards?"

"As far as I know, no one's left you a 5 star rating for your kissing skills." Huffing, you crossed your arms. In the back of your mind, you knew Jimin was poking fun at you in order to elicit a reaction, but you were too offended to care about how you were playing into his games.

A kiss for a blowjob? If you hadn’t been desperate for the latter, you would have denounced the unfair exchange.

Jimin leaned in, his fingers tilting your chin in the angle he wanted, and studied your face like he was committing your features to memory. He drank in your appearance, down to the flutter of your lashes, the parting of your lips, and the hitch in your breath when he bent his neck to close the distance.

There was something careful about his touch. Unlike the searing intensity behind his gaze, the press of his fingertips against your skin was careful, almost like he was handling glassware. Time seemed to move extremely slowly. He took his time, seemingly content with just cupping your chin between his fingers and admiring you.

For a moment, you thought he'd back out on his offer, not willing to part with the one thing he'd denied the string of conquests who had previously been in your shoes.

When Jimin pressed his lips against yours, you had to fight back the urge to gasp. His earlier demeanor had lulled you into a false sense of security. You had expected him to take his time, kisses gentle and slow-paced. 

There was nothing of the sort—Jimin's kisses were hungry, insistent, and stole the breath out of your lungs with every press of his lips against your own. 

Whenever he let up, you took the opportunity to gasp in a mouthful of air. The lack of oxygen was making your head spin, you vision blurring at the edges. You were slipping down a very slippery slope. The longer his mouth moved against yours, the quicker you felt all reason and sanity abandon you.

Jimin’s control never wavered. There were times when you tried to dictate the pace but he'd pinch your chin to keep you still.

A moan worked its way up your throat when he gave a particular hard suck to your bottom lip. Not knowing what to do with yourself, body overheating with lust, your fingernails dug into his shoulders in a last-ditch bid to ground yourself back to reality. Jimin growled in response, one of his hands tangling itself in your hair to tug at the strands. You stilled immediately, the show of dominance enough to make your body go limp in his hold.

When his tongue finally met yours, licking into your open mouth with fervor, it  wiped your brain clean of all coherency, your mind now blissfully blank. There was only Jimin, only his heat melting against your own, only his scent enveloping you like a warm cocoon you never wanted to break out of. Eventually, though, he had to pull back for air and you almost whined in protest. 

After all, who needed air? What use was breathing when you could be spending that time kissing him instead?

It took a while for the heavy fog to lift. When it did you noted that you were still slightly out of breath, your heartbeat erratic and deafening. Under any normal circumstances, you'd be embarrassed by how effortlessly he had turned your insides to gush.

You struggled to keep your eyes open as you craned your neck to look at him properly. You had no time to feel self-conscious, however. Jimin's erotic appearance was much more interesting. 

His lips were swollen a dark pink hue that perfectly complimented the flush high on his cheeks. It was a pretty sight, but nothing comapred to the deep pools of lust that stared back at you. Jimin looked like he could swallow you whole with his stare alone.

Your entire body trembled at the prospect of him carrying out the silent promise. In fear or anticipation—you did not know yet. You had barely survived his kiss. What were you going to do if he had his way with you? Now you understood why Jimin kept himself at an arm's reach from all of his suitors. His touch was lethal, designed and weaponized to make his unsuspecting victims fall deep into trance. Once you got involved with him, there was no coming back out of it the same. He was like a ruthless drug. One hit and that was all it took for your body to become hooked to the feeling. If you had any more, you'd stay addicted for the rest of your life, whether you wanted to or not.

Jimin was dangerous. Even in your prime, you had never been this powerful. The worst part was that he knew it. He wielded his charm with expertise, knew exactly how much to give to make you weak at the knees. You had only had a taste of him and yet your body thrummed with a burning need for more.

Thankfully, his needs mirrored yours. You didn’t have to wait long for him to hoist himself onto the ledge of the pool, the lean muscles of his arms flexing as he dragged his body out of the water with the grace of a panther. In the blink of an eye he had shucked off his sodden swim trunks and placed the wet material under him as a cushion. 

You gulped, feeling almost bashful. It was...a lot to take in. It felt almost wrong to ogle at him now that he was stark naked.  

Unaware of your embarrassment, Jimin puffed out his chest, shameless as ever. With a smirk plastered on his face, he patted his thick thigh and nodded in your direction.

“C’mre.” He spread his knees, cock hanging heavy between his thighs. “Time to be a good host and return the favor.”

You waddled closer before your brain could talk you out of it, mesmerized by the sight in front of you.

Jimin’s dick was—for lack of better terms—pretty. He was thick, not too long or too veiny, and pink at the head. He kept his pubic hair neatly trimmed, the dark patch standing out against golden skin.   

Weeks ago you would have never thought twice about sucking off a man who wasn’t Yoongi. Yet here you were, mouth watering at the prospect of Jimin filling up your mouth. 

You had Yoongi to thank for that. 

For the briefest moment, you let yourself imagine the look on Yoongi’s face if he walked in on you right now. Even if you had an idea, it was hard to predict what his reaction would be...

Jimin’s croon yanked you back to reality. “Let me see what you can do. No hands, sweetheart. Show me what you got.”

The look aimed your way was full of expectation. 

Not one to disappoint, your lips automatically stretched around his girth. You suckled the tip and sighed in contentment as he slowly plumped up against the flat of your tongue

God, you had missed sucking dick. You hadn’t been lying earlier when you had confessed how much you enjoyed it. There was something exhilarating about making a man go putty in your hands—or mouth. No matter how much they thought they had control over the situation, the reality was that you had them by their cock. 

Drool pooled in your mouth, spilling at the corners, but Jimin didn’t seem to mind the mess. If anything, the visual made him impossibly harder. He hummed low in his throat as his heavy erection throbbed on your tongue, and ran a hand over your face to feel the sizable bulge poking your cheek.  

“You look so gorgeous like this, stuffed full from my cock.” He grinned down at you with all the self-satisfaction of someone getting his dick sucked. “Really fucking pretty.”

One of his thumbs traced patterns over your cheekbones and you felt your face warm. The action was almost...sweet. And it most definitely felt out of place in this context.

The tender moment was broken the instant his length hit the back of your throat. You gagged, the choked sound loud enough to drown out his deep groan of appreciation. 

It was with great reluctance that he let you pull back to catch your breath. You coughed, slightly embarrassed that you were so out of form.

He reached out to break the thin string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to his weeping cock. He smoothed his coated fingers over your lips, smearing the excess saliva and his precum all over your mouth and cheeks with the focus of a painter hard at work.

The sight made his lower belly sing with satisfaction. And still, he wanted more.

Jimin took a minute to appreciate your less than perfect appearance. He was so used to seeing you with perfectly applied lipstick and coiffed hair, that seeing you so disheveled made something in his stomach kick. His thoughts ran wild. He was hit with a primal desire to ruin you, mark you up and leave the imprint of his dick in your throat so you’d remember him long after this was over.

“Wanna see you choke yourself on my cock,” he grunted, his member twitching at the thought. “Think you can do that for me?” 

Instead of a verbal reply, you leaned it to plant a kiss on the flushed head of his erection, kissing down his hard length until your mouth reached the base of it. When you looked up, his gaze was darker than the night skies. 

A shudder ran through your body, from the crown of your head all the way down to the tips of your toes.  He never broke his gaze, the weight of it pressing down on you like a security blanket.

When you took one of his balls into your mouth, wet and messy just like you suspected he liked it, his hands shot up to rake through your hair. They pulled at the strands but not hard enough to stop you. Conflict warred on his face, unsure if he wanted you stop or not.

“You’re fucking nasty,” he rasped when you gave a particular hard suck, your cheeks hollowing around his sack. “I love it. Who would’ve fucking thought that I’d land such a good slut?”

Your moan was muffled, slightly distorted, but he heard it all the same. His eyes curved into crescents. “You like that, huh?”

He abandoned the grip he had on your hair in order to enclose his fingers around his length instead.

“Show me your tongue. Yeah, like that.” He bit down on his bottom lip when you flawlessly executed his command. Jimin kept you like that for a while, your tongue hanging out and waiting on him like an obedient dog. He seemed in no hurry to get the show on the road, content with observing while he fisted his cock in lazy strokes. It was humiliating but your core had never felt this on fire.

Saliva pooled in your mouth and threatened to overflow. Just when it started to trickle down the sides of your open mouth, Jimin fed you his meaty cock as a reward.

“Now show me what a good slut is capable of.”

It was all the motivation you needed to take him as deep as your throat allowed. Your throat, unaccustomed to the stretch and burn, had difficulty adjusting. Patiently, Jimin let you to take all the time you needed. Determined to perform well, you worked on his cock until he was all you could taste and smell. 

Jimin was a lot more vocal than what you had imagined. It was a pleasant surprise. Guys usually held back - refused to give up that semblance of control - but Jimin’s ego was far from fragile. Whenever you swallowed he sucked in a quick breath of air, and when the muscles in your throat clamped down around his length he hissed out deep groans, their low timbre sending shivers down your back.

You paid close attention to his reactions and cataloged them. And that feeling - of having to learn someone’s ticks - was one that you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. 

Maybe if the circumstances had permitted it, you would have explored that feeling, questioned what it meant and why you enjoyed it. As it was, you were valiantly trying not to make unattractive whale sounds every time Jimin’s fat cock jabbed the back of your throat.

It seemed like ages before your throat finally relaxed enough to take him all the way down to the hilt. Jimin kept a firm hand on top of your head, not exerting enough pressure to lock you in place, but the implication was there. 

“Fuck.” His balls ached, feeling like they were about to burst. The closer he approached climax, the more his tongue ran loose. “You take it so good, make me feel so fucking good. Choke on my fat cock—just like that. A little longer, c’mon, I know you can take it. Good girl. God, you’re so—oh fuck!”

The muscles in the back of your throat had closed up and you gagged from lack of air. Eyes glassy from unshed tears, you struggled to not clamp down your teeth on his dick as your body was pushed to its limits. Only Jimin’s moans of ecstasy kept you from pulling back too soon—that and the deathly tight grip in your hair.

“Your mouth should be illegal.” Mercifully he let you catch your breath. The respite was brief. Your lungs burned but you had no time to do anything about it before he used the grip in your hair to slam you back down his length. 

If you had been able to set the pace before, there was no possibility of that now. Jimin used your mouth like he was paying for it, his rhythm fast-paced and erratic. The rough treatment should have provoked objection and a litany of protests but to your shame and surprise, there was not a fiber in your body that wanted to stop.

You knew that Jimin was nearing his end long before he announced it. He tried to keep the shakiness out of his voice, but there was no hiding the signs of his impending orgasm.

Jimin hissed out a few last obscenities, his tongue stumbling to get out the words as his entire body tensed up like a volcano about to erupt. “Better swallow it all, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want to dirty the pool I worked so hard to clean, now would you? That wouldn’t be very nice…”

You sucked harder in reply, your tongue pressed up against a sensitive vein near the head of his dick. The hold on your hair tightened and he groaned in ecstasy, pleasure wracking his entire frame. “’Atta girl. You’re gonna take me right down your throat. Gonna show me how well you take it? Prove to me that you’re a good girl ‘til the end, hnn?”

Bitterness coated your tongue before he could finish formulating his question. It flooded your mouth in thick spurts.

Yoongi had always claimed that your greed was boundless when it came to cum. You were only proving his words to be true by swallowing everything down in large gulps. It was a bit on the depraved side—you knew some of your friends wouldn’t swallow semen even if they got paid millions for it—but you loved it. You sucked him down until you were certain that he had nothing left to give you.

“So fucking greedy.” Jimin huffed out a laugh and eased you off when the stimulation became too painful to bear. “Knew the moment I met you that you were just gagging for a taste. Look at you… Don’t even need to tell you to clean me off.”

Now that you were no longer caught up in the moment, it was easier to think straight. Arousal still pulsed between your legs but it had been dulled, no longer screaming for attention. 

“My husband taught me well.”

Jimin raised a brow, mouth splitting into a grin. “Maybe I should thank him.”

“That would be the polite thing to do.” Would it? What protocol should be followed after face-fucking your boss’s wife? “Though I think Yoongi should be the one thanking you.”

“Hmm.” Jimin chose not to question. Less questions, meant less involvement and he hadn’t been lying when he had said that he liked to keep his distance. Even without the questions, Jimin was perceptive enough to pick up on the unsaid. The look on your face told him everything he needed to know. “You like him a lot, that elusive husband of yours.”

“Would I be here if I didn’t?” you said, making him pause.

For once, Jimin found himself at a loss for words.

There was something disconcerting about your smirk that had his stomach twisting in knots. It was not the look he expected to see. Instead of the residual yearning and disappointment, there was nothing but satisfaction written on your face. It bothered him for a reason he could not quite grasp.

Without really knowing how or why, Jimin's instincts told him that he had been played at his own game.

.

.

{MONDAY. 10.32 am}

.

“It’s today, isn’t?” 

You kept the phone pressed close to your ear by raising your shoulder into an exaggerated shrug. Your hands were otherwise occupied, one of them taking out a hair roller, the other applying a deep red color onto the soft pillow of your lips.

It was hard work—one wrong move would stain the skin around your mouth. On any other day, you wouldn’t dare rush, but today there was no time to erase and reapply. You were on a tight schedule. Luckily for you, you had the art of multitasking down to a T.

On the other side of the line, Bogum replied to your inquiry. You hummed in a distracted manner, too busy observing your reflection for any imperfections.

Satisfied with your handwork, you smacked your lips together. Red was the perfect choice. Femme fatales like Marilyn and Brigitte would be proud.

“He left so early this morning I wasn’t even able to wish him luck. Do you happen to know when he’ll be done? He won’t be home before... Ah - I see. Okay, yes, of course I will. No, that’ll be all, thank you Mr. Park. I will, thank you. Have a nice day.” 

After casting one last pleased once-over at your reflection in the vanity mirror, you made your way to the conservatory with all the smugness of someone who knew that they were in for the fuck of their life.

And there was no better candidate for the job than Kim Seokjin. 

Equipped with model-like proportions and a face that belonged on the silver screen, he was the epitome of beauty. Renaissance artists would have begged on their knees to replicate his good looks on canvas. You knew, however, just by looking at his perfectly symmetrical features, that someone as physically perfect as Kim Seokjin was incapable of being duplicated. Renowned and prestigious painters would have struggled to capture the aura he radiated, their painted renditions crude imitations of the real thing.

His presence alone inspired adulation. With that kind of face, it was probably common occurrence that throngs of women - and men - threw themselves reverently at his feet like he was a god and the world was his temple.

In other words—Seokjin was unworldly beautiful. 

...And he also had the ego to match it. 

In that aspect, he reminded you of Jimin. They were both individuals who would never settle for sub-par fucks, even if their lives depended on it. 

Seokjin was well aware of his worth and he probably thought himself deserving of the best. Unlike Jimin, he had no interest in playing games. You knew that with him, there would be no give and take, no push and pull, no ploys of seduction. If he liked what he saw enough, he’d bite. If he didn’t, he’d turn up his nose and move on to the next best thing.

Maybe the past few days had gone to your head, filling you with undeserved confidence, but you were convinced that he wouldn’t turn you down. Not when you had on your fuck-me-heels and a dress you knew for a fact made your ass look fantastic.

You looked fucking good. In the past an outfit like this would have been sufficient incentive for Yoongi to bend you over the nearest piece of furniture and fuck you silly until your legs turned to jello and you forgot what day of the month it was.

If it had once worked on Yoongi – the toughest stone to crack – then Seokjin would most likely break as easily. As monumental as his ego was, Seokjin wasn’t an impenetrable fortress.

Still…you had expected a bit more resistance than the reality you were met with. When you had asked him whether he’d fancy taking a break, your tone unmistakably suggestive, Seokjin had proceeded to ditch the protective gloves and cleaning equipment, not needing to be asked twice, and had promptly followed you into the house with the enthusiasm of a puppy promised a treat.

As soon as you had crossed the threshold, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off of you. Large hands groped whatever handfuls of flesh they were able to reach, zealous in their exploration. You giggled at his blatant impatience. All of your assumptions were proved right—Seokjin was undoubtedly accustomed to getting whatever he wanted, when he wanted. He took without hesitation, his movements bold and unabashed.

You had to physically pull him down the hallway in order to get him to move. If he had his way, he would have probably taken you right there against the wall, too impatient to bother with the removal of clothes.

“In here?” he gawked, his eyes darting around the room in alarm. “You want to fuck on your husband’s bed.”

You huffed out an amused breath. “It’s my bed, too. Where did you expect me to bring you, the rooftop?” 

Seokjin paused, considering. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed around an invisible knot of nerves.

In the background, only the quiet whir of a ceiling fan could be heard. If you listened hard enough, you’d probably be able to hear the conflicting thoughts warring through his mind.

Inwardly, you rolled your eyes. What kind of skewered sense of moral righteousness was this? He was fine fucking his boss’s wife but not in his bed?

Seokjin didn’t take too long to arrive at the same conclusion.

“Alright,” he said, mind made up. Any trace of hesitation had been erased from his eyes, replaced only by fiery resolve. “Let’s get it.”

“I—” you opened your mouth and then closed it. 

You had forgotten what it was like to fuck around with fratboys. It brought you back to a time when the only available guys around you were as vapid as they were handsome. It came without saying that hooking up with the star players on the football team had come with its perks—like their short refractory periods and unbeatable stamina. But all in all, the list of cons had outweighed the pros, and you had come to the conclusion that fifteen minutes of sex with a hot guy wasn’t worth the pain of being bored out of your mind.  

Meeting Yoongi had been a breath of much needed fresh air. You still recalled the elation and excitement of meeting someone so sophisticated and worldly. College kids couldn’t hold a candle to him.

Seokjin bent down and kissed you. 

You had been so engrossed in your thoughts that the feeling of his lips against your own did not register at first. But Seokjin was insistent and refused to be ignored. He worked his mouth against yours, tongue hot and probing the seam of your mouth.

Instinctively, you gave in to his advances, your body responding before your brain had the chance to catch up. His plush lips were soft and tasted slightly of coconut. Most importantly, they were experienced in the art of kissing. Seokjin kissed you fervently, tongue swiping against yours, determined to elicit as many moans as he could from you.

“That’s better,” he said between two pants. “I want you like this.”

You hummed, slightly dazed. “Like what?”

In lieu of an answer, Seokjin cupped your cheek and angled your head to the side so that he could kiss you deeper.

You had no opportunity to demand a verbal reply—not when his mouth kept you otherwise occupied. As the seconds stretched on, you felt yourself go weak in the knees. If it wasn’t for the firm hold he had around your waist, bracing you against his concrete-hard chest, you were certain you’d have already crumpled into an inelegant heap on the floor.

Hours or minutes could have elapsed—you had no clue. It was only when Seokjin pulled up for air that time seemed to regain its true course. You blinked away the spots dotting your vision, the world slowly coming back into focus.

“Yeah, like this,” Seokjin smiled down at you, pleased with what he saw. “I want you like this—thinking only of me, no one else. I’m the only one you’ll ever think of after this, won’t I?”

You cleared your throat, not trusting your voice. Seokjin raised an eyebrow like he expected an answer and you obliged, albeit a bit wobbly. “I’m not sure that’ll be enough to get me to remember you.”

Seokjin laughed. You could feel it rumble in his chest, so loud was his amusement. “You only say that because you haven’t been with a man like me. Once I give it to you, you’ll never think about another cock again.”

You tilted your head as if unconvinced. You had heard variants of the same promise over the years and had learned not to hold anyone to their word.

“What do you need?” Seokjin cajoled. “Tell me what you need from me and I’ll give it to you, babygirl.”

“I need a cock in me.” The ache between your legs was becoming unbearable.  

He exhaled sharply, not expecting you to be so blunt. “Fuck, okay.”

One of his hands reached down for the silver buckle of his belt but the nervous buzz thrumming through his body made him clumsy. After a few seconds of fumbling with the button of his jeans, you joined in to help. His impatience seemed to have rubbed off on you because you found that you had no use for unnecessary prolongations. As crude as the thought was, you needed to be fucked. Preferably sooner than later.

“Shit.” His jaw clenched just as your hand squeezed around his length. 

“You’re so big, what the fuck.” You palmed his girth once again, just to confirm your initial assessment. And—yep. He was fucking packing. 

So he really had hit the genetic jackpot. Huh, you intoned, not really surprised by the discovery. Some people really did have all the luck in the world.

You fell to your knees unceremoniously. The polished floorboards dug into your shins but you were quick to dismiss the discomfort, too taken by the sizable length in front of your face. It wasn’t impressively thick, but the length was just right. Your thighs tightened as you imagined how well it could fill you up.

Impatience got the best of you and you spit into your palm, too lazy to go grab the lube from the bedside table. You used both hands to work his member to stiffness, occasionally leaning forward to spit onto his growing erection, the excess saliva easing the glide of skin on skin.

“Fuck, keep going. Get me ready to fuck you.” The sound of his voice made you glance up for the first time.

From this angle, Seokjin positively towered above you.

God, you wanted to climb him like a fucking tree.

Lust pumped through your veins, warming you from the inside out. Seeing him so affected made you re-double your efforts. The only thought crossing your mind right then was how much you wanted to see him to fall apart.

You twisted your hand with every upstroke, paying extra attention to the sensitive underside near the head of his cock. Every time you let your thumb stroke that particular area, Seokjin’s hips thrust forward of their own accord, a muffled groan of satisfaction making its way past his lips before he could swallow them down.

As much as he tried to appear unaffected, you could tell that he was slowly but surely being worn down. His hands balled into fists at his sides, nails digging white crescents onto the surface of his skin in an attempt to reign in his raging desires.

When you reached down to play with his balls, Seokjin decided that he had had enough.

Yanking you up by the arm, he manhandled you onto the bed, lifting you around like you weighed next to nothing. The perfectly ironed Egyptian cotton sheets crinkled under your weight but you couldn’t care less. By the end of the night, those wrinkles would be the least of your concerns.

“You sure about this, right?” He asked while kicking his pants and briefs all the way off. The rest of his clothes followed suit, and you gulped audibly as he revealed his broad shoulders, chiseled chest and slim waist in all their glorious nakedness. “Once I start I won’t hold back… And I’m not sure you’re ready for the fuck of your life.”

“Yes! I need a cock so bad. Please.”

Ignoring your whiny pleas, he bent his torso over the edge of the bed, blindly searching through the discarded clothes piled up on the floor.

“Condom. Where the fuck did I—Aha!” He grinned triumphantly when he found the foil packet in the back pocket of his jeans.

“I don’t need it,” you cut in before he ripped it open. “I’m on birth control and I’m clean.”

“Wha— Are you serious?” Momentarily stunned, he gaped down at you, condom wrapper still clutched between his fingers. “You want me to raw you.”

His crude phrasing made you squirm. “I like the feeling of cum in my pussy…” You felt your cheeks flame at the confession. “If you’re clean then please don’t use it.”

Seokjin chewed his bottom lip, visibly lost in thought.

“Please? Want to feel you fill me to the brim.” His eyes flashed. You knew you had him, then. 

When he spoke next, it was more out courtesy than due to indecisiveness. “What about Mr. Min?”

“What about me?” a familiar voice cut through the air.

You both startled, heads whipping towards the doorway. Except, unlike you, Seokjin recoiled, stumbling back like he had been burnt by a hot iron, his hands seizing the nearest pillow to cover up his modesty. From an outside perspective it must have been quite the sight.

“Oh please don’t stop on my account. Keep going, we were just getting to the good part,” Yoongi said coolly as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was still in his work clothes but had lost his suit jacket somewhere along the way. His white dress shirt was rolled up at the sleeves and your eyes were instantly drawn to his arms. One of the corners of his mouth twitched when he took note of your interest but his face remained otherwise blank, giving nothing away.

“W-what?” Seokjin gulped, any of his earlier bravado gone.

"Did I stutter?" Yoongi’s tone was monotone, almost bored. But his eyes—they told a whole different story. They pierced right through you, pinning you in place. Not that there was anywhere else you'd rather be than here, right now, with him, in this bedroom. You had been waiting for this moment for so long that the anticipation was killing you.

His cold gaze slid back over to Seokjin as he silently seized him up. "Well? Didn't I hear you say you were going to give my wife 'the fuck of her life'?" Yoongi's words were twisted with sarcasm. It was evident that he was looking down on Seokjin, his tone nothing but straight up condescending.

The way they talked about you like you weren’t even in the room should have been off-putting but for now you preferred to watch the scene unfold without interfering. There would be plenty of time to play later.

"What? Can't put your money where your mouth is?" Yoongi scoffed and leaned back against the wooden doorframe, feigning disappointment.

Seokjin bristled, deeply offended.

Internally, it dawned on you that this might be the first time someone had so openly challenged Seokjin. You knew guys like him—they were used to getting their way, used to being showered in constant praise, used to people coming back and begging for seconds, so thirsty for more they’d settle for scraps. Yoongi contempt had probably knocked Seokjin out of his orbit, rattling the latter to the core.

"You think I can't pleasure her?" he dared ask, eyebrows inflexed. His attempt at intimidation would have been more efficient had he not been the only one naked, you observed from the sidelines.

"Go on." Yoongi waved his hand, looking like he couldn't care less. "I'd like to see you try."

The clear disregard made Seokjin's jaw tick. His heavy brow furrowed. For the first time since Yoongi's presence was made known, Seokjin rounded on you, his normally honey brown irises now a murky, indescribable color. 

You shuddered, high on the feeling of being the subject of both of their attention. 

The air crackled with electricity, the tension escalating by the second, and you realized that playtime had arrived faster than anticipated. 

Seokjin approached you, much like a lion stalking his prey. You couldn't help but notice the determined glint in his eye, the confidence he wore unfailingly till the end. In his mind, he was going to win. He had no doubt about it. You were going to bend to his will and cum hard on his tongue just like the countless others had before you.

You almost felt bad for him. 

Maybe... Maybe if you had met him years ago, things would have gone exactly like how Seokjin pictured it in his head. But what he failed to realize was that he was in Yoongi's den, playing by Yoongi's rules.

And your husband? He never started anything he knew he wouldn't be able to finish. That was the business man in him. He measured the risks and calculated the cost before any operation, thus ensuring that he would never be beaten.

It was easy to tell by his relaxed posture that he really did view Seokjin as a non-threat.

You had known, of course, that he had never considered losing as an option. Yoongi had been the one to propose this particular game in the first place, after all. Even if it was a first for the both of you, he must have known that the stakes would always remain in his favor.

“Ready?” The mattress dipped under his weight. Seokjin crawled over you, kneeling so that his legs bracketed yours. There was a fire in his eyes that hadn’t been there fifteen minutes ago. He looked like a man with something to prove.

Inadvertently, your gaze flitted back to the doorway, searching for Yoongi’s. You wanted to see his face, needed to see how he’d react to another man touching you. 

“Eyes up here.” Reluctantly, you followed Seokjin’s instructions. He noticed your pout right away. “When I’m through with you, you won’t even remember you’re married.”

Gutsy. Your head turned to catch Yoongi’s reaction but Seokjin stopped you by leaning down to kiss you full on the lips. 

It was a strange feeling. Usually, you shut out the rest of the world, attention solely focused on the pair of lips moving against your own, but instead you felt hyper-aware of every little thing going on around you, ears straining as you tried to figure out what Yoongi was up to. 

Seokjin nipped your swollen lip, unhappy with how your mind kept drifting. You tried to make a more conscious effort and show more interest, running your hands up and down his arms and letting out puffs of air whenever his hands ghosted over a ticklish area of your body.

Now that you had become a more active participant, you had finally begun to appreciate the slow pace Seokjin had built up. Contrary to your expectations, he hadn’t shoved his horse dick into you and hammered away. He took his time with you, making a show out of it. You couldn’t say you disliked it.

Okay, so, admittedly your expectations had been pretty low to begin with... But you were quickly seeing the errors of your ways. And, in your personal opinion, it was always better to be pleasantly surprised than the opposite. 

Yoongi did not share the sentiment.

It was the first time a stranger had been invited into your shared bedroom. Seeing another man settled against the pillows he slept on at night wasn’t a sight he had ever imagined he’d see—let alone enjoy. 

And for a while, he let himself watch without intruding in on the scene, a foreign and inexplicable feeling rooting him to the spot. Yoongi had no name for it but the longer he played spectator, the more intense the emotion became.

Beneath the alien feeling, he detected arousal and although he wasn’t sure what exactly he found exciting about the sight in front of him, a ball of desire coiled tightly at the base of his spine.

Objectively, both of you looked beautiful together. Your words had not done Seokjin’s beauty justice. When he looked at the pair of you intertwined, it was like watching a high quality Hollywood movie. But Yoongi knew that his arousal wasn’t just surface level. It ran deeper than that.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he goaded, needing to confirm his suspicions. “You should get her ready to take cock. She hasn’t been fucked in a while, so she’ll be tight.”

He saw how his words made you squirm and smothered a smirk. He couldn’t wait to deal with you.

When Seokjin looked up to meet his gaze, Yoongi was surprised to see incredulity present in the brown of his eyes.

“Wait.” He swallowed, suddenly losing the confidence he had sported earlier. “Y-you’re actually serious about this?”

Ah. Yoongi suspected that the slow pace hadn’t been because Seokjin had wanted to enjoy his wife, but because he had been waiting for Yoongi to jump in and put a premature end to all of this.  

“Looks like you really were all talk. But what else should I have expected from some college grad student…”

Provoking him into action proved to be too easy. The line of Seokjin’s mouth hardened and he renewed his previous efforts. He grew bolder, hands deliberately reaching for your breasts to squeeze them through the expensive material of your dress.  The kiss became sloppier as well, losing all finesse. From what Yoongi could see, there was less technique, but more tongue and teeth.

Whatever fire Yoongi had lit inside him had made him careless.

Yoongi’s pointed stare never strayed. As if sensing the scrutiny directed his way, Seokjin fumbled with his movements, eager to prove but too frenzied to actually accomplish anything.  

By the looks of it, he wouldn’t be able to find your clitoris even it was drawn on a map with the step by step instructions attached. Yoongi would find the whole situation laughable if he wasn’t so affronted on your behalf.

“Do you know how to fuck a woman or not?” he spat out, exasperated.

“Just a minute, I’m—”

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Yoongi interrupted, his curt tone leaving no room for argument. He loosened up his tie with one hand as he continued, voice sharp, “Go sit up by the headboard and don’t even think of moving. That means no touching your dick, either.”

There was a tense moment of silence as Seokjin gaped at him, his eyes wide as he tried to quickly process the rapid turn of events. 

"I won't force you to stay. It's your call. But if you choose to play with us, you're abiding by my rules." 

Seokjin looked like he wanted to argue and put up a fight and for half a second, you really thought that he would.  Yoongi took his silence as a favorable answer, certain that the younger man wouldn't leave.

“I’m feeling generous tonight so I’ll let you watch. You can think of it as a learning experience. I’ll even show you how to make my slut soak the sheets.” A smile curved his lips, taunting. “And maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you lick it up. How’s that sound?”

Yoongi raised his brow in challenge and that was all it took for Seokjin to slowly make his way to the edge of the bed, his back hitting the mahogany wood with a dull thud.

Yoongi liked to think he was a reasonable man. 

He was fine with a lot of things—you maxing out his credit cards on ridiculously expensive items of clothing that you never wore more than once, you taking out his newest car for a spin in the big city without permission, you spending an extra thirty minutes on your hair and makeup when he was running late for a dinner function.

What he was not okay with, however, was you sharing your pussy with barely-out-of-college boys who were incapable of going five seconds without creaming their pants.

No, that was where he drew the line.

You were a woman with standards. You had married him, not some pretty-faced fratboy, had you not? If that wasn’t sufficient proof, then what was?

As vain and prideful as it sounded, Yoongi refused to be put on the same level of the other men who chased after you. Unlike those men who salivated over you like a piece of quality meat, he knew exactly what you wanted and what you needed.

In the bedroom, a voice in the back of his mind corrected. You only know what she wants in the bedroom.

Yoongi swallowed, forcing the sudden feeling of inadequacy down his throat. He had failed you on that end. Old habits were hard to kill and he had learned of the consequences the hard way.

It had always been like that. Even as a kid, Yoongi liked rationality and reasoning, preferring numbers to the abstract. Equations had solutions, emotions did not. Before he had met you, every little thing he did had answered logic’s call. He woke up because he had to get to work. He ate because his body needed the energy to survive.

He was so used to fending for himself, of thinking of himself as a unit, that sometimes he forgot that his actions affected others as well. In retrospect, his lack of empathy had most likely been the root of the reason why all of his previous relationships had failed miserably.

People had never stayed long enough to work the issues out. Maybe they figured that he was too anchored in his habits to change or too emotionless to understand. There was also the financial imbalance that factored in and despite Yoongi’s verbal reassurances, none of it had helped. It was…uncomfortable, to say the least. His previous partners had never dared voice out their concerns and worries and Yoongi hated it, hated feeling like he was using his money to keep people in his life, no matter how miserable they clearly felt on the inside.

With you, it was different.

Yoongi reached the foot of the bed and met your honest gaze. Something squeezed his heart tightly and refused to let go. Despite all his flaws, you had stayed. Not out of obligation or monetary obsession—but out of love.

Love…was hard to define. Every time he thought he knew what it meant, it turned out he didn’t. But as he stood there with you finally at an arm’s reach, he thought he felt the emotion beating against his rib cage, making a home in his chest.

“Yoongi.” Your fingers twitched at your side, like they wanted to reach out for him but weren’t sure if they were allowed to.

When he draped himself over your body and interlaced his fingers with yours, it was as if something inside him finally locked into place.  

“My love.” Your pulse jumped at the term of endearment. He liked using it ever since you had let slip that none of your previous lovers had ever called you that way. Even if you had initially complained that it made him sound like a fifty year old man, he knew you enjoyed it by the way your body never failed to respond. “I’ve made you wait long enough.”

He meant it in more ways than one. Yoongi was ready to give you everything, body and soul. He belonged to you.

“Are you going to do something about it?” You held your breath and waited for his answer, anticipation turning you into a squirming mess against the sheets.

“This dress brings back many memories,” he said instead, pointer finger tracing down the line of your cleavage. From this distance, Yoongi could count every single beauty mark that speckled your skin. His memory supplied images of himself licking and connecting each dot, the hot drag of his tongue leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. His mouth hungered for a taste but Yoongi curbed the desire before it had the chance to cloud his judgment. “Although I thought I had ruined it beyond saving a long time ago.”

“Your black card bought me a new one.”

Yoongi snorted, the unrefined sound breaking his cool façade. “Let’s get it off you. As much as I adore it, it looks better on the ground.”

“Take what’s yours.”

Yoongi wasted not a second more, the hurried movements of his hands conveying his burning arousal. With deft fingers, he found the zipper of your dress and pulled, watching with satisfaction as inch after inch of naked skin was exposed.

“Naughty slut.” His eyes narrowed as he admired your exposed body. Yoongi forced himself to keep his hands still at his sides even though he was dying to relieve his painful erection from the tight confines of his briefs. “Are you always bare under your clothes?”

“The lines…” you mumbled and trailed off. “My dress is so tight that my bra and panties show if I wear any.”

Yoongi scoffed, forcing his eyebrows into an expression of disbelief. “So you’re not okay with strangers seeing the outline of your thong, but fine with them ogling your hard nipples? Why? That desperate for them to know what a horny wife I have?”

“I wouldn’t be this horny if you fucked me more often.” You glared.

A beat of silence passed before Yoongi unlocked his jaw. “We’ll have to do something about that mouth later. Seems like a lesson on manners is in order.”

“Counting on it, sir,” was your cheeky answer.

Yoongi’s hand came down with a crack. He watched as your whole body jolted from the impact. “Hands and knees. No, the other way. Face our guest. Since you like showing off your tits so much, here’s another perfect opportunity to do so.”

In your haste to follow his orders, you stumbled several times, knees knocking together as you readjusted yourself to his whims. Without needing to be told, you spread out your legs and arched your back, leaving the most intimate parts of you completely exposed for his viewing pleasure. If he wanted to take you right then, there was nothing stopping him from doing so.

Seokjin was all but forgotten at this point. He could have left the room and Yoongi wouldn’t have noticed—or cared. His vision had tunneled, his entire world narrowed down to the sight of you presenting yourself just like a good whore should. It seemed like you were equally affected, if not more. Yoongi spread your cheeks so that he could fully appreciate the view of your drenched pussy. If he had ever doubted your arousal, your slick thighs, shiny with your juices, and swollen lips were enough proof to dispel such uncertainties.

“You’re all mine to take,” he said in a soft growl.

He knelt behind you and ran his hands up the back of your sticky thighs. This position left him at the perfect height to eat you out. His mouth watered at the prospect of finally having his fill. Too long had he deprived himself of a delicious meal… It was time to fix that.

You moaned the instant his finger came into contact with your rapidly hardening clit. Your feeble attempts at shoving your hips back for more were thwarted by Yoongi's strong grip on your thigh, the rough pads of his fingertips bruising the soft skin in warning. It took a herculean effort to keep still but you somehow managed, knowing that your obedience would pay off.

Yoongi liked to enjoy his meals. He took his time with you, playing with the abundance of wetness that had collected between your thighs, dragging his digits across your velvety folds.

He loved taking you this way. With you offered up to him ass up and legs spread, he could really get into it, mouth and hands dictating the pace without your interference. There was nothing you could do save for holding open your cheeks and plead for more.

Sometimes—when he felt merciful—he indulged you. But he could not deny that there was something infinitely more satisfying when he drew out your pleasure until you shook and cried with need.

“Mhmm.” His groan echoed yours as he slid in his ring finger into your hot cunt. You were so aroused that the stretch could hardly be felt. “Snug and wet. S’gonna be a tight fit when I open you up with my cock later.”

The unspoken promise of cock made your walls squeeze around his finger and Yoongi groaned again  as he imagined how amazing you’d feel around his painful erection instead of his hand.

For now, he pushed the ache aside. The only one that mattered right now was you.

He flattened his tongue and let it drag across your folds, moaning as the taste of you flooded his mouth.  Fuck. It wasn’t enough, he thought frantically. As he continued to lick into you like a man starved, he wondered how he could ever possibly tire of your taste. How he had managed to stay away from it all this time was a mystery he had yet to solve.

Your cries of pleasure grew louder as his tongue fucked into you, sampling the snugness of your walls for what would come later. Wetness dripped down his chin but he could care less about the mess you made. He kept licking it up, not wanting to stop for a single second, only pulling off whenever his lungs burned from lack of air.

Attuned to your body and its needs, he felt every tremor and hitch of breath. Whenever he sensed your heart rate kick up, he slowed down and changed the tempo. He kept you on the edge like that for several long minutes, building you up only to bring you back to zero.  

Finally, he pulled back, ignoring the betrayed cry he ripped from your throat, and wiped the shine off his chin with the back of his hand. The taste of you was still heavy on his tongue and he couldn’t help but lick his lips clean in satisfaction. Nothing pleased him more than feasting between your legs and it would be a lie to say that he hadn’t missed it terribly. 

A creak of the mattress distracted him. Seokjin shifted uncomfortably, his erection prominent. By the looks of it, he had been hard for a rather long time. Yoongi was pleased to see that Seokjin had stayed true to his word—his hands were obediently shoved under the meat of his thighs to prevent himself from touching himself.

Yoongi had been so focused on the five-star meal nestled between your thighs that he had forgotten his manners. 

“Darling, it’s time to show our guest what a lovely host you are.” He punctured his command with a sharp swat to your ass.

You stumbled forward but looked back at him for guidance. “How—?”

“Don’t think I forgot how well you begged for cock earlier,” he reminded you. “You still desperate for it?”

“Want,” you shook your head, confused. “Want yours.”

The features of his face softened. “You’ll get mine soon enough. But you know only good sluts get my cock and I still need some convincing.”

“I’m good,” you insisted, your lips pursed into a pout.

He raised his brow and tilted his head.

Squinting your eyes defiantly, you crawled over to Seokjin and begged, shameless and past the point of caring about modesty. “Please fuck my face.”

“Is that—?” Seokjin gulped, looking down at you with worried eyes. “Will you be okay?”  

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” A wicked grin played at Yoongi’s lips. “I’ve cock trained her to take it like a good slut should.”

The unabashed moan his words provoked was all it took for Seokjin to know that you were fully on board with him fucking your face. His eyes widened imperceptibly at how shameless you looked, mouth open with your tongue out, panting for his hardened length down your throat like a bitch in heat. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, squeezing the base of his cock to keep himself together.

Your lewd display seemed to amuse Yoongi to no end. 

“Look, she’s hungry for it. Don’t keep her waiting, she’s been good.”

Seokjin gave in. No matter what others believed, he was only human. All men had their limits and Seokjin’s self-restraint had been tested too many times today to count. He fed you his cock, slipping inch after inch into your hot mouth.

His groan of appreciation vibrated deep in his chest and he tipped his head back as the feeling of your mouth momentarily overwhelmed him.

It didn’t take long for him to get lost in the feeling. Although he had had his reservations about the entire thing, Seokjin stopped holding back once he saw how enthusiastic you were. You sucked his cock, working him down even if it was obvious his sizeable length wasn’t making it easy.

“Force it down,” instructed Yoongi.

Seokjin jumped, his eyes flying open as he remembered the older man’s presence. Your mouth was so good he had erased everything else in the room.

“What?”

“She won’t be able to take it in her throat unless you help her.” Yoongi observed with almost clinical detachment. Seokjin took a moment to admire the man’s calm and collected attitude. The moment dissipated quickly, however. Your tongue had started doing things to the head of his cock that had him biting down whines of pleasure.

You laughed around his dick when he failed to suppress one of them. Seokjin’s erection twitched as the vibrations teased him further and he groaned out a few creative expletives that had you giggling harder.

His hips kicked up of their own accord, making you gag loudly as his length reached the back of your throat. Seokjin almost apologized but you dug your nails into the meat of his ass and signaled him to do it again.

He swore again and fucked into your mouth slowly at first but once he saw you could take it, started building a pace. “Holy s-shit. I’m going to blow my load soon, fucking fuck.”

That only seemed to strengthen your determination. You got even tighter around him, almost like you were trying to milk the cum out of his dick with your mouth.

Yoongi approached with the stealth of a cat, making sure not to startle you when you had a cock buried in your throat. Seokjin glanced up and was glad to see that the man wasn’t wholly unaffected. Compared to when he had first met him, Yoongi looked a lot less composed. His once perfectly ironed button-down was now wrinkled, his tie loosened and crooked. And then there was his cock—hard and leaking.

Seokjin’s balls tightened and he blinked through the haze, not knowing why he was so turned on by being watched. Yoongi kept the grip on his dick loose, his strokes lazy and unhurried. Next to him, Seokjin felt like he was about a minute or two away from nutting down your throat.

“Want to know why she’s so desperate for your cum?” The way he said it—like he was imparting a guarded secret—made Seokjin look up at him through heavy lids. Every so often his lids would droop close, attention wavering with every lick of your wicked tongue.

Yoongi leaned in so close that his breath tickled the side of his neck. “It’s because she knows that it’s the only way I’ll give her what she’s been so desperately craving all this time—my fat cock fucking her pussy.”

Seokjin was unsure who the words were truly aimed at. You reacted like they had been whispered for your benefit, moaning without reserve around his dick. 

"She's so cock hungry she was willing to seduce handsome pool boys if it meant that she'd get fucked by me. Reward the slut. Cum, now."

“Oh fuck!” Seokjin threw his head back as he felt his balls empty themselves. The muscles in his thighs quivered and his knees threatened to give out. “What the fuck. I haven’t cum this hard in months.”

His chest heaved as he got his heartbeat under control. When he was finally capable of breathing normally, he chanced a glace down at you and swore his heart stopped for a nanosecond.

Yoongi had pried your mouth open with his fingers, examining the insides of your mouth. The sight was…obscene. Straight out of a porno. Seokjin’s stomach tightened as he observed the scene in front of him, feeling his spent dick twitch in interest despite the recent mind-numbing orgasm.

“Good girl,” praised Yoongi and even to Seokjin’s ears, he sounded proud of his wife’s achievements. “Spit.”

He motioned at his raging boner. “Get me ready to fuck you. With how long it’s been, you’re going to need all the lube you can get.”

Visibly excited at the prospect of finally getting your husband’s cock, you obliged, gathering all the cum in your mouth and letting it drip down his erect length in globs of white. Seokjin had never experimented with cumplay and didn’t know if the sight aroused or disgusted him.

“Mhm,” Yoongi grunted as he slicked up his dick, coating the entirety of it in another man’s cum. The sound of each stroke rang out loudly in the otherwise quiet room, the sound lewd and wet.

“Please fuck me now,” you pleaded, hands clasped in your lap and knees still tucked under you from earlier. The position and sweet tone made you appear demure—but by now Seokjin knew better. “You promised.”

“I did, didn’t I?” He smiled wide enough for creases to appear near his eyes. “Time to give you what you worked so hard for.”

Yoongi didn’t wait for a reply—not that he had been expecting one in the first place. He pushed you back until your back hit the mattress and crawled over you, pinning you to the bed with his weight.

He kept his eyes level with yours as he pushed the head of his cock into you. The stretch was slow but he refused to go faster, ignoring your noises of encouragement. Despite his earlier rough treatment, he had no interest in inflicting this kind of pain. He kept his hips still, not giving in to his instincts, and waited until you had completely adjusted before finally moving again.  

Your moan sounded more genuine this time. It was enough to convince Yoongi that you were ready for more. “You always let out the prettiest sounds for me.”

He pulled out all the way only to slam back in, the intrusion earning him a throaty moan, louder than the last. Grinning, he kept up the slow yet deep thrusts, balls slapping against your ass with every rock of his hips into yours.

Yoongi felt the best kind of dizzy, like he had smoked a blunt right before sliding into your cunt. There were only two instances where he felt this invincible and on top of the world. One, whenever he fucked your sweet pussy as he pleased. Two, when he had secured a multi-million dollar deal. Luckily for him, he had checked both boxes today. The adrenaline high he had gotten this morning at the office still ran through his veins and only fueled his desire to fuck you harder and drive your body into the mattress.

Unfortunately, he had been pent up for so long that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to give it to you like you deserved. He had been hard for God knew how long… And hadn’t had sex in almost two whole months. No wonder he felt his control slipping much faster than usual.

“Missed your cock so much,” you sobbed, hiccuping as he drove into you harder. “Thought about it every night.

“I promise I’ll never keep it away from you this long ever again.”

“Good.” Your lashes fluttered as he ground his hips into yours, pelvis rubbing against your needy clit. “Ah!”

Yoongi’s rhythm stuttered as he adjusted your legs, throwing one over his shoulder in order to reach deeper. “Missed this tight cunt. Craved it so much, I dreamt of it. Imagined you bouncing on my lap during those board meetings, bending you over the conference table and taking you in front of all of my associates. I’d let them watch, let them watch you take my cock from behind like a filthy whore.”

He abandoned his deep thrusting for quicker, shallow strokes. “Fuck, I can feel you tighten. You going to cum all over my cock for me? Did you like the idea of me fucking you in a room full of people that much?”

Yoongi’s groan of pleasure was drowned out by your scream of ecstasy. The way you clenched down like a vice was almost enough to destroy the last of his control. He gritted his teeth, nostrils flaring as he drove into you even deeper, determined to see you fall apart one last time.

Knowing that it wouldn’t take many more thrusts before he’d be pushed over the edge, he reached down between your legs to rub at your clit. You thrashed under him, over stimulated but forced to take it. If it wasn’t for his firm grip on your legs, you would have tried to buck him off.

“Ah, Yoongi! Yoongi, I’m—” You sucked in a gulp of air as your eyes rolled back. “Oh God!”

“That’s right. Cream my cock, slut,” he hissed, his shirt sticking to him uncomfortably. His fringe was matted with sweat, but he couldn’t push it out of his face, not now, not when he was so fucking close.

His thumb flicked over your clit in rough circles, knowing exactly what you needed to be pushed over the edge.

It seemed to do the trick—seconds later and he felt you break into a violent climax, pussy gushing all over his cock and muscles clamping down on him with every contraction.

Yoongi could hold it back no longer. His last thrusts were quick and rough, cock throbbing painfully as he chased his end. Hips slamming into yours, he snarled between clenched teeth, “You better take it all.”

He thought he felt your pussy throb around him as he released himself inside you, cum spurting so deep he was sure he’d painted your cervix white.

For a while, only the whirring of the ceiling fan and the sound of rapid beating of hearts could be heard. Yoongi knew he should probably go clean up and throw his soiled clothes and sheets into the hamper, but his muscles had gone lax and refused to cooperate.

You rolled onto your stomach and propped yourself up on your elbows. He cracked open an eye when he heard you clear your throat.  

“So? Threesome? How did we feel about that?”

“Are you asking me?” Seokjin asked incredulously and Yoongi finally remembered there was an extra presence on their bed. When you shrugged then nodded, Seokjin snorted. “Do you always conduct polls after sex?”

Yoongi was similarly unimpressed. “No one else can make you cum as hard as I do. Remember that.”

.

 .

.

.

“So this is the young man you told me so much about,” drawled Yoongi.

Jungkook’s spine straightened, the man’s low timbre doing things to his insides.

When you had announced that he’d finally be able to meet your husband, Jungkook had readily agreed, looking forward to having his curiosity finally sated.

After one unsuccessful online search, Jungkook had given up on figuring out what kind of man you had married. His imagination had pictured a middle-aged man with a beer belly who occasionally liked to play polo.

Jungkook gulped audibly, realizing he couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Of fucking course his boss had to be ridiculously handsome. With his clear skin, delicately shaped nose and lips, and small, sharp eyes that had Jungkook averting his gaze, Mr. Min was so handsome that Jungkook was left bereft of speech.

Unaware of his inner crisis, Yoongi filled the awkward silence with ease. “I believe we’ve exchanged over the phone. You may address me as Yoongi, if you so wish. My wife tells me how hard you work. I wanted to personally thank you for all your efforts. I know it’s not an easy task to work in such weather conditions.”

Oh god. They talked about him. Together.

He cleared his throat. “I’m just doing my job, sir.”

Yoongi held out his hand for him to shake. His hands were so delicate looking that the force behind his grip took Jungkook by surprise. Yoongi’s gaze never strayed, trapping him in place. Jungkook felt like a prey with nowhere to hide.

“It was a pleasure working for the both of you.” He managed without stuttering like a fool. “If ever you need me for anything else, don’t hesitate. I’ve done some gardening before and I’m ok with the odd paint jobs.”

Jungkook bit his lip and ceased his rambling. Embarrassed, he scratched the back of his neck.

“I’ll be sure to remember that.”

Yoongi let the corners of his mouth curl into a smirk. He turned towards you as he watched Jungkook gather the rest of his belongings and take his leave. “You’re right. He is cute.”

“I’m always right,” you said in a distracted manner, mind elsewhere.

“You were awfully silent earlier. Hm? Not very polite.” One of his hands squeezed the dip at your waist.

You didn’t bother suppressing your glare. Yoongi merely chuckled, amused by your predicament. “I was otherwise busy.”

“Oh? But don’t you think Jungkookie would’ve enjoyed seeing my cum dripping out of your greedy pussy?” he asked, the lilt in his tone teasing. “He looked absolutely taken with you. Kept admiring your legs—not that I blame him.”

His hands played with the hem of your brazenly short dress, lifting the fabric up your thighs to uncover your naked mound.

“Would’ve been nice to treat him for all his hard work,” he commented as his fingers dipped into your hole to play with the cum he had fucked into you not even an hour ago. “And seeing cum paint your pretty thighs would have been quite the gift.”

“Yo-oongi,” you moaned his name, clenching your core as tightly as you could, not wanting to spill a single drop. “I think, ah, I think he wouldn’t have liked s-seeing your cum go to waste.”

“Is that so?”

“He looked more taken with you than with me,” you said between heavy pants. One of your hands had closed around Yoongi’s wrists in warning—you were still on the front porch for God’s sake there were kids in the neighborhood—but it hadn’t deterred him in the least. On the contrary, his fingers plundered your depths, determined to get you to drench his whole hand.

“Well…” Yoongi smiled, gums on display, as your body shuddered from head to toe. fin

“There’s only one way to test that theory out, isn’t there?”

.

.

[tera-91]

It Doesn't Feel Like Christmas

Hey everyone! This has been stuck in my head since Christmas day. It originally started as a short (Maybe 1000 or less fluff fic) but turned into …. well quiet a bit more than that 😂 Hope you like it and as always feel free to comment 💜 I love feedback

Summary: Everyone has been busy and the holiday season snuck up on everyone, especially Virgil who feels guilty and wants to do something speical for his boyfriend

Pairings: Virgil/Patton (Moxiety) Roman/Logan (Logince)

Word count: 3780

Virgil woke up at 5 am like usual. This time though he wasn’t brought back to the land of the conscious by the sound of his blaring alarm clock. Patton had made sure that had been turned off before the pair had gone to bed the night before. A shifting figure beside him made him look down at the mop of strawberry blond hair. Patton always made sure the alarms were only turned on when the alarms owner had to be up the next morning. He took a deep breath and sighed at the smell of sweet pea and magnolia, the smell had always relaxed him. He didn’t know what he would do without Patton. He gently hugged the smaller figure closer to him. 

Virgil was almost back to sleep when he heard an alarm clock break through the silence of the house. He reached over and clicked the light button for Patton’s clock to make a soft blue light display the time. 6 am. Huh, it had to be Logan’s clock but the genius didn’t have to go to work. None of them did.

Reluctantly, Virgil gently pulled away from Patton as to not wake him. Once out of bed Virgil couldn’t stop the small heart palpitation as he watched Patton grab his pillow and turn over, but a smile soon followed as Patton simply snuggled into the pillow and back to a restful sleep. Virgil walked over to his desk chair where Patton had a habit of throwing Virgil’s hoody when he pulled it off in his sleep. He slipped on the, slightly ragged, article of clothing and made his way into the common area of the three-bedroom home.

As he thought, Logan was there, although slightly more disheveled than he was used to seeing the other man. He actually had on pajamas, that he was sure Roman bought him, for once. The main clue was that the pants had the Andromeda galaxy and Logan rarely bought anything that had the stars on it as it seemed nothing was ever accurate enough for him to buy on his own accord. He had on a Beauty and the Beast night shirt, that was definitely Roman’s as it was at least 2 sizes too big for him. He stood at the counter, half asleep with his hair sticking up in various places and glasses slightly askew, while he waited for the coffee to finish.

“Sorry Logan, Patton turned off the alarm clocks and I forgot to set the coffee pot. Although, I didn’t expect any of us to be up this early either.” Virgil said as he reached up into the cabinet and pulled out their coffee mugs. “Go ahead and sit down, Ill bring you yours as soon as it’s done.” Virgil was somewhat surprised when Logan did just that. While he waited Virgil reached for the sugar and grabbed the milk from the refrigerator as took just a few moments for the coffee machine to stop with a beep to signal it was done. Sugar and milk with a splash of coffee for him, while Logan’s was mostly coffee with just a little milk. He was careful not to spill any as he made his way to the living room where Logan sat. Logan still seemed out of it as he handed him the mug, which was understandable as he had been told multiple times of Logan’s poor sleeping habits by Roman.

Virgil sighed as he sat down next to the bespectacled man. It would be an hour or so before either Roman or Patton would wake up, so for the time being it was quiet, but peacefully so. As they both drank their coffee Virgil jarringly realized it was Christmas Eve as he took in the state of the living room. They had all been so busy with work yet Roman or Patton or both had found some time to find some vaguely Christmas colored fairy lights and string them along the edge of the ceiling. He felt somewhat sad. He knew how much both loved the holiday, probably as much as he loved Halloween. Since it was Christmas Eve there wouldn’t be enough time to order anything for anyone and he doubted they would be able to find even a small tree to decorate. Virgil sighed, his anxiety had begun to build up. He didn’t like it when Patton was sad or disappointed and he was almost certain he would be.

“Contemplating current state of events?” Logan asked suddenly which caused Virgil to jump. Before he could say anything, Logan continued “We have all been busy, more so than last year and the lack of decoration reflects that.” He gestured towards the general area of the room a tree would sit.

Virgil took another sip of his coffee. “Yeah, something like that” he said as he ran his fingers along the edge of his hoodie. “I haven’t had the time to get my brothers anything let alone Patton.” He reluctantly admitted.

“I don’t suppose many of us have had time to find anything.” Logan began. “Roman has been booked with back to back shows between the two theaters and Re-re” a sigh escaped both of them at the thought of the chaotic twin. “Re has been in his forge every time Roman looks for him, working on commissions for the holidays.”

“Patton has been making a lot of trips to and from the bakery” Virgil ran his hand through his hair. “I lost count of how many dozens of cookies and cupcakes he has made for all the shelters and homes.” a small chuckle escaped him “You know Patton, even the animal shelters get a batch of handmade treats.”

Logan hummed in agreement. “Unless one has gathered gifts during the year, I’m sure we all will understand if we just get to spend tomorrow together, sans boxes wrapped in colorful paper or bags and bows.”

Virgil shifted, somewhat uncomfortable at the thought that Patton may have found him something but nothing had ever caught his eye as a Christmas present for his boyfriend. Roman and Re, well they were easy. All he had to do was call Joan, they would go to the metal store for him and probably stop by one of the supermarkets and grab something Disney related for him since they knew he didn’t do well in crowds.

That’s just what he was going to do he quickly decided.

Virgil got up from the couch and quietly made his way back to his bedroom. As he walked up to the bedside table, he was glad he had decided to put carpet in over the summer. He couldn’t help but take a little time to admire Patton. It always amazed him, the contrast of a sleeping Patton vs awake Patton. He looked peaceful and not at all like once he woke up, he would be full of energy that he would practically be bouncing off the walls.

Virgil sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled his phone off the charger to text Joan.

V: Hey Joan would u mind going by the stores for me and grabbing Ro and Re presents for me?

J: What’cha thinking? V: Just about 10 pieces each of 15n20 and 1080 for Re, I’ll call Tyler and he can have it ready. For Ro, you no him basically anything Disney that catches ur eye. Especially anything Hercules.

J: Ah, got it! Ill get em and bring it by tonite when I come get Tals present from your place. Prewrapped ;)

V: Thanks Joan

J: NP V!

Virgil let out a quiet huff. He had his brothers taken care of now, well he still had to call Tyler but for the most part it was done. He just had to wait and make sure Re was out at his forge before he called. He turned and looked at the still sleeping Patton. It took everything in him not to just lay down next to him and card his fingers through the red tipped strawberry blond hair, the slight curls already making it stick up in hilariously weird angles. A moderately loud crash, which meant Roman was awake, caught his attention. Luckily it didn’t even phase Patton. He stood up with a huff, he still had to figure out what he was going to get Patton for tomorrow morning. He placed his phone in his hoodie pocket and made his way back out towards the living room. Maybe Roman could help him.

Virgil almost immediately turned around once he reached the end of the hallway. From were he stood he could clearly see the kitchen. A few eggs cracked and splattered on the tile floor while a bowl with pancake mix was tilted over on its side and mostly all over the counter with some of it on the floor. His eyes soon landed on Roman, or more accurately Roman’s mostly bare back which was only barely covered by a tank top that partially obscured the colorful tattoo located there, he wore the matching pants to the shirt he had seen Logan wearing earlier.

“I don’t know how you two always end up making a mess when you flirt.” Virgil said, startling Roman enough for him to step away from the counter revealing Logan up on the quarts top, his glasses pushed up onto the top of his head.

“Ah dear brother, you are just jealous.” Roman said with a confident smile as he turned and leaned back against the counter between Logan’s legs. Logan immediately leaned forward and draped himself over Roman’s shoulders, fixing his glasses in the process. “Besides you and Patton are just as guilty.” He said as he tilted his head back to look up at Logan

Virgil just rolled his eyes at the older man. “Uh huh, I am so jealous that you two make a mess. Yet the mess is usually preexisting as I find it adorable when Patton is baking not simply about to start making breakfast.” He said as he gestured to the floor.

“He is not wrong Roman. Patton is usually already covered in flour. I had yet to make any sort of mess prior to your appearance.” Logan said, smirk half hidden in Roman’s hair. The twin to pouted and tilted his head back. This caused the shorter one to laugh and give him a kiss.

Virgil shook his head before he made his way around the mess to refill his coffee. “Just clean up the mess when you’re done.” He said with a chuckle and made his way back to the living room.

“Will do bro!” he heard Roman call out.

He shook his head as he sat down on the couch. As different Ro and Re were there were still quite a few similarities between their actions that neither wanted to admit. Then it hit him, what he could do for Patton. He would wait until later when Patton would go with Logan to go see Roman’s Christmas eve performance. He’d make him his favorite treats.

Patton was next to wake up. He padded his way into the living room as he rubbed his eyes. Virgil could tell from the look on his face when he glanced into the kitchen that Logan and Roman were either still in there making out or they had left it a mess. Either way Patton’s face became red and he immediately dived for Virgil’s side. Virgil simply chuckled, placed his empty coffee cup down on the table and scooped Patton up. He shifted himself so that he was laying down on the couch with Patton’s head resting on his chest and he began to run his fingers through his hair. Patton wordlessly snuggled further into Virgil, both glad to have some time to themselves.

However, the peace didn’t last very long. “I am off to the forge my lovies and Merry B*%&^$mas too all and to all a good day!” Remus’s boisterous voice boomed through the house followed by the slamming of the front door.

Neither was sure if it was the loud voice or the slamming front door but both jumped. Virgil instinctively hugged Patton closer to him in an attempt to shield him from the nonexistent danger while Patton could feel Virgil’s fast heartbeat through his shirt. The taller one groaned and he placed his hand on his face. “I am not related to that one in the slightest.” Virgil sighed which caused Patton to giggle. Virgil waited a few moments to ensure Remus hadn’t forgotten anything before he reached into his pocket to get his phone to call Tyler.

“You’re such a thoughtful little brother.” Patton said as he reached under the hoodie once Virgil hung up the call. A large smile spread across his face at the deep red blush that appeared on Virgil’s pale skin. He loved it when his boyfriend became a blushing, cuddly mess.

“I-i just know how much he enjoys making things, though how someone that is a-all over the place like that ended up taking up blacksmithing which requires quite a bit of con-concentration.” Virgil slightly stammered.

“It’s simple my dear brother. I am the prince and he is the pauper that wants to be close to the palace, so he makes all the royal guards gear from armor to swords.” Roman appeared leaning over the couch looking at the two. Now both of them were red in the face with embarrassment at the position they were in.

“Roman that makes no sense whatsoever, that is not even how the story went, the pauper was not conically a black smith by trade. Also, you two are in fact related unlike the two boys in the book.” Logan made his presence known.

“Details, details my adorable calculator watch.” Roman said as he swept Logan up in his arms.

“Did you clean up the kitchen yet?” Patton asked as he struggled to keep from laughing as the two nearly ran to the kitchen.

The day went by rather lazily as no work needed to be done. Both Virgil and Patton enjoyed laying on the couch, the tv had been turned on at some point. Roman and Logan had joined them not long after they ran back to the kitchen, this time the pancakes had actually been made. They brought Virgil and Patton a plate and the four of them ate, bickering between Roman and Virgil being the main form of entertainment. 2 pm finally came, simultaneously too soon and not soon enough for Virgil. The three left and Vigil got to work.

He couldn’t remember exactly which was Patton’s favorite but luckily, he had enough ingredients to make both, since Patton kept the pantry stocked almost as if the home was a medium volume bakery. Which as much as Patton experimented it probably could be.

After looking through every drawer and every cabinet Virgil was able to gather most of the ingredients he needed. “Let’s see. Sugar, salt, vanilla, flour, chocolate chips, powdered sugar, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon, oil, water, milk. What am I missing?” Virgil asked himself as he looked over the items he had scattered across the counter. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the large butter dish. Of course! Patton always had room temperature butter for when he did his baking, Virgil had to stop himself from smacking himself in the head.

Virgil got to work making the cookies. It was a tedious process. He started out with the filling by mixing powdered sugar and soft cream cheese. He made the first batch of dough and portioned them out. He broke the portions in half as equally as possible before he rolled them out, placed some of the filling on one before he placed the other half on top, sealed the edges of the stuffed cookies and placed them on a sheet before storing them in the refrigerator they had out in the garage.

He returned to the kitchen, mixed together a small bowl of equal parts cinnamon and sugar, and turned the oven to preheat for the next set of cookies. He began mixing the butter and sugar, some of it went flying out as he turned on the mixer. He hoped that enough stayed in the bowl as he added the vanilla and water. Having learned his lesson, he turned the mixer down low as he added in the flour. Unfortunately, when the light ingredient hit the bowl it looked like a cloud with some landing in his hair. Virgil silently cursed under his breath. No wonder Patton always ended up covered in flour or something else when he baked.

The oven beeped, an indication that the over was up to temperature. Virgil quickly tore the chocolate chip bag open, sending about a third of the bag flying in the process. He poured the rest of the chips into the dough, shakily he mixed it up and portioned them out before putting them on a sheet and in the oven.

As he waited for the cookies to bake Virgil set to cleaning the giant mess he made in the kitchen. He had just barely finished when the timer beeped. “Ugh how does Patton do this? I haven’t even gotten the powdered sugar out yet.” Virgil said as his anxiety began to increase. He took a deep breath, grabbed the potholders and took the cookies out of the oven. He carefully lowered the ovens temperature for the first batch of cookies before he turned around and grabbed a large shallow bowl, cooling rack and the bag of powdered sugar.

With shaky hands Virgil re-opened the powdered sugar, which of course had to explode out of the bag and dust the previously clean stone countertop, then poured some into the shallow bowl. He groaned; this was just impossible. Quickly, so not to burn his fingers, Virgil picked up a few of the cookies and rolled them in the powdered sugar before placing them on the cooling rack. Once he was done with that batch of cookies Virgil went to the garage for the first batch of cookies. He took each cookie and rolled them in the cinnamon sugar he made earlier before he placed them back on the sheet and slid it into the cooler oven.

As he set to work once again cleaning the kitchen, he didn’t hear the garage door open. “Virge?” Patton’s voice made Virgil stand ramrod straight. ‘No Patton can’t be home already’ Virgil thought. A hand on his shoulder and the timer going off simultaneously, made Virgil jump almost out of his skin.

“Pat? Babe what are you doing here?” Virgil asked practically losing control of his breathing as he quickly spun around and pulled the last batch of cookies and set them on top of the counter before he turned the oven off. He didn’t want to burn the cookies, after all they were for Patton. He knew he couldn’t hide what they were from him but that didn’t stop him from trying to block Patton’s view of them.

Patton simply giggled and pulled Virgil away from the hot appliance. “Well Remus showed up with you know who. Once the performance was over the four of them wanted to go and get something to eat to celebrate a wonderful performance.” Patton reached up and to shake the mixture of flour and powdered sugar from Virgil’s hair. “I took Roman’s car while they all piled in Remus’ I knew you had already been alone for a while. Also, I was hoping to get some alone time with you.” Patton said with a rare, somewhat smug, look before he pushed the taller one up against the wooded cabinets and cool stone counter before he pulled Virgil down for a kiss.

Virgil almost, almost, whined when the other pulled away. He couldn’t help the blush that spread across his face, neither of them was particularly forward when it came to affection, but Virgil couldn’t help how much he liked it when Patton would become bolder when the two of them were alone.

“What are you up to Virge? I come home and you look like an absolute ghost with all the flour and powdered sugar on you.” Patton smiled as he rubbed Virgil’s cheek that was also smudged with powdered sugar.

“Well, I um – I hadn’t been able to find you anything for Christmas tomorrow, so I thought.” Virgil said as he glanced over at the sheet full of cookies. “I thought I would make you some of your favorites, but it seems that I can’t do any of it right.” Virgil sighed as he ran his thumbs along Pattons hips. “I couldn’t hide them from you, and I don’t think I did it right. The first batch doesn’t look right and this one looks under done.”

Patton couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up, he quickly covered his mouth with his hand. “Oh Virge.” He started as he pulled back to peak around him. “Silly you did just fine.”

“Babe those don’t look anything like yours and the ones I just pulled out look like they’d fall apart as soon as you picked them up.” Virgil protested as the other pulled away slightly. “Pat? You ok? Your hand was kind of cold.” Virgil said as he reached up and grabbed one of Patton’s still chilled hands.

Patton quickly intertwined his fingers with Virgil’s and stuck their hands in the hoodie pocket so he could steal some of the warmth the oversize hoodie provided. “I’m fine Virgil, it was just cold outside and I forgot my gloves.” He said as he buried his face in his boyfriend’s chest. “You did great, the first ones just need another coat of powdered sugar and the others just need a few minutes to firm up as they cool down. You did just fine.” Patton said as he used his other hand and once again pulled Vigil down for a comforting kiss. Patton was always mesmerized how his lips were always so soft. Patton pulled back slightly “What made you do this?” Patton asked softly, afraid to break the moment.

Virgil leaned down so their foreheads touched. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed if it doesn’t feel like Christmas tomorrow.” Virgil practically whispered.

“How could I possibly be disappointed when I’m with you, everyday feels like Christmas.” Patton said. At his words it felt like a wave washed over Virgil. He leaned down and tenderly kissed the shorter one. Tomorrow would certainly feel like Christmas even if it was just filled with fairy lights and cookies. 

@tinkslittlebelle  @teacupfulofstarshine @random-name-here @kindly-falling @xx-fandom-potato-xx @sylveon-lover-crazyfangirl1415 @sandersfander1820 @downrightdanny @i-do-not-dislike-fudge @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @princeanxious @sammys-ghostz @nope-not-more @moltengoldenstardust @coolerthan-a-vintagecassette @j-d-lightful @could-always-be-gayer-2 @altruistic-skittles @c4t1l1n4 @dutifullystrangequeerdom @i-read-by-lamp @thatcacidork @bigfirecreator @badluckkaren @eternal-optimists-world

[grandtheftstarship]

I Will Spend My Whole Life Loving You (Spock x Fem!Reader) [Request!]

“Fic Request: Spock x Fem!Reader (Vulcan/Human hybrid) go on a romantic date!”

”Headcanon or Fic Request: fem!Reader being married to Spock!”

“Request: Spock x Human-Vulcan Fem!Reader get married on the Enterprise. Preferably TOS Spock please.”

- @sovereignoblivious

Hi there! Thank you for requesting :) I decided to mash these all into one since they are all kind of similar. I hope you don’t mind! Also, I write for mainly AOS but nothing really distinguishes it from TOS so you can imagine it taking place in TOS if you would like! I also totally forgot about the vulcan/human hybrid until I was about 1k words in, so if it’s not as well represented I’m so sorry!! I tried to fit it in as best I could :(

I wrote this like a recap of your relationship with Spock, so there’s not much dialogue. I tried to be as detailed as possible!

Also, sorry for the lack of updates... the school year just ended and I went on vacation for two weeks to visit my family in Hawai’i! I had no wifi for nearly 10 days and let me tell you it was AWFUL. Haha. I’m so glad to be home. The rest of this summer will hopefully be full of updates! Keep the requests coming!

ALSO, THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE FOLLOWS!!!!! I gained 20 more followers while I was away! I love you all so much :D!!!

Word Count: 2377 Warnings: fluff, swearing, mentions of self-harm/self-loathing

Send a request!

You had absolutely hated Spock at first. Boiling, raw, pure hatred for him, even though your reasons were unfair and you knew it. 

Your initial thought was to just avoid him as much as possible, but that plan was eventually foiled when you realized how difficult that was going to be when he was in almost all of your classes, his dorm was literally directly across the street (like you could look out your window and see right through his window, how you both happened to be on the 17th floor in separate buildings and the same room number was beyond you) and you saw him probably more than ten times a day. 

He was there on the walk to class in the morning, there during class, there during lunch hour, even there sometimes on the walk home after class. Once you thought it couldn’t get any worse, your professors started pairing the two of you for group projects. When you asked why, all of their answers ran along the same lines: ‘You both need to learn to get along’ or ‘You could learn a lot from each other’ and other shit like that. You started getting suspicious when you suddenly had four projects assigned with him as your partner. You asked your friends about it when you were getting frustrated and all they did was share a look between each other and shrug. When you and Spock set a date to finally start working on all of your projects, you started dreading it. You found yourself lingering around, whether it be to ask a professor a question that you already knew the answer to after class was over or staying late at the library so that you wouldn't have to go to bed and wake up the next morning, a whole day closer to doomsday. You tried to tell yourself that the reason you were doing that was because you hated him and didn’t want to be around him for any amount of time, but when the familiar burning sensation you always felt when thinking of him started morphing into something else you got scared. The change startled you, suddenly feeling self-conscious and unsure as opposed to your typically confident nature. It was all so new and it was especially frightening when you didn’t have enough time to unpack it before your workday with Spock, so, instead of dealing with it, you tried to push it all down.  

When the day finally came, it took every ounce of willpower you had to roll out of bed and get dressed. It was a Saturday so you didn’t need to be dressed in uniform, so you went with some black sweats that had ‘STARFLEET’ written down one side and a  [f/c] tank top. It was a little chilly outside, so you threw your favorite hoodie on as you walked out the door. You tied your hair back in the elevator, careful to leave enough down to cover your ears, put your keycard into the side pocket of your backpack and you started the walk to the campus library. 

If there was one thing you were most self-conscious about it was your Vulcan ears. You didn’t like your Vulcan side as much because of your father. He was half-Vulcan half-human, while you were three-quarters human and only one-fourth Vulcan. You were glad you only inherited the ears, not the eyebrows. You and your father didn’t have the best relationship, or any relationship at all, really, and you never knew why. He was often strict and unfeeling, never exercising his human side in front of you. He left when you were eight years old for a Vulcan science mission and never came back. Your mother still loved him, though you never saw him show any sign of affection back. You always believed your mother deserved better, and that was when your hatred for Vulcans started to manifest. Starting with yourself. 

A few years after he left you fell into a dark place, although you were exceptional at hiding it. You would often stare at your sharply pointed ears in the mirror and pull on them, hoping that if you pulled hard enough from the bottom they would even out. You would wear earmuffs year-round so that nobody would see. When you were fifteen, you snuck out and got them pierced several times so that they would appear more human. They also compelled you to become more emotional to appear less like your father. 

You shook yourself out of your reverie as you walked out of the front entrance of your building. 

Luckily for you, Spock was not walking down the opposite sidewalk so you slid your headphones under your hood over your ears and shuffled your playlist. The walk was much shorter than you would’ve preferred and you sauntered up the steps into the vast hall. Since everybody was off, the library was used more as a hangout area than a quiet study hall, save for the actual study hall in the back, so it was a bit louder than usual. 

You spotted Spock sitting at one of the smaller open tables next to one of the windows overlooking the grounds. The fluttery-anxious feeling was back again, causing you to swallow hard as you approached him. 

“Hey,” you called as he looked up from the window. 

“Hey,” he greeted, somewhat awkwardly. Setting your backpack down, you sat down across from him. He was wearing casual clothes too; a plain green sweater and some jeans, though you thought it was cute how he still wore his badge. You shut your eyes tightly and cursed yourself. 

I don’t think he looks cute, I don’t think he looks cute, I don’t think he looks cute-

“[y/n], are you feeling alright?” he asked. 

You opened your eyes and glared at him. 

“Fine, just mentally preparing,” you snapped. 

He did what you could only assume was his version of an eye roll, but what surprised you was the flicker of a smile that passed over his features. It was only there for a fraction of a second, but your cheeks reddened as your heart raced.

What is happening to me?

“Would you like to begin?” he started pulling out papers and you gulped.

This was going to be a long day.

Surprisingly, that wasn’t the case. You had never really sat down and talked with Spock before, and to your astonishment, he was a really cool person. You both talked for hours, barely getting any work done, and before you knew it the library was empty and it was almost nine pm. You packed up your things and headed back towards your dorms you continued to talk and he continued to make you laugh and once you made it to the front entrance of your building you couldn’t even remember why you had hated him in the first place. 

You smiled and told him goodnight, feeling the heat creep up on your cheeks. You swore that you saw his own cheeks tint green. You both stared back at each other for a moment, feeling yourself gravitate towards each other for a brief second before you realized what you were doing and leaned back a little. He bid you goodnight and with the tiniest little smile you had ever seen, he turned away and crossed the street. You shook yourself out of your daze and hurried inside, texting your friends to meet you asap in your dorm. Even though it was late, you knew your friends and their Saturday night habits. 

You asked them about Spock again, this time a little less aggressively. They looked shocked at your calm, almost lovestruck expression settled over your features, glancing worriedly between themselves. 

Your friends were there for hours talking with you about your feelings and how you were to deal with them until you all fell asleep. They told you that this was just a case of misinterpretation of feelings, so when you felt so strongly towards Spock you mistook it for hatred when it was really admiration and infatuation. The confirmed that the same thing had happened to Spock, though he had realized much sooner. When you asked them what that meant, they dropped the bombshell on you.

“[y/n],” [friend’s name] said gently. “Spock has been smitten with you since midterms. Almost everyone knows, except for you apparently.”

You sat and stared for a minute, unsure how to react. Giddiness rose above all the other emotions you were feeling, forcing a smile to form on your lips. You felt all choked up, excitement raising your heartrate and slowly taking away your ability to breathe.

“So, even the teachers know?” you managed to force out. Your friends chuckled. 

The teachers assumed something was going on, but didn’t know for sure since you acted so hostile towards him all the time so they went out of their way to pair you and Spock together. 

You thanked your friends and invited them to stay the night. 

The next day you had planned to work with Spock again, so you left your friends a note and told them they could stay as long as they liked as long as they locked the door before they left. 

You met Spock at the library again but this time you actually did get some work done, and quickly. When you both finished, you packed your things and took a walk around the grounds. You talked all day about random things, interests, favorites, childhood (you tried your best to leave out the part about your father) and a little bit about your hopes for the future. You did most of the talking, though Spock did contribute on occasion, like he talked a bit about his love (or as he put it, ‘subtle interest’ but you knew better) for music and his passion for science.  

Hours passed quickly and the sunset came quickly. You and Spock were sat on a grassy slope overlooking the San Fransisco Bay, watching the sunset. 

“[y/n], I have something to confess,” he broke the silence. You turned to him.

“Go ahead.”

“The truth of the matter is that I harbor no malice or hatred towards you,” he started, looking away from you. Even in the dim golden light from the descending sun, you could tell he was uncomfortable. “My... feelings towards you are quite the opposite.”

You stared blankly at him for a moment. Even though you had already known, hearing it come from his was a totally different story. You scooted a little closer to him and placed your head down on his shoulder. He relaxed beneath you, accepting the action as one of reciprocation. You felt his hand brush over yours and the spark that followed after confirmed a Vulcan kiss. You raised your head up to meet his eyes, which flickered between your lips and back up. You leaned in slowly to give him time to back out if he wasn’t comfortable, but to your surprise, he was the one to close the distance. 

This kiss was sweet and only lasted a few seconds. When you pulled away, you could see the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. Your smile faded, though, when you remembered your lie. 

“I have to tell you something,” you said softly. He nodded slowly, letting you remove your hand from his light hold.

You pulled your hood back and tucked your hair behind your now exposed ear. You couldn’t look him in the eye as he stared at your earring-ridden ear that mirrored his. 

“You’re... Vulcan?” 

“A quarter,” you replied softly, wringing your hands in your lap. Spock reached out to grasp them in his own, forcing you to look back up into his eyes. 

“Why did you feel the need to hide this from me?” he asked you gently. “It would not and does not change the effect that you have on me.”

So, you explained in the waning sunlight what actually happened in your childhood and the issues with your father, why you ended up hating all Vulcans and that’s why you hated him too in the beginning. 

“You don’t need to be ashamed of your heritage because of him,” he told you when you finished. “You don’t need to hide part of who you are because of his mistakes. I can assist you in exploring our culture to help change your views if you would like.”

You threw your arms around his neck in a tight hug. 

“Thank you,” you murmured.

                                                      _____________

You and Spock stayed together for the remaining years at the academy. You brought him home to meet your mother (who instantly approved) and you did almost everything together. Date night was your favorite time of the week, which ranged from movie nights or fancy dinners. Your favorite one was when he took you out of the city to go stargazing and set up the cutest little picnic complete with lanterns and fairy lights. It was romantic and beautiful being there with him and listening to the wildlife as the stars made themselves known. He showed you all the constellations he knew of. 

Before you knew it you were both assigned on missions. At first, you were separated; you on the USS Bradbury and him on the USS Enterprise, but with some convincing, you were reassigned to the Enterprise. 

After your first run-in with danger when Nero attacked and your near-death experience, Spock decided it was time to pop the question. You were married not long after by Jim, who you had gotten very close to because of Spock. You had asked Nyota to be your maid of honor and Spock chose Leonard (who agreed despite his recurring annoyance with the Vulcan). You were awarded a larger, shared quarters and time off duty to spend time together. 

Married life was much more normal than you had originally thought it was going to be. Everything just started to slow down around you, and you always had a sense of calm whenever Spock was near you. The butterflies you always felt when he was around died down and instead you felt an overwhelming amount of safety and comfort. 

He was all you had ever wanted, and he was forever yours.

[heybenhardy]

Joe Mazzello Smut / Soft / Dad

Here’s a little smut fic which had been sat in my notes for months and I never actually was pleased with it, but didn’t want to delete it... posting it now just to get it out my notes.

Joe was doing more press release with Ben, Gwil and Rami, but this time it was away in London and all the partners were invited. It had turned out to be much more fun than you intended, instead of being cooped up in a Airbnb with your baby Isla and everyone’s other halves waiting for everyone to finish, the boys actually had a lot of time off, so you were all free to go out and explore.

It was planned that you were all going to have a chilled day at the house you were all staying at and were inviting over some familiar faces to have a catch up; Allen, Polly and other members of the team. It was a nice warm summers day and luckily the house provided a big barbecue to satisfy the needs of your big party. Everyone was cooing over your baby and oh boy was Joe being such a proud dad, he radiated his dad energy and loved showing his little girl off. Seeing Joe radiate such dad vibes made you weak as hell, I mean... maybe you’re daughter wouldn’t have even been here if you hadn’t have seen Joe getting broody holding his niece one evening and babbling to her. The atmosphere was so chilled out and it was lovely to catch up with the boys and especially Lucy again, you hadn’t seen one another in a long time. Joe lay on his side chatting to the boys and giving Isla attention, but then also giving you a cheeky smile every so often. “Refills anyone?” Joe offered raising himself up and offering his hand to you “help me carry them baby” and you sprung to your feet. Joe looked round at everyone... “uhh... To be honest Lucy you’re the only one I trust to look after Isla and make sure she stays in one piece, so I’m nominating you babysitter” he said and Lucy gave you a wink.

You sat on the counter watching Joe do all the refills for everyone’s drinks, as he walked by you prodded his ass with your foot to get his attention. He turned and walked over to you with his gorgeous smile. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you” He said, planting a totally innocent kiss on your collar bone. His hot breath gave you shivers and you used your legs to wrap round his waist and pull him closer to you. Joe started to get the idea and it didn’t take him long to be as horny as you were.

You were just out of sight at the two of you passionately made out on the kitchen counter and luckily, as Joe had his hand up your skirt and started to tease your entrance. “Baby you’re so fucking wet, is this all for me?” He teased in your ear. You moaned into his neck and bucked your hips closer to him, Joe put his hands firmly on your hips to stop you from moving. “You are such a bad girl,” he said nipping at your neck, “do you want me to fuck you” He asked.

“Please... Joe please fuck me, I want your hard cock. I need you baby” you said softly with puppy dog eyes and this was enough to send Joe overboard.

“Room now.” He barked with his dominant side showing, as he dragged you off the counter and slapped your ass as you lead the way. You both totally forgot about getting everyone’s drinks.

Yours and Joes room was down the hall from the kitchen, so it wasn’t long until you both stumbled into your room tripping over your daughters toys. Joe had you up against the wall, holding your wrists as he sucked on your neck and moaning between breaths. Although in this situation, you didn’t care about yourself, you wanted to please Joe and to be honest you got more pleasure out of pleasuring Joe and making him so weak to your touch. Acting the innocent part you gave him a smile and softly took his hand leading him to the bed where you both lay down and you gave him sweet and small kisses, his eyes falling for this innocent girl you were like the day he fell for you, you had him in the palm of your hand. Though just like that you turned, stopping the sweet kisses and heading straight for his pants, you tugged at his trousers and then yanked his boxers down a little revealing his rock solid cock. You took no time in getting the head of his cock in your mouth while you pumped the rest of his length with your hand, “uh- god- fuck you’re so- so fucking pretty” he could barely form words and his hands were twitching as he grabbed your hair into his fists. You took great pleasure in Joe fucking your mouth, he fucked it so fast and had you moaning down his shaft. All of a sudden you stopped and Joe pulled you towards him, “I need you baby, let me fuck you” he whispered into your ear as you blushed, “I want to fuck you, baby girl and I want you to take all of me” he said turning you over and helping you get onto your hands and knees on the bed. With you facing the headboard bent over, Joe got on his knees and teased his cock along your entrance which already made your back arch and then he thrusted into your core. Joe started slow and deep making sure you were satisfied as you responded with moans, he loved you moaning. As he picked up the pace he slapped your ass causing you to scream a little, “fucking scream my name baby” he ordered, now fucking you as fast as he could, you whimpered and moaned into the pillows until you were on the brink of orgasm, as Joe fucked you, he brought his hand to your clit and started rubbing, your head flew back and through moans you called out his name. You both reached your highs as the same point and once Joe pulled out, he helped clean you up with a towel.

You were both dressed and now you stood in between Joe’s legs as he stared you up and down and kissed your hands. “Love you my beautiful baby momma” he said giggling at you, “wouldn’t be surprised if you were my baby momma of 2 after that” he winked... god did this man have a serious dad kink.

“Shh,” you said kissing his forehead, “let’s get back to refilling drinks and act like nothing ever happened, we’ve only been gone 15 minutes...” you told him heading back off to the kitchen.

You and Joe got everyone’s drinks on a tray and headed outside to serve them... It was quiet when you got to the floor covered in picnic blankets where your friends lay, including your daughter. You placed the drinks down and tried to act as if you hadn’t been gone that long, but no one spoke... “Hey uh... Joe buddy...” Ben asked looking at the floor and Joe nodded, “can I grab my phone charger from your room now you two are finished” Ben said, causing both yours and Joes faced to heat up in embarrassment...

“Yeah Joey!” Rami teased,

“Wow... I didn’t know a beer from the refrigerator took 15 minutes to prepare...” Gwilym of course had to chime in with the boys, “well Isla sweetheart, £10 on your mummy and daddy giving you a baby brother or sister 9 months from now” Gwilym laughed at his own joke and stroked your baby’s little hand..

Now entailed a life long embarrassment which the boys would never let you both live down and would probably be brought up every time you meet. but what can I say... you had needs.

[car-karaoke]

Friday Part 1

This is my first fic EVER. I have no idea how it is or if it's any good. Let me know what you guys think please!! I did this for @tephi101 and her writing challenge! Your challenge gave me the courage to try this out!! Hopefuully I don't disappoint!

Warnings: Body insecurity, language, slightly NSFW, I think that's it? Idk.

Word count: Idk, this shit really got away from me lol. I wanted to put one of those cuts to keep reading, but I didn't know how to do that! Sorry ahead of time!

"Hey, can I get a large iced white mocha please?" you ask the barista of your favorite coffeehouse. She rings you up and hands your card back to you as you make your way down the counter to the spot you get your drink. The coffeehouse was unusually busy for a Friday morning. People are filtering in and out every 30 seconds it seemed. Your drink order gets called out and you take it with a small smile as you scope out a place to sit where you won't be noticed as much.

It's not that you didn't like your appearance today or anything, in fact you actually felt pretty confident since your makeup was on point and you were wearing something other than sweatpants for once (because let's be honest, a hoodie, sweatpants, and your hair in a messy bun was about as good as it got most weekdays). The crowd itself was just overwhelming for a smaller cafe. Luckily, you found yourself a little corner with dim lighting and a big well-loved arm chair.

[[Keep reading]]

You settled in, crossing your legs in the wide chair, setting your drink down on the end table next to it, and opened your book of the day; which happened to be The Hobbit. After about 40 pages in, you were in the same position you get into every time you get into a good book: somehow your face was very close to the pages, you're eating up the words on the page like candy, your iced white mocha nearly forgotten in the corner of your eye. The fairy lighting and relaxing acoustic music sucked you in even further. Nothing could tear you from your peaceful moment. Nothing at all. Except for a certain deep voice.

You look up for the first time in who knows how long as see a group of guys entering the cafe, their backs to you. Your eyes dart back to your book momentarily as you grab your drink and take a long sip until you hear one of them laugh. You look up and nearly choke on your swallow. You'd know that face anywhere. Alex Høgh Anderson.

Ever since you started watching the show Vikings, you'd been hooked. As his character was introduced, you initially did NOT care for him. You were more a fan of Bjorn and Lagertha. But as the show went on, you found yourself more and more fascinated in his character. Of course, since you were on tumblr, you saw all the background pictures, interviews, stories, and etc on all the cast. Let's be honest, they were all gorgeous. The men and the women. But Alex's humor and overall demeanor really drew you in. And although you lived in Dublin, you never expected to see any of them there.

You tried to place the other people with him. One was Jordan Patrick Smith. God he was attractive too. But Alex looked like a straight up snack. You realized you had been staring at their group and quickly looked back down to your book, reaching for your drink again. Never in your life have you had this much trouble focusing on reading. Alex and Jordan's group had sat down in the middle of the cafe. You looked around and noticed you weren't the only one gawking at then. A group of barely legal looking girls walked up to their table and asked for a picture. A couple other people followed suit. Part of you wanted nothing more than to go up there and do the same. But your head was telling you differently. The poor guys had barely been able to take a sip of their drinks yet. And you had a feeling that even if you did go up there, words would fail you and your stand in front of them wanting to say so much, but unable to say anything at all.

So instead, you settled for (not so subtly) looking over at them every few minutes or so. After about 10 minutes, the espresso had gotten into your system and you had to pee. Unfortunately, the bathroom was on the other side of the cafe. Past THEIR table. You sighed and put your book away, grabbed your empty cup and walked over to the trash to throw it out. You started walking slowly toward the bathroom, the congestion of the cafe working in your favor as you could hide behind the taller people. But then the tall guy in front of you looked down at you and moved to the side saying "oh sorry there darlin, here come on through" and you were directly in front of their table. And Alex was facing you. He looked up at you and your eyes met for a split second before you tripped over your own shoe and stumbled forward. Thankfully, you caught yourself before falling completely over, and pursed your lips together tightly. You looked to their table again, awkwardly sighed and said "woo, that could've been worse..." and gave them a sheepish smile. Alex flashed a bright smile at you and laughed softly as the others chuckled.

You quickly walked past them to the bathroom and practically ran into the stall. Your hand was shaking slightly you noticed, you grabbed it with your other and forced yourself to take a deep breath. You didn't even want to know how red your face was. You could feel your cheeks burning. An inner monologue started playing in your head. 'You have to say something to them!' 'NO. Was two minutes ago not enough a reason to save yourself more embarrassment??' 'You'll probably never get a chance like this again.' 'Yeah, but what difference would it really make, they would probably forget about you 30 seconds after you say something.' You sighed and put your face in your hands as you muttered "I'm just gunna wing it."

You exited the bathroom and peeked around the corner. They were still there. You made your way over slowly, looked at the floor. Your heart was racing. Just as you approached their table, you realized no words were going to come out. Alex stood up just as you were passing and you ran right into him.

"Oh shit I'm so sorry!!" You squeaked

"No no, please! That was all on me!" Alex said

His hand touched your shoulder as you both steadied each other. His charming smile and blue eyes seemed to bore into your soul.

"Geez Alex, way to run into the beautiful lady just trying to get past your tall ass!" Jordan shouted with a smile

Alex sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes, his hand still on your shoulder you noticed

"I said I'm sorry!" He retorted with a smile

He seemed to realize his hand was still on you as he quickly moved it and muttered another apology. You smiled and found one shred of confidence as you said "No really, it's no problem Ivar." You said slyly.

He paused and did a double take back at you as a smile started to form on his face. His friends all started smiling too, Jordan especially. You heard him say "daaaaaamn" under his breath. You forced yourself to hold your confident smirk and you stared each other down. Alex broke the stare first, pulling out his phone to look at the time. Or so you thought. In reality, Alex had to find a reason to not keep looking at you because you were one of the most gorgeous women he had ever seen. Even though you weren't super dressed up or anything, something about you drew him to you. And those eyes. Damn those eyes, he thought to himself. He fought back the giant smile as he looked back up at you. You were still staring at him.

"Actually, my name is Alex. Not Ivar, although I guess you could call me whatever you prefer" he said with a smile

"I...uh...I know..." you replied hesitantly. "I'm Y/N."

Alex's brows furrowed in confusion "You knew huh?" He started smirking as he rubbed his jaw. "How come you didn't come up and say hello before?" He asked

You shuffled your feet uncomfortably "I just didn't want to bother you guys, you seemed to have a lot of fans coming up to you already"

Alex looked over at Jordan quickly as they shared a look. Jordan then looked around to the other guys in the group, all of them smiling at you. Alex cleared his throat

"Well I dont know what you're up to later, but feel free to meet up with us later if you want. We were gunna hit the bars" he offered shyly, shrugging his shoulders.

You blinked a few times, wondering if you heard him correctly or not. You couldn't have.

"Wait...like....hang out with you guys...? Tonight?" You stuttered

Alex's smile grew even wider. "Yeah!" He said excitedly. "We can exchange numbers so we can meet up with each other tonight if you're down?"

You were pretty sure you were dreaming at this point, but figured why stop now. "Sure! I'd love to. My friend and I were going to go to the bars tonight anyway."

"Oh sweet" Alex said, handing you his phone with a new contact open. You entered your info and switched phones, him doing the same thing. You gave each other your phones back and you both cleared your throats at the same time.

"Aww how cute" Jordan joked, looking at you two standing next to each other.

"Fuck off Jordan" Alex said with a laugh. You giggled and pulled your purse up to your shoulder, looking up at him.

"Well, I've gotta get going. But it was really nice to meet you....Ivar" you said with a smile. He chuckled and nodded his head. "I'll uh....I'll see you later?" You questioned. Half expecting him to be like 'ha yeah right!'

"Yeah! I'll look forward to it." He said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in a side hug. You instinctively leaned into him and hugged him back. GOD HE SMELLS AMAZING you thought to yourself. You broke the hug and offered them one last smile before heading out the door.

~back at your apartment~

You started down at your phone. The same open message that you've been staring at for the past 5 minutes. You had started a message to Alex several times now, but kept erasing it. You had no idea how to start a conversation with him. What if he just felt put on the spot to give you his number because people were watching? Doubt started to creep into you as your phone buzzed. Startled, you jumped and looked at your phone. It. Was. Alex. HE was texting YOU. You couldn't help the smile that crept to your face, threatening to stretch so wide it may hurt.

*Hey Y/N, it's Alex-looking forward to seeing you tonight! Here's the first club we are going to*

You typed a reply quick before jumping in the shower. You still had the whole afternoon to get ready, but you wanted to shave. God only knows how long that takes you. Plus you had to pick out an outfit. Thankfully, your best friend and roommate was coming over to help. She barged in on you during your bath with your phone in her hand.

"Yo! Who's blowing up your phone?? Its been buzzing nonstop for the past 5 minutes!" She giggled

"What?? Uhh....I don't know...lemme see" you replied. You grabbed your phone and saw that you had a friend request from Alex on social media, and three messages from him. Instantly, you had that big goofy smile on your face as you read his messages.

"Oh girl, I know that look. You're talking to a guy!! Who is it?? Please god don't tell me it's Matt." She said

"What?! No Taylor, it's just...uhm....his name is Alex." You said softly. Your best friend watched Vikings too. Although she had more of a thing for Ubbe. You suddenly remembered that you met Jordan too and started to laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. Taylor was looking at you incredulously, waiting for you to explain. You got out of the bath and dried off, explaining the whole thing.

"OH MY GOD Y/N, HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET SO LUCKY?? OMG I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!! I'M GOING TO MEET THEM TONIGHT HOLY SHIT!!"

You just laughed and agreed. You still half thought it was a dream. Over the next few hours, you and Alex texted each other nonstop about anything and everything. He actually seemed a lot more laid back then you thought. You knew he was famous and obviously fucking hot as hell. You figured he was like most men you've dealt with like that: condescending assholes whose egos were so huge their head barely fits through the door. But to your delightful surprise, Alex wasn't coming across that way.

After getting all dolled up, you put on a pretty simple dress that showed off your substantial curves and was sexy, but not over the top. Taylor was slightly more dolled up than you, her ample cleavage looking perfect in her dress. You were always a little envious of your best friend. She was taller, skinny, tan, looked like she belonged on the runway. Trying to shove your insecurities to the back of your mind, you put on your shoes and went downstairs to get in the taxi.

Once you guys got to the bar, you texted Alex to tell him you were here. He let you know they were by the bar. You took a deep breath and opened the doors of the club. The music was pounding. You could feel the bass in your skin. It smelled of whiskey, cologne, and fresh air, since the club had an outside area open to the main space. You loved it. You guys both made your way over to the bar where you immediately saw Alex. He looked AMAZING. You eyes widened as you shamelessly checked him out, seeing as how he hadn't seen you yet.

Your best friend made your presence known before you could, squealing as she saw the guys. They all turned and greeted both of you. Taylor immediately asked them all for pictures. You were awkwardly standing to the side waiting for her to be done. Staring at him. Again. So you decided to go order a drink. A lovely rum and coke. As you grabbed your drink, you spun around to go back to the group and nearly smacked right into Alex. You shrieked softly, your hand resting against his chest so you didn't fall.

"Hey! I was wondering where you went off to!" Alex yelled over the music

"Yeah! Sorry, I just needed a drink!" You yelled back. You noticed he was staring at you, admiring your outfit.

"You look fucking amazing Y/N!! You looked beautiful before, but damn!" He said

Heat instantly flooded to your cheeks, as you smile slightly. "Thank you! You look great too!! But you always do" you said, not believing that last part slipped out. He chuckled and thanked you. Grabbing your hand, he pulled you back over to the group where everyone had now merged.

As the night went on, you all kept happily drinking and dancing and talking. Alex seemed to always have a little part of his body touching you. His shoulder touching yours, knees touching, thighs up against yours. You were feeling pretty good, multiple drinks in, but not drunk. Alex was the same way.

Suddenly Earned It by The Weeknd came on, which was always you and Taylor's go to song when you were feeling yourselves. She squealed and ran over to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you to the dance floor. You both started dancing sexily and singing together. Little did you notice Alex staring right at you while you danced.

"Dude, you are literally undressing her with your eyes" Jordan laughed.

"I can't help it" Alex admitted, not even looking at him as he replied. "She's just so fucking attractive. My God. LOOK AT HER DANCING RIGHT NOW. I. CAN'T." he whined. Jordan just laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.

The song ended and you made your way back over to Alex, new drink in hand. He hadn't picked his jaw up off the floor yet, still blatantly admiring you. You gave him a confused look. "What?" You asked him

"You are really fucking attractive. That's all." He simply said.

You blushed again and forced a laugh. "Yeah. Right. I REEK sexiness" you retort, making a dramatic pose. Alex looked at you in a way you hadn't seen before. Confused? Sad?

"You dont think you're attractive Y/N?" He asked.

"Well...I mean I guess I'm okay. I wouldn't say I'm hot or anything. I mean not like Taylor. Or you" you added with a laugh. Alex opened his mouth to say something, but just then a group of girls wearing very sleazy outfits came up and asked him for his autograph and a picture. You sighed and started to feel your emotions get the better of you. You and your damn emotions. They came without warning. You could feel the tears threatening to spill over, suddenly feeling not at all confident about yourself. You walked over to the outdoor area and leaned against the railing where few people were.

You breathed in deep and sighed, admiring the view from high up on the building. You felt one tear fall over your cheeks as you sniffled. Suddenly, a finger was on your cheek, wiping the tear away. You turned and saw Alex, looking at you bewildered.

"Y/N, you're crying. What's wrong? Did something happen??" Panic was in his voice and you felt bad for scaring him. It wasn't his fault.

"No, it's nothing. I just got a little overwhelmed is all." You lied. He didn't buy it. He leaned against the railing next to you, arm right against yours.

"You don't have to tell me, but please let me know if it was something I did. I don't ever want to make you feel bad" he said softly.

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was how incredibly sweet he was being, but you shuffled until you were facing each other and hugged him full on nice and tightly. He didn't hesitate hugging you back, running his hand up and down your back. "What's wrong love?" He whispered.

You sighed and looked up at him, not breaking the hug. "It's just hard to feel confident when all the women around you look like they are movie stars and your short, chubby, and uncoordinated." You admit.

You feel his hands on your face, either side of your cheeks, as he makes you look up at him. "Y/N, you are unbelievably gorgeous. You are. Everything about you is amazing. I've only known you for a day, and you're already one of the most incredible women I've met. I feel like I've known you for a long time. You're just a kind, good person who happens to also be crazy beautiful. I've had to stop myself from kissing you the entire night" he confesses, stroking your cheek

You grin up at him and start laughing, a small tear falling on his hand which he wipes away. "You're amazing, you know that? Why couldn't you just be an asshole, that would make not falling for you so much easier" you joked.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled and shrugged, pulling your face up as he captured your lips with his. You both closed your eyes, smiling into the kiss. You wrapped your hands around him, tugging him closer. He laughed against your lips and moved his hand to the back of your head to deepen the kiss. You moaned softly into the kiss, getting completely lost in the moment.

"FOUND THEM!!" you heard Jordan yell, causing you both to break apart startled. You looked and saw your friend wrapped around Jordan and the rest of the group gawking at you both.

Alex and you both laugh, you hid your face in his neck as he laughed louder and cradled your head, kissing the top of it. "Come on hun, let's go" Alex said, grabbing your hand and walking over to the rest of the group.

You guys all had too much to drink after that and had to get another cab home. You, Alex and one of his buddies were in the back. Alex couldn't keep his hands off you the whole way home, not that you minded. You were thoroughly wrapped up in him, sitting on his lap drunkenly yelling Bohemian Rhapsody with the rest of the car. Alex was laughing heartily at your singing as he joined you, hands rubbing up and down your sides. The song concluded and a slower song came on. You leaned back into his chest and closed your eyes happily. Alex started placing light kisses along your neck, going down to your shoulder. You moaned softly then started laughing, suddenly remembering there were other people in the car. You shifted and looked back at Alex giving him a warning glance.

"Hunny, they're toasted. I doubt they even realize what planet they're on" he chuckles

"I can't keep quiet if you keep kissing on my neck like that" you said with a smirk. That got his attention. You felt him grow underneath you.

"Then I guess I should kiss somewhere else" he said slyly. He looked around to see if anyone was paying attention, which they weren't. He gently pulled your dress just past your shoulders as he placed feather light kisses along them, moving to the middle of your upper back as his hand moved down to your hip. You groaned and grinded yourself down into his lap, making him audibly groan in return. He bit your shoulder softly, causing you to jump and let out a little squeal.

"You little...." you trailed off, too turned on to care. You couldn't see him, but you knew he was smirking against your skin.

"Little what Y/N, hmm?" He hummed, sliding his far hand closest to the door under your dress and lightly tracing your panties as he made his way closer to your core.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you leaned your head back and whispered "kiss me" to him. He needed no further instruction as he captured your lips in a hungry kiss. You both softly moaned into each others mouths. His tongue traced your bottom lip asking for entrance and you gladly accepted, tongues dancing with each other. He bit your lip as he slid his hand under your panties. You gasped, rolling your hips to meet his touch. Just as his hand started to move to your middle, the taxi stopped.

You both broke apart, coming back to reality. Everyone else in the car seemed oblivious to what had just happened. You giggled, pressing your forehead against his as you both laughed.

"They didn't see a damn thing" he laughed, giving your kiss a cheek before opening the door for you. You were at his and Marco's place. Jordan and Taylor were still attached at the hip, which made you smile.

"Y/N!! I love you!" She yelled drunkenly.

You laughed and yelled back "I love you too!"

The rest of the group headed inside. Alex stopped by the door and pulled you against him. "You are so beautiful, you know that?"

You blushed again and smiled up at him. "If you say so!" You giggled. He looked down at you smugly.

"See! I knew I'd get you to admit it!" He joked

"If you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to slap that smirk right off of your smug face" you joked. He laughed heartily at that and kissed your forehead.

"Fair enough. So.. should we go continue where we left off my gorgeous lady?" he asked hopefully.

You smiled widely at him and nodded. Yes Ivar, I think we should". You didn't need to turn around to know that he was smirking.

@thevikingsheaux @stardustandbucky what do you guys think??

[theycallmemoosey]

Biggest Dumbass In The World

Jack Kelly x Reader

A/N - I saw a post one day and decided it would make a good theme for a fic. I’m sorry it’s so long, but I hope it’s ok. And I can't remember who posted it. But a huge credit to whoever came up with the idea of Jack testifying in court with “I’m the biggest dumbass in the world”. Moose :) ——————————————

“Y/N! Quick!” You hurried down the stairs of the lodging house as fast as your legs would carry you. Hearing a Newsie call your name in distress set your instincts into mother mode. “What?! What is it?!” “It’s Jack! Snyder caught him! They’s taking him to the refuge!” Your eyes widened in shock, and you stumbled back. You couldn’t have him leave you all alone again. You couldn’t bare to see him return, his eyes full of sadness, his nightmares keeping him up all night. You pushed passed all the boys in your way, sprinting towards the refuge. You don’t know how you made it all the way without stopping, but the thought of Snyder hurting Jack, the boy who raised you when no one else would, was worse than a million heart breaks. You stopped outside the refuge gates, waiting for a carriage to come out. You snuck in, stealthily making your way to the pipe that you felt was safe enough to climb. You were out of breath, and you felt like your arms could drop, but you had to get Jack out. “Pssst!” You whispered through the barred windows, “Hey!” A small girl, no older than 10, padded to the window, “who are you?” “Hey, I’m here to get my friend, is he here?” “I don’t know…what’s his name?” “His name is Jack. Kelly.” The girl walked away from the window and out of sight, and you huffed, struggling to keep yourself up. You were greeted by an older girl, around your age, who just stared you down. “What you want with Jack?” “I want him back. Just…is he in there?” “What would it matter to you?” You sighed, your patience getting to its wits end, “Stop being such a arrogant bitch and tell me whether or not he’s in there” She rolled her eyes, “He hasn’t come here since the time Roosevelt visited. I heard a couple of Spider’s minions talking about a visit to the town court. He may be there” You sighed, “If I don’t find him, I’ll be back tomorrow” You climbed down the pipe and back to the ground, making your way out of the refuge without being seen. You were heading back to the lodging house when you bumped into Race. “Race! What the hell!” “We found Jack” “Yeah, I think I have too” 

The two of you ran back to the lodging house, collecting a few of the other newsies before heading to the town court. You burst through the doors, looking around to see Jack. All you could see where tons of men in suits, a few women in bright dresses, and a bunch of people with white curly hair. It looked like a collection of mental people. “Y/N!” Crutchie waved you over to the benches, where the Newsies were all visibly nervous, bouncing their knees and playing with their hands anxiously. You took a deep breath, still scanning the room to see if you could see anyone familiar. “Y/N, relax. You ever been to court before?” You shook your head gently, your hands furiously digging dirt from under your nails from anxiousness. Crutchie noticed and held your hands still. “All they’re gonna do is bring him in for questioning for something he did. He should say he either did it or didn’t do it. Knowing Jack, he more than likely did whatever it is they caught him doing, but he’s gonna find a way to get out of it” “Who are all the people in the benches over the gate?” “That’s called the Jury. They decide whether or not he goes to jail based on his side of the story and Snyder’s side of the story” “Well surely they’re just going to believe Snyder!” “Highly likely, yes. But Jack can probably use his charm to get out of it” “And who’s-“ Three loud knocks cut you off, making you jump slightly. “Please rise for the judge!” You watched everyone around you stand up, and you just looked at them confusedly until you felt an arm haul you up. “Crutchie, let go!” You tried to wriggle out of his grip, only to have him hush you. “You have to stand for the judge” “Who the hell’s that?” You whispered, cautious of everyone staring at you in disgust. “He decides Jack’s overall sentence if he’s found guilty” Crutchie explained, noticing your worried expression, “although they won’t have to, ‘cause Jack will find a way out” He squeezed your hands, reassuring you, but you felt worried and panicked. You saw a man walk in and make his way up to the tallest stand. “What’s everyone’s obsession with wearing weird white hats?” “I don’t know, Y/N…I actually don’t know” Crutchie whispered to you, only to be interrupted by Race. “I heard that’s where they store their daggers incase the criminals try to attack them” Both you and Crutchie stared at him blankly. “You’re mentally disturbed…” Crutchie shook his head, and led you down as they asked everyone to be seated. “Jack Kelly, 17 years of age, caught stealing multiple items from Mr. Jackson’s store including bread, rice, a selection of vegetables, soap, medical kits and a series of feminine supplies” You sunk back into your seat, a red flush spreading across your cheeks as all the boys looked at you. Their attention was brought back when the judge called out again. “Bring the defendant in!” You watched the doors eagerly, waiting for Jack to stroll in, and soon enough he did, two police officers holding his arms. You felt a sense of relief as you saw little to no harm on him, apart from a few bruises on his wrists and arms. Jack spotted the row of Newsies, all with worried faces, and smiled, winking at you all. The two officers sat him down opposite the judge, who you could see would not be easy on him. “Mr. Kelly-“ “Call me Jack. Everyone else does” The judge simply stared at him with anger in his eyes, “Mr. Kelly. You have been caught in the act of robbery of Mr. Jackson’s grocery store on the morning of the 20th of June. How do you plead?” “Well, your honour, I plead guilty” You heard a scatter of murmurs and whispers, and next to you Crutchie put his head in his hands, muttering to himself. “Crutch, what does that mean?” Crutchie sighed, “it means that Jack’s going to jail, no matter what. He could have pleaded not guilty and had a chance of getting out of here, no charges pressed…” “No charges? What’s-“ You were interrupted by the judge once again, “Mr. Kelly. What was your motive for stealing these items?” “Well, your honour, I live in a home with near 80 other boys, all starving themselves to death because of the jobs we have with the worthless pay. I, as the leader of the Manhattan Newsies, have to make sure none of those boys die. So, I stole food, soap and a medical kit so that the boys could eat, wash and heal themselves. Getting caught, well THAT, your honour, was a stupid ass mistake. And I got to be honest, I’m the biggest dumb ass in Manhattan. Hell, the world! Getting caught by Snyder the Spider, rookie mistake. Something I would expect a 10 year old to do. And that your honour, is why I stole the items. To provide for my family” “Mr. Kelly, as touching as your story is, that does not explain why you also stole a supply of feminine products” “Oh those? See, we have a special edition to the family, a very special girl. She’s my-our everything. She gotta have those supplies your honour, she a human, just like any other girl you may know” you saw Jack turn his head to face you and winked, so you smiled back softly, trying to show your thanks. “Why does this girl live with a load of boys? It is, after all, the NewsBOY house, am I correct?” “Correct as ever your honour. Like I said, she’s a very special Newsie. Raised her myself. Best newsie I know for miles” “Is that the girl there?” The judge pointed right at you, noticing your long hair slumped over your shoulders, and you felt everyone’s eyes on you. “Yes, your honour. That’s the girl” Jack smiled proudly at you. The judge hummed to himself and called the police officers over to him, “Take the girl to the Girl’s Correction House. Make sure she no longer has any contact with any members of the Newsboy Lodging House” You gasped and looked towards Jack, who was staring at you with wide eyes. “Y/N! RUN!” Race called out to you. You jumped out of the benches and sprinted for the door, the two police officers hot on your tail. You heard Jack shout behind you, “Boys! Help her!” You ran out of the court building and down the streets of Manhattan. You could hear the police officers and the boys shouting at you but you just kept running. You turned to the left and ran down the alleyway that would lead you to the Brooklyn bridge. You sped across the bridge, dodging all the people and carriages. Luckily, the winding route you took managed to slow the officers down, and you managed to get to Spot before the you were caught. “SPOT! SPOT!!” You called out as you saw Spot in the distance. He turned around, and saw you running frantically towards him. He began running towards you and caught you as you ran into your arms. “Spot! Hide me!” Spot grabbed your hand and took you to the dockyard, hiding you in the abandoned, small office, blocking the door with numerous crates and barrels. “Stay there. I’ll get you once they’re cleared” The officers soon caught up, but Spot managed to convince them that he hadn’t see you, winking at the Manhattan boys to let them know you’re ok. The police officers continued running through Brooklyn, and Spot led the boys to the office you were in. The door opened and a streak of sunlight came in. You held your breath, shrinking into the corner, until you heard Spot call you out. You ran out and fell into Spot’s arms. “Thank you thank you thank you…” you cried, quickly moving to hug the rest of the boys, “I can’t go back” “You ain’t going back, sweetheart” Race hugged you tightly. “What about Jack?” You asked quietly. “I don’t know, Y/N. Once the coppers are out of Brooklyn for good, we’ll take you back home and see where Jack is” “Woah, hold up. What about Jack?” Spot asked, interrupting you. “He got caught by Snyder the Spider, but they took him to caught. Jack’s been taken to the refuge so many times, Snyder just wants to get him in jail for life” Race explained. “Jack? In jail? He ain’t even 18 yet!” “We know, Spot. But like Race said, Snyder wants to put him in for life…” you replied, wiping your tears. “He pleaded not guilty, right?” “Wrong” Crutchie added “What’s eating with him?!” “I don’t know. Come on boys, let’s get her home” Crutchie nodded back towards Manhattan, smiling gratefully at Spot. “Thank you, Spot. Really, thank you” “No problem, sweetheart. Stay outta trouble” You smiled and began walking back with the Manhattan boys, being cautious not to get caught by the officers as you crossed the bridge. As you were walking back towards the lodging house, you split from the group. “You guys go check on Jack, they’re probably still in Brooklyn” “Please be careful, Y/N” Crutchie held your hand momentarily before joining the rest of the group. You were walking back to the lodging house, the sun setting in the distance, and you couldn’t help but feel anxious about Jack. Yes, he raised you and yes, he was your brother, but there was something about him that made your heart melt. And not in the sibling way. It was the way he treated the younger boys with such a teasing yet caring manner. It was the way he gave all the love in the world to the stray animals the two of you would pass when selling. It was the way he drew. My god, that boy could draw. You were smiling to yourself as you approached the door of the lodging house. “I’m home!” You were expecting to hear the rumble of little feet run towards you, as you were the favourite of the younger ones. Instead, all you heard was silence. “Hello? Sammy? Buddy? Teddy?! Come on guys! Not funny!” Silence. “What the-“ You were interrupted as you were grabbed behind from two rough arms. You tried to squirm out of them, but they were too strong. “Let go of me!” You screamed, hoping any newsie - hell, anyone - would hear you. “You’re going…to the…correction centre!” He grunted, keeping a tight grip on you as he led you out of the lodging house and out to the streets. The man led you to the correction house, throwing you through the threshold carelessly, grazing your legs and arms on the wooden floor. You hissed in pain, but pushed backwards towards the wall, only to back into a figure. “Welcome back, Y/N”

“Mr. Kelly, on account of your reasonings, I will not sentence you to jail…” the judge concluded, Jack smirking at Snyder who looked more defeated than angry, “However, what you did remains a crime and I will fine you the amount you owe Mr. Jackson, which I believe is $2” “Thank you, your honour. I’ll try stop being a dumbass from now on” Jack retorted, lifting his hat slightly. “Mr. Kelly, you’re free to go. Court dismissed.” Jack turned around smugly, keeping eye contact with Snyder as he joined the boys, all who were jumping and congratulating Jack. “Boys! Boys! Where’s Y/N?” Jack asked concerned, noticing you were not with them. “Went back to the lodging house” Crutchie explained. “You outran them?” “She ran to Brooklyn. Spot helped” “She’s not hurt?” “She’s fine, Jack. Let’s get Home” Race piped up.

“Welcome back, Y/N” “Get the hell away from me” you backed away, scuttling up from the floor and bolting towards the door, only to be grabbed by the officer. He turned you round to face the warden. “Y/N, you know running won’t get you anywhere…” You spat in her face, kicking the man behind you to try and run free but it was useless, and instead the warden slapped you. Hard. You fell to the floor instantly, your eyes welling up with the pain she inflicted on you. You knew this was the only the beginning. “I suggest you get upstairs. You know where the isolation cupboard is” “No. No please! Please!” “Officer, would you please escort her up the stairs and the third door on the left. Thank you” He dragged you up the stairs as you kicked and wailed. You were in hell. Again.

The boys walked in, all stopping at the sound of silence. “What the-“ Race began, only to be hushed by Jack who was listening intently. He heard faint shouts from upstairs. The boys ran upstairs, with the exception of Crutchie who tried his best to haul himself up the stairs at the same pace. The door was barricaded with chairs and tables. Jack took no time to claw his way to the door, throwing barrels and chairs behind him, the boys dodging whatever was aimed at them. Jack burst through the door, scanning the room to make sure everyone’s alright, “is everyone okay?! Everyone here?” “Jacky! Jacky!” Teddy, the youngest in the house, ran towards Jack, jumping into his arms. “Teddy bear, what happened?” “A big man in a blue suit came in and locked us all in here. He even threw Sammy from halfway down the corridor!” “That son of a-“ “Jacky! I heard Y/N scream?” “Wait, what?” Race asked from behind Jack, moving to stand next to them both. “He must of hurt her real bad…” “Teddy, she’s not here?” “No…” Jack looked at the boys behind him, and then back at Teddy. He held him tighter and kissed the top of his head. “She’s coming back right, Jacky?” “I’ll get her back, Teddy. Don’t worry”, Jack set Teddy down and turned to Race, “come on…” Jack and Race hurried down the stairs and ran through the streets to get to the girl’s correction house. It was late at night, so they stealthily crept through the door and up the stairs, shouting your name in hushed tones. A small girl peeked around the door, and gasped when she saw the two boys. “Shhhh. We ain’t here to hurt you. Don’t worry” Jack knelt down to the small girl, a finger to his lips. He smiled at her, “what’s your name?” “Eden” “That’s a beautiful name. You live here?” She nodded, coming out from her hiding spot a bit more, “Why are you hiding, Eden?” “The warden. She’s scary” “Why?” “She likes to hurt us…” Jack shook his head, “I’m sorry…I’m really sorry. I promise, I will do something to help you. And every girl in here. Ok?” “Okay…” “I need you to help me first, though. Do you know a girl called Y/N?” “Yes!” She shouted, Jack having to hush her again, Race looking out for the warden. “She looked after us all when she was last here!” “Wait, she’s been here before?” “Since she was a baby. Apparently her mummy didn’t want a baby” “How come she left?” “Y/N managed to escape one day. She tried to take me and a few others with her but…she fell and-“ “Broke her ankle. I know. Listen, Eden, Y/N is my very, very special friend, and I’m here to take her home” “She’s in the isolation cupboard…” “Where’s that?” “Down the corridor, the door next to the window” “Thank you, Eden” Jack smiled, standing up, “Race, stay with her and watch out for the warden. Make some sort of noise if you see her” Jack quietly but quickly made his way to the door. He couldn’t see a door, just a small, square cupboard. He hesitantly opened the door and to his surprise, there you were. You were crouched in a small space, your knees forced up to your chest. Jack spent no time helping you out, feeling you tense and flinch under his touch. Jack noticed the shards of glass in your skin, blood dripping on the floor. “Jack?” “Shh. I’m here now…” “Warden. She’ll find you and-“ “Y/N, can you stand?” “I-I don’t think so…” “Wrap your arms around me, and-“ Jack’s head snapped round when he heard a whistle, spotting a tall woman to his right. “Run!” You heard Eden shout, feeling Jack stand up and lift you with ease, running down the stairs, noticing Race behind the two of you. Jack ran as fast as he could with you in his arms, and luckily it was enough to lose the warden. Jack and Race walked the rest of the way home, watching you carefully incase you fell asleep. “Y/N, why didn’t you tell us that you came from the correction house?” “It’s a past that I tried to forget” you winced, the glass still lodged in your skin. “You can tell us anything, Y/N, you know that!” Race added, walking beside you. “I know…I know” You snuggled further into Jack’s chest, feeling his grip tighten on you. You got back into the lodging house and heard the group of Newsies ask Jack what happened and why you looked sick. “BOYS! MOVE! OUTTA THE WAY!” Race boomed, making a pathway for Jack to get to the closest bunk. He placed you down and ordered all the Newsies to grab extra blankets, Crutchie handing him bundles of towels and some hot water. “Race, get the rest of the boys out, I don’t want them to see this.” The rest of the Newsies left, leaving only Jack and Crutchie with you. “Y/N, princess, it’s gonna hurt. I’m-I’m so sorry” You looked at Jack sorrowfully, and smiled weakly. You felt Jack lift up your clothes to expose your side and began pulling the glass out from your side, arms and legs. From out the door, Race was pacing, wincing at every scream he heard from inside the dorm. Eventually, after 20 minutes, it stopped and all was silent. Crutchie came out and told Race that you had passed out, but you were not glass free and patched up. You slept for the next six days, the boys all watching you carefully. Crutchie would change your bandages, Race would manage your temperature and Teddy would read you the stories he got from the nuns each week, giving you his teddy bear to make sure you were not alone while they were all out selling. When you were finally up and able to walk around comfortably, the boys let you go up to the penthouse to see Jack. He hadn’t wanted to see you in so much pain so he stayed away from you, no matter how hard he found it. Crutchie didn’t want you getting sick, again, so he gave you numerous shirts to put on, as well as his old coat. You made your way up the ladder and clambered painfully up to the top, noticing Jack leaning against the rails, his hands to his mouth, clearly crying. “Crying ain’t gonna do anything, Jacky” you smiled, his head whipping round to see you. “Y/N! What are you doing up here! You’ll get sick!” “You don’t think Crutchie already thought of that?” Jack sighed and opened his arms as you ran to him, hugging him tightly. “God, I’ve missed you” You laughed, “how come you got outta going to jail?” “Oh,” Jack pulled away, keeping your hands in his, “The judge wasn’t heartless, so took pity on me. Got away with a fine of $2” “$2?! Jesus, Jacky! That’s like everyone’s two months earnings combined! He shoulda met Teddy, he woulda let ya leave without anything but your pride” Jack chuckled, “I love you” You stepped back, shocked, “What?” “Shit.” “What did you just say?” “I love ya. I mean…it had to come out sometime, didn’t it. Shit I’ve fucked up haven’t I?” “No, no Jack…I um. I actually kinda…well…you see, I like you too…” Jack stared at you in shock and you just laughed nervously. “Wha-“ You were cut off by Jack grabbing you by the waist, pulling you close towards him and kissing you deeply. It was gentle, but needy, like he had wanted to do it for years. He pulled away, leaning his forehead on yours, panting but smiling. “I’m so lucky you exist” “I’m so lucky you saved me from hell. Twice” Jack laughed with you, “Princess, I’d do that any day” You pulled him close to your lips once more whispering, “you dumbass” before you kissed him once more.

[petyrbaealish]

What were Sansa's thoughts when the news came in that Petyr could have got sick from the holiday and subsequently there being a 1 in 10 chances of him not making it? (H&S snippet!) :)

Sorry it took a little bit. Life happens, you know? Hope you like it! Also, I hope you have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

“Fatalities do occur in one out of ten cases, but I am fairly confident you’ll pull through this just fine. Luckily your family took you in as soon as they did, ” said Dr. Luwin.

Luwin continued to talk, but Sansa barely heard anything past the first word Dr. Luwin had said, its meaning piercing straight through her heart. Fatalities. Surely she’d heard wrong?

But no, the looks on Olenna and Varys’ faces said differently.

Sansa’s grip tightened on Petyr’s hand.

Oh gods….

She felt her throat constrict, the thoughts swirling around in her mind making her feel dizzy. A one in ten chance that Petyr might actually die. Ten percent versus a ninety percent chance of survival. Not too high, and yet….

And yet ten percent still felt like far too large a number.

What if she lost him? What would she do?

She couldn’t even bear to think of it, and yet the questions haunted her all the same, nagging her insistently, begging to be answered.

No, she wouldn’t answer them. Ever.

She wasn’t going to lose him.

Shoving the questions to the back of her mind, Sansa swallowed and listened as Dr. Luwin told them more about Legionnaires’ Disease, and how Petyr had contracted it. Her heart sank further as she remembered wiping out on the jet ski, only a few days ago, when she’d misjudged a three-sixty.

It was her fault.

Petyr could die, all because she’d been careless.

The guilt was overwhelming. Suffocating. Flooding through her mind, and overtaking nearly everything, only her worry over Petyr’s survival paramount above it, sailing above the turmoil.

“It must have happened when we wiped out on the jet ski,” she said, voice numb, her focus on Petyr’s face, and then on their joined hands. Without realizing it, she’d begun to grip Petyr’s hand so tightly that her nails were digging into his palm. Horrified, she let go, burying her face in her hands instead. “It’s all my fault.”

Petyr protested the assertion, as she’d known he would, and Luwin chimed in with words that seemed sensible but did little to assuage the guilt even so. Olenna spoke up as well, and Sansa, realizing that her guilt had turned the focus on herself rather than on Petyr, the patient, pretended to be placated, though inside her mind was still a torrent of emotion, guilt reigning only just below anxiety.

She did her best to remain outwardly positive, if only for Petyr’s sake, though she suspected Olenna could tell she was struggling. Petyr probably would have noticed as well, had he been in full health, but he fell asleep not long afterwards, and she was grateful at least that he was getting the rest he needed. Even if it left her alone with her thoughts.

Olenna did give Sansa a long hug after Petyr fell asleep, but remained silent on the matter, clearly sensing that Sansa wouldn’t take comfort in anything she had to say in that moment, despite any wisdom her words might impart. Sometimes all the reassurance in the world did little to comfort the mind, and the heart, for wisdom only helps us when we are ready to listen. Sansa wasn’t ready. She needed to stew in her guilt for awhile longer, her own personal form of penance, though in truth a part of her knew it was unnecessary.

Still, a much larger part insisted it was, and so she mentally flogged herself until her mind was thoroughly flayed and she was exhausted with the strain of it. Then, and only then, did she reach for her phone and pull up a book to read, to quiet the worry that still needled incessantly, and to soothe the wounds she’d self inflicted.

It was funny, how before now she’d been grateful at least that Petyr getting sick would hopefully show him how much she cared, but now she was starting to realize that it was also showing to herself how much she cared. Of course, she knew she loved him, so very very much, had known since the night of the charity event, had never doubted it for a second, but somehow that love had grown exponentially deeper, even as she hadn’t thought it possible.

Sansa loved him so much that it hurt to even entertain the idea of being without him, even for a second. So much that she finally understood why some people chose to die rather than live on without their love (a la Romeo and Juliet). He completed the song her heart and her soul had always sung, and without him she was certain the music would die, for she would have no reason to sing any longer.

She knew of course that at some point they were like to be parted, in death if nothing else, but if she lost him now, she would never forgive herself.

Ever.

I’ll answer the next ask concerning Olenna’s thoughts in that very same moment sometime soon after Christmas, I promise. I just won’t have time in the next two days to do any writing (Christmas Eve is big in my family). Although, do keep your eyes peeled for a new short little fic to be posted on Christmas, which is my gift to someone for the Aidan Gillen Secret Santa.