#my mind trips and falls straight into the gutter | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cloudystevie · 2 years ago

Note

Headcanon

Ari being your dad’s best friend and being tasked with looking out for you while your dad is away doing business stuff, and let’s just say stuff gets pretty “steamy”

honestly don’t know what came over me this is so fucked up😭

pairing || dbf! ari levinson x reader

warnings || age gap, daddy kink, slight misogyny, dark but consensual, spitting, slapping, choking, dumbification, pussyjob, overstimulation, oral f receiving, brief oral m receiving, degradation, public but secluded

as always with nothing better to do cooped up at home during your summer break, your dad away on business trips and unable to see your friends, you decide to spend your days at mr. levinsons home, he was a close companion and confidant of your father and you two had always gotten along well enough

not to mention how he was every single one of your wet dreams come true

but who could really blame you for your mind going straight to the gutter like that because he was charmingly handsome, rugged and burly and with those tight shirts he wore it was easy to ogle his bulging biceps

currently, you were outside soaking up the warm rays of the sun by the pool in a deliberately skimpy bathing suit, thin, pink, and strappy

your eyes closed, body falling in and out of that blissful sun ray induced consciousness as you fail to notice ari making his way to the pool as well, and only when your warm rays were interrupted by a cool shadow you opened your eyes, body snapped out of your haze as your adjusted your eyes to see who had disturbed your serenity

lo and behold it was ari, dressed in a tight dark blue t-shirt, denim jeans in the scorching heat, and aviator sunglasses perched on his nose, shielding his cerulean blue eyes from the intense sun beams

his arms are crossed over his chest and you thank yourself for choosing to put on some sunglasses so he couldn’t see how your eyes were trained to the large muscle and veins, you bite your lip and subtly rub your thighs together as he begins to speak

“you gonna spend your whole summer sitting by my pool?”

“unless you have any better ideas then yes, i’m gonna spend my whole summer by your pool ari”

his jaw ticks and his gaze flickers down to your chest, where you had practically everything on display besides your nipples, which were peeking through the thin material of your bikini, bare stomach and legs all glimmering in the sunlight

he openly stares at you, shameless in his eyes raking over your seductive form

in a perfect world the tension would break and he would finally have his way with you because you know that there’s been something bubbling between you two ever since you dropped your bags at his front door earlier that week and you'd be lying if you pretended you weren't trying to push him to his limits

until he finally broke and had his way with you

you cross your arms under your chest, "get out of the way ari. you're disrupting my afternoon!"

ari scoffs, crossing his thick arms over his chest, t-shirt clinging to his form and biceps literally bulging, "watch your attitude sweetie, would hate to have to teach you some goddamn manners."

and now you're annoyed, rolling your eyes and furrowing your brows as you retort, "what are you gonna do? make me pack my things and leave? my dad would be pissed if you left me on my own."

he laughs, fucking laughs before pouting at you, and the mocking makes your stomach clench

"aww poor baby needs a big strong man to protect her? don't worry sweetie, daddy's gonna take care 'a you."

you gasp, and you can't tell if the sudden intense heat flaring inside you is due to the beating sun or ari calling himself daddy

"y-you're not my daddy!"

suddenly his thick hand is wrapping around the back of your neck, connecting all the way around your throat as he pulls you into him, your hands feebly grasping his wrist as you let out a strangled gasp in shock

“my roof, my fucking rules baby. at my house, i’m your fucking daddy you got that? he spits

your breath hitches as a cloud of submission hazes over you, his hand around your throat and his words combining to be of such pure dominance you feel like melting

a whine lodges in your throat as you continue to look at him until you feel a light slap on your cheek making a moan stumble past your lips

“fuckin’ slut. i asked you, do you understand?”

you nod your head as best you can, mindlessly and obediently, lips parting and a depraved expression morphing your features

“words baby. don’t make me say it again.”

“i understanddd.” your words extend on a whine

“who the fuck am i?”

“y-you’re my daddy.”

he smirks, hand now squishing your cheeks together, “open your mouth sweetie.”

you try to obey him as best you could, eyes watering as you attempt to open your mouth despite his relentless hold and it’s obvious ari knows you’re struggling because he’s smirking the whole time

“this is for not having any manners and talking back to daddy.”

he spits in your mouth, watching as your eyes hood over and you moan out loud, “don’t fucking swallow it.” he demands

you would do anything he told you, so you let it drip down your tongue, down your chin and onto ari’s hand as he laughs at how filthy you already look before spitting again, this time missing your mouth as he slaps the spit onto the skin of your cheeks and your pussy is throbbing from the lack of attention

you hump the air desperately, eyeing the bulge straining against ari’s jeans, and you can only imagine how big he was, at his large stature of 6’5 and all muscle, you don’t even know if he’d fit

“daddy please, please need you so bad please” you whine pathetically, your entire demeanour so different from ari’s it makes you even more stupid

ari seems to take pity on you, finally, he coos at you, pushing you back onto the chair as he eyes the dark spot on your bikini bottoms and seeping down your thighs

he tuts at you, “stupid girl you’re making a mess! all because you’re a filthy little slut hmm?”

you nod and whine, spreading your legs to show him your drippy pussy, and he groans at the sight, your hole is clenching around nothing, clearly crying to be filled as your cream coats your swollen folds

he honestly can’t help himself when he accidentally tears your bikini bottom in two in an attempt to get his fingers coated in your slick

you mewl at the messy contact, as he simultaneously groans, imagining your tight pussy clenching around him, struggling to take him but sucking him in regardless

he swears under his breath, he knows he wont be able to fit himself inside you but he needs to feel you cum

you plead, “please daddy please fuck me! need you so bad need it hard and fast and need you to make me cum please daddy!”

he shakes his head, “i don’t think so sweetie, this pussy is too tight, i don’t want to hurt you.”

“no please daddy i can take it please! i can take it i promise i will!”

he furrows his brows, slapping your greedy pussy making you convulse and buck your hips up as he scolds you, “that’s enough, daddy said no. i have another idea sweetie. something that’ll feel good for both of us.”

“please daddy i’ll do anything!”

“then get my fucking cock out slut.” he slaps your swollen pussy again, groaning at the wet sound that echoes into the open, private backyard

your hands scramble to undo his zip and button, shakily pulling his cock out and marvelling at the sheer size of him, he was huge.

he can see you take aback by the size of him as he smirks, wrapping his thick hand around his cock and jerking himself off languidly, right in front of you

your mind fogs with the need to have him in your mouth so you lean forward and get a kitten lick over his tip before he’s pushing you away and slapping his dick on your cheek

��did i tell you to use your fucking mouth?”

you whine, “b-but daddy i couldn’t help it!”

he mocks your submissive stutter, raising his pitch in a lewd attempt to mock your voice, “w-well daddy doesn’t give a shit. are you such a stupid baby you don’t have any control over yourself?”

you whimper, unable to respond as he hums a “that’s what i fucking thought.”

he manhandles you until your completely on your back, and you can’t even care about the fact that you’re outside on this patio couch being such a slut for your dads closest friend

“ever heard of a pussy job baby?”

you whimper and shake your head no, as he looms directly above you, invading all your senses with his bulging biceps and now displaying his hairy chest since his t-shirt was thrown somewhere between him manhandling you and you trying not to cum on the spot

he smirks, spreading and toying with your folds before coating his dick in your slick, and moving himself so his hands were wrapped around your thighs, pushing them together with your ankles dangling over his shoulders

he doesn’t say anything, just pushes his dick onto your slit and instead of entering you like you so pathetically wished he would, he just rubbed his whole length against your pussy

fucking you without actually fucking you

you mewl lewdly as his dick nudges your clit, back arching at the overwhelming sensation

ari throws his head back at the feel of you, so warm and wet and swollen

“o-oh daddy!! t-that feels- so much-” your sentence makes no sense, as the simple feel of ari’s heavy weight against your poor pussy makes you dumb

he laughs and spits on your face, rubbing it in again as he begins to fuck onto you with more vigour, his balls slapping against your other hole and his dick sliding well onto your stomach after it catches on your clit

“dumb baby can’t talk? just shut the fuck up and let daddy use you.”

you’re immediately breathless, chest erratically rising and failing, toes curling and heels digging into his back, your own back arching and already nearing your peak

he continues to groan about what a stupid mindless toy you are while losing himself in the feel of your slick cunt, fucking his hips harder with each thrust

“daddy ‘m gonna cum! please daddy ‘m gonna cum so hard! please let me!” you sob, hands scrambling to find something to hold on to and ultimately landing on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin

“fuck yeah, fuckin’ make a mess on daddy, c’mon show me what you’re good for baby, stupid dumb little fucking baby.” he grunts each word, nearing his own peak but wanting to see you fall apart first

you squeal as your body immediately relaxes then tightens, wildly convulsing as you shake and spray your release all over yourself and him, your eyes rolling back and stars painting your vision, you can’t even feel his plump lips on your neck, biting the skin there as he fucks his hips sloppily but hard, before grunting your name and coating your stomach and some of your tits in his cream

you lay there quivering as he catches his breath, after one of the most mindblowing orgasms he’s had and you the same

he lets your twitching legs down, biting his lip at his cum painted all over you and how absolutely fucked out you look

he lets you catch your breath, kissing your forehead sweetly and rubbing your arms, before scooping some of the cum off your stomach and bending down to your pussy, messily rubbing it over your swollen folds

he licks his lips at the debauched sight, leaning in and latching his pink lips onto your clit and licking everywhere he can

you squeal, wildly bucking your hips again as the sensations overwhelm you, before his deep baritone surrounds you, “gotta clean up this mess. you’re gonna take it until daddy’s done with his pussy.”

#ari levinson smut #ari levinson imagines #ari levinson x reader #daddy ari levinson #chris evans smut #chris evans imagines

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thenovelartist · 3 years ago

Text

And there was only One Bed - Tears of Themis Headcanons

Premise: There’s only one room left in the hotel, meaning the guys have to be roomies with MC for a night.

Luke

Err… his cheeks are red now.

He’s having to check with MC if she’s okay with it. Not that they had much of a choice.

They take the room, only to discover one bed.

And forget his crush on her; that’s the least of his problems.

He knows she shifts in her sleep.

“You take half and I take half?” MC offers. “Like when we were kids?”

He sighs, lamenting his fate. “I’m so gonna end up on the floor.”

“Sorry.”

When it comes to who showers first: rock, paper, scissors.

He’s the least phased of all the guys by the whole “share one bathroom” situation. They grew up together. They sometimes used to have quick conversations through the bathroom door, normally just a question or two about what they wanted for dinner or if their phone went off and it was their parents.

Which happened this time. “There was a vending machine down stairs. You want anything? And if you mention that diet, I’m getting you two of your favorite candy bars.”

“Just one and only one.”

“You got it.”

(@gavin-plz-call-me once called them the “King and Queen of No Boundaries” and I will never forget it.)

Eventually, Luke makes sure MC’s settled in for bed while he’s planning to stay up a little and figure out tomorrow’s game plan.

Until she literally drags him to bed.

He can’t protest against her.

Contrary to what he thought, he did not end up on the floor.

But it was kinda hard to sleep when the girl of his dreams decided his chest was her new snuggle pillow halfway through the night.

He’ll cave and roll with it. Be selfish just for tonight and hold her there.

Come morning, she apologizes for disrupting him, he dismisses it. And both their cheeks are red.

But it doesn’t phase them. Give it half an hour, they’re back to normal.

(Bonus: “So, kid. Let me get this straight,” Aaron Yishmir started. “You spent the night with her, and you’re still not gonna tell her anything?”

“It wasn’t like that!”

“You’re hopeless.)

Vyn

Well… this is a predicament.

However, they come to some awkward agreement that if it’s the only place to sleep for the night, they’ll take it and figure it out as they go.

However, things only go from bad to worse when they learn there’s only one bed.

There were very few times since becoming an adult that Vyn ever found himself at a loss. And this was one of those times.

“Um… are you comfortable splitting?”

His glasses almost fell off his face at MCs suggestion.

Before he can even think about suggesting to take the chair, MC is putting up a blanket wall. “Like this?”

Er… aha…

Oh geez, this woman…

He caves to that deep, ugly part of him that’s begging “yes” and agrees.

Then comes the new revelation there’s only one bathroom, which rose the question of who was going to shower when.

He just lets her take the first shower while his mind is still storming.

During that time, he realizes this may be the only time he has the privacy to actually record his voice diary.

It’s a total disaster. He’s in mental turmoil and can barely think straight.

But MC is acting normal, meaning he’s got to try to act normal.

Normally, he takes his showers in the morning, but he takes it at night this time just so he can have another moment of privacy to get his thoughts in order.

This is just a practical arrangement. This is just a practical arrangement. This is just a practical arrangement…

Bedtime rolls around, and poor, unsuspecting Vyn believes they are each going to stay on their respective sides of the bed.

However, Author has a headcanon these two both sleep like dead logs.

Morning rolls around, and they’re still both asleep, only they’re totally entangled.

MC wakes up first, laying on top of Vyn.

And when she freaks, flailing and falling off the bed in the process, that’s when Vyn wakes, too.

It was… an interesting morning to say the least.

They come to the agreement to never speak on it again.

(Until a few years down the line after they’re together and can look back on that day with amusement.)

Artem

When the person at the front desk said there was only one room left, Artem about had a heart attack.

He cannot possibly share a room with MC. That’s super improper.

Will call around to any other hotel in the area, but no avail.

MC will literally have to drag this poor man up to the room.

“It will be fine, Artem.”

Except, it wasn’t. There was one bed.

Cue almost heart attack number 2.

He almost left to go sleep in the car. MC had to restrain him.

“We can share right? Like, if we—”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Not even if we put a blanket—”

“No. I’ll sleep in the chair.”

There was no convincing him to sleep anywhere else.

And MC tried.

Eventually, she had to surrender. “Fine. Then do you want the first shower?”

Oh… there was only one bathroom… that they’d be sharing…

Cue almost heart attack number 3.

Will legitimately leave the room while she’s showering. He just feels too awkward and like he’s invading her privacy.

Then bed time rolls around and he’s unable to sleep, so he works on his laptop for the time being.

Ends up pulling an all-nighter, which MC anticipated.

She set an alarm for early in the morning so she could then force him to bed for a few hours.

While he insisted he was fine, he was too tired to protest as she pushed him down into bed. “Sleep, will you. I know you didn’t sleep all night.”

Thought he’d have trouble, but he was so wound up all night over everything that had happened that he’s passed out in fifteen minutes.

And stayed out cold for a few hours.

When they left, MC made sure to thank him for being such a gentleman. She thought it was the least she could do for his troubles.

That, and she quite liked the way his ears and neck turned red.

(Bonus: He hopes Celestine never finds out what happened on that business trip.

But when she finds out curtesy of MC, she will never let him live it down.)

Marius

The moment he finds out there’s only one room, he actually gets super flustered.

And as he does, instantly goes in to deflective Playboy Flirt mode.

“Get your head out of the gutter, you little—”

MC shut that down, real quick.

Most he could do then is just say “It can’t be that bad, right? What’s the worst that could happen?”

Well, apparently only be one bed.

Flustered Marius = Playboy Persona

“That’s it,” MC says. “You take the bed.”

“What? Don’t you wanna share?”

“No.”

“Ouch!”

But really, he wants to find some way to get her to take the bed because he really will feel awful otherwise.

Then comes the single bathroom realization.

“You wanna shower together?”

“Marius, I swear I will kick you out of this room and take the keycard from you.”

“Oh, my feisty Miss Attorney.”

“Miss Attorney will sue you for sexual harassment.”

“Understood.”

He gets to shower first, and then ends up giving her some excuse for leaving the room entirely.

He loves teasing her, but this might be the most he’s ever pushed his luck. And he actually doesn’t want her to hate him, so he’ll give her this space at least.

As for the bed situation…

MC tries to sleep on the couch, but he can’t stand it, so he decides to push his luck and simply carry her to bed.

“I won’t pull anything, I swear.”

“The only reason I’m agreeing is because I know I’ll sleep better here than the couch.”

“See?”

“Marius.”

“I’ll shut up.”

Regrets his decision halfway through the night when Mr. Light Sleeper realizes Ms. Dead Log moves in her sleep.

She was snuggled up against his back, and his heart was going doki doki too hard to even think about going back to sleep.

Eventually, he rolls over and snuggles her, not just because he wants to, but he hopes it will keep her still through the night.

Unfortunately, she was not happy in the morning.

“Can’t we talk about this?”

She kept her face turned away from him the rest of the day, but he knew it was red with blush. “Shut up.”

#tears of themis #luke pierce #vyn richter #artem wing #marius von hagen #headcanons #tears of themis headcanons

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floralseokjin · 4 years ago

Text

⤑ made-up love song iii.

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher, never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago, and you’re unable to remember the last time you dated. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire.

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, eventual smut, eventual angst, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, lots of lasagne talk, flirting, kissing, fluff 🥰 words; 9,340

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

After you had time to calm down, of course you ended up telling Soojung about what happened on the date. You kept some things to yourself, mainly about how giddy you had felt throughout the whole thing, but you were sure she could see that for herself – she kept looking at you knowingly, and for once she kept the teasing down to a minimum. You ended up staying awake quite late, Soojung opening a bottle of wine. You were still excited from the date and the thought of what was to come next, but somewhere along the line, you and your best friend started getting into your feelings. (Was it really a Saturday night until you and Soojung ended it with slightly drunk sappy heart to hearts and hugs? Obviously not…)

For the first time in a while you felt comfortable enough to open up about your love life (or lack of one) and felt it easy to talk about the past and to even bring up Donghae. He was a forbidden topic for the most part, no matter how much you were over him, but tonight had changed something. You didn’t know how to explain it, and no, it wasn’t because Seokjin was somehow the man of your dreams who had magically made things better with just one date. That was dumb and only happened in cliché Hallmark movies.

No, it was because tonight had shown you that life goes on. No matter what rock bottom you hit, or how long it took you to get over it, no hurt was forever. You’d been single for a long time, and happy at that – after you’d gotten over the heartbreak of Donghae cheating on you – but tonight you’d had fun. You’d enjoyed yourself, enjoyed Seokjin’s company. You didn’t know what would come of your second date, or if there would be a third, but you were okay with that. You were just living in the moment, and right now you really liked that infuriating-not-so-infuriating bastard.

You were taking a chance, just like he was, and it was actually pretty exciting…

You woke up late the next morning, something you didn’t reprimand yourself for because it was summer break after all, but also, you had a raging wine headache that had needed all the shut eye it could get. Your head was still throbbing slightly as you reached for your phone on the bedside table but seeing a text from Seokjin waiting for you made it miraculously disappear.

Seokjin (10:28am) Hi Y/N, Thank you for such a great time last night. I can’t wait until Saturday. Would it be alright with you if I kept in touch throughout the week? Seokjin

You giggled to yourself at his insane formalities. Why was that so adorable? But most importantly how could he be both cute and sexy at the same time? He was hellbent on making you lose your mind. You thought about teasing him, asking him when he’d grown comfortable enough to drop the Regards from yesterday, but despite how well last night had gone, and despite how much you loved joking around with him in person, over the phone seemed different. You were still a little nervous – giddy nervous, but nervous, nevertheless. Your conversation from last night with Soojung came back to you, reminding you that this was all too real. You were potentially catching feelings for this man, and it was new, and exciting, but equal parts terrifying now that you’d woken up with a hangover.

Everything you typed out in reply seemed way too stiff, so growing frustrated, you settled on an emoji to cut through the formalities.

You (10:49am) I had such a lovely time too, Seokjin. Of course it’s fine to keep in touch. I’m looking forward to Saturday night! 😊

What did he mean exactly about keeping in touch?, you wondered as you got out of bed, padding your way down the stairs and into the kitchen for a much needed glass of ice cold water. A good morning text? A how are you? You knew he was busy with work all week, so you weren’t expecting too much, but just knowing he wanted to stay in contact until next Saturday made you smile to yourself as you waited for his response.

You didn’t have to wait long.

Seokjin (10:55am) Great! I’m so excited to try your World famous Italian lasagne 😁

Cute. He’d followed your lead, ditching the last of the formalities and even signing off with an emoji instead. You instantly felt more at ease, but –

Oh no.

Why did he have to bring that up and remind you of your humiliating blunder? You knew what would be taking up all of your time for the few days – you needed to perfect this goddamn dish.

Soojung on the other hand was unbothered by your predicament. Mind in the gutter as always. “Do you think that’s a euphemism for something else?” She asked straight away once you’d shown her your messages a few hours later.

“Soojung!” You exclaimed, feeling yourself get a little hot in the face. You wish she’d stop bringing up sex, it was stressing you out. You told her as much.

“You’re the one who’s invited him to your house for a second date.”

You stared at her, greatly unimpressed. “You know why I invited him here.”

You’d told her last night. You’d been hit with a surge of confidence when you’d suggested it was your turn to decide on something. In truth though, you didn’t know the first thing about restaurants, you hardly ever ate out, and when you did it was either fast food or at the food court in the department store Soojung worked at. You knew he wouldn’t have minded any choice you’d made, but that didn’t stop the slight apprehension you felt.

It was normal, given your difference in lifestyles, and whilst that seemed to be no issue thankfully, that difference was still there. However really, that’s why you’d chosen to cook for him. Seokjin had shown you something close to him last night – the restaurant he owned with his brother, and now you were to show him something close to your heart. Something that was you. You loved cooking and baking in your spare time and you wanted to share that with him however small. Granted it was things you were confident with, but lasagne couldn’t be that hard, right? A true perfectionist, you’d master it quickly enough…

Soojung rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you could suggest McDonald’s and Dilf would be insanely happy.” She nudged you, squealing like a kid. “He’s just so into you!”

You wouldn’t bite. She was making you nervous again. “Stop calling him Dilf, he has a name.”

“Geez, sorry.” She held up her hands in apology. “Didn’t mean to offend your man.”

You pushed her shoulder, silently telling her to quit it.

For the next few days it became your life’s goal to master the art of lasagne. Sunday night was spent googling recipes, trying to find the most authentic one. There seemed to be a lot of fuss on the right type of pasta. Flat edged would be fine, but the wavy edge was best. You made note of that. Next was the sauce. Two types. The tomato based one and then the white one – which you learned was called Bechamel. That seemed pretty easy to cook up, but the former seemed a little daunting. Every time you’d had pasta sauce in the past it had been premade, starting from scratch was giving you anxiety. Seokjin thought this was your expertise so you had to make it believable. What if you made it too salty? Too bland?

…Possibly you were thinking way too hard about this. Soojung thought the same.

“Just buy it in a jar, Y/N, for Christ’s sake. You’re taking this way too seriously. You don’t need to learn fluent Italian to make your little white lie believable. It’s a goddamn lasagne.”

She had a point.

“He’d be happy with a sandwich. He’s coming over for you, not the shitty lasagne.”

“Don’t call my non-existent lasagne shitty, you’re setting me up for failure.” You grumbled, looking at the ten tabs you had up on your laptop screen, all claiming to be the best most authentic recipe around.

On Monday you went shopping for ingredients. You knew a small world foods store that was just outside of town, you’d been there a couple of times when you’d been baking with the children for class. With help from signposted aisles, you found what you were looking for in no time at all, so that night, you and Soojung both tucked into your first (sort of) homemade lasagne. Only the Bechamel sauces was harder to master than you’d first thought.

“I think you added too much flour.” Soojung’s nose wrinkled as she spoke. “It’s nice, don’t get me wrong, but the white stuff… I don’t know, maybe it’s supposed to taste like that?”

Nope, she was definitely correct, too much flour, which was odd because you were pretty positive you’d followed the right measurements…

Tuesday you had a day off from the sight, and even the word lasagne. You met for coffee with your mom but kept the date with Seokjin a secret. Not that she pressed about your love life anymore, she’d long given up on that topic. It was nice to catch up and you made plans for a trip soon. It was hard to find time to visit her when you were in work so you were always thankful for the summer and Christmas breaks. You were her only child, so it made your time together even more precious. She’d only remarried ten years ago, and while Jonathon had kids from his first marriage, they lived abroad. They were older than you and had families of their own. You weren’t particularly close for no other reason than the distance. You’d only met them a few times but they were lovely people. Your father had remarried while you were still in high school, having two more children (a son and daughter) with his wife. You were very close to them despite the age gap and saw them as regularly as you could. Your extended family had long been the norm and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

Wednesday you were back on the lasagne. You purchased more pasta sauce and decided on the pre-made Bechamel sauce too, just to be safe. This time around everything went smoothly, Soojung had no complaints and neither did you, but you still invited Taehyung around on Thursday for a third go. He was way more enthusiastic than your best friend, singing your praises all night.

“Y/N, that was amazing!” He exclaimed, leaning back in his chair to pat his belly. “Dilf dick – Uh, I mean, Seokjin, is going to love it.”

“Guys, is that what you really call him when you’re alone together?” You whined.

“Blame Soo,” Taehyung shrugged. “She’s rubbed off on me. But, I’m right,” he smirked. “He’s going to want to give you his DD once he tastes this, if you know what I mean.”

Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, you looked on unimpressed. Maybe if you gave them no reaction they’d stop?

“Oooo. I wonder what his dick even looks like. I bet it’s as handsome as his face.” Soojung squealed, sat beside her boyfriend.

“SOOJUNG!” He cried, mouth open in disbelief.

“Can we just stop talking about his… y’know…” You sighed, unable to say the word aloud. “Imagine if it was the other way around and he was wondering about what I looked like naked.” Soojung wouldn’t be impressed, that was for sure.

“Fine, you’re right,” your best friend sighed. “I’m just way too excited because you finally like someone!!” She was getting loud now, she always did when she was excited. “And I want it to work out because you deserve it!”

You chuckled. “Soo, calm down.” But you had to admit her words were sweet. You reached for her hand across the tiny table, giving it a gentle squeeze of thanks.

“What about Barman dick?” Taehyung asked randomly, totally oblivious that you and she were having a moment. “Huh? Soo? You want my Barman dick tonight?” He wiggled his eyebrows again, a playfulness to his voice as he nudged her.

She giggled but wasn’t having any of it. “It doesn’t really have the same ring to it, babe.”

Highly offended he pulled away, pursing his lips. “Whatever.”

“Okay guys, let’s not have a domestic at the dining table.” You laughed. Which was a mistake because now Taehyung’s attention was back on you.

“So, Y/N, when are you going to invite Mr. Dilf to my bar?”

You sniggered. “How about never?”

“Hey, you ladies are being very mean tonight. I complimented your lasagne.” Hm. That was true, you guessed. “What’s wrong with my bar? I think he’d love it. What does he drink? I see him as a dark rum type of guy.”

You shrugged. “He was drinking red wine on our date last week.” It still made you feel funny to say the word date. You’d gone on a date. You were dating. A flurry of excitement found its way to your stomach, your excitement for Saturday growing.

“Interesting,” Taehyung mused.

Soojung stood up, starting to collect your plates. “Okay, I’m washing, who’s drying?”

“Not me,” you sang. “I’ve cooked nearly every night this week.”

Soojung eyes were wide when you met them, as if she was silently begging you. For what? “Just please promise me there won’t be any lasagne waiting for me after work tomorrow night? I’m going to turn into one at this rate.”

Saturday arrived soon enough. You woke up the same time your phone went Bing and you knew exactly who it was. Seokjin had been texting you Good morning every day since Monday. He was no longer signing them off with his name, which was progress, and he was even adding more emojis, so you guessed you had rubbed off on him.

Sometimes he’d drop a meme with the greeting. They were mostly to do with early mornings and workloads to which you’d tease him about because it was your summer vacation after all, you didn’t need to worry about work. But you always sent a Hope today runs smoothly his way too. You didn’t want to rub it in too much.

Yesterday’s meme had been about dating, something about the guy trying to flirt but being garbage at it and asking if she liked cheese. You didn’t agree that was like Seokjin though – you were gradually learning that he was incredibly modest – but it had made you laugh. Only Seokjin could send you lame memes and you’d find it adorable… You were possibly whipped.

Seokjin (8:01am) Good morning. [Image sent]

Today the meme was about lasagne, which made you question whether he was googling these every morning because no way had a lasagne meme popped up on his social media – if he used any at all. The realisation that he was searching for memes every day was even more endearing and your heart got a little gooey. You read the text on top of the image of lasagne. Dude, is that your new white shirt? Lemme just hop off this fork for a closer look. You genuinely laughed at that one, still wrapped up in your bed sheets. So incredibly lame, but equal levels funny.

Seokjin (8:01am) I will not be wearing white… I can’t wait to see you later. Just a reminder that I hope you omitted the garlic for tonight’s meal. I don’t want to embarrass myself by itching all night 😅😂

Immediately the smile dropped from your face and you shot forward, horror washing over you. Oh no. He was allergic to garlic. With the stress of perfecting the world’s best lasagne you’d totally forgotten. What were you going to do? Find a plain tomato sauce? Where the hell were you going to find one? Was that even a thing? You needed to leave now. Jumping out of bed you almost forgot to message Seokjin back. Looking at your phone again the image of the lasagne mocked you…

Two hours later you were back at home, in need of a sit down after you’d rushed around town looking for a pasta sauce that didn’t contain garlic (very hard, by the way.) The stress had aged you about ten years. Soojung of course found it highly hilarious.

“You’d have been in ER before 9pm,” she chortled, still in her pyjamas on the couch. She’d been still asleep when you’d dashed off, a woman on a lasagne mission.

You ignored her. It wouldn’t have been that bad, right? He said himself he’d only be itching… Clawing off his own skin was probably better than his throat closing up… maybe…

“How did you manage to forget?” She was still laughing. “AND you said you’d make a lasagne. Italian food always uses garlic. He must think you’re trying to kill him.” At this point you could hardly understand her, words blurring into one as she lost her shit.

“We went over this. I wasn’t in my right mind when I said I’d cook lasagne.”

She stopped her laugher immediately. “No way, you’re not blaming me again.”

“Ugh.” You sighed, suddenly remembering something. “I was going to make my homemade garlic bread.” Now that was a speciality of yours. This night was going to be a disaster.

“Skip the garlic,” Soojung suggested.

“So, just bread then.”

She tried her best not to laugh again, not wanting to make it worse. “Yum.”

It didn’t help.

What did help though, was making her clean the entirety of the downstairs of the house. As the day went on you started to get more and more nervous, which was silly, but you couldn’t help it. You realised that your place was a shoe box in comparison to his, what the hell were you thinking when you’d invited him here?! It needed to be spotless, to distract him from the fact you would be eating dinner in the same place you would be cooking it…

You knew there was no need to worry, it was just like last week when you’d grown self-conscious only to be fine once you’d set eyes on Seokjin. No doubt tonight would be just the same, he didn’t give a crap about stuff like that, so why would you even think he would? He’d probably be hurt if he knew… You just couldn’t help those little bubbles of insecurities from floating around inside your brain. You were a law unto yourself, and the garlic-less lasagne wasn’t helping. You’d had no time to prep for it. What if it tasted like cardboard?

“Lasagne is lasagne,” Soojung reassured you, in the kitchen as you got all the ingredients together. “It’s not going to taste gross just because there’s no garlic in it. Put it this way, at least you can kiss without needing to pop a mint.”

You whined, shaking your head, you couldn’t even dare thinking about kissing him right now. You’d spontaneously combust from anxiety.

“Should we clean your room too?” She asked, picking up the jar of pasta sauce absentmindedly. You’d already read the label approximately fifteen times, double checking it was indeed garlic-less.

“What? No,” you told her, voice all high-pitched. There would be no going upstairs besides from bathroom usage. “But hey,” you exclaimed, rounding on her with the spoon you were holding in your hand. “My room is always clean, bitch.”

She was the messy one.

Soojung left for Taehyung’s place at half 6, ready for Seokjin’s arrival at 7pm, a hug for good luck before you waved her off. You’d calmed greatly now, nothing like some table laying to ease some nerves. The lasagne was prepped and ready to oven cook, you had a fresh key lime pie in the fridge and you were dressed and presentable with ten minutes to spare. Wonderful.

The doorbell rung not long after you’d made your way downstairs and you were quickly finding out that Seokjin was a very punctual man. Opening the door to reveal him stood at the porch your heart instantly warmed, skipping a beat when he gave you a dazzling smile and a soft Hey. You felt a little weak at the knees. Nope, you were not ready for tonight.

In your tiny entryway he offered you a silver gift bag. “I didn’t know what to bring, so.” He said with a shrug as you pulled out a bottle of red wine.

“Oh, thank you, Seokjin.” You hadn’t been expecting him to bring anything at all. It was a lovely surprise.

“You probably have some waiting already. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you reassured him. “We’ll use this one.” You were going to use a bottle of white wine you had laying around, nothing special at all. Red wine seemed better, fancier, maybe it would go better with the lasagne?

“Are you sure?” He asked. “I was gonna get you flowers but I didn’t want to freak you out or anything.”

You laughed. What was he going on about? “Why would that freak me out?”

His smile was crooked as he chuckled quietly. “I don’t know. I’m new to this, I thought they would’ve been too forward.”

You gave a small shrug, voice barely there when you replied. “I like flowers.”

He gazed at you, warm eyes softening as he stepped forward. “Next time.” He smiled. “Next time I’ll get you flowers.”

You swallowed fairly loudly, averting your gaze as you outstretched your arms. “Let me take you coat.” Was it hot in here? You felt a little stuffy.

He shrugged off the beige wool blend, revealing the tight fitting black shirt he had on underneath. It stretched over his shoulders, accentuating how broad they were, how hard his chest was and how much his waist curved inwards. The pants he was wearing didn’t help matters too. He looked effortlessly gorgeous, hair parted to the side, a piece curled above his left eye, softening the blow of his exposed forehead. You moved to hook his coat on the rack, realising you could’ve been gawping. Not that you could help it, the man was trying to kill you.

As you turned to face him again, he smiled. “You look really nice.” His voice was soft which just made it even more dangerous. “I think this may be the first time I’ve seen you in pants.”

“Really?” You wondered. You were partial to a dress in the summer, so he was probably right. You’d chosen a pair of black skinny jeans and a patterned chiffon blouse. Nothing too fancy, but he looked at you with awe-filled eyes. Unless you were imagining it. You cleared your throat. “You look good too.”

He stepped back, arms outstretched as he looked down at himself. “Thanks. No white.” He chuckled.

You forced yourself to laugh too, nerves creeping back just because of your stupid damn lasagne. “No white.”

Moving forward again he took your hand. It was warm and soft, just as you remembered from last week. Who cared about the lasagne when you were this close to him? When he was looking down at you with those brown, twinkly eyes? Not you anymore.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week, Y/N.”

Oh.

You invited him inside the living room first, pouring him a small (and his only because he the car) glass of wine as you chit chatted for a few minutes. Sat next to him was RJ, who you’d taken from your bedroom to join you both for the night. He wanted to say Hi, had been your opening line and Seokjin had found it hilarious, cracking up instantly. Although his “I missed you buddy, how have you been?” went rudely ignored. Maybe the alpaca was nervous…

Ever the gentleman, he complimented you on the house, noting the décor with a fond eye. That surprised you, maybe he had played a part with the interior of his home. Well, you’d only seen the cosy family room – but it suited him very well. You knew there had been no need to be nervous when it came to inviting him into your home. There wasn’t a judging bone in Seokjin’s body.

You talked about your weeks, yours had been fine, but of course you left out all the stress over the lasagne. Seokjin’s week on the other hand had been quite demanding, but that was nothing new he told you with an accepting shake of his hand. He was used to it by now, but he had to admit tonight’s date had made it easier this time around. He was full of the charm, not that you were complaining…

Misook was babysitting Arin tonight, he told you when you asked how she was. It was his weekend this week, he and Nana took it in turns – when she didn’t cancel, he added as an afterthought – but he seemed a lot more relaxed talking about his ex-wife this time around seeing as last weekend she hadn’t broken any promises. He was happy if his daughter was happy, and that made you smile. You remembered Arin’s sorrowful face that day her mom had cancelled on her, so you were glad they’d found time to spend time together. You also remembered how irritated Seokjin had sounded when he was opening up to you on the bench at the school fate… You wondered just how often Nana cancelled plans, and couldn’t imagine how frustrating that was for both Arin and Seokjin… You hoped this marked the start of things being easier for them now.

Soon after that, you served him your starter (“garlic – wait, no I mean, no-garlic bread.”), and you chatted some more over that and while the lasagne baked. It was surprising how little you’d touched the sides on your first date, so tonight you covered even more bases. Family mainly. You told him about your half and step siblings, your parents’ remarriages of course coming up too. He seemed interested in that, wondering about your views on it and if it had affected you as you grew up. As a divorcee you understood the relevance to him and because he was so easy to talk to you found yourself opening up freely.

His parents were still married and Seokjin was the youngest out of their two sons, so it was quite unheard of for the second born to take over a family company. In fact, it was the first of its kind for his, which made it even harder for him. His older brother had been the rightful heir to LG Electronics but his passion had always been in culinary arts. His parents had been kind enough to let him follow his dreams, and thankfully, for Seokjin, that meant he could follow in his father’s footsteps. He’d been eager to prove himself but it had been hard in the beginning. His status as the youngest son meant that a lot of people set him up for failure, but with his family’s love and belief he’d managed to succeed and confirm himself as the rightful CEO. You didn’t doubt it. It seemed he’d worked hard to get where he was now. That was admirable.

The influx of information was so interesting to you and it didn’t feel real. While you could imagine Seokjin taking charge, visualising him in that tailored houndstooth suit he’d worn when you’d first met him, it was strange to think the smiley and soft-spoken man sat in front of you was from a long line of power and wealth. He should be untouchable, yet here you were able to reach for his hand across the table. Able to feel his forefinger stroking delicate patterns into your palm as you opened up and got to know one another more and more…

“So, if your family’s a big deal, what about things like arranged marriages? Are they still a thing?” You asked, maybe confusing fiction for fact.

Seokjin laughed at your wording. “They used to be, not so much anymore. I met my ex-wife through a friend. They concentrate less on things like that these days.” He shrugged, adding as an afterthought, “As a divorced CEO I think I’m a great example of that.”

That was true, you thought to yourself, wondering how the breakdown of his marriage had also played a part in the stress of his early years as CEO.

“I know it all sounds pretty crazy, but I like to think my family is just like anyone else’s.” He continued, smiling bashfully when you met his gaze. “That I’m just like anyone else.”

You wondered how many people had immediately judged him because of his status… You’d been one of them, right? Even if you hadn’t known any of the details, you’d written him off as some obnoxious, rich guy who flaunted his wealth… You felt guilty thinking back. He was the complete opposite.

You nodded in agreement before grinning. “I’d have liked to see what college Seokjin was like.”

“A complete nerd, to tell you the truth.”

He answered so seriously, you didn’t know how to react, and then he was laughing loudly, cracking up at himself. You couldn’t help but join in. That’s when your stove alarm went off, shrill and incessant, signalling the arrival of the dreaded lasagne…

It turned out he loved it though.

“This is amazing,” Seokjin praised, mouth still half full as he chewed. You did have to admit it was good. It tasted just like the original, despite the lack of garlic. Seokjin quirked an eyebrow, smirking your way. “So, how lucky am I to be able to try this World famous Italian lasagne?”

“Very lucky.” You kept your answer short. Hoping he’d just drop it.

He didn’t.

“How lucky?” He tried to pry from you. “How many people have tried it?”

You gave him a small smile, hovering your fork over the plate. Technically he was the third, but you couldn’t tell him that, could you? “I can’t disclose that.”

He emitted a short laugh. “What about the recipe? Care to share?”

You brushed him off with a soft chuckle. “A chef never tells her secrets.”

“Not even me?” His bottom lip jutted out as he looked across at you.

Your heart did a little dance. He was being unfair. “Don’t pout like that, it’s making me feel guilty.”

Thankfully the lasagne topic fizzled out after a couple more minutes, your cold sweat having time to dissipate while you chatted and ate together comfortably. However a few minutes later you noticed Seokjin fidgeting slightly in his seat. You politely ignored it to begin with, unsure if you were just imagining it, but then he started itching the back of his neck. You put your fork down, a sick feeling washing over you. “Is anything wrong?” You asked, now watching him itch up his forearm. “Seokjin?”

He looked at you in mild confusion, eyebrows creasing together as he opened his mouth. “Are you sure there wasn’t any garlic in this?”

You swallowed away the panic racing up your throat. “I’m sure.” You’d read the back of that jar and then read it some more. “I’m positive.”

… Weren’t you? You watched him scoot his chair back, leaning down to start scratching the back of his calves. He made noises of discomfort as he did so.

“Oh, no…” You were up before you could stop yourself, racing around him to start hunting in the recycling for the glass jar.

“Wait, where are you going?”

You could hear Seokjin’s voice behind you, sounding alarmed, but you were too panicked to really take it in. You needed to be sure. This was just your second date, you couldn’t ruin things already. Turning him into one giant itchy red blob had not been your intention.

“I was only teasing you.” Still, his words didn’t sink in. That was until you felt a hand on your elbow, tugging gently for your attention.

You spun around, worried eyes wide – even wider when you found him so close. He was on his feet too, bent a little to level with you, pretty much within kissing distance. His voice was soft when he spoke, you found yourself distracted by his mouth. “Y/N, I was just messing around.”

You blinked, not truly understanding with all those annoying distractions zooming around your mind, but slowly you pieced his words together. Oh. Despite the relief you felt, now you just felt silly. Plus, he was still so close to you…

You took a step back, the small of your back pressing up against the counter. You needed a clear head. “Don’t freak me out like that.” You told him, but you still sighed in relief, hand against your chest. “I thought I’d poisoned you.”

He looked a little concerned, but you could tell by his eyes he found your reaction amusing. “I’m sorry,” he apologised. “I just wanted to make you laugh.”

“Make me laugh? You nearly gave me heart failure.” However, you gave him what he wanted, a laugh that sounded weak and shaky, but it was something – you did see the funny side.

He joined you, shoulders relaxing now that he knew you were okay. He looked behind you, eyes on the trashcan, a bemused smile on his face. “What were you looking for anyway?”

“The jar.” You answered, as if it wasn’t obvious. You turned, deciding to fish it out anyway. Holding it up to him, you were adamant. “See, no garlic. Check.”

He chuckled. “I already said I was joking.” He took one look at your desperate expression and gave in, taking the jar from your hand. “But if it makes you feel better…” You watched him as he read the label, silently soaking in his handsome features. He looked softer tonight, the curve of his jaw rounding as he smiled. It took you a moment to realise he was done. He handed the jar back to you, and you prayed to God he hadn’t caught you staring at him all gooey-eyed. “It’s fine.” He confirmed. “I’ll be itch free tonight.”

You smiled and plopped the glass back inside the can. “I looked around town for hour trying to find lasagne sauce sans garlic.”

He looked guilty. “I’m sorry for being awkward.” Then he paused, eyes narrowing, the hint of a smirk itching at the corners of his mouth. “But… Y/N, are you a fraud?” Huh? What did he mean? You didn’t need to wait long for an explanation. “I thought a certified chef would cook up a batch of her own tomato sauce.”

Oh. You’d gone and put your foot in it, hadn’t you? It was probably time to explain yourself… “I have a confession,” you began, sounding wary. Seokjin looked interested albeit it mildly confused. “I… may have told a little white lie.”

He shook his head, a puff of laughter leaving him. “You’ve lost me.”

You took a deep breath, knowing you were going to have to spell it out for him. “I’ve never made lasagne before. Ever. In my entire life.”

He looked confused as silence spread out between you. He sounded it too when he spoke again. “Then why did you say it was your speciality?”

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands for one dramatic moment. “I panicked.” Peeking at him, you babbled on. “I know it sounds stupid but Soojung was curtain twitching and it was stressing me out and then you were asking me what I cooked and lasagne just popped into my head!”

Seokjin blinked, his mouth twitched and then he was laughing – loudly.

“You find it funny?” You asked, relaxing a tad.

“Very.” He laughed harder but seeing the look of bafflement on your face he tried is best to still it.

“I’ve been practicing it like crazy,” you whined, happy you could finally tell him all about your lasagne struggles. “This is my fourth time eating it this week. Soojung nearly killed me.” You snorted at the memory. This started up Seokjin again. “And then I forgot you were allergic to garlic. Your text reminded me this morning and I had to rush out to the grocery store.”

He was weak at the knees at that, and you were laughing just because he was. It was contagious. “Stop,” you wailed, attempting to get a hold of yourself. This week had actually been quite traumatic. “I’m glad you find it funny, I’ve been in constant stress ever since you drove off last week.”

“I can’t help it.” He chuckled, although he did sound apologetic. “You’re just so adorable.” The air that settled around his effortless admission made your skin prickle. When he carried on, his tone was gentle. “You know I wouldn’t have minded if you changed the menu to something else, right?”

You pouted ever so slightly. “But you were looking forward to it.”

He gave a small shrug. “True, but… that was more so code for ‘I’m looking forward to seeing you again.’ The food was just a bonus. I’d be happy with a Big Mac.”

You felt your cheeks burn and you tried to shake yourself out of it. “So embarrassing,” you murmured. You didn’t know what for… The lasagne mess or the fact he could have this much of an effect of you? You were inclined to go with the latter.

“What about the no-garlic bread?” Seokjin asked, changing the subject a little. Maybe he’d sensed your embarrassment and didn’t want to make it worse. He was sweet. “Did you make that?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Well, I didn’t bake the bread. I just toasted it.” It was still a speciality of yours though. “It would’ve been much tastier with the garlic.”

He gave you an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. This body wants to turn me into a miserable old man.”

Pfft. Old? Miserable? He was anything but.

“Sit,” he prompted you, smiling as he motioned with his head to the table. “Finish your World famous Italian lasagne before it grows cold.”

As you moved he delicately cupped his hand around the curve your waist, giving it a soft squeeze before he got to his chair first. Your stomach flipped, head dizzy as you sat and tucked your chair in. Last Saturday popped into your head, the way you’d loosely held hands outside and how you were sure he’d been leaning in to kiss you – properly.

You knew one thing. You really wanted to kiss him tonight.

Trying to get a hold of yourself, you glanced at him, catching his eyes. He was already tucking in again, and he grinned bashfully, as if embarrassed. “This really is great. All that practice paid off.” A pause. “You should show me how you cooked it sometime.”

Your face lit up in surprise. “You cook?” In the back of your mind you were aware that he’d probably been hinting for a third date, but you were so shocked by the possibly of Seokjin cooking you couldn’t stop yourself from asking.

He chuckled quietly. “I mean, when I have time and can be bothered. I like cooking but it’s just easier to go to a restaurant or get it delivered.” He looked sheepish before adding, “Or Misook does it for me.”

There was no shame when it came to that. Seokjin probably worked all hours of the day, no one could expect him to tie on an apron when he got home and start pulling out pots and pans.

“Do you cook a lot?” He asked.

You nodded. “Soojung and I take it in turns.”

“So what is your speciality?” He smiled.

This time around you were in your right mind and able to answer properly. “Veggie tacos.”

He raised his eyebrows, impressed. Then he tried again. “Can you make them for me sometime?”

He was persistent, you’d give him that. You shrugged, trying your best to sound impassive but the little smirk gave it away. “Maybe if you say please…”

He laughed, leaning forward, a hand clasping yours as he tilted his head. The piece of curled hair falling into his left eye. “Please?”

Your heart did another little dance inside your chest.

After dessert you both made your way back to the living room, settling on your couch with two pomegranate mocktails Taehyung had prepared for you yesterday. All you had to do was add the pomegranate juice and lemonade to the ice cubes and crushed lime segments and mint before serving, easy-peasy. Seokjin was highly impressed, but of course you couldn’t take the credit. It was all down to your best friend’s very helpful barman boyfriend.

You were glad Seokjin wanted to stay as you didn’t want the night to be over yet. It had flown by so fast and you’d had so much fun. You already felt like you knew him better, even after only two dates. It was strange to you, how you could feel so relaxed in a stranger’s company, but then again, you guessed he wasn’t a stranger anymore… Plus, he was so easy to talk to, so interesting to get to know…. Everything between you two came easy.

Like opening up to him, being a bit more vulnerable…

“I’ve been slightly nervous all week,” you admitted, clutching your drink to you before chuckling softly. “– and not just about the lasagne faux pas…”

“There was no need to be nervous. I thought we left all that behind on the first date,” Seokjin reassured, smiling warmly your way.

You were sat together, turned to face one another. It was intimate and cosy. He had one leg lifted, the ankle resting on the knee of the other leg, and where his pants had ridden up, you could see an inch or so of his calf before it met the black cotton of his sock. For some reason, you found that very, very sexy. Maybe you had been single for far too long.

“We did,” you agreed, hesitating slightly. “It’s just… I haven’t done anything like this in so long.”

You didn’t even think you’d ever invited someone around for dinner before. You were still quite young when you found yourself in a relationship with Donghae so your dates before him had been very basic. Your dates with him hadn’t really classed as such just because you became official fairly quickly, and your dates after him, well, it was already known that they had been few and far between.

“You already know we’re in the same boat,” he smiled before chuckling bashfully. “No, but really, when I asked you for dinner that day at the fate I was expecting you to turn me down.”

“How come?”

He looked down at his drink, lifting a shoulder. “I thought you’d think that I was crossing a line… or maybe the spark I was feeling was all in my head and in reality you just found me really annoying.”

That was cute. He’d been doubting himself. Human after all. Not that you’d ever thought he wasn’t. You still didn’t miss the opportunity to joke around though. “I mean, both can exist simultaneously.” He taking a sip of his mocktail when you replied so he ended up snorting into his glass, amused by your wit.

A moment or so passed and Seokjin gazed at you, smiling softly. If he kept this up, you’d be a puddle on your parquet flooring. “So, tell me,” he hummed. “How did I luck out so good?” You raised an eyebrow, wondering what he meant. “How come an amazing person like you isn’t married or in a relationship?”

He must’ve seen the slight shock on your face and panicked instantly. “Is that a weird thing to ask? I feel like it is. I apologise.”

“No,” you insisted, sitting up a little straighter. He followed. “No, it’s not.” You wanted to open up to him. You really did. You just didn’t know where to start. Although, it was pretty simple. “I’ve been single for a while.”

“How long?” Seokjin was instantly focused, attentive, noticing the change in your body language.

“Three years. My last relationship didn’t end very well.” You paused, wondering if you should continue. But then… It had been a massive part of your life. No matter how much time had passed and no matter how okay you were now, it had still happened. And Seokjin, he had trusted you enough to open up about his divorce – even before you’d gone on your first date. You wanted to talk about it. You really did.

“I found out my fiancé was cheating on me.”

Seokjin’s eyes widened, unable to cloak his surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said sincerely.

“It’s fine,” you smiled. “It was rough getting over it. Took me a while, but it is what it is. It’s in the past now.”

“Did it put you off dating?”

You were pleasantly surprised to find it was actually easy to talk to Seokjin about this. Your mouth was opening before you had to think about it. “I mean, at first. I was still very much in love with him, even after he broke my heart. But I got over him and I started dating again – briefly – It just didn’t feel right.” You stopped to smile. “It’s been over a year and I can’t say I missed it… but you…” Nerves growing, you pushed them away. “You’ve changed that. I’m having fun.”

Seokjin’s face lit up and he chuckled. “I did hit second date status after all.”

“You did…”

“So,” he leaned closer, a small smirk on his face. “You could say, hitting your car that day wasn’t actually my fault because it was supposed to happen.”

You snorted as you laughed, head falling against the back of the couch. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

He made a sound. “But we wouldn’t have met otherwise.”

“We would!” You exclaimed. “The parent-teacher meeting.”

He blinked, feeling dumb. “Oh, yeah.”

It wouldn’t have had the same effect, granted, but you would have become acquainted with one another regardless. “Would you have still liked me?” You asked without thinking, surprising yourself.

“Yes,” he replied immediately. “I was instantly attracted to you after all, it’s just…” Instantly attracted? Definitely a charmer... “There would’ve been no way for me to get to know you like I did.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re really adamant that you had to reverse into my car to make this work, huh.”

He shrugged casually. “It was the only way.”

You laughed quietly, finishing the last of your drink. Time was getting on, it was pretty late, Seokjin had already finished his, you watched him sit up to lean forward and place the glass on your coffee table. His shirt tightened across his shoulder blades and you could see his back muscles as he stretched. Oh.

Settling back into the same position, he looked over at you and grinned. His teeth were perfect. Did this man have zero flaws? Why were you so whipped? It was embarrassing.

“I had fun tonight,” you told him, trying to keep a lid on whatever was going on with you right now.

He seemed pleased with that, nodding his head. “I’m happy to hear that you think I’m a fun person.”

You scoffed, body falling closer to his. Your shoulders brushed together. Seokjin didn’t take his eyes off you. “Hm. I don’t think I said that.”

“Hey, don’t be so mean.” He murmured, one side of his mouth quirking up.

Like you couldn’t stop yourself, your hand reached for the collar of shirt. He had the top two buttons loose and your pinkie finger brushed against his collarbone. Sparks flew, but you tried to ignore them. “I thought you liked it when I was mean.” You teased, voice low.

Seokjin hummed, his eyes still twinkled like they always did but there was something else to them, a depth that made you feel funny. He sunk closer to you. So close you could study the thick curve of his eyelashes, notice that both his eyelids were different. He really did have beautiful eyes. You could stare at them forever.

Preoccupied, you slowly realised that he was watching you too, studying your features in the golden glow of the floor lamp that hovered over the couch. His lips parted, you heard them rather than saw it, but then your attention was on them again. Just like it had been earlier on in the night. He was staring at yours too as he spoke. “I wanted to kiss you last week.”

You heartbeat quickened but you tried to keep cool. “You did kiss me.” You laughed.

He sighed. “On the cheek.”

You lightly tugged his collar, fingertips now brushing the skin of his chest. “Isn’t that what you said you wanted to do?”

You could feel his own heartbeat against your forearm that was pressed into him. It was definitely running a little faster than it was supposed to – stronger. “Yes, but…” He glanced up to your eyes. “I was just being polite. I wanted to kiss your lips.”

It felt like you were holding your breath. Maybe you were, you just couldn’t think straight. Time seemed to stretch out, but you knew what you wanted. So you went after it. Giving him a small smile, you replied. “Maybe I wanted that too.”

He swallowed, voice so low now it was barely a murmur. “Is that an invitation?” His eyes bounced to your lips again, then back to your eyes as he asked permission. “Can I kiss you?”

You ever so slightly dragged your bottom lip beneath your teeth as you nodded, breath catching in your throat as Seokjin leaned forward and closed the distance between you. The hand in between your bodies moved to delicately hold the wrist of your arm against his chest, holding you there as his other hand reached for your jaw, angling your face to press a kiss to your mouth. His eyes were already closed so you followed.

He hummed at the contact, his lips soft and warm and you let yourself sink. His actions were light at first, faint as he kept constant pressure, as if he was familiarising himself with the sensation. You couldn’t even let yourself think about how this was the first kiss you’d shared with someone for a very long time. All that was going through your mind was how good it felt to be touched like this by him.

He readjusted the hand on your face, tucking some hair behind your ear to cup your cheek. You liked that. You liked it when he touched you, and he eased from your mouth completely before coming back with a firmer pressure. It was your turn to make a sound; a tiny gasp as your lips began to move together ever so slowly. He liked that, a hum of satisfaction vibrating against the soft skin of your lips. You clutched at his shirt, gathering the crisp cotton in your fist, that would surely turn it creased, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was too preoccupied with reaching for the glass you’d forgotten was hugged to your body by your free hand.

He unclasped it from your fingers and had no choice but to break away from your mouth to put it next to his on the coffee table. You whined, attempting to tug him back to you, and he chuckled, taking a hold of one of your hands. “I’ll be back,” he whispered, leaning forward to place the cocktail glass down.

And he was.

This time he used both of his hands to grasp your face and dive back in. He was more confident this time, moving in such a way his lips pried yours open. You reached for his shoulders, grasping them to hold him closer and this time you both made noises – sweet, quiet ones that worked beautiful together as your lips moulded with gradual urgency.

When your hands found the nape of his neck, fingers through his hair, he had to drag the tip of his tongue across your bottom lip, seeking entry. You met it with yours, tasting hints of pomegranate and lime with each wash of tongue. A hand of his slipped down to your side, stroking up and down the curve as if he couldn’t help but to touch you. He settled at your hip after a moment, the other splayed against the side of your neck, his thumb rolling small circles under your cheekbone.

This was getting addictive. You could tell by the way you moaned softly against each warm, wet curl of his tongue. This was everything you’d imagined and more – because you had imagined it. Late and secretly at night when you were trying to drift off to sleep and thoughts of lasagne were banished… You were glad your first kiss was here, inside, on your couch, because this wasn’t something for the open, your knees wouldn’t have been able to hold you up.

You could have kissed him forever, you mean, you definitely didn’t want it to stop but you pretty much had to. Breathing was a necessity, right? If you couldn’t breathe you wouldn’t be able to ever kiss Seokjin again and that would be absolutely awful…

You did it the right way though – gradually. Seokjin slowed it right down, only hints of his tongue left as he hummed indulgently, like he was savouring your taste before he had to inevitably pull away. It made your insides jump around like crazy, hearing him enjoying himself, and you tried your best to come to when he started easing the pressure of his lips, pressing small, chaste kisses to them instead as you ultimately (but slowly) broke apart.

You opened your eyes, blinking up at him, hands falling from his hair, aware you had become one with your cushions. You struggled to free yourself as he sat back and you watched him smile fondly at you. His breath was shaky – so was yours, and you were sure his hands trembled slightly as one reached up to scratch the back of his neck. His neck that was blotched with red, flushed, travelling to his cheeks. They were rosier than you’d ever seen them before. Your gut stirred.

“I’ve been dreaming of that,” he told you, before making a face at himself. “Too cringey?”

You giggled – it sounded foreign. “Just a bit.” But didn’t deter the fact you loved it.

You warmed when you felt him squeeze your hip, realising his hand was still there and you reached for it, tangling your fingers with his. He pulled them to his mouth, kissing your knuckles softly. His expression was thoughtful when he lowered your hands. “In all seriousness, thank you for giving me a chance, after well, you know, everything.”

You smiled, touched by his earnestness, but it was hard to keep a sane mind when his lips were as kiss bitten as they were – deep pink and glistening. You wanted to kiss his face off.

“It’s no problem,” you quipped, as if you were doing him a favour.

He chuckled tenderly, and luckily for you he was unable to stop himself from kissing you again. He reached forward, hooking a finger under your chin to press his mouth to yours softly. “I’d really love if we could keep on doing… this.” He murmured.

“The dating or the kissing,” you grinned, stealing another kiss in the process.

“Hm,” he contemplated. “Both preferably.”

And then you were on one another again, eager once more.

Although, you did manage to pull away briefly to tell him something, his mouth moving to the side of your face to kiss there instead as your hands dragged down his back. You were somehow able to get the words out – ones that made him laugh against your wet jaw.

“I’m so glad you hit my car.”

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjn fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:mls

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kira-fluff · 4 years ago

Note

Hey heyy, have you thought about writing another common trope headcanon / oneshot with the MysMe guys?

Because the “only one bed” was extremely good!!

Even if you decide not to do it, just know that your blog and your talent amazes me<3

a/n: Did you even have to ask??? OF COURSE IF YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME LOL thank you gorgeous <3 I decided to try putting it in a fanfic (one shot unless requested) format since it's definitely quite long and making a mini-series featuring those you request for me to include in my next fic or a pt2! :) also this is a slow burn and is quite spicy <3 Also, I did my best not to make it like the whole share the room thingy again!! ***I’m not fluent in French pls don’t @ me

Length: 6k lol

A Series of Unfortunate Events Fake Dating - Jumin Han

A sudden message beep surprised you, causing you to look down at your phone. It was a text message from Jumin: Call me. Immediately suspecting the worst, you quickly pressed his contact, the number dialing in seconds. There was a few seconds that ran by before the other end answered with a curt, "Y/n." "Jumin, hey, is something wrong?", you asked, worriedly. "Everything is perfectly fine. I was calling to ask you a favor -- feel free to decline." Jumin never asked for favors, or your help in general.. you knew whatever it was you were determined to assist him in the best way possible. "Of course, Jumin! Anything." There was silence for a moment as if he was contemplating whether or not it this favor was truly worth asking before he spoke, "Please decline if you are unable to but... I was wondering if you'd be willing to indulge my father. He's insisted that I bring you with me to our business closure." "Jumin", you began, "I'd be honored. I'd love to!" On the other line, there was a sigh of relief (or of worry, you weren't sure). "Mr. Kim will be at your apartment to pick you up tomorrow. The meeting is taking place in Monoco -- pack for a ten-day trip" There was a pause before Jumin breathed out a quiet, "Thank you." You couldn't hold back your smile, thankful that the conversation was over the phone, making it impossible for him to see your dopey expression. He hung up, leaving you to pack. Your mind quickly wandered from what you needed in your suitcase to worrisome waters. You and Jumin had a very deep friendship following the party you’d thrown, spending the time following the ginormous celebration to get to know each other. It warmed your heart that your newfound friend took so much joy in being with you -- even when he tried not to show it. You lost track of the number of times you ended up sleeping over at his penthouse after accidentally staying up until 4am talking with him, swishing expensive wine in your mouths. You didn’t expect falling in love to come so easily. You were someone who was quite choosey with your partners -- you weren’t one to fall easily for anyone. Even in your past relationships that sometimes lasted years, you’d never felt the way your heart felt now that you were with him. And yet, you were best friends. You were sure you meant something to him in so far as friendship, but you had respected him when he’d gotten drunk one of the first nights he met you and spouted out his heart to you..

- “Y/n, to tell you the truth.... I’ve never fallen in love before.” He gazed up at you lackadaisically from his position on the sofa -- head rested over the top of the sofa cushion, his arm lazily resting under his chin. He started at you for a moment, his gray eyes gazing into your own with a hazy, absent feeling in them. You laughed, “I find that hard to believe.” You walked over to him, absent-mindedly running your fingers through his tousled hair. He let out a long, uncharacteristic sigh, his eyes closing gently. You leaned in close to him, looking him in the eye. “Can I tell you something, too?” He nodded. “I haven’t either.” - You grinned at the memory. You firmly believed that conversation was what brought you and him together closer than ever before. He’d always found an excuse to call you over for the silliest of reasons. Either he needed a certain form that he was positive he accidentally slipped into your bag on accident and needed to see it first-hand to check, or he realized he’d bought more wine than was necessary for a night alone. It made you smile for months that he couldn’t get out the words “I miss you” or “I want you to come over”. Even to you, the words sounded intimate.. but that was the way your relationship worked -- you were very close with each other, as two best friends ought to be. Still, as much as you tried, you couldn’t control the way your heart began to constrict when he got especially close to you. You couldn’t help it when you’d shiver when he gently brushed cat fur away from your cheek. You were shocked that despite his perceptive personality, he didn’t seem to notice or acknowledge your deep blush during these interactions... maybe he was uncomfortable with them.... you hoped not. There were times the air was knocked out of you. Literally. Once, you weren’t paying attention to the fact that the sidewalk had ended and you were walking straight into oncoming cars coming off the highway when a muscular arm slid around your waist and pressed your body flush to his own. You stared with eyes wide open at Jumin, who comically seemed equally surprised at his actions. You couldn’t help the way your eyes trickled down to his sultry lips, taking in their beautiful red-wine color, blooming like dark roses. Thankfully, he seemed too preoccupied with your current state of mind and physical wellbeing. When you finally managed to get your mind out of the gutter, you thanked him profusely, grabbing his hands impulsively and begging to reward him in some way. His answer surprised you, “I--uh-- a movie. I’d like to do more research watching one of those movies you enjoy watching.. for business sales and such.” “Sure!! I can recommend anything! I’ll drop the email by your office tomorrow” you answered. A panicked expression took over his face for a moment before returning to its familiar stoicism, “You won’t watch it also?” Your eyes widened in confusion before you answered hurriedly, “Oh! Yeah, I’ll watch it with you. I just wouldn’t want to bother you if you were doing it for work purposes.” You could never bother me you thought you heard him say, but you couldn’t be sure. Yep, you were in love with Jumin. When you at last finished packing, you went to bed, looking forward to the mystery that befell tomorrow. - You rose bright and early to prepare for the exciting trip that was bound to come. You couldn’t help the extra bit of effort you ended up putting into your appearance in anticipation of seeing Jumin again and.. possibly sitting next to him on an aircraft. Right on time, you received a text message from Mr. Kim, indicating that he had arrived at your apartment right on time. As you opened your apartment door to carry your luggage downstairs, you were met with numerous familiar faces of Jumin’s employees who quickly took your heavy luggage items for you. You thanked them, making your way to the elevator with them. You texted Jumin: Thanks for the help with my luggage :) In a matter of seconds, you received a reply, Jumin: You’re welcome. Grinning down at your phone, you didn’t notice your driver's light chuckle, a look of astonishment in his eyes. These blind kids. You continued to chatter along with Jumin on your phone, at last arriving at the rendezvous point where Jumin and the Chairman pulled in identical black limos alongside your own. “Thank you, Mr. Kim. I can take it from here.” Mr. Kim nodded in obedience, ushering you to go to Jumin. Jumin patted the leather seat next to his own in the sleek limousine. You held back a laugh, there were plenty of other seats open for you to sit.. but it warmed your heart that he wanted you right next to him. As friends. The Chairman joined the two of you, sitting across from his son, a mischievous glint in his eyes that only Jumin could recognize. A silent conversation took place between Jumin and his father -- Jumin beginning with a raised eyebrow. The Chairman replied with a sly smirk. Jumin with a scowl, his father with a growing grin. You watched the conversation continue silently before the Chairman at last spoke, “Jumin, my son, I’m overjoyed to see you’ve brought your Y/n with you.” A flash of annoyance crossed Jumin’s face as he said, “My... Y/n?” You blanched.. of course the thought of you being his made him uncomfortable... but you didn’t think he’d be angry. “Y/n, I’m glad you could join us. However, as much as I hate to ask this of you, there is something I desperately need from you.” Before you could speak Jumin interjected, “Absolutely not.” You caressed his hand, looking up at him with kind eyes, “Jumin, hey, it’s okay.” Looking toward Jumin’s father you said, “Whatever it is, I’ll do my very best.” Jumin’s jaw feathered a bit, but he said no more. He grinned, “Aren’t you a kind girl. Well, in this business deal, the contract was originally contingent on Jumin marrying his daughter -- which I was against from the beginning. After all, I know the importance of loving the one you wish to be with.” (Jumin rolled his eyes at that.) “Anyway, I declined the offer.” You were confused, unsure where your part came in. As if reading your mind, he continued saying, “However, I perhaps let it slip that you two were engaged. I figured you both are so close with each other already, that it would be no issue to play a bit of husband and wife for the sake of business, no?” Jumin was furious, his nose flared, jaw clenched with hands gripping his knee. “How dare--” You glanced at him, biting the inside of your cheek, a worried expression painted your face. When he glanced at you, his eyes widened and his shoulders relaxed. This did not go unnoticed by the Chairman. “We’ll do it, won’t we Jumin?” he looked surprised but made no objection. You leaned in close and whispered shyly, “I want to do something as thanks for this amazing trip.. and for you.” - Jumin dared to swallow. For me? What the hell does that mean? You were driving him crazy. Every time he looked at you he had to fight to readjust his attention to something else. Does she know what it does to me when she touches me? Even a little bit? When you’d put your hand on him, Jumin felt his chest and neck grow impossibly hotter, hotter than he’d been feeling when you’d first sat down next to him. Hotter than when you leaned in close and breathily asked him, “Jumin... how long until we’re at the airport?” It was like you’d drawn out every syllable, breathing out every consonant -- your breath tickling his neck. He imagined what it would feel like to have your plump, rosy lips on his neck, on his chest, on his lips, on his-- he was in over his head. He cursed himself for his lack of control. Usually, control was not an issue for Jumin -- in fact, he considered it one of his greatest strengths. From his leadership position in his father’s company, C&R, to his well-controlled temperament and stress management.. Jumin just didn’t do “no control”. At first, it intrigued him. He could remember the exact day it hit him. He’d invited you to an elegant dinner his company hosted to celebrate (in a sort of “humble-brag” sort of way) yet another successful business closing with one of the biggest corporations in America. He’d been finishing off yet another glass of his new Domaine de la Romanee-Conti he’d bought when his eyes at last placed you at the front of the champagne server. His eyes raked up and down the soft, silk gown that clung to your body in all the right places. The gown hung loosely, exposing your back and most of your chest, a sultry slit separating one of your elegant legs from the other hidden in the fabric. It was a breath-taking emerald color... but all Jumin could really think of is how he’d take it off. Your hair was curled and done-up marvelously with little white pearls decorating the crown of your head like you had stars in your hair... but all Jumin could really think of was how he’d mess it up. His cheeks were on fire. Everything in his body had risen in temperature of what felt like a hundred degrees. He twirled his wine glass between his fingers before setting it down at one of the well-decorated tables. I must have a fever, he thought, that must be it. Your eyes found his person just as he was turning around to leave, speed walking to one of the penthouse balconies for fresh air. You raced after him or at least followed him as fast as your obnoxious heels allowed you to go. You breathlessly met him as he was staring out into the night. Jumin realized that his temperature was slowly returning to normal. Perhaps the room was a bit suffocating. I’ll be sure to message Mr. Kim about increasing the air conditioning in the room. But... looking back on it now, Jumin knew he was lying to himself even then. Because, when he turned around he almost let out a shout. And his breath became uneven again, and it felt so burning hot all over again. You slowly crept toward him, donning a concerned expression saying, “Jumin... are you alright?” Jumin backed into the marble railing. He was so eloquent normally but all he could let out then was a choked, “Fine.” He couldn’t take his eyes off you. Every step closer, he wanted to run. The stars were reflecting in your eyes and the moonlight made your supple skin look impossibly softer... You gently cupped his face and whispered, “Jumin, talk to me..? Please?” Jumin was heaving, looking down at you with rosy red cheeks and burning ears. “I--I think I have a... fever. A fever.” You gasped, taking one of your hands and lightly grasping the back of his neck, pulling him down slightly. His eyes widened as you took your other cold hand and placed it on his burning forehead. “Oh my god! Oh my gosh, we -- ambulance! An ambulance.. a doctor? Or.. are you... drunk?” “My room... please,” he begged. You looked him up and down, examining his face for strain or discomfort. When you couldn’t find any, you let out a breath -- perhaps you’d overreacted. Nonetheless, you swung his arm over your shoulder and trudged through the now quiet dining area. Most had filtered out to the ballroom for dancing. You’d been here a million times, so remembering the way was no chore. You fished through his shirt and coat pockets, running your gentle digits across his chest, assuming the moan Jumin gave off was due to pain, still, a blush flushed your cheeks. “Sorry, I’m almost done.” You held him against the wall since at this point he couldn’t stand. Maybe I am a little drunk, he thought. You moved down to his pants pockets, your hands roaming through a business card and other odds and ends, eliciting another soft groan from Jumin. “Almost there...” you breathed, at last pulling out a key card and with a soft beep, opening his penthouse suite. You gently carried him to his bed before going to grab a glass of water and a cold washcloth. When one was placed on the table and the other on his forehead, you at last placed a warm throw blanket you’d found in his closet over him. ...That memory became a source of numerous dreams. Jumin couldn’t forget it, no matter how many times he’d wished he wanted to (or wished it all to happen again). - You gazed at him, looking at the way his expression hardened at times, softening and then suddenly switching to an expression you’d never seen before. What was he thinking about? You bit your lip, nervous that Jumin might change his mind upon meeting this woman his business partner wanted him to marry. She was certainly more beautiful, right? After all, Jumin hadn’t necessarily made any physical contact voluntarily toward you more than an occasional back rub in your asked after a long day at work, or if he got drunk while you two accidentally stayed up late -- then he’d sometimes caress your face with a love-sick expression and saying little things like, “You’re beautiful.” It was cute, for sure, but what drunk doesn’t turn into a soft puddle of goo, complimenting everyone around them? You leaned into him as subtly as you could manage, closing your eyes to concentrate for a few minutes. - You jumped awake when a deep voice rumbled in your ear, “We’re here.” You could hear the slight smirk in his voice, and sure enough, when you looked up, you saw a slight smile on his face. “Did you have a good dream?” You looked toward your left, thankful the Chairman was already out of the limousine and speaking on his phone to someone. “I--I had a dream?” Jumin’s smirk stretched a little wider, “Yes. You said my name a couple times.” Your eyes widened in shock before saying, “Oh! That dream! Yeah, I was dreaming that you were being eaten alive by bears and I was forced to watch!” God, you were such a bad liar. Jumin blinked. He felt sort of stupid. “Oh,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “I see--” Grateful for his gullibleness, you added, “Why, what did you think I was dreaming about?” Jumin avoided eye contact saying, “Not anything in particular.” A call for Jumin interrupted your conversation, making Jumin almost run out of the limo. You smiled a bit, a little flush rising up to your ears. Jumin returned again, grabbing your hand. “This way,” was all he said. You followed him to the private jet that the Chairman was already boarding. You caught yourself staring at Jumin again as you followed him up the stairs to the entranceway of the cabin. Jumin smartly chose a seat far away from his father’s field of vision. He’d had enough of his unnerving looks when you’d fallen asleep on his shoulder, whispering things Jumin was beyond grateful only he could hear... at least he hoped. When you occasionally began to whine a bit louder he’d quiet you down by running his hands through your hair and stealing glances toward his father nervously saying, “A nightmare.” He wondered if he’d fooled his father, because the Chairman lightly chuckled and made his way to the passenger seat of the limo, sliding the privacy door shut. It had only gotten worse from there, you almost shouted his name, but he covered your mouth. Heat had been pooling in his stomach for a while now, but he didn’t know how much more he could take. Still, every time he thought of waking you up, you’d grab at his chest or legs, effectively completely embolizing him. You, of course, were unaware of all of this. You sat down next to him eagerly and wrapped your arm around his, pulling him close to watch a movie on the jet screens. It was almost 9pm by now, the night sky beginning to close in on the quiet aircraft. Neither of you could remember when you fell asleep, only waking up to the soft announcement of arrival from the pilot on the overhead and a soft blanket placed over the two of you. You both groggily made your way to your waiting limousine to take you to the complimentary hotel stay at one of the chains owned by your expectant future business partner. “Of course, I know you two are just friends.” The Chairman looked at you two before continuing, “So I have two hotel rooms, you’re 17 and you, Miss Y/N, are 18. I’m in master suite 3, so feel free to reach out whenever.” His eyes glittered as he said, “Have fun. Remember to act like a loving fiance! Especially you, my son." Jumin pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head in contempt. You turned your head toward Jumin, “Um, well, I’m pretty tired as you could probably already tell,” you laughed uncomfortably, “so I think I’ll head off to bed.” Jumin blinked a few times before saying, “I will as well. Goodnight, Y/N.” You whispered a shy goodnight in reply before slinking into your hotel room. - You awoke the next day to a call from a maid outside your door - room service. You thanked her before diving into your waffles, complete with chocolate dressing, whipped cream, strawberries, and powdered sugar. A glass of orange juice was delivered along with various other breakfast options and a bowl of kiwi, dragonfruit, apple, watermelon, honeydew, and almost any other fruit you could think of. Following your delicious breakfast, you padded over to the bathroom, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and running the shower. Going through your morning routine helped calm you despite the role you weren’t at all prepared to play in just a few hours. You jumped at the knock at your door. Looking through the peephole, it was Jumin. Flinging the door open, you looked at him expectantly. You were met with silence other than a few “uh.... uh....”s. You looked at him sarcastically, “What?” He continued to stare, not at your face, however. You laughed but quickly grew silent as you met his gaze. You were an actual moron. What. The. Fuck. You were still in your fucking panties?!?! You slammed the door shut, running to slip on some shorts you found lying on the ground in the bathroom. Taking a deep breath you gently opened the door this time. Jumin was standing still as a statue when he snapped out of his trance at last. He looked away, “Try not to be dressed. I mean STRESSED.” he sputtered, “I-I’m going to leave now--” “Um, Jumin?” He slowly turned around, face as red as a strawberry, “Yes?” “Um, sorry. About before. Um. Do you-- do you want to get some coffee? I’m still waking up, if you couldn’t already tell,” you laughed nervously. He smiled warmly, “I’d love to.” You awkwardly nodded before shutting your door. You ran to your hotel bed and screamed into one of the pillows. You cursed under your breath before making your way to the bathroom once more to finish the makeup look you had begun before being interrupted. After 45 minutes, you looked your outfit up and down. You packed outfits that were elegant -- you bought clothes that looked expensive but in the kind of way that was subtle. Nude tones and deep colors, specifically. You were aiming for a look that said, “I’m not rich, I’m just comfortable. And by that I mean I’m rich.” You were never insecure about the difference in your and Jumin’s paycheck.. but when you’re supposed to play a part. And if you showed up in your comfy joggers and t-shirt like you normally wore when you visited Jumin or were free from work.. you had a feeling their reaction wouldn’t be the most inviting or understanding. At last, you stepped out of your room, turning left to knock on Jumin’s door. He beat you to it, opening his door unexpectedly. This caused you to instead lean forward from your momentum and place your hand on his chest. You hurriedly adjusted his tie, doing your best to act as if that’s what you’d meant to do all along. Jumin appeared to be just as surprised, but grinned, “No leggings and t-shirt today?” You jabbed him with your elbow as you made your way to the coffee bar, “Do you think they’d be all welcoming to your soon-to-be wife if she showed up in lounge clothes?” “I’ve never complained.” You scoffed, “Yeah, well, that’s because you’re nice. And, you apparently understand that not everyone can live in a suit every day.” He paused for a moment before mumbling slightly, “Who cares what they think anyway.” “I do! I don’t want to let your dad down. I told him I’d do this. We’re in Monaco, Jumin! C’est la vie!” “Parles-tu français?”* “Oui..?” Jumin chuckled darkly before leaning in, saying, “Tu es juste trop mignonne.”** You blinked before replying, “...oui...?” Jumin looked at you incredulously with a slight smile on his face as he laughed, lightly ruffling your hair. Jumin ordered for you -- apparently, it was quite clear you only knew a few words in French. Unfortunately, he also paid for you, despite your objections. Before you could yank his platinum card out of his hands, the transaction was already complete. He gazed down at you, an eyebrow raised with a triumphant smirk, “Elle aura aussi beaucoup de crème dans son café.”*** “Hey, what are you saying?! Jumin!! Speak Korean or English or Japanese! Something I can understand!!” You complained. The worker interjected, “C’est tellement agréable de voir un couple sur leur ‘oneymoon.”**** You instinctively interjected, “Oh, that’s not--!” But Jumin just smiled and nodded. Upon sitting down at one of the many open tables, you let out a little giggle, “I wonder what it’ll feel like when I’m on the real thing.” Jumin quickly looked up from his staring contest with his coffee, “Real.. what?” You grinned dreamily, “Honeymoon.” “You.. want to get married?” “Don’t you?” Only to you, he thought. “Maybe. If the right person came along.” If you’d ever say “yes”. You held back the nervous twinge you felt in your throat, “Alright then, don’t be shy. What’s your type?” “My.. type?” “Yeah! Like, your ideal girl.” He paused, looking pensively at you. “Well, then I suppose my ‘type’ is a girl who is beautiful, and smart, and pretty... and always makes me laugh. And is bold but also shy.” His eyes widened as he grew quiet, “...something like that.” You were shocked. He said he’s never fallen in love before.. but it sounds like he already has some girl in mind. “Wow. You’ve... thought a lot about this.” Jumin looked surprised at himself -- he cleared his throat, “Just some ideas.” You were still skeptical but changed the subject, “So, what exactly does this whole ‘wifey’ thing entail?” “Most likely just a ring on your finger and a fake smile.” “Oh come on, there’s more to it than that.” “I’m sure my father has the details.” As if on cue, his phone chimed. “Ready to head out?” “Yep!” You weren’t entirely sure, but you were beside yourself with nervousness and a bit of excitement. If you can’t have the real thing, you shouldn’t complain about a chance to fake it, right? And sure, you knew it was much more complicated than that -- what if he realized your true feelings?! ...You shook the thoughts out of your head and made your way to the waiting vehicle outside of the hotel. - “Monsieur Lorenzi! Good to see you!” The Chairman shook hands with who you assumed was the boss. “Let me introduce to you my son, Jumin, and his beloved fiance, Y/n.” You waved, smiling despite the twang in your heart. You and Jumin shook hands while Mr. Lorenzi introduced you to his daughter. “It is so nice to meet you! This is my daughter, Ginevra.” Immediately, you sized Ginevra up -- and she does not look happy. “So.. you’re the bitch who stole Ju-Ju from me?” “Ginevra! Be polite, please?” Mr. Lorenzi practically begged her, but she wasn’t budging, “Oh, come on. Their ‘engagement’ hasn’t even been released to the press yet!” You looked worriedly between Jumin and Ginevra, but Jumin lovingly put his hand over yours, a soft smile on his face, “I’ll handle this, sweetheart.” He couldn’t help himself and lightly pecked your cheek, smirking into the kiss when he heard you elicit a small “oh!” Facing the irate woman, though, Jumin smiled in a way you’d seen him smile when he wasn’t particularly...happy.. about something. “Miss Ginevra, I can assure you Y/N and I are completely in love. She is my fiance, after all. That being said, we decided not to alert the media because we wanted our own privacy until the wedding.” Ginevra scoffed, “Please. You barely even look like you’re dating. Face it, I know you want me, Jumin.” She bit her lip in a way that was supposed to be seductive, but Jumin couldn’t hold back the slight cringe that crept onto his face. “T-that’s enough Ginev--” “God! Shut up, Dad! Mr. Lorenzi backed down at that, looking apologetic and embarrassed toward the Chairman and Jumin, and especially toward you. You were growing tired of the entire conversation, “Shall we sit down?” All except Ginevra agreed readily, the Chairman coughing in a way that sounded more like a laugh he was trying to conceal. Jumin's jaw clenched when he sat next to you, to your left and Ginevra quickly sat in the seat to his left. The meal went as well as expected. Jumin's father recognized that Jumin had his hands full and spent the majority of the dinner talking business with Mr. Lorenzi without his son. Meanwhile, you were awkwardly playing with your filet mignon, avoiding eye contact with everyone until Jumin leaned his face down to your avoidant eye level. You snapped out of your trance immediately. You looked up at him -- his eyebrow was raised with an inquisitive expression. Okay, that was adorable. You held back your intruisive thoughts, blinking up at him, silently asking, "What is it?" Jumin stared a little longer than necessary, before snapping out of his own trance and leaning in further and whispering in your ear, "...Are you alright?" You nodded in reply, "Just a little uncomfortable." Jumin gazed down at you in concern, "We can leave if you--" "No. No, I'll stay." Who knows what that girl will do if I leave. He didn't look convinced. Suddenly, Ginevra was calling for Jumin. Repeatedly. He turned in annoyance, "Yes?" Her voice got low, clearly to exclude you from the conversation, "Let's go somewhere..." she looked Jumin up and down slowly, "...else.." And with no shame, she lowered a manicured hand to his knee, slowly trailing it up to his thigh. He immediately grabbed her wrist, saying in a low, deadly voice, "I have a fiance." She sighed in frustration, "You're kidding yourself, baby--" Jumin's eyes widened suddenly, and not due to anything Ginevra was saying. Your hand was high on his thigh as you leaned into the conversation you'd heard the entirety of. "Miss... whatever your name is.... Jumin is my husband. Soon. We have something you could never dream of every having because your personality sucks. And honestly, only you can fix that." There was silence at the entire table for a moment before Ginevra turned her head quickly toward her father, "Daddy?!" Her father had already gotten up, ushering the business conversation to continue rather than deal with his trainwreck of a daughter. She huffed, looking red in the face, perhaps in embarrassment as well as anger. "Well, you still can't prove that you're even dating!" You very furious now, your glare cold enough to freeze the desert, "Is proof really the only thing that will shut you up?" Before she could even answer, you geared your pissed off expression toward a semi-intimidated, semi-turned on Jumin and grabbed his face, meeting his lips with your own. Your kiss was meant to only last a few seconds at most, but when you tried to pull away, Jumin only deepened the kiss, pulling your face harshly toward his own. He tugged at your hair, earning a loud moan from you as he forced his flush lips further onto yours, his tongue gaining entrance into your mouth. His eyebrows were deeply knit into a consentrated expression, groaning as he felt you readjust your position onto his lap. You stradled his lap, a leg on either side of him, your tongues battling for dominance as you fished for air between you two. At last, you both parted, heaving in big breaths as a string of spit clung between your mouths -- only to go in for another searing kiss. You began to roll your hips against his own, gently at first but quickly gaining more momentum and roughness as you two continued to make out. You'd noticed his hard-on the moment you'd straddled his lap but it only grew as you two began to explore the other's body. And just like that, you realized you were still in a formal dining setting. With other people. You pushed against Jumin's chest, looking around you in a frenzy. Ginevra was long gone along with the Chairman and Mr. Lorenzi. It was just the two of you, it looked as if it was after hours for the dining here. Soft jazz still played melodically through quiet speakers. Your eyes met back again with Jumin. He was smirking, still breathing heavily, his eyes glowing with mischief and a clear message that said something you probably would blush saying out loud. You laughed a little at the sudden turn of events. Did he like you? You wondered. He made quick work of dragging you (because your legs turned into jelly) out of the dining hall and back to his hotel suite. Jumin hurridely opened his hotel door before slamming you against the wall and continued to kiss you furvently on your neck, chest and of course, lips. He began to grind on you, letting out a soft curse when you mewled in his ear. Both your cheeks were completely red from the heated exchange and the embarrassment that both of you felt at your candid feelings. Yet something still bothered you. You pushed him away with all the strength you had because he was just so addicting. "J-jumin.... wait..." You gasped between breaths, "...I-I don't do this sorta thing... for fun..." Jumin frowned at this, his jaw feathering as he said darkly, "I don't either." You shook your head, "No, Jumin... I mean... I-I......" You took a big breath of air, "I'm in love with you. Have, for long time... pretty sure you don't feel .... the same wa--" Jumin's eyes narrowed as he dove in for another kiss with so much force that the air was nearly knocked out of you. "Y/N," he began, "Do you have any clue how much I've held back? Even now, do you know how hard it is for me not to pick you up and fuck you right here and now? Do you know how long--" He laughed sardonically, "Y/N, I swear you're doing this on purpose." "Doing wha--" "Making me fall deeper and deeper in love with you! I'm already pass the point of no return. Hell, I've never felt a fraction of what you make feel in a moment... in my entire life." You took a moment to really look at him. The expression of complete and udder desperation was now clear as day on his face, his cheeks flushed, breathing heavily, his tie loose around his neck, chest slightly exposed. He began again, "Please. Please... put me out of my misery. Say you're mine, please." Your eyes never leaving his, tears prickling your eyes, you answered, "I always was Jumin.. and I always will be. And, and if the offer still stands--" You blushed, looking down shyly and your feet, ashamed of your own boldness. Jumin's eyes pooled impossibly darker as he picked you up and led you to his bed, laying you down gently and asking, "I know this is probably soon but... Y/N, will you make me the happiest man on earth?" You laughed, pure joy on your face as you shamelessly cried, "Yes!" over and over again. Jumin couldn't hold back the huge grin that took over his face as he kissed you in between laughs.

TRANSLATIONS: * “Do you speak French?” ** “You are just too cute.” *** “She will also have a lot of cream in her coffee.” **** “It is so nice to see a couple on their honeymoon”

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magalidragon · 3 years ago

Text

paris is always a good idea | a Jonerys Drabble

Thank you @youwerenevermine for my wonderful birthday gift, I love it so much and I love Paris so much and Jonerys and you for making this for me so I felt inspired and wrote a quick little drabble thing, lol. It’s only the fourth time I’ve written Jonerys in a modern, non-Westeros world, but it was fun! And I wanna’ go back so much! Paris, je t’aime!

They met while in university, oddly enough, as fate would have it, on her birthday.

She had been there to study art, for a year abroad, savoring every last second wandering the wide, arched hallways of the Louvre, staring at grand masters for hours on end, burning the vibrant colors and mesmerizing brushstrokes into her memory, wishing she could be as good as them one day. One day, someone would have her art in their house, and proudly boast they'd gotten it back when she was but a nobody, painting on the streets or in the grassy parks.

Since it was her birthday, she decided to treat herself, and instead of heading straight to the university to get some time in the studio, she decided to get an ice cream at Berthillon, heading to the Ile-St-Louis instead of to the metro, taking her time to admire, as she often did, the glory of Notre Dame, it’s gargoyles and buttresses.

At the glacier she took her time selecting a flavor, did not even mind paying the exorbitant price and shouldered through tourists taking refuge from a cold rain that had begun to fall. She savored it, the clean water bouncing off her peat coat and the beanie she’d tugged over her silver hair.

She was about to set off, to eat her ice cream and wander into the Marais, perhaps drop down into the Latin Quarter— maybe take a trip to Chanel or Dior or Celine to admire the creations she couldn’t afford— when her ice cream went flying, straight onto the wet sidewalk. Where a mass of pidgins attacked it with gusto.

“Merde! Faites attention!” she shouted, stomping her Doc Marten on the ground in petulant annoyance.

The man who had bumped her because he’d been roughhousing with another friend had been apologetic. He bought her another and said his name was Robb Stark. He was from Scotland, was on spring break with his buddies, which she didn’t care about. To apologize he invited her for a drink, especially when the worker who she’d told it was her birthday had commented on it again when she got another ice cream.

She figured why not? He was attractive, sorry, and nice enough so she agreed, although she had commented his French was terrible best to speak English. “You’re English?” he had teased.

“Half and half,” she answered. English father, French mother.

At the comptoir where she suggested they meet, in Montmartre, she brought her roommate Missandei and Missandei’s boyfriend Grey. It was just a drink and they’d leave and go to the dinner Missandei planned to take her to anyway.

Except that’s where she met him.

The dark, brooding figure at the tiny table in the corner, ignoring Robb and Robb’s friend Theon, and a couple others, favoring silence and his drink. He was in all black, barely acknowledging her and slipped out for a smoke when Robb began to shamelessly flirt. She didn’t care about Robb, she cared about him.

Jon.

She exited, saw him lighting a cigarette against a lap post. She flicked her coat collar up and sidled towards him. “Puis-j’en avoir un?”

“Sorry I don’t speak,” he began, and his eyes— black in the orange lamplight glow— flicking to her. He smiled gently “French.”

She smiled and repeated her question in English. “Can I have one? A smoke that is?”

He stuck the cigarette between his pouty, sinful lips, framed with a cropped dark beard, and reached into his coat pocket, removing a pack. She took one delicately and he lit it, cupping his hands around the tip so the wind didn’t blow it out.

A stream of smoke escaped her nostrils when she puffed and she smiled up at him, hoping he got the hint. “Do you like Paris?”

“Not especially.”

“Aw come on,” she teased. She hummed, closing her eyes and taking in the cold night. The electric buzz is people on the street and at the cafes and bars around them. “Paris is always a good idea.”

“Someone famous said that.”

“Audrey Hepburn.”

He sucked on the cigarette and smiled, a tiny one, the curve of his lip sly rather than shy. “You aren’t in there with the rest of them.”

“Because it’s my birthday and I want to do what I want to do.” She stubbed the cigarette out on the post and turned, disposing it in the bin by the door. A quick text to Missandei: I’m going to skip dinner, I think I have a date, she turned and studied him. “I’m…”

“Dany,” he said. He shrugged, finishing his smoke. “I remember.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t think you were listening when Robb introduced me.”

“I was.” He pulled the tartan scarf around his neck tighter. He glanced towards Sacré-Cœur, illuminated white in the lights around its base. He smirked at her. “You going back in?”

She shook her head. “No,” she drawled. She followed his gaze to Sacré-Cœur. “Have you been up there?”

“No.”

“You should. Some of the best views of Paris.”

He chuckled, voice tight. “You should invite Robb.”

“I think he might be a third wheel.”

It took him a second, the gears in his mind turning, understanding what she was saying. He cocked his head. His black curls were in a mess around his face. A few scattered rain drops landed on them, and he shook it free like a dog. Or a wolf, she thought, noting the animal embroidered on the edge of his scarf.

He narrowed his eyes again. “I told you I don’t really like Paris.”

“Why?”

“It’s loud. Busy. Dirty.”

She laughed. “Every city is like that but in Paris it’s different.”

“Why?”

Her bravado got the better of her and she stepped towards him, linking her arm through his. If he didn’t get it now, he was a stupid fool who deserved it when she kicked him into the gutter. “Because,” she murmured, rising to her toes, trying to gaze as directly as she could into his eyes, which she now saw were actually gray. His breathing quickened. “You’re with me.”

The wolf got the point with that comment. He allowed her to keep her arm around his and lead him towards the cathedral. They spoke of nothing and anything on the long walk through Montmartre to the highest point in the city.

He was in Paris for a research trip. He was studying medieval weapons and was going out to Bayeux to study some relics. His cousin Robb and friends came along for the free trip. They spoke about being starving artists in their field-- her literally an artist as it were. They talked about Paris-- how much he disliked it, how much she adored it. The top of Sacre-Coeur might have changed his mind, but he pretended he still didn’t get the appeal, so she dragged him back down to the streets, to her favorite all-night boulangerie, into the metro and across town to the Eiffel Tower, spinning in circles on the Champs du Mars. They ran across the Pont-de-la-Concorde and across the Tullieries. They wandered down the Seine, smoked cigarettes in the doorsteps of old buildings in the Latin Quarter, and drank cheap wine in one of the tourist-cafes near the Jardin du Luxembourg.

They meandered back through the streets, the city oddly quiet, the rain stopping, and she brought him to her garret studio in the Bastille, up the six flights of stairs to the top of the building, where she shed her coat and boots adn scratched her fat cat Drogon’s ears, leading him to the wrought-iron bars in one of the four windows she had, pushing the window open and crawling out, up onto the roof where she wanted to show him something.

“Look,” she directed, when he climbed up next to her-- less gracefully-- pointing to the lit-up Eiffel Tower.

He cursed under his breath. “It’s gorgeous.”

“It’s my favorite place in Paris. The rent is steep, but it’s worth it for this.” She chuckled. “And it has the best view.”

He whispered. “Yes, it does.”

And to her surprise, since she didn’t realize the time, the tower began to twinkle, the 20,000 lights across its metal beams flickering and she glanced sideways; he wasn’t watching the tower, but her face. She arched her brows. “You know, the lights twinkle for five minutes every hour, on the hour.” She smiled and shrugged, whispering. “It’s a sign that you’re supposed to return to Paris.”

Instead of saying anything, like how silly that was, he leaned in and cupped her face in his wide palm, callused and warm, bringing her face to meet his, kissing gently, in the twinkly glow of the lights. He pulled back a moment later, breathing, “I think I like Paris. And you’er right...this place has the best view.” His eyes were wide on hers, focused. She chuckled, nodding in agreement, and pulled him back to her for another kiss.

That night she savored every moment with him, as they pulled each other’s clothes off slowly, kissing and touching, every smooth curve and muscle of each other, each hard ridge and plane of his strong, muscular body or her soft, lean one. He touched her and kissed her and stroked her in ways she’d never experienced, bringing her to heights she’d only dreamed about. It was intense, the lights behind her closed eyelids when she came, over and over, gripping his shoulders, hair, the bedframe behind her. He rose up and over her, in and out, their bodies moving as one, thrusting and arching.

She didn’t know if she’d see him again; if this was a one-time, romantic Parisian adventure, but in the morning when she woke, she found him coming back inside from getting pastries and coffees, the faintest scent of cigarettes and her toothpaste on his lips when he kissed her good morning.

They exchanged their information, vowing to speak daily, and he would see her when he got back from Bayeux. She couldn’t believe when he did call and he kept his word. “When you lie, words lose their meaning,” he’d explained, obviously reading her surprise.

And when her year ended in Paris, she found herself in London, back at university, dreaming of their magical time there, even when they made time for each other, going back and forth from London to Edinburgh; and he from Edinburgh to Paris during the last couple of months of her year there.

They made it a priority; every single year they spent time in Paris, like they were students again, on that magical night.

They grew older, no longer needing to find the cheapest drinks and cigarettes, or staying in studio garrets, eventually able to experience some of the best hotels and restaurants the city had to offer, as he sold books and became a well-known author and professor, and her dream of becoming a famous artist came true, when sure enough, someone bought one of her paintings on the side of the Seine, someone who happened to be an art dealer in New York.

It was their city, where they met, and where they could remember.

After they married, about fifteen years after that fateful birthday, they visited again, and spun together on the Pont-Neuf, kissing and murmuring how they loved each other and always would, and he took her back to the tiny studio garret, which was now theirs, and sat on the rooftop and watched the Eiffel Tower sparkle.

“Paris is always a good idea,” she murmured, head in the crook of his neck, her back to his front, wrapped in a warm blanket, and his arms tight around her middle. She tilted her face up to his, sated, and still hopelessly in love with him. “Take me to Paris, Jon.”

He nuzzled his nose into her cheek, whispering. “You are Paris, Dany.”

As it was the city where they’d met, fallen in love, and found true happiness, she grinned, because that was his way of saying how much he loved her. She brushed her lips over his, sighing, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And they kissed, as the Eiffel Tower lit up, and she curled up into him, falling asleep in the city of love and lights.

#jonerys #jonerys au #jonerys drabble #Erika's gorgeous moodboards!#my random drabbles #Paris is always a good idea #Paris and jonerys is a better idea #happy birthday to me lol

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miss-smutty · 3 years ago

Note

Ma’am I heard your requests are open.. could I request a fluffy smutty imagine with Thor Odinson. I don’t actually have a storyline in mind so I leave that to you, but my point is,

Sex on the balcony!!

Immortal

A/N- Thank you @mostly-marvel-musings for the request! I hope you like it. I had a fic in mind when I saw the gif of Chris on the balcony so this was a perfect opportunity. It's alot different to anything I've done for a completely new AU

Summary- There's something different about the man across the room, something Aria can't quite put her finger on but she's more than willing to explore deeper.

Word count- 1420

Pairing- Thor Odinson x OFC

Warnings- Smut, Swearing, Unprotected sex (all the usual)

18+ only!

Taglist- @innerpaperexpertcloud

@pandaxnienke

@chickensarentcheap @longlostinanotherworld

Posted: 22nd May 2021

Aria couldn't peel her eyes away from The God of Thunder, the way he held the attention of everybody in the room , it was mesmerising. She was fascinated by him, how he barely seemed to notice the girls around him, throwing themselves on him. The way his face lit up when he spoke, how his whole aura shone brightly. Aria was rare in existence, a human who could see people's aura's just as clearly as the clothes they wore. A intuition so on point she knew everything about a person before they even spoke a word. This man's aura was unlike any she'd ever seen before, she knew he was immortal as soon as she saw him. Still learning things about herself and the world she existed in, everyday she would be fascinated by something new.

Being new to town, Aria had arrived at the ball alone but had spent the night fighting away her own fair share of attention from eligible bachelor's. They were drew to her like moths to a flame, and were just as irritating. Not one of them had piqued her interest until she'd seen the mysteriously tall, broad, blonde statue of a man.

She stood by the back of the room by the buffet table, routinely replacing her flute of champagne everytime it emptied and watched the beautiful man intently. Studying him.

There was no doubt in her mind that the reason he turned around and caught her eye was because he felt her gaze upon him, only when their eyes met he looked just as intrigued as she did.

"Do you want to dance?" The eye contact with the mysterious God was broken when a small, slightly balding, weaselly man approached her, breaking her line of sight frustratingly. Aria tried to look around him, fighting the urge to shove him out of the way.

"In your dreams, mate." She replied to the highly confident middle aged man, paying no more attention to him and instead scanning the room once more, searching for the man she actually was interest in. Disappointment etched on her face when he seemed to have vanished from her sights.

She tried to mingle, to join in with the conversations but all she could hear was his bassy voice echoing around the busy room. She couldn't block it out, It was as if he had consumed her entire being but she still couldn't see him. It was distracting.

Aria needed to clear her mind, to block out the inner voices of the other guests and focus on that one voice. More than that, she needed air. It was stuffy, the atmosphere clingy. Too many aura's fighting for attention. She couldn't think straight. It was, Claustrophobic.

Fighting her way through the groups of people, heading towards the side of the room and ducking behind the floor length curtains. She knew it was there, could sense it. A small, private balcony. No one else would know it was there unless they looked behind the curtain. Finally she could be alone for a minute to gather her thoughts.

Leaning out over the glass balcony, admiring the view of the valley below her. It was absolutely breath taking. Awe inspiring.

"Beautiful." She said out loud, into the night.

"My thoughts exactly." Came a deep voice from behind her. She turned around too quickly, not expecting anyone to follow her and tripped over her foot. Falling into the very arms of the man she'd been watching all night.

"I was talking about the view." She blushed. Looking up into his deep blue eyes, his otherworldly scent filling her nostrils. Fascinating her senses.

"I wasn't" He continued to stare into her eyes, his face emotionless making her blush deeper. "-What are you?" He asks, his eyes narrowing as the words left his mouth.

"Erm… A girl." Aria replied, realising she was still in his arms. Feeling his blood pumping through his veins and something else she couldn't quite put her finger on. Whatever it was made her body tingle with electricity.

"No, you're a woman but not that, there's something more." He furrowed his brow as he studied her closer. The look on his face stirring something inside of her, something deep inside of her, a tingly presence she hasn't felt before. Reaching up to touch his face with her fingertips, she felt a pull, like a magnet. Thor's eyes widened when he felt it too, pulling her against his body tightly.

"You're different, I can feel it. I'm drawn to you unlike anyone I've ever met before." He whispered, his lips lingering close to hers, an unknown force pulling them together.

"I've never felt anything like this before either, what are you?" Both her hands came to rest on his broad chest as she spoke. The way his heart beat was different to anyone else, faster, a different rhythm all together.

"I am Thor, The God of Thunder, my love. Son of Odin." She could sense the pride in his voice. Aria didn't want to tell him she already knew he was a God, she didn't know how to answer the questions that would follow. Not when she still didn't understand how she knew herself.

"Now that is a title." She smiled, still looking up at him through her lashes innocently.

"You're beautiful." He muttered staring deeply into her soul and smoothing his thumb over her cheek tenderly. When her lips parted suggestively, he took the cue, leaning down to attach his lips to hers.

The kiss was deep and passionate, his lips even softer than she imagined. She loosened his black tie and left it hanging around his neck. The kisses becoming more ferocious with a deep and hungry need. A feral need that consumed the both of them simultaneously.

Pulling him back against the wall by his tie, his thick-set body crashing against her heavily. Pinning her between him and the wall. His cock pressing against her through those deliciously tight, fitted trousers. Reaching down to fumble with his zipper messily, lips still locked while a primal thirst.

Thor caught her hair in his hands, running his fingertips up her scalp, clasping her hair within both his fists. He pulled her head back gently, exposing her neck, a deep animalistic growl emitting from his throat before he buried his head into her neck. Gripping his teeth gently into her soft flesh until her knees became weak.

Fumbling to try and pull her dress up, the fabric clinging to her curves, he groaned ripping the fabric up the side and pulling it up to her stomach. Thor pulled her up into his arms, resting her back against the wall while he guided his cock to her opening. The feel of his smooth tip against her slit made her moan, a moan that came from deep within. The sound spurring him on as he pushed himself deep inside of her while she clung to his back.

Lifting her higher, her back scraping against the wall painfully. The pain and the pleasure making her walls tighten around his thick cock making him growl instinctively. He pounded into her relentlessly, her fingers gripping his hair tightly, pulling his head towards her with every thrust. Gutteral moans coming from them both as their release builds. It's quick but oh so intense. Something she's never been able to find before, especially with a stranger. Someone who can match up to her, who can take control and fuck her like this.

Aria can't quite put her finger on it but it feels different. Like it's meant to be, like fate had drawn them both here at this exact time.

The way his eyelids hang heavy with lust, his breathe panting as he give her everything he's got, drives her over the edge. She screams out loud, her legs going rigid, every inch of her body alight with sensation. She'd never come like that before, it takes a while for her to recover. Her head resting against his shoulder as they both try and catch their breath. Aria's dress torn and Thor's hair dishevelled.

"Why do I feel like I've met you before?" He asks, moving a stray hair from her mouth tenderly.

"I have no answers but I feel the exact same way. That was the most intense thing I've ever felt." She replies.

"Why didn't you question me when I told you I was a God? These clothes I'm wearing to fit in don't exactly make me look like one." He moves over to the edge of the balcony, the way he looks standing there in the moonlight is breathtaking.

"I could sense it." She says without thinking, immediately wishing she could take the words back.

Thor thinks about it for a second. "What are you?" He asks again.

"I have to go. I'm sorry, I have to… I've said too much." Aria mumbles, straightening out her hair and dress before turning to flee.

He catches her hand before she turns, as she fights every urge in her body, all of her senses telling her to stay and she runs. Aria runs and she doesn't look back.

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fumingspice · 4 years ago

Text

andante

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader

Prompt: oK so how about like?? Delia x reader and they're both in love af but they think the other has no feelings for them so they're both tripping over themselves to make the other love them and then madison comes in and she's just like 'stop being dumb' and they finally realise how much the other loves them.

I’m sorry but my ed crept back in and im not horny enough to put more thought into writing so just ignore the massive time skip at “---”. enjoy, you strange people xo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*(*❦ω❦)*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It's crazy. Falling. You see? We don't say "rising into love". There is in it, the idea of the fall. And it goes back to extremely fundamental things. That there is always a curious tie at some point between the fall and the creation. Taking this ghastly risk is the condition of there being life. You see, for all life is an act of faith and an act of gamble...

Between Cordelia Goode's ears were pretty brown eyes and a mind full of thoughts. Brown eyes were never really your favourite until you saw them on her. You knew yourself that somehow, over the years you got to know Cordelia; working with her, befriending her, carrying her home from the bar one night when she got far too drunk, letting her cry into your shoulder when her job became too real and she could feel her mother's words hanging over her head.

When you started falling for the woman with those beautiful brown eyes.

Somehow, her eyes were now your favourite colour.

Not brown- brown wasn't simply the word for the colour. Cordelia's eyes were the colour of aged whiskey. Sometimes they were the only two safe shots of tequila that you could see. Sometimes they were a beautiful milk chocolate dotted with exposed honeycomb. Once when she had asked you to help her decorate the garden for the Summer Equinox- she had given Zoe enough money to take the girls on a field trip for the day so she could give the girls a little party. You stood watching her in her denim shorts and her white button up. When she had stepped back and put her arm around you to admire both of your handy work you could have sworn her eyes were glowing like fresh magma.

Her hand lay on your waist a split second too long.

You had fallen in love with the Supreme.

"Yo, bitch!" Madison Montgomery's usual entrance phrase disturbed you from your imagination. You raised your brow and smirked.

"Yes, Madison?"

The blonde took her sunglasses off her face and closed them with a slight snap. "The girls want to know if you wanna come to play Pysch! with us," she said. Her lips were curled in what could almost be described as a friendly smile. You were one of the few honoured to know that under Madison's bitchy white girl facade there was actually a very sweet someone lurking under there.

You thought for a moment and put your pen down. "I won't be long- I just have to log these last few names and I'll be there," you tell her. Madison rolled her eyes and waved her hand, the pen lifted itself and wrote the last thirteen names within seconds. "You're done. Let's go, Y/N."

Madison didn't even give you a minute to say anything before she walked out of the room. "Come on, bitch. Don't make me use my powers!" she called from the hallway, finally motivating you to move.

The girls sat in a circle in Zoe's bedroom. Lights off. Candles lit.

Zoe, Queenie, Mallory, and Coco were indulged in their phones for the game. Madison turned to you and held up her phone to show you the question. "What is Zoe's deepest, darkest secret?" she read. "You gotta answer it and the person with the most votes wins. It lasts for ten rounds and it can be fucking hilarious."

Zoe's face was red with laughter at the answers. "She's not actually a witch- that's not even funny," she gasped through cackles. She then sobered slightly. "She likes to watch Danny Devito movies while masturbating and screaming 'I am a dirty man'."

Madison was the only one who chortled at that.

You joined the game and got your best answers ready in your head. "If Madison got arrested tomorrow what would it be for?"

Madison rolled her eyes and muttered something about knowing exactly what everyone was about to answer. You smirked slightly, sensing her slight apprehension.

Prostitution.

Murder. Third-degree.

Fucking up the brakes on a bus full of frat boys.

Public Nudity.

"Gosh, you're so original," she muttered, glaring right at Zoe, who just shrugged.

"It's the rules of the game, bitch. Go all in, don't get offended," she replied.

The game pinged for the next question.

"What is on Y/N's mind right now?"

Coco gave a loud "Ha!" and typed quickly, along with the other girls who were all typing as quickly as possible to get their answers in first.

A quiet knock came from the other side of the door and Cordelia poked her head around. "Sorry to interrupt, girls. Y/N, could I borrow you for a moment?" she asked, voice sweet and angelic. You bounced up as soon as she finished the sentence and obliged straight away. You were met with a sweet smile.

Madison flicked her brows. "Speak of the devil," she muttered, winking at Delia's slightly confused face. As you left, your phone pinged to announce the results just before you left the game.

Cordelia 🥵🥵🥵

Delia. I ship it <3

Getting knuckle deep finger fucked by the HWIC

French fries

You quickly shut off your phone screen before Cordelia could see.

"What's the matter, Delia?" You asked, practically skipping alongside her. There was a vibrant air of satisfaction between you.

Cordelia shook her head, her blonde hair bobbing with her movements. “I just wanted to know if you’d like to go out.”

You felt your heart stop. “Go out?”

Cordelia looked hurt by the confusion on your face.

“Yes. Would you like to join me in the garden?”

“Oh,” you realised, slightly disappointed. “I would love to.”

---

"For the love of Hades. Right, I don’t mean to sound rude or anything because I have some understanding that lesbians are fucking useless because of the fear of appearing to be predatory because the media is an asshole,” Madison continued. “But I don’t really think any of us can eat at this table anymore without choking on the fucking sexual tension between the both of you.”

Cordelia looked shocked. “It’s not that-”

“I’m a fucking mindreader! You do get that I can fucking hear the things that you say in your head about what you want to do to Y/N? I’m one gutter minded bitch and not even I’m creative enough to come up with that shit while I’m eating my fucking apple turnover!”

You blushed hard and chuckled.

Madison’s neck snapped towards you. “Oh, and don’t getting me fucking started on you! Do you know how fucking unsanitary it would be to carry out your little fantasies of fucking Cordy on the kitchen counter? Not even for us but the amount of fucking crumbs that would work into your nooks and crannies would be like trying to spring clean Myrtle's fucking hair! "

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cordelia chuckled nervously. Her face turning a shade of red. “I’m sure Y/N’s got plenty of better options.”

Madison dropped her face in her hands and rubbed her temples. “God, you bitches are going to put fucking years on my skin.”

“Oh, give me a break, Madison.”

Cordelia stumbled foward slightly, having been tripped up by some unseeable force and sending her tumbling into you. Her hands lay against your chest for that split second too long once more.

Your lips parted for a moment and your breath hitched as you both watched Madison smirk and leave the room. It felt like your heart was beating at a thousand miles an hour. You surroundings were unnoticable to you now; replaced by unidentifiable whirls of colour and light. Your hand rested flat on Cordelia’s cheek. It was different this time. Not the spark, that had been there every time you touched. It was the fact that you were both too slow to ignore the ignition that started in your chests.

You saw her eyebrows falter from their previously confident expression, like all of her preparation and barriers and walls had fallen down and she was too slow to replace them. Cordelia pursed her lips, presumably trying to figure out what she should say to you. Again, she was too slow as you inhaled sharply and thrust yourself forward to catch her lips.

Delia was quick to mould herself to the curves of your front, hands falling to the small of your back on a collision course as she backed you into the dining room table. You smoothed your hands over the contours of her jaw, her collar bones, breasts, hips like you were a master pianist playing a brilliant concerto. Her body was the only instrument you longed to play; her moans the only melody that you longed to draw from her.

As her lips glided across your own, everything came together like pieces into place. You thought back one of those late nights in the kitchen. The way Delia’s fingers had so enthusiastically laced through yours during the late night in the kitchen when you had both stayed up until the wee hours of the morning talking about life. How the witch had turned the radio on and taken your hand while you danced to some song by REO Speedwagon. Twirling you through the night. “Can’t fight this feeling” was the song. Ironic, now that you thought about it. It seemed as though fighting her feelings was what she had been doing the entire time.

She twirled you around in the light of the dim television and the refrigerator when the songs were upbeat, even going as far as dipping you and pulling you up again. Bare thighs against your own in her shorts and oversized shirt. When the songs that were played were slower, she was more gentle. Until eventually you swayed in a slow two-step, your head against her chest, and hers against yours. The air was thick with something pure. Something untouched.

You had no idea why you ever just thought this was something two best friends did. More so, you had no idea why you didn’t lean back and dip into her lips and allow your souls to dance the waltz that they were so clearly destined for.

Cordelia’s thumb and finger lay on either side of your jaw as she continued to kiss you as if her soul depended on it. Her fingers interlocked with yours against the table.

She broke away, tears had fallen down her cheeks and made your heart melt. “Oh-ho,” you chuckled, mouth agape at her sight. “Why the tears, my love?”

Cordelia laughed, wiping away her tears. “I’ve longed to do that for so long,” she replied. “So, so long.”

You chuckled at her sweetness and the display of pure love that you were so unaccustomed to.

“I fell in love with you, Y/N. I don’t think I will ever stop falling in love with you. You’ve created this storm of beautiful chaos in me,” she continued. “Do you remember that night where I was really sleepy, so you let me just stay in your room? How I had fallen asleep on top of you by accident and you wrapped your arms around me and hummed a lullaby?”

You nodded, remember the feeling of waking up with the Supreme in your arms.

“I was wide awake,” she told you. A delicate smile arose.

You chuckled into her touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you replied, drawing her closer, her blonde hair twirled in your fingers. “I know you were.”

#ahs #ahs imagines #cordelia goode #cordelia foxx #cordelia goode x reader #cordelia foxx x reader #wilhemina venable #wilhemina venable x reader #billie dean howard #billie dean howard x reader #lana winters #lana winters x reader #sally mckenna #sally mckenna x reader

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 3 years ago

Text

A Bad Option for Close Quarters

PART OF THE VIPER & THE WILD THING COLLECTION

A/N: Hey there, Prince Oberyn party people! Before we get started in this one, I want to say a huge THANK YOU to everyone for all the encouragement and kind things that you had to say after I posted the first part of this collection. I was and still am nervous to take on Oberyn, so reading the comments that you left really made me feel less nervous. You are Great!!

A/N 2: And now I have to talk about serious stuff- this part does have some sensitive material in it that may be difficult for some to read. I don’t normally put big red warning stickers on my work, but this one feels like it warrants it. Please as always read the content warnings and if you are still unsure, know that you can always send me a message to ask specifics.

Warning: language, violence, blood, injury, abuse (physical & sexual in nature) death, NO LIKE ALL THE WARNINGS APPLY. general brothel un-pleasantry.

Word Count: 4.9k

Summary: Oberyn has made it clear that you are his favorite way to pass the time while he is in King’s Landing, and you are perfectly happy with that. But not everyone is.

“‘Bout fuckin’ time.”

You heard him before you saw him, lined up a few heads behind the front of the procession of prostitutes spilling into the brothel’s main chamber, but there was no mistaking his rough voice or the lowborn accent he tried so hard to hide when he spoke in the presence of others. Shit. You had known him long enough to pick him out from a legion of men by sound alone. Or smell.

It was Gannon Yast, a foot soldier in the Lannister army who had saved up his coins for years to purchase his surname from a forger on the black market. Like you, he had been born on the streets of King’s Landing, and like you, he was just another drop in the bay, another bastard bearing the name Waters. But unlike you who knew what you were, Gannon had always been subject to outlandish fantasies and truly believed the lies he told about himself and his upbringing. He had been spinning them in his own mind for so long that by now there was surely an elaborate tapestry depicting the lineage of a House that had never existed.

House Yast. The very thought made you roll your eyes. His sigil could be the pot he bought himself to piss in on a shit brown background.

The penalty for falsifying documents such as the ones that Gannon had illicitly procured ranged from execution to public flogging and time in the dungeons beneath the Red Keep. To him, imprisonment in a cell was no worse than suffering the flea bitten life his birth name chained him to. Since he wasn’t so bold as to impersonate a nobleman, he knew that he wouldn’t lose his head, and to him it was worth the gamble.

You didn’t share his viewpoint. You had heard stories, rumors, about female prisoners and the things that had been done to them at the hands of the Gold Cloaks, and while you had no idea how true they were you were not at all interested in finding out. If you were going to get fucked by Lannister guards and soldiers, you may as well be paid for it. Forged proclamation of respectable provenance wasn’t the only way out of King’s Landing, and you’d also been saving your spare coins, few and far between as they may be, for passage across the Narrow Sea and out of Westeros. Even if it would take you a lifetime to save, you would rather hoard what you could over decades than spend even one night in those dank caverns.

Unless Oberyn actually… You had done your best not to dwell on the offer he had made you to leave the city with him, to live free in the Kingdom of Dorne. He hadn’t mentioned it again though you had been with him several times since. Six. Six times in eleven days. It wasn’t as though you were the only one of Litlefinger’s whores that the Prince and his paramour came to see. The only one he chose every time though. The only one he spent an entire night with. You shook your head and followed Dria, one of the other girls who had been there nearly as long as you had, into the chamber where Gannon and two others were waiting. Even if he truly meant to make good on his offer, his departure from King’s Landing was still weeks away. Anything could happen in that much time. He could make promises to half the whores here about-

The thin curtain separating the hallway from the main reception chamber was still billowing near your ankles when you felt Gannon’s meaty hand close securely around your wrist. He yanked you straight out of line, much to the dismay of the other men in the room, the girls in front of and behind you scrambling out of the way so as not to get tripped up by your sudden departure from the lineup. Biting the inside of your cheek to hide the grimace on your face at the twisting and pinching of your skin beneath his rough fingers, you stumbled into his hold. Shit. From the corner of your eye you saw Dria sneering at you as she draped herself over the shoulder of one of the other infantry men, and you knew it was because she was bitter about how much time you’d been spending with Oberyn and Ellaria while she and the others were left to serve the lesser customers like Gannon and his acquaintances. Jealous witch.

You didn’t have the chance to sling a glare back at her, Gannon spinning you around to catch your chin in his free hand, the other releasing your wrist to grab at your ass. Squeezing both to the point of pain, you let out a small muffled sound as he brought your face close to his own.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t that fuck-drunk prince’s prized little cunt.” His breath reeked of stale ale and whatever the slop stalls were serving up in their brown bowls that week, his clothes and hair soaked in the bodily stench of a soldier who had been away for long months. He drew his lips into a vicious grin, continuing to grope your flesh through the gauzy sash that barely covered you. The stark contrast between his touch and Oberyn’s made your skin crawl and your stomach turn. You knew that the next time you saw the Prince you’d likely be riddled in bruises and marks left behind by Gannon’s greedy grip and forceful fingers. What will he think of that?

Your mind provided a quick answer, the way he had looked at you when you told him how you ended up working as a whore in King’s Landing flashing in your memory, his eyes filling with pain, anger and dark fire. He won’t like it. At all.

Dria’s shrill laughter met your ear as the man she’d been pawing at picked her up and brought her into one of the private pleasure chambers, the door slamming behind them. The third man in the room seemed happy enough where he was, two of the remaining girls already stripping each other of their sashes and teasing him with the perfumed fabric. Those unselected by the men were already shuffling back down the hall, waiting to be called when the next batch of customers arrived. You longed to join them even if it meant forgoing pay for the afternoon, but wishful thinking wouldn’t get you out of this.

Nothing could.

You’d been anticipating this encounter since you caught word that the Lannisters were bolstering security around the city leading up to the Royal Wedding. You knew that meant low ranking soldiers like Gannon would be flooding the inns and brothels. The fact that Oberyn had been monopolizing you, keeping you from giving Gannon the homecoming he clearly thought he was entitled to only exacerbated the man’s jealous anger, his lack of patience, his belief that he was owed things from you and your body.

The man who was currently claiming as much of you as his fingers and thumbs could fit between them broke through your thoughts, continuing to snarl his displeasure over your recent unavailability. “You had me settle for scraps while you fucked that southern shit,” he snarled, spit flying from his lips to land on your cheek. “Every time I came looking for this,” the hand that had been squeezing your ass slipped between your legs as though you of all people needed him to explain why he was in a brothel. You winced, every last fiber of your being trying to recoil from him and finding nowhere to go. “Every fucking time, you were in that room bouncing on that peacock’s prick.” He turned you roughly towards the room that you had utilized several times with Oberyn on his visits and shoved you towards it. “I could hear you in there. You made me fuck scraps while I listened to that and-”

“I didn’t make you fuck anything, Gannon.” Knowing that you were only making him angrier in your struggle didn’t stop you, and even though he was twice your strength you did what you could to resist the way that he was steering you into the private chamber. “It isn’t my fault that you have to buy time in bed with a woman because no one who wasn’t forced to fuck you ever would.” You bit your words at him only because his flesh was too far from your teeth. “It isn’t my fault that-”

He timed his backhand with the slamming of the door that he had just pushed you through, releasing his grip and driving the knuckles of his right hand across your face so that you fell hard to the stone floor. Your knees and palms made blunt contact and you knew that as soon as the white hot ache tearing through your skull subsided, pain would erupt over those areas too. Fuck. Letting out a small groan, you tried to crawl away if only just to turn back towards him to see the next blow coming, one scuffed and scraped palm coming up to your already swelling cheek. You could feel warm blood pooling in the shallow cut there, saw a drop fall to the floor as you inched yourself closer to the wall, and though you knew it was likely that he would hit you again, while your body throbbed with the raw, abusive way he was handling you, you didn’t regret saying what you did.

Gannon Waters was a pile of shit in the gutter, and no forger could change that no matter how fancy the calligraphy on the falsified lineage documents looked. He was foul and filthy and that had nothing to do with which surname he paid for. He was a rotten being and it had nothing to do with where he was born or how many golden coins he could rub together, and suddenly you couldn’t bear to keep those opinions from leaping from your tongue. Not when you’d seen and known better men well before you ever even met Oberyn. The men you served were not always like Gannon, seeking only to assert dominance and demean the unlucky prostitute who didn't feel quite as unlucky until he put his hands on them. Not all of them were despicable and suddenly you had reached a threshold for what you were willing to accept without at least letting loose your venomous feelings, consequences be damned.

Before you could get too far though, you felt his tight grip wrap around your ankle to yank you back towards him, your knees both hitting the floor again as he did. You let out another involuntary cry, trying in vain to kick free of his grasp, aiming for his chin if at all possible. He thwarted your attempts with another hard pull, dragging you closer so that he could hold himself above you, trapping you between his limbs with one hand pressed firmly over your mouth. “You’re going to regret the day you turned me down, you little cunt.” He seethed as he tore at the sash that somehow still covered your lower half as he dropped his heavy weight on you, the hilt of the sword he still wore and the buckle of his belt scraping at your skin to leave indents. “You could have been my wife, could have had a name, but you wanted to be whore, and I am going to make you regret that choice no matter how many times you fuck that Dornish dog. I’m going to make you regret that until the day that you die, do you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

It was Oberyn’s voice that you heard next, and at first you thought it was just a trick that your mind was playing on you, dizzy from the strike and the fall, wishful thoughts sweeping in to carry you away from consciousness. What? How is..?

The dangerous vibration in Gannon’s voice, the unhinged way that his eyes were twitching, the crushing grip he had on you, all of it made your world shrink to just those things, just what you could see and feel and hear. Which meant that you hadn’t noticed the door bursting open, hadn’t heard the shouts or the hurried footsteps of two figures as they rushed inside, hadn’t fully registered what was happening as Gannon was hoisted off of you and slammed into the hardwood table that stood in the center of the room. Someone was pulling you to your feet, wrapping a pair of warm arms around you, murmuring your name and pleading with you to look at them.

Shaking in shock, you managed to turn your head and focus your eyes, blinking them furiously to force the room to stop spinning. Ellaria? As soon as you recognized the woman you let yourself collapse into her, feeling as she let out a sigh and strengthened her hold on you to keep you on your feet. “You’re alright now.” She spoke softly in your ear as she led you closer to the small table beside the bed where a wash bin and cloth had been set out. “Come here.” Without letting go of you, she reached for the white cloth and dipped it in the cool water before bringing it up to your cheek, the soothing relief of the soft fabric instant as she gently pressed it there. She continued to hush and soothe you, letting you lean into her, and more quickly than you would have thought possible you felt your breathing return to normal, the adrenaline still pounding behind your eyeballs, but allowing you to make sense of what was happening at least.

Oberyn and Ellaria… they must have come in just after… and then they-

“I heard you,” Oberyn growled at the man again as he used his agility to duck Gannon’s reactionary swing, slamming him into the table’s surface once more. Using the momentary disorientation, Oberyn disarmed the man before Gannon could fully unsheath his long sword, simultaneously forcing the man into a seated position in one of the chairs that hadn’t gotten knocked to the ground in the fray. “Now tell me why I should let you live.” He moved one hand to the back of Gannon’s neck and pressed hard until the man began to choke out, gasping and gesturing to the Lannister crest emblazoned on the leather chestpiece he wore, and Oberyn released his grip enough to lean back and glance down at the embroidered lions, a look of mock appraisal pulling his handsome features into a cruel mask. “A soldier? Is that what you are trying to say? That I should let you live because you are a soldier?” He scoffed, shaking his head as he tossed the sword aside. “No, no, no,” Oberyn chided, the skin over the knuckles of his left hand stretched tight over the other man’s neck as Gannon fought to free himself from the Red Viper’s hold. “You are not a soldier.”

The dented steel clattered noisily against the stone floor, skidding halfway across the room to where you and Ellaria stood, the woman stopping its momentum by placing the sole of her sandal atop the flat width of the blade. She still had one arm around your waist, the opposite hand still covering yours to help you keep the cool cloth pressed to your bloodied cheek. Eyes never leaving Oberyn, she turned only enough to whisper into your ear. “He’s going to make that swine pay for what he did to you,” she told you, leaving a comforting kiss on your uninjured cheek. “I promise.”

You didn’t doubt it. Ignoring the ache, your upper lip curled as you eyed the man who struck you. “Good.” From the corner of your eye you saw Ellaria’s mouth lift into a grin at your response while Oberyn shifted his grip from behind Gannon’s head to one of his wrists, forcing his fingers to splay open atop the carved wood.

“You are not a soldier,” the Prince went on, “I am sure of this because a soldier would know better than to draw his longsword in such close quarters. No, I don’t think Lannisters have soldiers. That word implies training. Dedication. Skill.” Leaning closer, he paused to allow his voice to fill with disdain, then looked over to where Ellaria’s foot held the weapon in place. “You are just a sack of meat with a pointy sword that is too far away to save you now.” Gannon began a string of swears then, but Oberyn didn’t let him finish it, cutting him off with a question. “Do you know why King’s Landing is such an ugly place?” He used his free hand to grab the sniveling, shaking excuse for a soldier by the jaw.

You shivered, watching his fingers dig in with enough force to leave deep bruises if not crack the bones beneath them. How are those the same hands that he- With a rough twist he forced Gannon’s face in your direction, left hand still pining the other man’s wrist to the table. The man who only moments before had been holding you down even more harshly actually had the audacity to shoot you a pleading glance, the fear in his eyes begging you to call off the attack. Fuck you, Gannon. You narrowed your eyes at him and spat blood onto the blade Oberyn had stripped him of.

Dropping his level he lined himself up directly beside the coward. Releasing the man’s chin as roughly as he’d grabbed it, he turned in your direction. You saw a quick flash of pain in his eyes as he looked at you, and though it was gone before you were truly sure it was there, you felt it in your chest. Oh, Oberyn, it’s… I’m alright.

As though he could hear your thoughts, he blinked and the remnants of the flash were gone, replaced with renewed anger. He swiveled his head to face Gannon once more. “Because worthless fucking shits like you destroy all the beautiful things.” With lightning speed he reached for the short dagger hanging from his own belt to unsheath it and dragged it across the tabletop. Gannon’s chair shifted as he tried in a desperate panic to distance himself from the glinting edge of the razor sharp weapon, the rounded legs scraping the stone floor as Oberyn brought the crooked dagger to hover over the man’s pinky finger. “Do you know what we do to men like you in Dorne?” He rested the edge of the dagger between the top and middle knuckles of Gannon’s last two digits, a thin crimson line appearing beneath the blade before it had even had the chance to bite into the skin there.

“Oberyn, wait.” You called out his name, raising the hand you’d been clutching onto Ellaria’s forearm with to stop him from removing Gannon’s fingers. His forehead creased in confusion, the woman beside you drawing a breath to protest your seemingly merciful request. But you only waited long enough for a spark of relief to flicker in Gannon’s eyes, your own burning with hate- for Gannon and men like him- and that flicker fizzled to nothing as he realized that you had no plans to grant him mercy. “It was the other hand that he struck me with.”

Flashing a grin as quick as the blade he held, Oberyn switched Gannon’s hands so that it was his dominant one to take the punishment, and in a testament of just how sharp the Red Viper of Dorne kept his knives, removed the top portion of the man’s four fingers with almost no pressure needed, the detached parts rolling over the table, no longer a piece of the man’s body, now just bits of waste. Gannon let out a nearly inhuman howl of pain as he keeled over onto the floor in a bloody heap, clutching the gushing stumps above his knuckles that used to be fingers. Though you had never had a digit cut off and couldn’t begin to guess at how it would feel, the sounds coming from the man were twisted, inverted almost, turning into a shriek, his face contorted as though he was being consumed in flames you couldn’t see. Finally, writhing his way to his feet, Gannon scrambled from the room, his screams still audible even as he fled the brothel.

You hadn’t even realized that you’d stepped away from Ellaria, not until you were reaching for the handle of the dagger that Oberyn had released once he’d finished carrying out the sentence he had passed on Gannon. But before you could close your fingers around the hilt, you felt and then saw Oberyn’s hands coming from behind you to cover yours, stopping you. Pressing your hands into your own stomach, he pulled you back gently but urgently into his chest, his lips immediately finding a home behind your ear where he kissed your name. “You’re safe.” His breath hit your skin in a wave as he slowly turned you in his arms to look you over. Satisfied that you hadn’t been more seriously injured than you were, he relaxed but only slightly.

Sticking one hand out wordlessly behind himself, he waited for Ellaria to pass him the cloth she had been using to clean your cheek, his eyes glued to your face as he brought the cloth there, dabbing so feather light that you hardly felt a thing. You did feel the weight in his eyes as he looked at you though, and you could tell that what he and his paramour had walked in on had shaken him. Just as your lips parted, intending to whisper his name, his eyebrows came together, a crease forming between them to turn his expression even more grave and it silenced you. Cradling your face between his large palms, he kept you framed between his bent forearms as he spoke. “You must never touch one of my blades unless I place it in your hand, do you understand?”

Sucking in a breath, your eyes widened as they flicked back to the blade where it still sat atop the table. You had heard the rumors about the poisons that the Dornish Prince coated his weapons with, and as the sunlight filtered through the window, you saw it shining a dark sickly green color and everything fell into place. That was why he was in so much pain, that’s… he- You looked back at Oberyn then, your chest heaving as you wrapped your head around everything. “You… poisoned him?”

“He deserved worse.” You watched his nostrils flare, something fiery roaring to life in his eyes. “For what he did to you, he deserves-”

“Will he die?” You asked without flinching, without your voice wavering, giving him no reason to believe that you were off put by how he had handled Gannon.

His upper lip curled slightly as he answered, his voice dropping lower. “Not right away.” You inhaled a breath through your nose. He will, then. You caught what he wasn’t saying, that the poison he had used was not only responsible for the increased pain sensitivity, but that it would also masquerade as infection soon enough, sickening the man well beyond the point of saving before he’d even shown signs of illness.

“Good.” You narrowed your eyes to add emphasis, wanting him to know that you were entirely supportive of the fate he’d subjected Gannon to. He did it to himself.

Oberyn tilted his head to one side as Ellaria stepped around to take the cloth back from him, the pair of them existing in such harmony with each other that they didn’t even need to communicate verbally. She laid her hand on his arm, moving closer to press her lips to his bicep, kissing him through his robe. Though she didn’t even make contact with his skin, the action was so intimate that their connection was almost tangible. They’re so… Despite the pain you were still in and the shock that still coursed through your veins, the pure beauty in the way that they loved one another wasn’t lost on you. Most people would never have even a fraction of what they gave each other, what they allowed one another to have, what they encouraged each other to experience. You knew that no matter how long you would be involved in their lives, even if you did end up going back to Dorne with them, there was nothing that you or anyone could do to come between Oberyn and Ellaria. It was gorgeous, the way that they respected and supported each other, and you knew that most people wouldn’t understand it, but that didn’t matter to you, or to them.

Ellaria leaned over to tuck a piece of your hair out of your eyes, sweeping her fingertips over your swollen cheek. “This will fade, I promise.” She gave you a smile then that was softer than you had a feeling she liked to appear to anyone but Oberyn, then leaned in to speak into your ear. “Let him take care of you. He… he needs to know you’re alright.” Dropping a soft peck to your eyebrow, she pulled back and gave you a minute nod, and then she was heading for the door without another glance or word.

Once it had clicked shut, Oberyn took both of your hands in his and led you slowly backwards to the bed, pausing when he felt his calves hit it to shift his grip to your waist. As he sat on the edge, he pulled you into his lap, and you let him fold you close to his body. But instead of staying there, he slid his arms beneath your legs and around your torso, moving both of you backwards towards the pillows until he had enough space to lay you down. Completely bare, the sash you’d been wearing torn in bloodied pieces on the floor, he let his eyes roam every bit of you, taking stock of the bruises and scrapes, the scratches and red marks that you’d received before he and Ellaria had come to your aid. Then, without warning, his eyes were on yours, and they were spilling over with need, but it wasn’t the same kind of need that you’d seen there before.

He needs to know you’re alright.

You heard the other woman’s words echo in your mind, and you knew that this was what she meant. Licking at your lips, you reached for his jaw, fingers grazing the deceptively soft hair that covered it, and you felt him lean into your touch, eyes closed for several beats. “I’m alright, Oberyn,” you kept your voice as even as you could, knowing that it would help convince him that while you were hurt, it could have been far worse. “I’m alright, because you and-”

“I am sorry that I could not stop him sooner.” He hadn’t waited for you to finish speaking, nor had he opened his eyes, and the way that the muscles in his throat contracted as he swallowed told you that there was more to what he was feeling than you knew.

“I...Its-” His eyes opened as you swept your thumb over his cheek. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Yes- I do.” He shook his head slightly and took your hand in both of his. Bringing it to his lips, he fit the knuckle of your middle finger between his lips, dragging it along the seam of them before kissing the very end of it. “I have my reasons,” he said, “for why I… why seeing this happening was-” he swore under his breath and swallowed again. “Something…monstrous happened to...to my sister.” You felt your heart break at the sadness in his usually vivacious tone, and you wanted to say something to comfort him, but you fought the urge, remembering what Ellaria had said. “I do not wish to talk about that with you tonight, not while you are…” He brought one hand to your abdomen, fingers finding a divot left there by the press of Gannon’s metallic sword hilt against your skin. “Not while you are in need of my care.” He carefully lowered himself to lay beside you, letting his touch travel over your body to caress each bruise, and then his lips were raking over the cut on your cheek, impossibly close but so gentle that even though the skin was raw and angry, it didn’t hurt at all. “I will tell you about her one day. I… I want you to know me, understand me. And you cannot do that without learning about her.” You wanted to know whatever he would tell you, even if hearing it would shatter your heart all over again. “But not tonight. Tonight…” he looked into your eyes then, that need still there. “Tonight, let me take care of you, my wild thing.” Though it wasn’t sexual, the burn in his desire to tend to you purely to help heal your wounds, you couldn’t help the way that your stomach flipped and your heart lurched, because that somehow made it mean even more. “I will not rest, he went on as you hummed at the sensation of the backs of his fingers trailing over the purplish marks on your arm, “until I have made my penance to every part of you that he touched.”

You fell asleep that night to his fingers in your hair, his lips resting against the crown of your head as you lay against his chest, not a single mark left untended by the Prince.

THANK YOU FOR READING! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tag list please feel free to let me know. And like I said up top: if you have any requests or ideas that you would like to see for these two, send an ask and I will see what I can do!

tags: @something-tofightfor @gollyderek @pheedraws @valkblue @alraedesigns @beefcakebarnes @persie33ik @fific7 @g0ldenlush @insiespeckagain @thisgirl-knm @writeforfandoms @paracosmenthusiast

#oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x ellaria sand #oberyn martell x you #pedrostories #game of thrones fanfic #got fanfic #the red viper of dorne #oberyn martell #the viper and the wild thing #pedro pascal characters #TV&TWT #please read warnings

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awesometheydontknowiamhere · 4 years ago

Text

Breaking and Entering

Tony Stark X Reader Fanfiction

Summary: Reader has recently started dating Tony. With a new relationship comes the initial apprehension and nervousness. This fic explores the Reader’s (almost) first time with Tony and him being extremely considerate of her boundaries. Lots of fluff and smut.

A/N: My first MCU fic! Let me know if I should do more of these.

Warning: Make-outs, kissing, no sex though.

Words: 1917 (I guess my longest fic so far)

Taglist: @scarletsoldierrr

“Hey, it’s me. Just got off from work. I am heading home, let me know if you want me to stop by.”

You sent Tony the voice message and descended the stairs to the subway.

Life was grueling, but finally it was getting good for you. You had a job at The New York times (you were practically an assistant’s assistant, but everyone starts at the bottom), you had recently moved into your first adult apartment and you had a boyfriend who was God sent.

Agreed, he was Tony Stark, but that had nothing to do with the fact that you were slowly but surely falling head over heels for him. It wasn’t about what he had or who he was, it was all about how he made you feel.

You unlocked the door to your apartment and set down your keys and bag and plopped down on your couch, a kitschy thrift store find. Your entire apartment was boho and rustic, quite resembling a Tumblr page. You often liked to think that you were the warm and quirky to Tony’s sleek and mechanical.

You realized that Tony had never been your house and you tried not to let it bother you because you were aware of his insane schedule.

You stripped down to your underwear and pulled your cashmere blanket around yourself. You reached under your couch and pull out the book you had been reading currently, eager to get lost in and leave behind the exhaustion of the day.

You woke up startled, the sound of metal scratching wood clear in the dead silence of the night. You were on high alert and the waited to see if the sound would repeat, but you couldn’t hear anything over the sound of your heart.

The front door opened and you held the book out in front of you, obviously thought that might help.

A black-haired head poked in and you promptly chucked the book at it.

“Tony! What the hell is wrong with you? Ever heard of knocking or ringing the bell?”

He chuckled and picked up the book and closed the door behind him.

“Sorry, I just wanted to see you and well it’s really late and I thought maybe you were asleep, but I wanted to come see you because I haven’t seen you in nearly a week. I thought any noise might wake you up, so I decided to try the lock.”

He walked up to you and noticed your bare shoulder and the blanket wrapped around your body and froze.

“Did I interrupt something?” he said with a laugh and you felt blood warming your face.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, I fell asleep reading and didn’t have time to put on clothes for your B&E stunt.”

“The gutter is a wonderful place for the mind, Y/N. We should take a trip down there sometime.”

“How did you even get in here?” you asked incredulously.

“Well a little bit of charm and a bit magic from these,” he said while doing jazz hands.

“Of course, you know how to pick a lock. Why am I even surprised?” you said as you motioned for him to sit on the chair.

He plopped down on the couch beside you instead.

“How was your day sweetheart?” Tony asked, slipping his hand in yours and kissing it while you answered.

“It wasn’t bad, what about you? You said and snuggled up to him.

“The usual, blew up a bunch of stuff in the lab, bickered with Banner, and got new toys for the R&D. Same old.”

You laughed and smacked his chest affectionately.

“You trouble Banner way too much.”

“Is that so?” Tony said as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder as both of you sit together in comfortable silence. He started drawing lazy circles on your bare shoulder. You sighed at his touch and mentally willed him to continue that.

The truth was that as much as you were both enjoying each other’s company, you were yet to move ahead in the bedroom department.

The extent of your physical activities went up to just heated kissing and the occasional stolen make out sessions when you hadn’t seen each other in a long time.

It bothered you tremendously that you were this nervous. You were aware of his reputation and the long list ex-flames, each more breathtaking than the last. In fact, the closest he had seen you this intimately was today.

“Hey,” you said as you looked into his eyes, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he said as he tucked a stray lock behind your ear.

You looked at his lips and then into his eyes and placed a quick peck on his lips.

His hand cupped your cheek and he looked at your lips with burning intent. You nod and his lips touched yours. The pressure of his lips, sweet at first, grew maddening and you gave his tongue the permission it sought. With each passing second you grew more frantic, hungry for him, kissing him like you had never kissed before in your life. He slipped his hands around your waist and you ran your hand over his biceps, while the other still clutched the blanket around your bare chest. He pulled you into his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs.

You placed your hand on his chest and went back to kissing him. You pulled away from the kiss and took Tony’s bottom lip between your teeth, applying enough pressure to elicit a groan from him. You loved the rush of power, the feeling that came from drawing out moans from him.

Just as you lifted your hand, the one securing the blanket, you grabbed it back, realizing that it was slipping away. Tony ran his hand up your back and bunched it in his hand, tight and secure.

“Go on, baby, I got you,” he whispered.

You didn’t have to be told twice. With a hand now free, you were determined to put it to good use. You ran your fingers through his hair, trailing your nails on his scalp while your lips moved in unison. You looked at him and smiled, deeply touched by him still securing your modesty, allowing you to explore this on your own terms.

You pulled his head back, exposing his throat and you peppered his neck with short, wet kisses. You stopped at certain places and grazed with your teeth, careful not to mark him. You followed each bite with a salve of your tongue, a heady combination of pain and pleasure.

Tony’s free hand found your chin and pulled you back to his lips, devouring them in carnal hunger, his hands lost in your hair, keeping you anchored to him.

You both came up for air and he took the opportunity to go to your neck. He placed a kiss at the hollow of your throat, the contrast of his soft kisses and his sharp beard making you mewl.

“Tony,” you rasped out as he started a sensory assault, going from your collar bones to the back of your ears.

“Tony, please,” you squirmed on his lap, the play of his teeth and tongue getting too overwhelming.

You gripped his hair, trying to push away a shudder, and looked straight into his eyes, making sure that he could see the flame of desire clear in your eyes.

“Anthony Edward Stark, let go of the blanket,” you said with a smirk and he loosened his grip on the blanket. The fabric slipped down your body, but his eyes never strayed from your eyes.

“Y/N, “he said stroking your cheek, “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know, “you said and took matters into your own hands, flinging the blanket across the room, your body bare and glowing from the soft, yellow lights placed around the room, bare all but a pair of French cut panties.

Tony cursed under his breath and flipped you on the couch, covering your body with his. He kissed his way up from your belly, going over your sternum and stopped just above your nipples. His fingers stroked and played with your breasts, touching everything, but your sensitive peaks. He looked at your face, your trembling, waiting body and swooped down to take one aching bud into his mouth.

You let out a broken gasp, touched this way after long, touched by the man you craved the most in the world. You placed your hands on his shoulder, pulling him closer. Your arched your back every time his skilled tongue pulled a move.

Tony came up for air and you brought his face above yours.

“My turn,” you whispered and pushed him to the side.

He started speaking, but you silenced him with a finger to his lips.

“My turn to play, Stark,” you said as you straddled him, pinning him in place.

Leaning forward, you captured his lips in yours, teasing him with your tongue. Your hands caressed his shoulder, marveling over his strength and the contrasting soft heart within him.

You sat back up and ran your hands through your hair, coyly meeting his gaze.

The room was silent except the sounds of your combined breathing. Tony ran his hands over your naked thighs, his calloused palms making you wish he was touching you somewhere else entirely. You grabbed the soft material of his worn out t-shirt.

The charged silence of the room was pierced by a seemingly deafening noise coming from your severely famished stomach. A rolling wave of embarrassment drowned you and you scrammed off his lap and on to the nearest chair, covering yourself up with another aesthetically placed blanket.

Your work had been so hectic and your boss had you running all over the city with various errands. Eating had not been a priority.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe I just did that,” you exclaimed, the logic completely escaping you that grumbling stomachs are hardly audible. All you could think about was that the first time you decided to take a step ahead with Tony your stomach demonstrated the dying call of a blue whale.

He walked up to you and knelt in front of you and placed his hands on the arm rest.

“Y/N, my love, hey look at me,.”

You muffled a no into your palms as you hid your face in them. You did peak out from between your fingers and once you registered his worried face, and dropped them.

“Hey, it’s okay. You never have to run away from me. Don’t do that to me. I am not a middle-school boy. It’s just a bit of grumbling. I am more worried about why you were hungry in the first place. Did you eat dinner yet?” he said, his voice brimming with concern.

You shook your head.

“Lunch?”

You shook your head again.

“What am I going to do with you? Come on,” he said as he pulled you up to your feet.

“I am just going to buy The New York Times, if that’s what is going to get you to eat on time,” he said, but laughed when he saw you look at him incredulously.

He threw his arm around your shoulder and walked you towards your kitchen, if you could call an open area with cooking appliances and vintage equipment that, and said,” I am just kidding, baby. Let me cook you something.”

Yup, definitely falling in love with Tony Stark.

#avengers #avengers fanfiction #avengers fandom #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu fandom #iron man #tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark x reader smut #tony stark x reader fluff #consent is sexy #science bros #fluff #new love #falling for tony stark

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rightsockjin · 4 years ago

Text

Here’s Number 13 with Yoongi! I hope y'all like it!

Summary: A road trip with your life long friend takes an unexpected turn for the best...

Rating: T (Teen- suggestive)

Genre: Fluff and like a hint of what could be smut...

Warnings: The ending... that’s it. Nothing triggering I think. Oh someone gets smacked in the ass. So there’s that... um... partial nudity. Underwear. ok yea.

Submit a request!

Prompt list

“Can you just get in the damn car?”

Yoongi wasn’t exactly a patient person.

From the day that you met him in middle school-

Well really you had met him sometime in Primary school but you had both at some point agreed that the story you would tell people when they asked when you two had met was that you met in middle school.

That being because well... you guys hated each other.

Kind of.

Yoongi hated you and you... well you didn’t take well to being hated.

That being said, when you guys did end up becoming friends, it was Yoongi who had proposed it after years of what he put as “rivalry”.

He’d asked you to share a Sunday with him and you guys spent the whole afternoon talking.

One thing led to another and from then on you were inseparable.

“But look at the sky,” you said, pointing at the stars as they had begun to ebb away with the moon.

It was slightly purple and pink and a little orange.

The sun was still too low to be seen but it was painting the sky prettily.

“We can look at the stars some other time. We’re gonna be late.”

You rolled your eyes as a shiver went through your whole body.

It was your annual winter road trip and every year, without fail, you refused to bring a thick enough coat.

“Late to what? We don’t even have a destination dude.”

Maybe it was because you-

Pft.

You couldn’t even think of a good excuse for yourself anymore.

In all honesty-

Which is something you had started to do recently.

Honestly.

-you realized at some point on the last road trip that it was because you liked it much better when Yoongi groaned... then smiled... and gave you his.

“Late to the beginning.”

Ooooooookaaayyy?

Whatever what meant.

“Yoongi... are you sure that you got enough sleep?”

Yoongi shrugged.

“Probably. I slept from like three until six,” he said, as you ripped your eyes from the beautiful sky.

“That’s three hours,” you gaped through the rolled down window.

The car hummed softly. The warmth emanating from the engine transferred from the aura surrounding it into your bones.

But not your teeth.

They... were chattering something fierce.

“Yo-you’re fucking joking right?”

When he didn’t answer you made an ugly noise somewhere in the back of your throat and hit the roof of his-

1988 maroon thunderbird

(And don’t you forget it)

(...it’s his baby)

(It even has a name)

-car.

Yoongi’s hooded eyes shot wide open in surprise and what you knew to be anger because- well-

Let’s face it.

Yoongi has one facial expression and it’s usually somewhere between annoyed and indifferent.

He was the picture of a human grumpy cat with softer eyes.

Dark hair...

Soft...skin....

Where were you?

Oh yeah!

Yoongi glared at you. His nostrils flared.

“Did you just hit Jisu?”

His voice was even.

It wavered not.

And neither would you.

He was a big softy. Yoongi was all bark and no bite. Even his bark was reminiscent of a Chihuahua.

And not one of those feisty ones. More like one of the rat things that had no hair and barked under their breath when you tried to pet them.

...without teeth...

...with their tongue sticking out....

“Yoongi... it’s a car.”

“Y/N... it’s my pride and joy.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Whatever. I’m not getting in your death trap when you haven't had a proper eight hours, Yoongles.”

“Listen, Squirt,” he began and waves upon waves of distaste rolled over your spine. Your skin pimpled as a blush rose to your cheeks.

You HATED when he called you...

*shiver*

*gag*

Squirt

“...and you know that I do NOT like when people hit her! She’s beat up enough as it is without having people like you smacking on her-“

SMACK

You’d hit the front hood a little harder than you would have regularly just to shut him up.

A small wrinkle formed between his eyebrows. His lips fell open like he couldn’t really be bothered to hold it closed.

His pink tongue poked out slightly over his teeth.

He clicked, then-

“Okay fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yep.”

...you-what?

“Yes what?”

He pursed his lips and crossed his arms behind the stealing wheel.

“The road trip is canceled.”

You gaped at him.

Like that.

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change. Instead, he uncrossed his arms and turned the engine off.

Slowly, but resolutely, he opened the driver’s side door and stepped out of the car.

“I-wha- Wait! Yoongi,” you ran around the front to where he stood.

He slammed the car door shut but he wasn’t angry. He patted the roof of the car affectionately, his back turned to you.

“...you can’t cancel-“

“Well you won’t get in the Jisu with me behind the wheel and you don’t know how to drive a fucking stick shift... what else is there to do?”

He was teasing you.

There was no way that he would cancel.

It was tradition after all.

And he would NEVER break tradition.

Well ok-

Yoongi wasn’t usually traditional.

Unless it came to you and your friendship.

He’s violently loyal to the point that one time-

When some guy had asked you out, upon your confirmation, promptly spanked your ass in the middle of home room, he’d stood without hesitation and slapped the dude’s ass back.

He’d gotten detention for a month.

The other guy, a month and a slap to the ass.

There was also a time when a nasty rumor was going around the school that that same guy and you were in a very... presumptuous position and your reputation had been shot.

Most of your other friends had believed it but not Yoongi.

Yoongi went around shooting nasty looks at anyone who dared say a bad word about you.

That’s when things had changed.

In retrospect.

For you at least. You doubt anything had changed for Yoongi.

But for you... that summer... the one of your junior year... changed everything.

No one was talking to you anymore. Your girls were now-

The Bitches ™️

And the only friend you had was Yoongi.

Your yoongi.

He’d become that then.

Yours...

Even though it wasn’t your place to make him so.

But you couldn’t help it. He’d changed. He’s grown an inch.

He’d started to work out-

And then stopped at the request of his mother because his clothing wasn’t fitting him and honestly Yoongi’s family didn’t have enough money to buy new threads-

-and for some ungodly reason, his father had given him his car and his now favorite cowhide leather jacket.

Vintage.

Let’s get that straight people.

It is vintage. Not old.

It was something in the way he listened to you.

With gentle nods and sarcasm at the ready.

It was his fake laugh.

And his laughter...

And the beautiful mornings

The way his gums popped out when you were falling asleep after pulling an all nighter under the stars.

It was his essence.

“I-well... but the road trip is-“

“Over unless you miraculously acquired the ability to drive stick or...”

He paused, looking at you over his leather clad shoulder.

“You get in Jisu, settle the snacks and apologize.”

You huffed. Your breath is visible in the early morning sky.

“I...” it was like being gutted.

Like a fish.

A cold dead fish...

“Am sorry.”

Whew.

That was tough but now you didn’t have to worry about him being salty all the way to-

“Not to me,” Yoongi said, interrupting your thoughts.

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

“Apologize to Jisu.”

“The car?” You said under your breath.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, a smug gum smile in place, “the car.”

You deflated.

He wasn’t kidding.

That was the worst part.

He genuinely wanted you to apologize to…

Jisu

The car.

With embarrassment filling your empty stomach-

Well save for your heart which was digesting nicely!

-you sighed and said:

“Jisu... sweet... old... rundown-“

“Watch it,” Yoongi groaned.

“Fine! I’m sorry I hit you. It was rude of me. Will you ever forgive me and let me ride you?”

There was a pause in which you processed your own words.

You hadn’t meant to.

And really, if your mind wasn’t in the gutter it would have meant nothing but your Innuendo hung in the freezing air around you.

Damn were you good at saying stupid shit.

Yoongi cleared his throat and moved closer to you.

Your heart-

Now in a puddle.

-skipped a beat.

Your cheeks rouged.

He wasn’t touching you but you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. The warmth contrasted strangely with the coolness of the morning.

God... what you would give for his lips to touch you.

For his hands to graze your skin.

To wrap around your waist-

“WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT JISU DOES NOT ACCEPT YOUR APOLOGY AND FEELS HARASSED!”

You jumped a foot in the air.

Your arms flung around you in fear. Your elbow hit against something.

Pain shot through your arm.

You turned only to see Yoongi holding his shoulder-

The one someone had nearly run over a couple years ago and he’d had problems with since.

-and your panic soared.

“Oh my God! Are you okay? Why did you fucking yell in my ear dumb ass!”

Regardless of your harsh words, you rushed over to his side as his face screwed up in pain.

Pain you caused.

Fuck.

But he was laughing.

He couldn’t be that badly hurt could he?

“If your next question is if I’ll let you ride me the answer is a hard yes.”

Humiliation and anger rushed through your veins and into your fingertips.

Of their own accord, they began to smack every part of him they could reach.

“HEY! Why does Jisu get a better apology than me?!”

“Because Jisu is a girl and not an ass!”

It was in the way you always got the same taco from the corner stores and also rolled your eyes when he mentioned your addiction to strong coffee.

It was the way you snorted lightly-

And sometimes not so lightly.

-as he drove into the day.

It was the way you were drooling in that exact moment as the sun hit your pretty face and the seat was pulled back as far as it could possibly go.

Or maybe it was none of those things.

Or all of them.

Yoongi had lost track if he was honest.

Of all the things that made him wish he could tell you how he felt.

That he loved the moles that covered your body.

The shine from your hair after it was freshly dried.

He loved your musky perfume and the lotions you’d purchased in bulk because:

“If I like it might as well buy 12 of them.”

He loved your logic and the lack thereof.

He loved your style.

The way you refused to “ruin” an outfit with a jacket if it didn’t match and how- without fail- you always wore whatever jacket he handed you completely disregarding what you always said.

Like the one that he had lain over your trembling body as you slept when he’d stopped to use the restroom.

It was his dad’s.

It was old-

Vintage as you liked to say.

(Or bugged him by saying any time he tried to say it was old.)

It was riddled with discoloration.

It was his most prized possession.

Right after his car.

And you.

Though he’d never admit it.

And seeing you inside the car with his jacket draped over you like a blanket was doing things to him that he couldn’t comprehend.

It was like being enveloped in silk and velvet after a nice hot bath filled with lavender and rosewood and vanilla.

It was like soft musk caressing the folds of his brain, sending dopamine straight to the pleasure center of his cranium.

What he would give to touch you.

... in a less than platonic way.

The way your jaw stayed placidly open was also doing things to him.

This much less... soft

And a lot more

Well there’s no sugar coating.

Hard.

You stirred in your slumber.

His thoughts jarred to a stop.

You blinked then woke slowly. Confusion was evident in your eyes.

Quickly replaced by realization.

You looked down at the leather on your body.

The slightest smile pulled at your pretty lips.

You didn’t sit up.

You curled your small hands into the leather and snuggled against the softness.

“Morning,” you said, your voice slightly higher pitched.

A shiver ran through his nerves. His skin pimpled.

“You mean midday,” he corrected with a chastising roll of his eyes but the corners of his lips pulled up.

Fuck.

You.

...WAIT NO!

He shook his head, trying to keep his eyes forward and his mind on the road.

“Same difference,” you grumbled, pushing your arms through the sleeves of the jacket the wrong way.

Your short fingers stuck out at the edge.

A brief image of those same fingers pumping and wrapped around his-

“When’s lunch? I’m starving.”

He swallowed thickly.

“Well we ate maybe like four hours ago... “

“Exactly. I need food,” you said, righting your seat.

“We have snacks,” he said.

“But like... I want a burger.”

“Isn’t it too early for your road trip burger?”

Because every single road trip without fail, you both stopped at your favorite burger place and ate but it was only once in the whole road trip and you usually liked to save it for the road trip back to wherever you had come from for that year so you had something to look forward to.

“Mmmm, I’m feeling a shift in the matrix,” you said.

“Do you even know what the matrix is? Have you seen that movie?”

Offended, you turned to Yoongi.

He stayed facing the front.

“I LOVE Tom Cruise.”

“He’s not in that movie genius.”

You were silent for a second. Your eyes were wide.

“Hm... could have sworn....”

He smiled at the sun almost right above the car. There was not a cloud in the sky and he didn’t feel the least bit tired.

On the other hand he felt completely rejuvenated.

After a couple of miles, Yoongi let his smile settle and he cleared his throat as u set up your favorite road trip playlist.

You glance at him.

“You might wanna wipe the drool from your cheek by the way.”

“Fu-damn it Yoongi, why didn’t you say something earlier?”

It was raining.

Heavily.

Sadly, no men in sight aside from your long time friend.

Though...

Maybe not so sadly.

It had only been a couple more hours.

You had stopped for your burger.

And the sun was up and then-

BOOM

Thunderstorm.

Honestly, you were slightly worried.

Yoongi had been driving for a total of about ten hours that day and he’d been running on three hours of sleep.

You guys still had a couple more days of road trip to go.

Usually they lasted around three to four depending on how annoying you are being. And that’s counting the drive back home.

But at this rate... you guys might have to turn back early.

Now, you had no real clue where you guys were headed.

You never really did.

Yoongi never told you.

But it was cool.

Cool cool cool cool cool

Totally cool.

You trusted him and he had never led you astray.

Though... that one time when you guys got lost for nearly a week because he refused to check the GPS was kind of astray....

Anyway.

You never doubted he had good plans.

He’d taken you to amusement parks and landmarks and historical sights just for the hell of it.

He’d taken you wonderful places so you had never questioned him.

This time... you really, really wanted to know if a thunderstorm was even worth it.

You opened your mouth to ask but were instantly shushed.

Taken aback your eyes widened.

Again you tried to speak but one of Yoongi’s fingers came up to your lips to keep you silent.

“Look it’s coming down hard and I really cannot focus when you speak.”

You crossed your arms, his leather jacket rumpled slightly as it rubbed against itself after you had put it on correctly.

It smelled so much like him.

The leather smell permeated through your nostrils. But under it was something else. Something woody and fresh that was so... Yoongi, it made your head spin.

You frowned but settled in your seat with your mouth shut.

Soft lo-fi filled the air in the car.

You were no longer cold.

For obvious reasons which didn’t include the heating because it was broken in the car.

But you felt a shiver of fear run down your spine.

Yoongi’s black hoodie seemed darker now that the sky was cloudy.

It was pulled up to his elbows, his forearms out in the open-

As if that wasn’t illegal or some shit.

- and flexed slightly. His veins, prominent.

Another chill ran down your body.

This time... for a reason completely unrelated to your circumstances.

It was going to be a long drive.

The car broke.

Jisu broke.

It was about time it did too.

Though Yoongi was having a hard time.

Honestly... he was tearing up.

Or at least, you thought he was.

But he refused to look at you as the tow truck dropped you off at the nearest motel.

It was still raining ugly and you were still unbelievably cold.

Though maybe you were playing it up a little so that Yoongi would put up with you cuddling into his side.

It was partially for you but it was also for him.

He didn’t want to admit it but you knew.

You knew he needed something to ground him.

What better to do that with than with yourself?

“We’re here,” the driver said, squinting through the downpour.

“Thanks again for the lift,” you said since you knew Yoongi wouldn’t speak in fear of his voice breaking.

“Well you gotta pay darlin’” the driver said with a wink in your direction.

“But you’re welcome nonetheless. I can try to get you closer if you would like. Wouldn’t want you and your boyfriend getting a cold.”

A deep crimson blush filled the blood vessels in your cheeks and neck.

Your throat closed.

You coughed.

On instinct you pushed Yoongi away and made a disgusted face.

Yoongi’s nose twitched, his shoulders slumped.

“We- were not-“

“She’s single,” Yoongi said, his voice much stronger than you expected it to be.

“Friends,” he clarified.

Disappointment flooded your mind.

Friends. And that was that.

“I’m sorry but we only have one room available for the night,” the clerk said.

There was only one room?

“Does it at least have two beds?” Yoongi asked, giving you a worried look over his shoulder.

His hair was slicked to his head.

Waving slightly.

“I’m sorry sir,” the clerk said, “it’s a single queen bed. That’s really all we have.”

There’s only one bed????

What the fuck kind of fan fiction were you living in?

What are the damn odds?

Being friends since forever ago did not mean that you had shared a bed before.

There had always been a line that you didn’t-

Couldn’t

Wouldn’t

-cross.

This was by no means normal.

You glanced around the lobby trying to avoid looking at your friend.

“Well... okay. Shit. Yeah give me the room,” Yoongi said under his breath as if you, not hearing him, would make up for him taking the room.

He didn’t want you to think he’d planned this.

He hadn’t.

Why would he have?

How could he have?

He can’t control the fucking weather.

Regardless, as he got the key to the room he couldn’t help but feel sleazy.

He paid then thanked the clerk.

You were shivering.

Damn you and your insistence on not wearing a damn jacket.

His wasn’t enough.

You needed a shower. A warm one.

Your lips were nearly blue.

Without hesitation, he picked up his duffle and your rolling suitcase.

He casually walked up to you and wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders.

The leather was wet.

And now ten times colder.

He led you to the hallways of rooms on the first floor.

It was the last room in the far corner.

Yoongi had thought of multiple scenarios in which you guys ended up in a room together but never had he thought it would be while you guys were “just friends”.

You shivered under the weight of his arm.

“Come on, Squirt. Let’s get you in dry clothes.”

There were two things you hated:

Being cold,

And

Yoongi calling you Squirt.

Yet, this time... you were grateful for the cold.

And for the nickname.

Was it-

*gasp*

Growing on you?

Yoongi opened the door and with it came the strong scent that inevitably came with hotels.

To you, it had always been kind of comforting.

Like family trips and new adventures.

Today though, it smelled very much like nerves and fear and something shifting in the air.

It felt like nothing was moving.

Even as you stepped into the room and onto the slightly too dark green carpet, it felt like the world around you both had stopped turning.

Yoongi’s arm fell from around you and you mourned the loss.

You listened rather than watched him bring the bags in.

It was somewhere between 60-70 degrees and the wetness of your hair was seeping into your scalp.

Still, you refused to take off the jacket that was growing heavier and heavier as the rain soak in.

“Hey Y/N, give me the jacket.”

You spun around as he set down the luggage. He held a hand out.

Suddenly, you really didn’t want to get rid of it.

It felt like your second skin.

“Uh... but I’m cold,” you argued.

“And if you stay in that jacket you’re going to catch a cold. Hand it over.”

He curled his fingers in a “come hither” motion.

Your throat went dry.

Then, as if under a spell, you pulled the slightly heavy leather off of you and handed it off.

Yoongi watched you remove the jacket in a trance-like state.

You were staring at his hand.

He felt the fabric fall into his palm but he wasn’t looking.

He was staring, mouth open at your shirt.

Your white, long sleeve, wet, shirt.

And you know.

We all know…

What happens when a white shirt gets wet.

And now, Yoongi had the full boob-

PROOF

(dude that doesn’t even sound the same)

He had the full proof.

He blinked owlishly, glued to the way the fabric stuck to your chest.

He could see the skin tone bra that you were wearing.

The lines of your stomach visible lightly.

All the blood rushed to one of two places.

You know which.

Don’t lie.

He pressed the cold jacket against his body so that it covered what was quickly growing.

You watched him curiously as his mouth shut with a click.

You followed his gaze as goosebumps covered your arms.

That’s when you saw it.

And embarrassment wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what you felt.

You crossed your arms over your chest but you couldn’t turn away.

There was something else running through your veins aside from the humiliation.

Hope.

Because Yoongi wasn’t turning away and you weren’t stupid either.

You could see the strategic way that he was holding the slightly dripping jacket right in front of his…

Area…

And he had taken his eyes off your chest and now wasn’t even looking at you.

In a sudden burst of confidence-

And let's be honest, probably terrible judgement.

-you shimmied out of your shirt and balled it up.

Without letting yourself think of it too much before you chickened out, you tossed it right at his chest area.

Since it was wet, it made a wet-

PLOP

On his shoulder.

Confusion was clear on his expressionless face as he looked at the fabric.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes in question then did a double take.

You licked your lips nervously but tried to keep your nerves at bay.

This was normal.

You always hung out in your bra with your oldest friend.

Everyday things…

Pft.

Easy.

“Wh-what are you doing,” Yoongi asked, his voice wavering.

“The shirt was soaked through. I thought that I should get out of it as well.”

Then mustering all of your courage, you unbutton your jeans.

The pop of the button was unnaturally loud in your ears.

The zipper was deafening.

“W-wait! Y/N what the fuck?”

You looked up trying to keep your ‘this is totally normal’ look on your face.

“Getting out of my wet clothes. Isn’t that what you said for me to do?”

“I said to get out of my jacket,” he said harshly, using it to gesture at you half naked. Your fingers hooked on the waistband of your jeans.

“Well the logic follows, doesn’t it? Wet jacket,wet shirts, wet pants…”

You pushed them down your legs without looking at him.

“Off.”

You heard him hiss under his breath.

Fear gripped you as the cold air of the room hit your skin which was a little moist.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at,” Yoongi began.

There was anger in his voice.

“But whatever it is. It’s not funny,” he finished throwing the jacket onto the floor.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked into the restroom.

Your heart sank.

It was later in the night and you were huddled under the white blankets of the queen bed and Yoongi had yet to come out of the restroom.

You had thought you’d heard some low grunts coming from the restroom but then the shower had turned on and you heard nothing but the rain and the water.

Of course, unbeknownst to you, the grunts were very real.

Very much soft-

(in volume)

- for a reason.

And very much because of you.

It was when it was getting too intense that Yoongi decided to take a cold shower to calm down his hormones.

Still, he had decided to stay in the restroom for most of the night.

He was a night person anyway.

Always got his best thinking done when the moon was full and up.

This was no different.

He sat on the toilet seat, his legs spread wide and his elbows on his knees.

He was in his underwear and the shirt he had worn all day.

He hadn’t gotten the courage to walk out.

Not with the humiliation of having beat one out

(well not completely just a little bit)

(not that he was...little…)

To you in a bathroom while you were partially naked in the next room.

He couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

Were you just so comfortable with him that you guys had crossed the friendship line to the point of no return?

Or were you attracted to him and that was some grand gesture?

Either way, he was terrified to guess wrong.

Why had he thought that this year would be different?

Why had he thought he could sweep you away on some romantic road trip in his crappy old car when he didn’t know the first thing about being romantic?

His idea of romantic was throwing a vintage-

Old.

let's call it how it is.

Old jacket on you when you were asleep.

It was spanking that asshole who had smacked your ass all those years ago.

And sticking by you when your other friends turned away from you.

It was branding them the Bitches and making sure that you knew that you hadn’t been at fault for the rumors.

Romantic Yoongi held your hand through your first year of collage and held your hair back the first time you drank too much.

It was him tucking you in when you guys spent all night out looking at the stars.

It was taking care of you when you were sick.

It was…

Throwing his prized jacket on you when you were cold…

And sacrificing his jacket so that the rain didn’t hit you directly even thought that might ruin it…

...

So he could see how you guys were confused.

Because isn’t that what friends did all the time?

Take care of each other?

And now, he had crossed a line he couldn’t get back from.

It was too late.

He’d missed his window-

If there was any window to begin with.

He’d missed it.

And maybe he just needed to be okay with that.

When you woke up, it was still super dark.

You half expected it to still be night but when you reached for your phone you realized that it was nearly noon and Yoongi hadn’t woken you.

You sat up, forgetting that you had slept in your underwear.

The sheets slipped from your top, the bra still on.

Suffice to say, your chest hurt.

Instinctively, you reached behind you to unclasp the bra but-

“Hey-hey-hey! Man in the room,” you heard from somewhere.

Your hands halted, still groggy, you blinked in the darkness.

“What man? All I hear is a grumpy Yoongi,” you mumbled, rubbing the sleep from your eyelids.

A sigh.

A groan.

Then a lamp turned on before you.

The light hit your sensitive eyes. You blinked against the brightness and when you could finally comfortably open your eyes, your jaw dropped.

Yoongi-

Your Yoongi was sitting in the beige armchair.

His pale legs were spread wide.

His boxers-

He was wearing boxers…

!!!!

-were far too loose and hung on his thighs.

From your position, you could see his bulge though it was clearly not hard, or at least not entirely.

Still, the fabric was pulled over it.

His chest was covered with a white T-shirt.

His arms were on the arm rests.

Your mouth fell open.

Water…

God you needed water.

You looked around you but there was not a single glass in sight.

“I don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve realized, Squirt but I am very much a man.”

You avoided his eyes.

“I try not to think of you that way.” you mumbled, pulling the sheets up to your chest.

Lying through your teeth…

You know..

Like a liar.

There was a pause.

“Why are you so shy all of a sudden? Last night you had no problem stripping in front of me.”

You froze.

What...what was happening here?

“You- you seemed less than happy about that if I recall correctly,” you said then when he said nothing you added, “and don’t call me Squirt.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

And ran a hand through his hair.

It stood on end.

Fuck.

Fuck….

He looked so hot.

“Only because you caught me off guard. Now,” he gestured between himself and you, his fingers conveniently pointing towards…

“We’re even.”

Even?

“So if you were to take off something else, I’d have to as well. For fairness. Of course.”

You-

Did he-

“We-Fair? Do- Do you hear yourself right now?”

You scrunch your nose.

You smelled something fishy.

Veerry...veeery fishy.

“Yes I speak korean, Y/N. The question is,” he stood, his boxers settling over his long legs, his shirt was tucked slightly into the elastic at his hips.

Where were you supposed to look?

The muscles on his arms.

His thighs, begging you to ride-

Or somewhere in the middle?

He had to know what he was doing to you.

He had to know that walking around in the loosest pair of boxers would draw your eyes straight to the center of his legs.

He wasn’t stupid.

So what angle was he playing?

(Acute ;])

“...Do you?”

He was by your side now. Your face was level with his stomach.

How does one react when your closest friend of your whole life is suddenly very close to naked in front of y-

…

Ohhhhhhhhhh....

“This is about me stripping yesterday...isn’t it?”

You held the covers up to your chest awkwardly.

Suddenly, you felt really stupid.

You shouldn’t have stripped without his consent.

You just really thought that...if you pushed a little, He’d see you as more than just “That girl that he hated in elementary school and is now stuck to him like gum.”

Did you just make that up?

Yeah.

Okay.

Moving on…

“What do you think,” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. The muscles flexed under the white. Behind him, through the mirror, you could see his back side reflected.

Sculpted.

Fucking damn it.

If he was going to reject you couldn’t he have done it with pants on??

“I think…” but you couldn’t think. It was too much.

Too soon.

Too quickly.

You were on the edge of spilling the beans.

Teetering on a cliff and you couldn’t see the ground.

Was it ocean below?

You didn’t know.

You shook your head and forced yourself to look into his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Yoongles… I’m sorry,” you said.

His smug smile fell.

A small frown pulled at his lips and his shoulders slumped.

Yoongi had made a choice. He’d decided he was going to push.

He’d decided it was time to tell you.

This coming after he got a call fairly early in the morning about the car needing a part that wasn’t available and they wouldn’t be handing him Jisu that day.

Meaning… you guys were stuck together for another day.

In a motel.

Alone.

With nothing to do.

This was why he’d decided to wait for you in his boxers.

You’d made the first move and now it was his turn.

He’d hoped you would reciprocate.

But he had clearly been wrong.

It wasn’t that you were trying to seduce him.

No…

You had simply grown too comfortable with each other and your state of half dress had nothing to do with hidden feelings for him.

Well, he supposed that at least he hadn’t declared his love for you like he’d planned to do initially…

...as much as saying “Hey, I kind of wouldn’t mind going out with you”-

(this was a big deal because Yoongi avoided leaving his house at all costs… in all honesty, he hated road trips but you made it bearable and even a little fun)

- could be considered declaring his love for you.

He didn’t think he could handle the look of disgust on your cute face as he told you he had feelings for you.

Feelings…

What a joke.

Maybe this was for the best.

If you stayed friends, then it was probable that you guys would never stop talking to each other.

Another thing he couldn’t handle was losing you.

“It’s no fun if you just apologize, Squirt,” he said after a brief pause, choosing to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

You sighed.

He’d confirmed your worst fear.

He didn’t like you.

Not in the way you liked him.

And you’d made him uncomfortable.

“Do you want me to take it back and give you the wrong answer then? You know, for your pride?”

Yoongi sighed then chuckled.

“Would you? It would really make my day.”

You smiled up at your friend.

Like two pieces of a puzzle you had fallen back into your old dynamic.

It was almost like you guys weren’t standing half naked in front of each other.

“Anything to make your day, Yoongles.”

In a second, Yoongi had scooted you over. The other side of the bed was cold but you didn’t mind.

He slipped under the covers next to you.

He’d settled under them, his body faced towards you before he spoke again. A small smile on his soft baby lips.

“Is it weird that I’m starting to like when you call me ‘Yoongles’?”

You mirrored his position, putting a hand under your head. Your chest was slightly exposed, still covered by the sheets but he didn’t look down and you didn’t mind.

“No… is it weird I’m starting to like you calling me Squirt?”

“No,” he confirmed with a slight shrug.

A comfortable silence built up between you. Your eyes started to feel heavy.

Tentatively, Yoongi reached out and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His soft touch made you fall further into the land of sleep.

When your breath had evened out, Yoongi tapped your nose then traced your slightly parted lips.

This road trip hadn’t gone how he wanted it to.

Not by a long shot.

But he couldn't say he was totally disappointed.

As you slept, he felt his own eyes begin to close. His eyelids were heavy.

He fell into the comfortable darkness not too long after you did.

You guys were friends.

And maybe, he just had to accept that.

Maybe it was for the best.

And maybe… just maybe… he could grow to be okay with it.

Some day.

Don’t hate me....

Masterlist

126 notes · View notes

shadowsfascination · 4 years ago

Text

Dreams

Hot. Moist. Sweat. It gushed off him while he twisted and turned under the sheets, barely awake and still under the spell of a teasing dream. A soft sound, in between a growl and a moan, managed to escape Shadow’s lips, even with his mouth as dry as a desert.

His eyes were half-lidded, continuously blinking at a rapid speed. He gasped, clasping his hands into the ball of fumbled sheets atop him as if longing to hold on to something. His sub-conscious mind started registering the stimulus of the cold on one of his legs that peeked out under the blanket. He tugged it back under the warm, somewhat clammy sheets and a inhaled with a series of grated breaths.

“Shit… This again?”

Shadow laid his head to rest on the pillow below him and stared at the ceiling in the dark. His spiky quills pressed into the cushion, the cool cotton fabric nicely fluffing against his skin. It wasn’t until recently that he noticed how everything seemed to be the same saturated colour in the dark.

Not until these dreams decided to wake me up at the same darn point every night.

He grunted. Not only did he want to fall asleep again, he yearned to dream on that one particular dream. Shadow wriggled once more, huddling in attempt to find a comfortable position to drift off again- fast. He shut his eyes and snuggled up to the pillow beside him in the bed. A muffled groan carried away from underneath it. He was already too awake, too aroused to glide back in his dream again.

Fuck!

The black hedgehog sat up straight in a bed that wasn’t his. Ever since Amy left town two days ago for her internship, he decided he’d sleep in hers, which he convinced himself was fine… She asked me to check in on her house sometimes and I know where her spare key is hidden. It’s not like I’m doing something wrong…

In the pockets of his black jacket was an unfinished joint and a lighter- almost empty, judging by its’ weight. He opened the window in her bedroom, lit the joint and inhaled the smoke. Shadow rested his elbows on the windowsill, picturing Amy’s reaction to him smoking this stuff inside her home. Undoubtedly she’d show that cute, irresistible, agitated blush spread across her cheeks.

It had been that particular look on her face that lit a romantic spark in him. He remembered scoffing himself for the very first time after tracing the slightest affection for her. She was his friend and it should’ve stayed like that. But it didn’t and he had a love-hate relationship with his feelings for her.

Part of him despised the lack of self-discipline that eventually allowed him to fall for her, but then again: who could not fall for Amy Rose?

The young woman was simply amazing; kind, brave, strong, gorgeous, honest and pure. Hanging out with her was never an obligation to him. Even if he acted indifferent in the past, it was a mere cover. He enjoyed being with her so much that the innocent one-sided crush he made himself believe it’d become, faded over time to be replaced with an overwhelming sense of… lovesickness? Lust?

Shadow had yet to come to terms with whatever stirred inside him- if he’d ever decide to stop lying to himself. He craved being with her, even if it was just as her friend. But friends didn’t look the way he looked at her, the way he saw her, the way his mind was toyed with by her.

And lately it had gotten much worse. A feeling of possessiveness grew inside him when she told him her plans for a yearlong internship overseas. Surely she’d meet new people, make new friends, go out and meet guys. Guys who’d eventually find an interest in her. Shadow feared he might lose his chance with her forever. And yet… he’d just let her go like it was no big deal, casually waving her off like Sonic had. Along with his sigh marihuana scented smoke escaped his lips.

He looked at his phone. Nothing. His inbox was unusually quiet after Amy briefly informed him she’d arrived at her destination. It made him restless and impatient.

“I can’t believe I’m just as stupid as that faker…”

That last part was what made it so ugly. Sonic had taken Amy for granted for over a decade. Shadow had gladly been her shoulder to cry on and often told her he couldn’t understand how poorly the blue blur treated her. And now he had sunk as low as his rival when what he really longed for was to make Amy his girl and walk beside her, showing her off, proud as a peacock.

He imagined pulling her into a passionate kiss, one that would weaken her knees, send shivers down her spine. One that made it loud and clear to everyone that she was his woman. Now that was a decent goodbye! He sighed once again. She should be his!

Shadow’s mind drifted off to the night before she left. Amy went home early from the farewell-party her friends had thrown her. She had excused herself by stating she wanted a good night of sleep before her journey the next day, but asked Shadow to hang out with her in the end. Just the two of them. He knew far too well she’d do that.

Something in the way she acted that night puzzled his mind. It had lit sparks of hope that she felt the same way about him. If he wasn’t mistaken, there’d been this tense atmosphere between them.

____________________________________

“My turn! Shadow, can you hand me that?”

…

“Shadow?!”

Amy frantically gestured with her hands to make contact with a Shadow whose mind seemed to have drifted off. The introverted hedgehog got sucked into his own mind, quietly moping and pouting to himself in his thoughts about her departure.

Blinking when he finally noticed her, she was already so close to him that it startled him a little. Sucking off the tip of the joint he held between his fingers, he instantly stiffened up. Shaking a little as he watched her, he became helpless to the arousal from the image and the prickling heat that flushed through his body.

The girl looked up to him, colouring his cheeks in a deep red, her lips still enclosing the tip. He was quickly to shift his gaze away from her, feeling she’d see right through him if he stared at her any longer.

“Sorry. I was out of it for a bit.”

She didn’t take it from him. Instead Amy let out a muffled ‘U-huh’ and guided his hand to her lips again to have another pull of the joint. Without warning she tucked her arms behind him, pulling him into a hug and chuckled a delightful laughter.

“Cheer up! I’m gonna miss you too, you know?”

“Tsk, darn right, you will!”

Amy snorted at his silly reply and gave him a playful push.

“It’s the truth and you know it.”

Shadow raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, faking an arrogance that actually fit his personality quite well at times. Amy however saw straight through his act, aware that he found it difficult that she left. Despite everything they ended up being the best of friends and she was sure he’d feel lonely and bored without her.

“We can still catch up on the phone and stuff. It’s only for a year. It’ll be over before we know it. Besides, you’re gonna be busy too in the meantime. I’m so excited for you about the project you were tasked with. You always wanted to do this stuff, right?”

“Yeah, it’s something I’m looking forward to. I’ve always wanted to work with plants. I’ll get to investigate, plant and look after all these rare species the Central City’s botanical garden’s been given after the archaeologist department found this hidden, preserving millions of seeds.”

“A nice change of pace for you, after your last missions. Promise to show me around sometime when I’m back, okay?”

“Gladly.”

“Yay! Now… I need something sweet!” Amy said when a munchie kicked in. “But already I emptied my cabinets… Argh!”

“Wait here.”

Shadow jumped off the roof they sat on and walked up to his motorcycle. Amy watched him lift up the seat and grab something out the space hidden underneath it. He jumped up and pulled himself up on the gutter with two brown paper bags clenched between his teeth. A gleeful smile instantly spread across Amy’s face when she recognized the logo on them. He handed her one.

“I put another in your backpack for your trip tomorrow as well.”

“Aaah, you’re the best!”

Amy opened the bag and couldn’t fight the giddy, happy squeak that escaped her lips. All of her favourite candy from her #1 candy store in Spring Yard was in it, which wasn’t close to their hometown. Shadow must’ve gone out of his way to get this for her and he clearly put in some thought into picking out the confectionary in the paper bag. She happily stuffed her mouth with it and heard Shadow snicker beside her.

“You’re precious.” He chuckled at her.

“What? Oh! I probably look ridiculous.”

“I think it’s endearing.”

She quickly gulped it down and fake-shyly fidgeted, trying to compensate for what she thought was unladylike behaviour. In sudden confusion Amy scratched her quills. Since when did she care about that when she was with Shadow?

She then spotted Shadow unroll a liquorish-fruity roll, her absolute favourite. Tearing the paper bag as she searched for it in hers, her face soured, eye-lids dropping halfway down. She regretted she impulsively ate all the candy in three big bites.

“That’s what you get for eating them all at once.” Shadow said.

He shrugged and put the end of the now unrolled, spaghetti-like candy in his mouth with an amused expression. Amy turned around, bent over him and took a bite from the candy string, her grin turning as smug as his was before. Surprised by the pleasurable tension she experienced from being so close to him, she giggled her unease away.

There wasn’t much left of the candy string. To bite off that last piece, she practically had to kiss him. The thought spread a burning sensation through her chest. With Shadow’s heart jolting rapidly and the blood whizzing in his ears, he slowly sucked up the candy string into his mouth to see how she would react.

Don’t think too much of it. She’s just teasing me! Isn’t she? Shadow thought to himself.

Locking her jade eyes with his ruby ones, Amy leaned in a little closer. Shadow didn’t protest. Amy bit her lip for a second, but then enclosed her rosy lips around the other end of what was left of the short candy string.

He took in her flowery scent and felt her breath gently brush against his lips, their noses almost touching. His palms turned sweaty inside his gloves. Amy’s face was blazing, its’ heat radiating against his own.

He cupped his hands around her back ever so carefully, putting the smallest amount of pressure on them. Aghast and undecided Amy sat down on his lap, one hand on his chest, the other tracing the outlines of his lips.

Shadow decided to take the leap and leaned in a little closer to bite off the string when his phone loudly buzzed in his jacket, startling the hedgehogs. Amy squeaked and quickly slid off his lap, her face and ears coloured in a deep pink blush. Shadow awkwardly hid his face from her, grabbing his phone while he inaudibly cursed whoever ruined this moment for him.

Rouge: ‘Do you really think this is a good idea?’

What the-? How’d she even-? If she’s been spying on us, she will not hear the end of it!

_______________________________

After Rouge interrupted them, things became weird. They said their awkward goodbyes like they’d see each other again the next day. But they didn’t because she left for her internship and he went to pick a fight with Rouge. The bat was genuinely concerned about him and what it’d do to him if he and Amy kissed and she’d leave the next day for a whole year.

Even when Rouge meant well, Shadow had yet to comprehend how she’d caught onto his secret feelings for Amy and felt violated in his privacy. On top of that she should have minded her own business.

He put his joint and lighter on the windowsill and snuggled up in Amy’s bed again. With his crimson eyes slowly closing, he concentrated in good hopes the fantasy would sprang from his mind and reignite his dream.

Come on, come on… I’m at the station, where are you? You should be here!

He whispered aloud while Dream-Shadow skated towards the pedestrian-bridge that crossed over the train tracks at high speed. He jumped up the stairs, his heart wildly pounding in his chest, hurrying him forward, pushing everyone aside who blocked his way. The strangers always delayed him in so many, annoying, different ways and every time he was left no choice but to jump off the bridge as a shortcut to get to the platform in time. Although a part of him feared, a part of him knew, he’d be too late -again. A sea of unknown, irrelevant others were standing in his way. Why is it always this crowded?

‘Move! Out of my way!’

The pod had done its’ job and Shadow drifted off into a deep sleep. His gaze locked on to something in the distance, the familiar shape of the one he was after.

‘Wait!’

He clenched his teeth and sped up, screaming to the strangers to make room for him, but his cries fell on deaf ears once more. The empty voices of everyone out here muted his screams before they could reach her.

‘No! Not again! Please! I must…!’

Shadow never seemed to get closer to the train he tried to reach before it’d fare away, even when he was skating towards it at full speed. It drained him, sending stinging pains to his sides, but he never got to it. Like his feet were glued to the ground. Soundless, hoarse, growling cries leaving his throat as the train departed and the crowd suddenly vanished, like it had never been there to begin with.

‘WAAAAIT! YOU HAVE TO WAAAAIT!’

He never mastered control over the rotten feeling, even when he knew it always ended the same way. The fact that he didn’t make it, didn’t reach her, never was fast enough… It was mortifying for him. He was the fucking ultimate lifeform and he didn’t deliver.

He pounded his fists into a brick wall and growled like a beast. His muscles trembled from the impact as he watched the train disappear into the distance. The thought of chasing it tempted him for a second. He let the thought pass on and slid down against the wall, scouring his back to the raw structure and sharp chunks of stone in it. He bled, but didn’t bother. Shadow’s chaos energy always healed him so fast that hardly anything was an actual threat to the ebony hedgehog.

He let his dream counterpart stroll over the platform of the train empty station. It somehow was always empty at this point in the dream. The sun stood low, casting soft beams of light in magnificent deep oranges, reds and yellows, painting long, dark shadows behind objects blocking its’ reach. Shadow sank down on a black, metal bench on platform 3-b, its’ many thin metal lines pressing into his skin. He rested his head on his hand, curling up to a ball.

‘I’m so stupid! So DARN stupid! I should never have let you leave like that!’ He cried. ‘And now you’re gone! ARGH!’

The powerlessness and anger inside the black male came crashing out of him when a chaos sphere ignited from his hands. It destroyed the tracks with a shrieking bang, curling up its’ irons.

‘I thought you were different, Shadow.’ crawled up a voice from behind him.

Dream-Amy’s voice scared him wide awake. His muscles soured, adrenaline rushing through his veins, his breathing irregular and his phone buzzing under the pillow. The disappointed tone in her voice hurt him badly. He seized the phone with trembling hands.

Amy!

Suddenly only seeing her name on the screen made him scared as never before, but also strangely excited at the same time. Nausea sprung in his middle.

Amy: ‘U awake?’

Shadow: ‘Yes.’

An incoming call from Amy popped up on his screen. He swiped it to the right to pick up.

“Why are you still up? Tomorrow’s your first day, right?”

“I went out with some people from the dorm.”

“O-kay... Did you- did you have a good time?”

“Sure did. In fact a really cute guy asked me out. We’re going out Friday night.”

All right. He knew what this was really about. She was trying to make him jealous, trying to make him feel bad about the way they parted. And it was a totally justified thing to do, but her act revealed to him that she wanted him to care. Shadow’s muscles relaxed again and a confident smile curved his lips.

“Is that so? Did you tell him you secretly have feelings for someone else?”

“I’m not in love with Sonic anymore!”

“Who said I was talking about Sonic?”

…

Shadow was unable to fight the amusing feeling inside him from how baffled she was all of the sudden.

“Well- I-! I can’t believe you just let me go like that!”

“I’m sorry.”

Amy shrieked with a high pitched voice when she heard the acoustics of his apology twice. She turned around, the phone still held against her ear to see him standing in her dorm room. In one hand he held a chaos emerald and his phone in the other.

“What are you doing here?!”

“Confessing how much of an idiot I am.” He pouted.

“Go on.”

“It was highly indecent of me to let you go like that and I’m sorry.”

Part of him wanted to confess everything to her, take the leap and come clean, but he didn’t. The repeating dream that haunted him since she left had awakened a new fear in him: that she was only fooling around with him that night. It was yet to be proven irrational. He felt it was her turn to say something for this wasn’t a one way street.

“Thank you. It’s just… That night- I thought you cared about me.”

He sat down next to her.

“I do.” Way too much actually.

Shadow leaned in on her, resting his arms on her legs, his lips close to her ear. He closed her in between the wall behind her and himself in front of her only to whisper: “In fact, I don’t like that you’re going out with someone if that someone isn’t me.”

Amy let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She tilted her head and unintentionally tightened her grip on Shadow’s chest fur. Her lashes softly tickled on his muzzle when she blinked. His musky scent and flirting intoxicated her senses. He levelled with her to catch her gaze, internally screaming from how hot she looked in what he realized was in fact one of his sweaters.

“Heh, here I only thought I had the hots for you, but it seems I was wrong.”

He pulled her closer by the cords of the sweater. Slowly he closed the remaining distance between them, softly pressing his lips against hers.

“So wrong!”

Amy smiled against his lips and straddled him, clamping his legs between her own, before passionately pouring into the kiss.

Chaos! I wanted this for so long!

_______________

AN: This one’s long! I decided to care less and just write and draw whatever I want, trying out new styles. Here goes...

Shadow and Amy are both adults here. Where I live smoking marihuana is tolerated.

Like always: send me a note for annoying typos, grammar mishaps etc.

#shadamy #shadamy fanfiction #dreams #Shadowsfascination #my story #my art #shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #substance use #Amy Rose the Hedgehog #Shadow and Amy #Shadamy friendship #eventual romance #amadow #shadamy adults #rated teen

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writing-in-april · 4 years ago

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Gutter Balls

Franklin x Male Reader (MGG Character from Beginner’s Luck)

This is my birthday present to @clean-bands-dirty-stories !!!! Happy Birthday love you and your stories so much!!!! They requested this from me a little while back and I thought it would be a nice birthday surprise!

Summary: While meeting up for a friendly game of bowling with Franklin’s team, some very rude people at the alley decide to tell their opinion about yours and Franklin’s relationship.

A/N: Hey Hey loves, here’s my first x male reader!! I’m very excited to have more inclusive options on my blog for a wide variety of readers. I am female myself but, I know how much people who love MGG struggle to find x male or x GN fics. If you have any requests for x male or x GN readers send them my way! Also if you have any ideas on how to improve my writing please feel free to shoot me a message or an anon! Also I did try to make the dialogue funny from the main characters so I hope I did ok on that lmao—Hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Homophobia, Swearing, Violence (the people definitely deserve it though) Not a warning but this does End Happy!

Masterlist Word Count: 1.3k

Being Franklin’s boyfriend was like a dream. We were still deep in the honeymoon faze even after being together for 4 months. When I was with him everything seemed perfect like nothing could go wrong.

Now it was time for me to finally meet up with his team for the first time at the bowling alley. I had met them all before but, not as Franklin’s official boyfriend. I honestly don’t know what I was worried about, they had been our biggest supporters. We both almost lived at the bowling alley with my job at the concession counter and his obsession to be the best bowler in Little Falls. We made eyes at each other for months before Franklin made the first move. Honestly, I’m pretty sure Franklin’s team would’ve locked us in the back room of the bowling alley if we hadn’t admitted our feelings to each other.

—-

My nerves over hanging out with the team were definitely unsubstantiated. Everything was going smoothly, they all were warm welcoming especially Pamela and Judith.

Beth was a little more wary of me. She kept commenting on the fact that Franklin was special and that I should watch my back. I think she’s just being protective of him in her own way. (But she still kinda scares me)

Bomber I think was confused at first as to why I was there, she kept asking me to refill her drinks until Franklin and I clarified again that I was here to bowl with them. (Not that I was very good at it)

Everything was perfect.

I had even gotten a strike!

That was until Franklin gave me a small peck to congratulate me for my strike.

Some assholes that we’re fully taking advantage of the cheap beer that was sold at the bar decided that they wanted to voice their opinions on our relationship.

“Hey- we don’t like your kind here even if you are a God at bowling!” A greasy haired man with a mullet shouted out obnoxiously at us drawing the attention of the entire alley. Franklin was about to whip around to say something but I decided to pull him into a hug instead as a subtle way to calm him down while simultaneously telling the group to fuck off and mind their own business.

“It’ll be ok Frankie, I promise.” I said while rubbing circles on his back trying to soothe the rage I could sense bubbling up from him. It’s not that I didn’t want to respond myself but, I was worried that Franklin would get into too much trouble if he retaliated. He was known for his fiery temper when someone angered him, “Let’s just ignore him and finish the game off strong. I think it’s your turn next.”

He nodded slightly after pulling away from me and moved away to grab his ball for his turn. But, not before shooting a not so subtle glare at the men at the counter.

The rest of the team were hyping Franklin up extra, especially Pamela, for his turn. My heart swelled at the sweet gesture of support from them, they loved to see Franklin happy and successful even if he was a little much at times.

My happiness was quickly squashed by one of the other douche nozzles deciding to chime in a rather crude slur at Franklin just before he let go of the ball. The ball slipped out of his large hands at an awkward angle and shot straight into the gutter making my own rage start to boil over.

I shot a quick glare at the group of them and an especially pointed look at my co- worker, silently begging her to kick the assholes out of the bar. Even though she didn’t like my new boyfriend (she said he acted like a gremlin) my co-worker Rebecca was shooting me a sympathetic glance. I knew she was shy about confrontation though I wished she would just grow some balls and kick them out.

Franklin’s face had gone as red as the scarlet bowling ball that I held in my hands ready to hand off to Bomber for her turn. I walked over to him to try to calm him down again and tune out the slurs that were now freely coming from the three douche canoes.

“I’m gonna show them what happens when someone better then God lays into them.” He spat out in a deadly tone. If a glare could kill I’m sure the three men would be dead from the one that was peeking through his clear frames.

“Franklin- stop it’s not worth it if you get into trouble, they’re just a bunch of drunks. Rebecca will kick them out soon I’m sure-“

A loud squeak fell from my mouth cutting off my train of thought when Franklin suddenly had his lips on mine. Franklin was always a little rough when we made out but this was different. It was hard, passionate and like Franklin was trying to mark me as his territory to everyone no matter what stupid slur came out of whoever’s mouth. I almost forgot that we were standing in the middle of a quite crowded bowling alley until I had to come up for air. But, that was only for a short moment before I was pulled in by another kiss.

I opened my eyes to get a good look of what was going on behind me once I found my bearings. I smirked into the kiss at the funny sight I was witnessing.

Franklin had his large middle finger pointed upwards facing behind him at the 3 assholes at the bar.

“Y’all suck and you ain’t shit!” Pamela was shouting and had now taken a defensive stance, standing on top of one of the rickety plastic chairs while adding her own two middle fingers to flash at the dicks.

Bomber looked like she was ready to explode like dynamite. She was muttering words under her breath while grabbing a few bowling balls that I’m pretty sure she was planning on chucking at them.

Beth was cracking all her knuckles and putting her hair up into an obnoxiously short and high pony tail with a dark look on her face.

Judith was the most calm out of the group saying a prayer off to the side. But, from what I could hear she was asking the lord to forgive her for curb stomping some bitches.

Bomber was the first to charge at the group with two pink and purple bowling balls. Which, was funnily enough enough of a threat for the three guys to rush out of the bar. They tripped out, obviously inebriated, while Judith and Beth joined in on the chase following Bomber with Pamela trailing behind with some pretty solid trash talk.

“You’re a bunch of gutter balls!” Pamela shouted out as they pushed the glass doors open, with one of the drunks falling onto their face before scrambling away.

I was now laughing into our kiss along with Franklin, glad to see them get their comeuppance. Franklin��s were arms wrapped around me in a deep embrace that I never wanted to escape from, they were soon joined by the rest of the team coming in for a group hug. I felt fully welcomed and accepting onto their team, even though I suck at bowling.

#matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #franklin #franklin x reader #mgg #mgg x reader #beginner’s luck #franklin imagine #franklin fanfic #franklin fanfiction #TW homophobia

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comeonpeters · 4 years ago

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i never forgot

bobby/trevor wilson-centric; mild angst fic / a conversation he’d never thought he would get to have.

Rose wouldn’t want him to come and accost her daughter with his presence, but he has to know. Rose was his friend, Rose saved his goddamn life, but the three of them, they were his- he knows the look of his- of the- of those boys. He knows what he saw. He knows. There’s a glowing light outside in the studio and he goes to it, knocks on the studio door, doesn’t let himself hesitate. Julie looks at him with tears in her eyes. He doesn’t know why. There’s no one else in the studio with her. He wishes there were.

“Mister Wilson?”

“Julie, you know you can call me- Trevor. Even if you and Carrie haven’t spoken lately, you can still call me Trevor,” he says, tripping over a name that he hasn’t been called since he was seventeen. She invites him into the studio with trepidation as if he hasn’t been there a thousand times, as if he didn’t used to own the place, as if he didn’t used to- as if it wasn’t his once. As if it wasn't theirs once. Even walking in here feels like twenty five years of grief is pressing down around him, but he walks in anyway. He doesn’t let his jaw shake, no matter how much it would like to. He does not let himself get angry, or sad, or small, no matter how much he would like to. Even thinking of- it makes him feel young. Seventeen. He misses Rose. He misses-. He can’t think.

“I saw you at the show. Thank you for coming. It was really nice of you to be there,” Julie says, trying to break the tension that has settled now between them. He doesn’t know how to broach the topic he needs to. How does he- there’s no way to accuse your dead friend’s daughter of playing in a band made up of your dead family is there?

“Of course I did. How could I not come and see you and the boys play?” is what he says, nonsensical and not what he meant, and he has been so collected since he picked himself up out of the gutter he threw himself into twenty five years ago, and he’s not handling this well. He needs to meditate. Or call his therapist. Or do any one of the thousand coping mechanisms that he’s learned over decades of therapy, but none of them come to mind, of course, because he’s looking his friend’s daughter in the eye as she flounders like a fish.

“The boys? Yeah, everyone is super impressed by the hologram band thing, right?! It’s, uh, it was really nice of you to come all this way, but it’s getting late, isn’t it?” Julie tries, and he should let her, he really should.

“Julie... are they ghosts?” he asks, again not exactly what he meant, and yet what he needs to know. She looks at him, alarmed. Then, a notebook, Luke’s fucking notebook, falls off of the piano, and the question might as well be answered for her.

“Oh, come on, guys, you couldn’t have kept it together until I got him out of here?” Julie says to someone he can’t see, and his heart shatters, just a little bit. Why can she see them? Why can’t he? Why couldn’t he ever see them? He had always- he had tried- why couldn’t he ever- his chest hurts. He wants to be sitting down, so he moves over to Luke’s couch (he remembers helping Luke carry it into the studio, they stole it off of the curb when some guy was just gonna throw it out, what a mensch) and he slumps down. They’re here. He just can’t see them.

“They’re here?” he asks, just to confirm. Julie nods. “I know they have things to say. They’ve never been the quietest bunch. What have they got?” He hasn’t done anything perfectly (save Carrie), and if anyone is gonna fight him tooth and nail on everything, it’s Luke Patterson.

“Well, a lot. Reggie’s first question, when they first found out who you were, was why you didn’t share anything with their families, and Luke wanted to know why you didn’t share the credit,” Julie says, looking at specific areas of air where he can guess the boys are. He wishes he could see them. He puts away the notion to sob, and laughs instead. He laughs because he can’t fucking imagine wanting to share anything with Luke and Reggie and Alex’s fucking families, can’t imagine wanting them to be able to look at the songs Luke wrote and think- wanting them to- fuck.

“Share with your families?” he says, speaking directly to the boys for the first time in twenty years, because he had done it a lot right after they died, and yet stopped when his therapist told him that it probably wasn’t helping. “Was I supposed to give money to Alex’s parents, who fucking kicked him out for being gay? Or Luke’s, who never believed in him, in us, in Sunset Curve, or the dream, or music? Or Reggie’s? How was I supposed to share with Reggie’s family when I knew how little he slept in that house? I was the last person left who loved every single part of all three of you, and I wasn’t going to give anything to anybody who ever made you feel- who ever- it’s been twenty five years, you’d think I would be ready for this conversation.”

“And what about the credit?” Julie asks, looking as if she wants to linger on previous parts of what he said, but Luke is definitely getting her to get him to move on. He appreciates that, snorting.

“I was 21 and my three best friends had been dead for four years. Rose... Rose convinced me to start making music again. She told me that I should pick out some of your unfinished songs, finish them up if I could, and see if I could make it big myself. I decided on Crooked Teeth because it was about Reggie, and My Name is Luke because it was about you, and Long Weekend because it was about Alex, I know it was, and Get Lost because it was about all of us. I figured... recording My Name is Luke, it was pretty obvious who it was by. Anybody could figure out who I was, that I used to be a member of Sunset Curve, that band that- yeah. You were dead, Lu. I didn’t. I didn’t expect to get you back.” He still doesn’t get to get him back, but this conversation, it’s more than he expected to have.

Julie clears her throat. He has to shake his head to return himself fully to the present. He hadn’t realized he had left it.

“Alex wants to know how you just... left them behind. It seems like after a certain point you just... moved on. You just forgot them,” Julie says, her tone reluctant. He knows her, and he knows that Alex must have insisted if she’s taking that tone; it’s the one she used to get when Carrie would convince her to do something not so straight laced and goodie two shoes. He shakes his head again.

“My daughter. Carrie. They’ve seen her, right?” he asks, wanting to get a confirmation from Julie. Julie snorts.

“They’re familiar, yes.”

“I was... spiraling. Before she was born. I wasn’t meant to be famous without the three of you. Everything was too much and not enough and there were so many people and none of them were the three of you, and you were dead. My family. All three of you stayed in my garage, and I don’t think you ever questioned why nobody ever asked questions about that. No one was around to. My parents were always gone, one business trip or another, one affair or another, and after I got on the road, it just got worse. Nothing real, nothing tangible. When I found out Carrie’s mom was pregnant, I had to beg her to keep the baby, and pay her through the nose besides. Carrie and Rose, after Carrie was born and I didn’t know how to take care of a baby, saved my life. And Julie. Do you know what Carrie’s full name is?” he asks, because he knows that she knows, and he nudges her with his shoulder just a bit like he used to do when she was younger. She gives him a ghost of the smile she used to have when she was younger too.

“Carrie Sunset Wilson,” she says, barely above a whisper. He nods.

“It was the only way to name her after all three of them. Named my little girl after all three of my brothers. And she saved my life,” he says again, because she did. She’s the best thing that ever happened to him, his little girl. He stopped making music entirely when she was born, road the money and went to gender inclusive Mommy and Mes and bought a big house where she could make friends (she already had a built in best friend, because Julie is three months older than her, they all lost Rose together, they’ll come back together), he does everything for her, still. He’s lost in his head again.

“What about-”

“He’s had enough,” a new voice says, a terrifyingly familiar voice says, and there’s a hand on his shoulder that wasn’t there before and he looks up and Reggie Peters is there. He’s just standing there, like he’s allowed to just stand there, like he’s not dead, like he hasn’t been dead for longer than he was alive, and a sob breaks out of Robert Trevor Wilson’s chest before he can contain it. He stands up and he wraps himself around a seventeen year old boy that he hasn’t seen since he himself was seventeen, and he feels like he’s going to crack apart. Reggie. His brother. His best friend. His family. His family. His family. Another body wraps around his back and he knows Luke’s stupid sleeveless fucking shirts even against his back and twenty five years late and he sobs some more. Alex hugs him too and he breaks into full fledged tears. Everything is okay. Nothing is okay.

“I never forgot. I never ever forgot. I would never forget you,” he says it like a mantra, and everyone knows it’s true.

#bobby wilson #trevor wilson #bobby jatp #jatp #julie and the phantoms #i sobbed while writing this #julie molina #reggie peters #luke patterson #alex mercer #carrie wilson #mine

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breathingwysteria · 4 years ago

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Hyperbole & A Half; Illustrated Novels as Gateways to More Traditional Comics

Hyperbole and a Half, autobiographical webcomic blog, turned illustrated novel; One! Hundred! Demons!, autobiographical comic compilation of personal “demons;” both detail the funny, heartwarming, and often ugly parts of the human experience as they unfold for each author as an individual. Both are told in short story form, with an intra-homodiagetic narrator (the author serves as both narrator and active character), accompanied by illustrated panels that invoke a sense of physical and emotional movement that the reader can easily conceptualize. With so many major similarities, why does each work receive such different classifications? What makes a comic a comic and not an illustrated novel? How do these seemingly disparate definitions affect the way we read them? Can illustrated novels be considered gateway materials to comics? I think so. Before we jump into that exact why, let’s look at the defining characteristics of comics.

Text, images, and some semblance of sequential flow in time and space are the most major markers of comics, utilized throughout history, found in ancient work like Egyptian tomb paintings all the way up to modern comics and manga. Speech bubbles erupt from the mouths of static character images, narration is often delineated by straight-lined boxes and a change in tone, real movement through space and time happens in the empty “gutters” between panels. Although illustrated novels and comics are constructed differently, they are still processed in the brain in fundamentally the same way. Children’s literacy researcher, Evelyn Arizpe, notes that when reading illustrated stories, regardless of form (comics or traditional storybooks), “the eye moves between one part of the picture and another, piecing together the image like a puzzle.” If picture books and comics are processed in the brain in the same way, why are they considered different mediums? Linguist and cognitive scientist, Neil Cohn, applies his academic specialties to comics, attributing the difference to things like panel placement and what he calls “navigational structure,” the direction our eyes track when piecing images in a comic together to create a sense of coherence when reading.

Traditional storybooks, unlike comics, typically utilize one image per page to convey everything from character relationships to arrested motion; comics achieve a more fluid and nuanced version of this by using panels as snapshots or windows into character worlds. Where then does the illustrated novel fall between these two states, and where does Hyperbole and a Half land? Illustrated novels rely more heavily on the text narrative of the story and the readers imagination, associated images usually only serve to enhance the story world or solidify ideas and images that would otherwise be difficult to conceptualize or to emphasize an exciting or emotional moment in the narrative. Hyperbole and a Half leans more heavily toward the multiple-panel style of comics to help amplify the narrative. Perhaps this stems from the novel’s genesis as a blog-turned-book. In 2009, Hyperbole and a Half author, Allie Brosh began a blog of the same name, where she chronicled events from her personal life, like the adoption of one of her two dogs; illustrated pet peeves, like the internet usage of “alot,” a misspelling of “a lot,” personified as a shaggy, fang-toothed monster; or her fear of spiders, captured by an image of an oval with spindly appendages replete with strapped-on knives, guns, and a swastika tattooed above the eyes. Brosh’s book maintains the same familiar tone, regularly interspersing images meticulously drawn by the author herself. Her use of illustrated images that convey character motion, emotional state, and even dialogue exchanges are reminiscent of both regular comics and contemporary memes.

In Brosh’s chapter titled “Motivation,” she chronicles her own struggle with self-starting and follow-through. She illustrates a frequent conversation she has between the “her” who knows she must complete a task, and the “her” who continues to procrastinate for no conceivable reason. Instead of floating thought bubbles, she makes this conversation concrete by utilizing a kind of split screen effect,where both versions of herself take up space within the same panel, as does their dialogue.

Most of Brosh’s panels behave in the same way, providing the reader with concrete examples of often abstract concepts, like internal monologue and discussions with oneself.

One! Hundred! Demons!author, Lynda Barry, achieves this same concept by forcefully changing the reader’s perspective. As she reveals the story of her struggle with impostor syndrome as an author and her childhood tendency to let her imagination run away with the descriptions in the Classified section of the newspaper, the reader follows her through her childhood musings and is dropped into the middle of one of her fantastical plots.

Only when Barry transitions back to a narrative focused on her own more present-tense position as a narrator do we as readers get dragged back into the present-past-tense of her childhood self.

Brosh maintains a slightly smoother sense of temporal immediacy by clumping her panels in “Motivation” together, as one “Motivation Game.” Readers are taken along the same journey, into and back out of, the author’s imagination and altered psychological state, but Barry’s follows tactics familiar to comic readers, while Brosh blurs those lines a bit for readers unused to comics.

This difference in delivery of the protagonist’s inner-world carries over into the way dialogue is associated with each character as well. In the above examples, from One! Hundred! Demons!, Barry uses the classic speech bubbles historically associated with comics; Brosh, on the other hand, utilizes both classic speech bubbles as well as free-floating text that the reader infers to be audible speech through context clues.

In the chapter “The Helper Dog is an Asshole,” Brosh retells the story of her and her partner’s adoption of a second issue-riddled shelter dog. She uses both dialogue vehicles on one page, in succession, the traditional speech bubbles allow each character in the top panel to convey separate thoughts, while the speech in the middle panel is only spoken by Brosh’s caricature of herself, as she is the only character “facing” the audience.

Brosh utilizes a similarly comic-style tactic when expressing active motion or a change in mental or emotional state. In “The God of Cake,” she recounts a childhood obsession with conquering her mothers demands that she not decimate her grandfather’s homemade birthday cake with her youthful inability to control her own sugar intake. She masterfully illustrates this rapid descent into the kind of one-track-minded madness only children ever master with a four-page sequence of successively blurry panels.

No, that’s not a mistake of my scanner, it’s printed that way in the book; while a little difficult to read, I think it conveys an emotional whirlwind with an immediacy that helps the reader understand just how much untamed tenacity is bubbling beneath the surface for this child character through the remainder of this chapter.

Another tactic that Brosh employs, that seems like a holdover from her work’s origin as an online blog, is her use of a colored filter over a panel to illustrate distress or another intense emotion. In the same chapter retelling her story of the “helper dog,” Brosh lists the myriad and often confounding behavior issues the new dog frequently displays, like her visceral and adverse reaction to other dogs. Brosh posits that the new dog must simply be unable to comprehend or abide by the fundamental existence of other dogs in the world. To depict the abrupt and unpredictable change in this dog’s mental state, Brosh uses a red tinted filter, along with grumpy-looking smiley faces and hand-written text over her base illustration of her new dog lunging toward another dog in the distance, teeth bared.

You can almost hear the Kill Bill sirens going off in the background.

While Brosh’s artistic approach is reminiscent of internet memes, it also resembles the cartoon-y illustrated style of altered mental states in comics. In One! Hundred! Demons!, Barry juxtaposes alternating bright contrasting colors with radiating squiggly lines in a few of her panels to symbolize the acid trip she and her truncated crush are having on their roam through China Town and Skid Row.

Instead of giving the audience a sense of almost seeing through the perspective of her dog’s psyche, like Brosh does, Barry’s interpretation of her own childhood experience makes the reader feel a little like a sober friend along for the ride, understanding what’s happening, but not able to reach quite the same level of empathy.

Although comics are typically regarded as a reading material relegated to childhood hobbies, books that fall between the borders of comics and illustrated novels, like Hyperbole and a Half, prove their usefulness as a narrative medium, and for readers afraid of being seen reading a full-blown comic—or have never even attempted it, can consider them the shallow end of the comics pool, a lighter commitment than the image-heavy ocean of traditional comics.

Brosh, Allie. Hyperbole and a Half: Unfortunate Situations, Flawed Coping Mechanisms, Mayhem, and Other Things That Happened. Gallery Books, 2019.

ISBN: 978-1-4767-6459-7

#this is for a class assignment #I will not be keeping track of discourse or suggestions

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excusemin · 4 years ago

Text

New Recipe - KSJ

-Part One of Quarantine with Bangtan

Pairing: Seokjin x female reader

Rating: PG

Genre: Fluffy fluff with a pinch of crack

Warnings: Just a really soft Seokjin and one or two bad puns.

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: Getting used to the idea of being home all day brings new ideas to Seokjin’s quick mind.

A/N: Needed the little kick of inspiration for this little mini series. Quarantine has made me feel so blue lately that I wanted to write something to ease my mind. I hope people will love this as much as I do. Huge thank you to everyone who helped me out with this. Remember to send in an ask if you’d like to be tagged in the following parts to Quarantine with Bangtan. Enjoy. 💜

Life was pretty fun and carefree until quarantine time came around. Many plans of going to explore the world and eat new things were immediately thrown down the gutter. That did not stop Seokjin from brightening up every single day for Y/n.

He once saw an idea off of the internet that included many date ideas written on popsicle sticks. Of course, things were limited but just because they were limited did not mean that they were not possible. During the first week of quarantine, it was full of cuddles and sweet "I love you's". It would be shown in forms of waking up early to cook breakfast for their dearest to falling asleep in the warm embrace of each other.

The morning sun shined into the little opening of their curtains, falling into Seokjin's face. Stirring out of his peaceful slumber, he felt a small weight on his bare chest. Letting his eyes adjust to the morning light, he took the time to look at his sleeping girlfriend that was covered by her bed hair. Softly bringing his hand to brush off the hair from her face, he cooed at the sight of her slightly parted lips. If she was not peacefully sleeping, he would have kissed her so many times. Although he wanted nothing more to wake Y/n up by placing soft kisses on her face, he let her sleep.

"How did I get so lucky?"

Not wanting to be bored at home, Seokjin decided he needed to bring that idea to life. If he needed to eat hundreds of popsicles to get to see his beloved happy, then he shall do that. Although he wanted nothing more to wake Y/n up by placing soft kisses on her face, he let her sleep. He softly rolled out of the bed and placed Y/n over his pillow. Carefully tucking her in, he placed a soft kiss on her temple.

After completing his morning routine, Seokjin returned back to their shared bedroom to find Y/n still sound asleep. He moved to the nightstand by his side of the bed and pulled out a notepad along with a pen to write a note. Once he finished writing the note, he placed it on his side of the bed where he knows she'll reach out to.

Racing out of their bedroom door, he quickly gathered his needed items.

Wallet?

Check!

Keys?

Check!

Phone?

Check!

Puzzled, he felt as if he was forgetting something. Scratching the top of his head as if he mentally dug through the list of must have's before stepping out the door. Pacing around in the kitchen, he tried to look for some form of realization of what he needed. He couldn't recall what it was he needed until he looked up forward at the refrigerator before him. Reading the beautiful writing of his girlfriend on the small whiteboard placed on the metal door, he chuckled realizing what that missing item was.

"Don't forget your mask silly!"

Seokjin felt his insides warm up thinking of the time Y/n scolded him for already stepping outside the door without the face mask. Y/n had playfully told him that she would write a reminder on the fridge if needed while hopping into the car for a grocery store run.

She sure did.

The ride to the grocery store was not long but it was indeed peaceful, passing by blooming jacaranda trees. The jacaranda flowers painting the lonely streets with a peaceful hue of purple. When he does these solo trips to the grocery store, he feels his heart sting in guilt knowing that Y/n's eyes get to miss the beauty that these trees have to offer. Without thinking twice, he immediately takes advantage of being at a red light and takes some pictures to show his girlfriend.

Once the light turns green again, he places his phone down and continues the small journey to his destination. Arriving at the store, he fixes the mask and gets out of his car, making sure his keys were still with him. Once he had that settled, he went straight to the ice cream section in search of those popsicle sticks. Luckily, he was able to find a small pack of twenty popsicle sticks. Since he was already there and had kept in mind that he might just have to sacrifice himself to eat popsicles for this little idea, he grabbed her favorite flavored popsicles. Also, taking advantage that he was already there, he grabbed the needed items for home and headed to the cashier.

Back at home, Y/n sleepily searches for the source of warmth that was no longer there. Her hand pats the bed to capture Seokjin's warmth on his side of the bed but was instead met with a cold empty spot. Slightly sitting up to rub the sleep out of her eyes, she feels a paper by her elbow.

Reaching out to grasp the piece of paper, she sees her boyfriend's writing on it.

"Good morning baby, I hope you were able to sleep well. If not, please go back to sleep princess. I stepped out for a small errand run. Do not worry about cooking breakfast, I'll wake you up with breakfast in bed. I love you. - Your absolutely handsome boyfriend! "

Chuckling at his note, she pressed the note to her chest and let her body fall onto the bed. Heart fluttering as she reads the note again, Y/n decides she would go back to sleep in hopes of Seokjin cuddling with her when he arrives. Hugging his pillow close to her body, she brought herself to sleep with the faint smell of his shampoo.

Arriving home, Seokjin placed everything near the sink, ready to clean them thoroughly. Once he decided everything was clean enough, including himself, he decided that he should start making an easy breakfast for the both of them. He decided to make a quick avocado toast with a cup of fruits and oatmeal. Something he knew his sleeping beauty of a girlfriend would love.

Once he had both of their meals on a tray, he walked into their room to find Y/n still asleep. Placing the tray on top of the nightstand by his side of the bed, he carefully laid beside Y/n and wrapped his arms around her in the process.

Not holding back anymore, he started peppering her face with soft kisses. Instead of being met with groans or a pillow to the face, he was met with sleepy giggles. Another thing that Y/n does added to the reasons on why he loves her.

"Good morning princess."

"Good morning Jinnie."

"How did you sleep baby?"

He was met with a pouty Y/n and it made his heart skip a beat at the sight. He presses a kiss on her nose knowing well that she will scrunch her nose but he didn't mind at all because she looked so adorable. She could be wearing a trashbag and Seokjin will still think she is the most beautiful human being in the universe.

“We can spend breakfast in bed and then I kind of have a surprise to show you.”

“Jinnie you know I don’t like surprises. What is it?”

“Eat your breakfast and then you’ll know baby.”

Curiosity was one of Y/n's traits but so was patience. They ended up eating breakfast peacefully in each other's calm presence. Once they finished, Seokjin gathered the dishes on the tray and told Y/n to prepare herself for what he had planned for the day. Being excited for what was to come, she rushed to the restroom and left Seokjin chuckling at her actions.

Before he headed out to wash the dishes and prepare the rest of the popsicle sticks, he fixed the bed so his princess won't have to do anything for the day. Now it was his time to rush, he quickly washed the dishes and dried his hands so he would not mess up the writing on the popsicle sticks.

A few minutes later, Y/n walked out their bedroom to be met with the sight of Seokjin eating popsicles while writing something on the clean ones. When Seokjin noticed Y/n, he quickly extended his hand out to grab a hold of Y/n and spun her around. His heart melted at the sight of Y/n in his shirt. It wasn’t his shirt anymore but he didn’t mind. She could take all of his shirts and he would not be mad if it meant that he was able to see her wear them.

Settling back down on his seat along with Y/n now on his lap, he explains that every popsicle in the jar has a quarantine date idea that either of them could randomly pick one and they would somehow try to follow through that idea.

Excited for the first pick, Seokjin lets Y/n choose the popsicle stick from the jar. Y/n chooses the popsicle and raises up so they can both read it out together.

“Learn and cook a new recipe.”

“Sounds interesting but what exactly do we cook?”

“We can randomly flip through that one cookbook Yoongi sent over. We can just put our fingers into whichever page without looking and that’s what we cook. How does that sound, princess?”

“Let’s get flipping!” Y/n giggled while getting up to get the cookbook from the nearby counter. Handing the cookbook to her boyfriend that immediately starts flipping the book to get their recipe out.

Using both of their pointer fingers, they stopped at a page that had pies, blueberry pies. Puzzled, they looked at each other and shrugged. Neither of them had tried blueberry pies but they liked blueberries.

“How hard can this be?”

“Well depends on how well we can follow instructions, which I hope we can do this right.”

“Princess, can you read me the ingredients so I can check to see if we have all the ingredients.” He says as he crouches to check in the bottom cabinets.

“Sure thing dear. Okay so we need two sticks of butter, all-purpose flour, granulated sugar, kosher salt, apple cider vinegar, eggs, brown sugar, a lemon, nutmeg, cornstarch and most importantly water.” Y/n finishes out of breath and swipes non-existent sweat from her forehead causing Seokjin to laugh. He gets up from crouching to gently grab Y/n’s face to place kisses all over her face.

“Yeahhh. Baby, I love your kisses but we won’t be able to cook any sweets if you keep this going.”

“One more kiss?” He asks while pouting his lips at Y/n. Giggling, she meets his puckered lips and places a sweet kiss on them.

“You can get all the kisses you want when this pie is in the oven.” Y/n says as she tiptoes to place a small kiss on his nose.

“Let’s get this bread or should I say crust?” Laughing at his own pun, he starts to hand Y/n the needed ingredients as she facepalmed. Placing the ingredients on the kitchen counter, she started to read the first part of the instructions.

“It says to whisk three cups of flour, two tablespoons of sugar and one half of a tablespoon of salt in a large bowl. Jinnie, can you hand me the whisk while I put the ingredients in the bowl?”

“I’m on it, here you go princess.” He hands the whisk to Y/n but he moves to stand right behind her just towering over her body as she continues to pour out the remaining tablespoon of salt. Pouting at the fact that Y/n paid little to no attention to him, he wrapped his arms around her waist and placed his head on her shoulder.

Instinctively, Y/n tilted her head to tap his head while gently lifting her hand to gently caress his cheek to let him know that she is aware of his presence.

“Jinnie baby, can you hand me the butter from the refrigerator? You can help out with this part, if you want.” Nodding his head, he let go to retrieve the butter from the refrigerator and made his way behind Y/n again.

“So how do we do this?”

“From what I read from the cookbook, it says to add in the butter with our hands and just mix it until we get pea-sized pieces.”

“Princess, let’s remake that one pottery scene from Ghost.” The look Y/n gave Seokjin was one of disbelief at the words that came out of his mouth.

“I might just go to sleep after this along with no kisses for the rest of the night.”

“No reenactment, got ya!” Laughing at his comments, they continued to mix the butter along with the other ingredients in the bowl. Y/n asked Seokjin to place one tablespoon of vinegar and nearly eight tablespoons of cold water while she continued to mix the ingredients.

Once that was done, Seokjin poured just about enough flour on the kitchen counter to place the dough on. In the process of pouring the flour on the counter, he could not contain his need to sprinkle some above Y/n’s head. Too distracted by laughing at her surprised expression, he failed to notice her hand grab some of the flour and return the action.

Now, it being her turn to laugh, Seokjin took the time to look at her with such softness and pride to be able to call her his girlfriend. Smiling, he grabbed a bit of flour to put on the top of his nose and grabbed Y/n’s face to press their noses together.

With wide smiles, they continued with the forming of the dough. Once they finished that step, they set the dough in the refrigerator meanwhile they prepared the blueberry filling.

The making of the blueberry filling was divided into two parts, Y/n was in charge of cooking two cups of blueberries with lemon juice, zest, sugar, salt and nutmeg for about five minutes. Meanwhile, Seokjin whisks together cornstarch and water in a small bowl to pour in when needed.

After letting cook for around a minute longer, Seokjin insisted on removing the pan from the heat because he didn’t want his princess to get burned in the process. Laughing at his actions, Y/n took out the dough from the refrigerator to start rolling it while Seokjin poured the last three cups of blueberries into the cooling pan.

Sighing in relief when the door to the oven closed to show their creation in the last step, they decided to clean up after themselves to fully enjoy the deliciousness to come. Setting a timer to forty-five minutes to not overcook it as they started to gather all the dishes.

“Let me help you with the dishes Jinnie.”

“No, princess. You can go sit down, I’ll clean.”

“We are a team, Seokjin. We do things together. Let me at least help you with the dishes.” Knowing he lost when she said his name, he sighed and placed a tender kiss on her top of her head.

Forty five minutes seemed too long when they left the kitchen spotless. With almost thirty minutes to spare, Seokjin picked up Y/n and sprinted to the living room to spend the remaining minutes in each other's embrace. Giggles were heard coming from both of them.

Laying Y/n first, he gently laid himself above her body to not crush her with his weight. His arms immediately wrapped around her waist while her hands went to his head to play with his hair just how he likes it. The giggles turned into little sighs of content. Seokjin’s head rested above Y/n’s chest, listening to his favorite sound, her heartbeat. It was something he liked to listen to when his days were hard and even when they weren’t hard, listening to the heartbeat of the person you love the most is one of the most beautiful things that life has to offer.

Y/n cooed at the sight of her boyfriend in such a peaceful state, it brought her so much happiness that he heard her heartbeat pick up. Shifting his head to look up at her, he giggled at the soft smile on Y/n’s face. Feeling the heat rush to her cheeks, she covered her face.

“Princess, you know I love you with all my heart right?” He gently removed her hands from her face, intertwining their hands as he placed his forehead on hers.

“You tell me every single day Jinnie but I’ll never get tired of hearing it. I love you just as much. Maybe even more.”

“How did I get so lucky?” He closes the space between them and kisses her. Pouring out all the love and adoration for her in the kiss, making sure she felt it.

She did.

The sound of the timer going off interrupted their display of love. He started pulling away but Y/n grabbed his face to give him more sweet kisses, refusing to let him go.

“Baby, stay here while I take the pie out of the oven so it can cool down before we get to taste it.” Pouting, she let go but let him know that she would miss him every second. Chuckling at her silliness, he kissed her forehead before heading to go take out the pie from the oven. Once he successfully took the blueberry pie out to cool down, he sprinted right back to Y/n.

“Miss me baby?” He said as he jumped on top of her, attacking her with kisses as he tickled her. Laughing uncontrollably, she tried to get away from his hold and ended up dragging both of them on the floor with Seokjin falling first.

After their laughter died down, they did not bother to get back on the couch. Seokjin brought his arms to Y/n’s back and pulled her closer to have her lay down on him. Folding her arms on top of his chest, she makes herself comfortable enough to place her head on top them.

Placing one arm behind his head to grant himself a better sight of his girlfriend looking right back at him. He offers her a smile while his other hand travels gingerly up and down from her face to the tips of her fingers.

Waiting for the cool down was not as long as they expected but Y/n did not let Seokjin get up this time. They both helped each other get up from the floor but Y/n ended up pushing Seokjin to the couch. She ran to the kitchen before he could even react. Y/n cut out two slices of the blueberry pie for the both of them and placed them on a plate. Before she headed back, she grabbed two forks so they could taste their creation together.

The smell of the freshly baked pie followed her into the living room. Seokjin extended his hands out to take the plate from Y/n so she could get comfortable before they dug in.

“It smells so good.”

“Let’s just hope it’s as good as it smells.”

“Shall we?” Picking up their forks with a bite size piece of the pie, they brought it up to each other's mouth.

“On the count of three!”

“Two!”

“One!”

They took in the piece of blueberry pie into their mouths and closed their eyes as the flavor of deliciously sweet blueberries along with the buttery crust hit their tongues. Immediately, opening their eyes to grin at each other and high five each other for the success. Leaning against each other, they continued to eat the pie as soft music played in the background.

“I love you so much princess.”

“I love you so much too Jinnie. Thank you for always making me the happiest girl in the universe.”

Learning something new turned out to be deliciously positive. Seokjin sighed contently knowing that he was able to brighten the day of the person he loved the most.

“Anything for you princess.” He said as he placed one of many sweet kisses on the top of her head.

“Here’s to more quarantine dates!”

Taglist: @dontaskshhhhh

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