#need to shade around his mouth some more but honestly I love how this one is turning out.

[yorshie]

Wip, baby, Wip

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

So Much Love in Oklahoma

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

summary: Tyler saves you from a tornado one day. The next, he shows up at your doorstep.

a/n: absolutely no clue about tornados. or oklahoma. don't come at me for inaccuracies

also!!! i'm currently working on some tyler smut too, but you are so definitely allowed to come request things (or just talk to me)! my inbox is wideeeee open, especially when it comes to mister owens <33

masterlist | twisters masterlist

What happens that particular Tuesday afternoon should have been impossible. That's what goes through your head about a bazillion times in the following days. The chances of what happens even happening are about as close to zero, you think, as the possibility of you discovering a cure for cancer.

(They're not. Of course. But it feels like that.)

Because you're not even really in Oklahoma. You're just driving through Oklahoma. You're not from a place where they give you a 'How to Deal with Tornados' manual in school. You're entirely, completely, wholly unprepared for what's brewing as you drive down almost empty highways with the radio all the way up.

So when suddenly, you're in the middle of a storm, with the wind picking up until it drowns out your music and rain and hail slashing against your windows, you're absolutely terrified.

It forms within a few minutes, goes from barely grey skies to a horrible, horrible whirl of almost black clouds, and the insecurity you'd been feeling turns into the gut-churning realisation that you're unquestionably fucked.

Some part of your brain tugs out a deeply buried memory of cars being sucked into tornados on the news, so with your heart racing a few hundred miles per hour and your hands shaking so badly you can barely hold onto the steering wheel anymore, you maneuver your car onto the side of the road, just in time for you to be climbing out of the passenger seat as another car comes to a shrieking halt next to yours.

You're getting drenched within half a second, you're honestly not that sure whether your cheeks are wet from the rain or your tears, and on top of that, you almost trip as you set your trembling feet onto the ground below. The other car's driver bangs their door shut with a resounding thud that makes you flinch so hard you think your soul leaves your body. Your head shoots up as he shouts at you, already three steps away from his truck:

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

He's drenched, too - his hair sticks to his face and his shirt clings to his skin and his pants are stained at least a shade darker. But unlike you, he's not shaking, he's steady as a fucking rock, steady and quick, already reaching out for your arm before you can even begin to think. Your brain lags behind, foggy and cloudy and scared, so fucking scared. You're so terrified you can hardly open your mouth.

"I-", you stutter, then he's wrapping his big hand around your arm and tugging you away from your car, away from the road already.

"We need to get the fuck down!", he calls, pulling you with him onto one of those many, many fields that surround you. "There's a ditch over there, see that?"

You're wide-eyed, shaking, basically being dragged along by him - one foot in front of the other, that's what your brain's concentrating on right now, which is easier said than done. You trip over your own feet every other step. But the guy just wraps his arm around your waist and hurries further.

"Do you see that?", he asks again when you don't respond. Your mind races even faster than your heart does, but you force yourself to concentrate on his voice. The panic doesn't lessen, but his question shifts your focus. Ditch. Ditch. Not the storm raging around you, no, you're looking for a ditch. You're focusing on finding a ditch.

"Yeah", you breathe, your eyes finally catching on the ditch only a bit away.

"Yeah?", the guy shouts. "We need to get there. We need to get low."

With that, he picks up his pace once more and you stumble along, bumping into his side, watching the ditch come closer and closer and closer until your feet are drowned in dirty, muddy water.

"Alright, get down!", he shouts, unwrapping his arm from around your waist to help you into the cold, cold water. "Hold onto the ground!"

You aren't thinking. You can't think. Your brain has shut off completely. Panic numbs every part of you. All you can do, all you can possibly do, is concentrate on the voice of the man who's crouching down beside you. It's like his words have replaced your own thoughts, and like a marionette, you stretch out your arms and dig your fingers into the grass. Which is way easier said than done. You're pretty sure you feel one of your nails break as you try your hardest to find something, anything to hold onto. And then the wind hits.

If you'd thought you'd experienced heavy winds before, you were wrong. So wrong. No vacation in a surfer's town could possibly compare to this.

"Fuck!", you scream, instinctively dropping your head onto the moist grass below. The wind pulls and pulls and pulls at you and you imagine yourself being dragged by it - dragged away, away into certain death. But then an arm wraps around you, and the guy next to you is not next to you anymore but half on top of you, securing you in his arms, holding you close, pressing you to the ground.

"Stay down!", he shouts as you cling to the grass. "I got you."

I got you.

You replay that in your head like a mantra - he's got you, he's got you, he's got you. You're trembling, you're shaking, you're cramping, you're trying to hold onto the ground with all your might as the wind grows and grows and grows and pulls and pulls and pulls at you.

You want to scream. You think you're screaming. But it's so loud. It's deafening, the roar of the wind and the thunder. You can't hear yourself scream.

He can, though. He can. And he tightens his arms around you and repeats "I got you, I got you, I got you". And you believe him. You have to.

You're crying now, you're sure of that. Some part of you hurts. Maybe all of you hurts. You're scared. You're not just scared, you're terrified. It's loud, it's loud and it's everywhere, all around you.

And then suddenly - there's nothing.

It disappears within seconds.

There's no sounds. None. There's silence, deafening silence. Forget the calm before the storm - this is the silence after the tornado.

You take a few shuddering breaths. You're trembling, trembling from head to toes. You're soaked. You're cold.

"Alright, it's gone", the guy says - the guy that's still got his arms wrapped around you, who's still on top of you. "You did it."

He pulls his arm away from you and rolls onto his back next to you. Water sloshes around as he goes.

You don't move an inch.

You can't move.

You're stuck, you're frozen in place. Your fingers are cramped into the dirt and the grass and you're frozen.

The guy sits back up again and reaches out for you. He smooths his hand down your back, surprisingly warm against your ice-cold skin.

"Hey", he says softly. "You're okay. You can get up."

You pry your fingers from the ground one by one, flex your trembling hands and push yourself upright. It takes a few seconds for reality to sink in - you're in a ditch. In a ditch. You're soaked, soaked with muddy ditch water. Your shoes are drenched, your legs splattered with dirt, the hem of your dress soaked in brown. And you're cold. Ice-cold and trembling. And your legs hurt, your arms hurt, your fingers hurt. Three of your nails are cracked.

You're sitting in a ditch in the middle of Oklahoma and you'd just been through a tornado. A fucking ditch in Oklahoma and a tornado.

And a guy, a guy who's brushing his hand down your arm and eyeing you up.

"Alright, let's get you out of here, you're shaking", he says and for the first time, you turn your head and look at him. Actually look at him.

He's tall and he's blonde and he's drenched, too, drenched in that same dirty, muddy water as you. His hands are big, big and pleasantly warm as he grabs softly onto you and carefully maneuvers you towards him.

You don't really remember the next minutes. Not what you're doing, at least. It's a hazy, fuzzy passing of time - you barely remember that you're moving. You're cold and scared and still in shock and somehow, your eyes have locked onto him, onto this guy who you realise probably just saved your fucking life. Because when you come back to reality, he's wrapping a blanket around you - a dry, warm blanket - and the spot where you'd parked your car is empty.

Empty.

"My car", you whisper, staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing. The guy wraps the blanket tighter around you before he looks over his shoulder and glances around.

"Your car's not that important", he reassures, even though his voice is heavy. Heavy and raspy, you realise. He's got a certain Southern twang to it that you hadn't noticed in all the chaos before. "Much more important is that you're alive."

You nod half-heartedly (he's right, some rational part of your brain shouts, while the practical part mourns the shit ton of money you'd just lost) and settle your eyes back on him.

You don't know what it is, exactly, but something about this, something about the warmth of the blanket and the way he's rubbing your arms, something about him, about his voice and his words, slowly peels away the layers and layers of terror that are clinging to your pounding heart.

You swallow hard, reach up to tug the blanket tighter around yourself and shift your focus. Not the car or the tornado or the fact that you're drenched in dirty ditch water - him. This guy in front of you, who's looking you up and down to check if you're hurt. It's easier that way. It's easier to calm down when you're not thinking about any of it. It's easier when you're staring at him, counting to ten, slowly regaining your sanity. And what's suddenly also easier is realising that this guy in front of you is very much easy to look at. Even though his hair sticks to his head, even though his jeans are stained brown. He's what you'd expect as a reference picture next to the word "handsome" in a dictionary.

All of a sudden, you're not as cold anymore. All of a sudden, you're rather flushed. Because if he's drenched and dirty, you must look about the same. And you don't think you want him to see you like that. You'd much rather meet him in a bar or something, when you're dressed up and clean and preferably not terrified.

"Thanks", you get out, a little too quickly as you tighten the blanket further around yourself. "For, uh, for saving my life."

The guy's lips quirk up and he grins, a lopsided, half-cocky grin that makes your heart leap.

"Anytime, sweetheart", he drawls, then reaches up as though he wants to tip his hat - just that he's not wearing one, so instead, he settles for brushing his hand through his hair, just a second too late to seem intentional from the start. "Why were you out here anyway? Half a mile back is a gas station with a basement."

"I didn't-", you start, hesitant to admit just how unprepared you'd been for what had happened. "I didn't know it was a tornado. I thought it was just a bad storm or something, I'm... I'm not from around here."

He nods at you, his lips already parting when you suddenly twitch away from him and sneeze - once, then twice. His grin has dropped by the time you look up at him again and excuse yourself. God, is this embarrassing.

"You need dry clothes before you catch a cold", he says, his eyes travelling down your soaked dress and your bare legs. "I've got a shirt in the trunk, give me a minute."

He walks towards the back of his car and opens up his trunk and you're hit with two thoughts at the same time. The first is more along the lines of goddamn, are his shoulders broad, but the second - arguably the one that should be more important - is why the fuck his car is still standing in the very same spot he'd parked it before the tornado had hit.

Especially when your car is absolutely nowhere to be seen. Your car and all your things inside it. Oh, god-

"Here you go", he says, holding out a dry copy of the shirt he's wearing, red checkered cotton. He's about to go on when you blurt out:

"Sorry, why's your car still... you know, there?"

His lips pull into that impossibly charming grin once more and he points at the underside of the truck.

"Tornado-proof", he explains, just the slightest bit cocky. You follow the invisible line he's drawing to two... what looks like giant screws? twisted into the ground below.

"Oh", you let out, not too intelligently - but really, what are you supposed to say?

He just chuckles and holds the shirt out for you again. You take it carefully, your fingers grazing his. He's so warm, so fucking warm. Meanwhile you're shaking even underneath the blanket he'd given you. Though that's also starting to get soaked.

"You can change in the car if you want", he offers, already pulling open the door to the passenger seat. You don't really have to think hard about it. You're drenched in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home, and this guy has just saved your life. So you unwrap the blanket and give it back to him with a smile and a thanks.

It's tight and cramped inside the car, even as you roll the seat all the way back. You pry the drenched dress off of your body and only then remember to turn around and check if the guy is watching you (as handsome as he is, he's still a guy). But no, he's turned away, has his hands rested against his hips and is staring intently at the slowly clearing sky.

You turn back with a smile and get rid of your soaked bra, too, before you pull his shirt on over your head.

Damn, it smells good. He smells good. And it's very comfortable, you have to admit. Plus, it's dry, which is most definitely an improvement.

You take a few seconds to consider whether or not to pull off your shorts... but they're drenched, too, and the guy seems respectful enough to not risk a bladder infection for. So you take your shoes off, and your socks, and your shorts. And then you crack open the car door again and knock softly against the window.

"I'm done", you call out, loud enough that he can hear. He turns back and his eyes drag down your body - or what of it he can see through the open door - and even though he looks right back up at your face, you can't help but feel flustered. You ball your wet clothes up in your hands nervously.

"Alright then", he says, takes a step closer and reaches for the door handle. "You said you're not from around here, where were you driving?"

Ah, right, that part.

Honestly, with so much happening in so few minutes, you'd about blocked out everything else. Everything normal.

"My parents, uh-", you start, trailing off when you realise that's not much help for him. "About three, four hours from here."

"That's quite a drive", he chuckles. "I live maybe half an hour from here, how about I take you with me so you can eat and drink something? Maybe you can borrow a pair of Lilly's pants. And you could phone your parents."

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you narrow your eyes at him, taking a second too long to even understand all of what he's saying before taking another second too long to sort how you'll respond. Then you start with what you find most important.

"I've got my phone", you tell him, pulling it out from where you'd just deposited it in the centre console. "I had it in my pocket."

You'd taken it with you more reflexively than consciously when you'd stumbled out of your car - but truly, what self-respecting adult didn't take their phone with them when they left anywhere?

The guy just raises his eyebrows and glances at your phone.

"And it still works?", he asks, a little incredulously.

"Yep", you smile - for the first time, you realise, since the tornado. "It's waterproof."

More because you'd been scared you'd drop the love of your life into the pool or the ocean on vacation, but a tornado in the middle of Oklahoma worked as well. At least you now knew you'd spent your money wisely.

"Smart", he grins. You can't help but grin right back.

He's charming and he's respectful and he looks so goddamn good.

"Who's Lilly?", you ask then, because that had been the second thing you'd wanted to say. He hesitates for a half a moment.

"A friend", he says. You squint at him. He doesn't look like he's lying, but he does look like there's something you don't know about. God, if he turns out to be a cheater- "I'll introduce you if you'd like."

You raise your eyebrows. Alright, so not a cheater. And, if you're interpreting correctly, another invitation to come with him. Not that you'd been about to refuse the first one.

"Sure", you say, as casually as you can. "I didn't really feel like standing around half-naked on the street anyway."

...

A few minutes later, he's driving his weird car/truck with the screws on the bottom down the empty highway. Though 'empty' is the wrong description, really - here and there, trees, road signs and utility poles are scattered on the pavement.

You're driving in silence. Well, silence as in neither of you talks, not as in actual silence. Alongside the motor, the radio had turned on, playing one country song after the other.

"You never told me your name", the guy says suddenly. The very much stranger, who's very much right - you'd never told him your name.

"You never told me yours", you counter, because that's also the truth. He'd never told you his name. You knew his friend's name, but not his.

"Didn't think I'd have to", he mutters under his breath, so quietly you barely catch it. "It's Tyler. Tyler Owens?"

He says it like it's a question. You don't know why. So instead you just answer with your own name and Tyler, as you'd come to know, repeats it with a smile on his lips.

God, you don't think it's ever sounded that good.

"Pretty name", he says, all casual like that doesn't get your heart racing again. Pretty. He'd called you pretty. Almost unconsciously, you brush your hands through your hair.

"Thank you", you mutter. As if to distract yourself, you add: "So, Tyler, what do you do?"

...

Exactly half an hour later, Tyler takes your hand in his and helps you out of his car. His house - the one he's sharing with Lilly, you'd found out, with Lilly and the rest of his Tornado Wranglers - is big and inviting. It's a little way off from any other houses, which you personally think is quite nice. Not that you say that, though.

Tyler walks you inside without having to unlock the door. He takes two steps, then he calls out "Guys, we've got a guest", which immediately results in a surprised shout of "whoops" and the sound of a set of feet scurrying up the stairs. Tyler has barely pulled off his shoes (after politely asking you to wait just a second) when a head pops through the doorframe at the end of the hallway.

"Boone was naked", the woman grins before settling her eyes on you and throwing you a wave. "Hey there, I'm Lilly."

She glances down at your bare legs.

"A little cold there?", she asks and even though her words are sarcastic, her voice is anything but.

"A little", you answer truthfully, smiling at her as she steps out into the hallway.

"You want a pair of pants?", she asks, seemingly without giving a single thought to who you are or why you're standing half-naked in her hallway.

You glance at Tyler, but he's grinning and only shrugs at you, so you turn back to Lilly and nod at her. She seems sweet, really sweet, and very kind. She takes you with her to her room (up two sets of stairs, the fucking house has three floors and a basement) and shows you her closet, the very definition of unbothered even as you nervously rummage through her clothes.

"Hey, you can take a shirt too, if you want", she says, flopping down onto her bed and rolling onto her side to look at you.

"Oh", you let out and glance down at the shirt you're wearing - Tyler's shirt, that very country, checkered shirt that's way too big for you. "I'm fine, thanks."

Honestly, if it were up to you, you would never wear anything else ever again. Tyler's shirt is soft and comfortable and - most importantly - it smells like him. You really just want to tug the hem up to your nose and breathe in his scent (but that would be weird, so you don't).

"Alright", Lilly drawls. "Your choice."

...

Lilly shows you the bathroom, gives you the wifi password and tells you to come down whenever you feel like it. You realise half a second too late that you haven't told her your name yet and crack open the bathroom door to call out for her.

Honestly, you like her. You really like her. And you really like Tyler, too. He's handsome and he smells good and he's respectful and he's nice and he saved your fucking life today. You don't even want to think about what would have happened to you if he hadn't driven by.

In the bathroom is the first time you can really breathe. You throw some water at your face and blowdry your hair. Ten minutes later, you're walking down the stairs into the hallway again - this time, when you stroll through there, you're wearing comfortable pants, fuzzy socks and take your time to look around.

You'd already called your parents back in the car with Tyler. They'd been about as shocked as you'd expected, had needed a few minutes to even understand just what you were telling them, but then they'd offered to come pick you up immediately. Tyler had provided them his address and now here you are - knocking at the open door to the kitchen, where all of the Tornado Wranglers sit around the table. All of them, except for Tyler, who's leaning against the countertop and looks up at you with a grin when you step in.

"Hey there", he drawls, his eyes raking down your body once more today - you've tucked his shirt into Lilly's pants and you could swear his eyes linger on your waist. "Warm and dry?"

"Very", you grin back, then nod at Lilly. "Thanks again."

She shakes her head and waves you off.

"Hey, no big deal. Do you want some pasta?"

...

It's comfortable there, in the kitchen of these strangers who are feeding you pasta and lending you clothes. You've settled onto the countertop next to Tyler and now and then, when you're dangling your feet or he's taking a bite, your legs graze his arm. He's changed into dry clothes too, you realise as you brush against him for the first time, and he's even warmer now than before.

"Tyler's told us all about you", Boone says after a few minutes of easy conversation. You raise your eyebrows and turn your head, staring at Tyler from the side.

"Has he?", you ask, because you hadn't even told him enough about yourself to warrant any use of the word 'all'. Sure, you'd talked on the ride here - but mostly about him, because - as it had turned out - what Tyler Owens did wasn't a normal job like doctor or lawyer, but instead professional Tornado Wrangler. Which, of course, had then dominated the conversation for the rest of the drive.

"Yeah, like how you were driving to you parents and didn't know what to do in a tornado so you just kept on driving", Boone grins, scraping the rest of his pasta off his plate. "And how he made you go in that ditch and-"

"Alright, shut up, Boone", Tyler interrupts, even though there's no real malice behind his words. "She knows the story. She's in it."

"I'm just saying", Boone goes on, entirely undeterred as he puts his now empty plate down on the kitchen table. "If you'd filmed that, it would go viral for sure."

You have to snort at that.

"Yeah, because of all the indecent exposure."

...

When your mother rings the doorbell three hours later, you're in the middle of the second round of a boardgame Dexter had pulled from a drawer. You'd been paired with Tyler for the first round and - somehow not surprisingly - that had worked quite well. You'd won just so against Dexter and Dani (Lilly and Boone hadn't been too much competition) and Dani's "We never get to play this right 'cuz we're always five people" after Tyler had high-fived you with a victorious cheer had warmed your heart. At least they'd enjoyed themselves - at least you hadn't been a burden.

"I call dibs on her", Lilly had declared when the second round had begun, so Tyler had teamed up with Boone instead.

"Oh, oh, botany!", you call out, just as the doorbell finally rings. Lilly jumps up and high-fives you.

"How in the hell did you guess that?", Dani asks, sounding all but exasperated at this point as Tyler pushes out of his seat and walks towards the front door. You shrug.

"Pure talent", you joke, then you climb off the couch as well. "Alright, it was so nice meeting you all, but I think my taxi's out front."

They all hug you goodbye and tell you to come around again anytime - Boone even hands you one of those t-shirts Tyler had told you about in the car. You can hardly hold back a snort. Though Tyler had told you about the shirts existing, yes, he must have accidentally forgotten to mention that his goddamn face is printed on them, paired with the very... comedic phrase "Not My First Tornadeo".

You thread through the hallway with the shirt and your phone in your hands, only to be hit with the sight of Tyler hugging your mother on the doorstep. Or your mother hugging Tyler, more like. Either way, you're suddenly frozen in place.

But then your mother opens her eyes and sees you standing there and she lets go of Tyler with a sharp cry to come running at you instead. She throws her arms around you with so much vigor you're almost knocked off your feet. You meet Tyler's eyes over her shoulder - crinkled with lines of laughter as he smiles at you. Your eyes dart away again just as quickly.

"It's fine, mom, I'm okay", you reassure.

"Yeah, thanks to Tyler", she mutters into your hair. "I already told him we'll pay him whatever he wants for saving our daughter."

"And I already said I don't want any money", Tyler clarifies.

...

The next morning, you wake up comfortably late in a warm bed. You walk down the stairs in fuzzy socks and start the day with a simple cup of tea.

A simple cup of tea and Tyler Owens' YouTube channel.

You'd looked him and his Tornado Wranglers up the very second you'd sat down in your mother's car. Then you'd subscribed to every channel you could find. And then... you'd kind of got obsessed. You'd watched so many of their videos that by one am, you'd simply fallen asleep to one of them.

"Aunt May's gonna be here in half an hour", your mother informs you casually, a stack of plates in her hands as she rummages around in the kitchen. You're still sitting at the table in your pajamas, a spoonful of cereal in your mouth, your phone propped up against a water bottle in front of you, playing a Tornado Wranglers video from a year ago.

"Seriously?", you get out, chewing on your cereal before you can swallow it down. "Mom, I still have to shower and get ready and all."

She throws you one of those eyebrows-raised glances that immediately let you know she's judging you for something.

"We only let you sleep this long because you almost died yesterday", she says matter-of-factly, then she eyes your phone. "And if you weren't watching Tyler's videos so obsessively, you would be done by now."

"Really, mom?"

You let out a resigned sigh. She only shrugs and grins at you. She's a little bit right, anyway.

"He's good-looking, I get it", she says, then she strolls out of the kitchen, chuckling to herself while you curse at her. He is good-looking, fuck this. You need to get it together before the rest of your extended family arrives.

...

The doorbell rings for the umpteenth time that day, just as you step out of the bathroom and smooth down the front of the red-checkered shirt you're wearing. You call some version of "I got it", down the hallway, not too sure if anyone even hears - they're all in the backyard anyway. Then you open the door with a smile on your face, a smile that instantly pulls into a wide grin when you see just who's standing there.

Because it's not another aunt or uncle or cousin. It's no one in your family, not even close.

It's Tyler.

Tyler Owens.

"Hi", he says. Just that. Hi.

You lean against the open door and cross your arms. Your grin only grows.

"Hi", you echo.

His eyes rake down your body and it seems like whatever he'd wanted to say gets stuck in his throat as he realises that the shirt you're wearing isn't your shirt, really. You can't help but bite down on your lip.

Look, you hadn't expected this. You hadn't expected him. None of this was a scheme or a plan or anything even close. You'd just seen it lying there this morning, right next to Lilly's pants on your desk, and you hadn't been able to help yourself. It smelled so fucking good.

"Nice shirt", he grins, eyes snapping back up to yours.

"Thanks", you grin back. "I got it from this guy after he saved me from dying in a tornado yesterday."

Tyler chuckles.

"Seems like a great guy."

"So great", you agree. "Even though he prints his face on t-shirts."

Tyler is just about to retort something - all toothy grins and laughter lines - when your mother calls out his name, very obviously pleasantly surprised as she comes down the hallway. She smiles at him, big and wide.

"What are you doing here?", she asks, stopping next to you to ask the very question that had been on the tip of your tongue too when you'd opened up the door.

"Oh, I'm just bringing these back", he says and holds up his hand to show a stack of neatly folded clothes with your bra right on top. You have to bite down on your cheeks to stop from outright grinning.

Okay, so even if wearing his shirt hadn't been a scheme, and even if you hadn't expected to see him... You might just have done something to ensure you would see him again. But hey, he's about the most handsome man you've ever laid your eyes on, you'd be damned if you'd have to watch him on the screen of your phone for the rest of your life. So yeah, you may have accidentally 'forgotten' your wet clothes in his bathroom after you'd hung them over the heater to dry. You just hadn't thought he'd find them so quickly.

"And you drove four hours for that?", your mother asks, more baffled than you are. Tyler only shrugs. Your mother reaches out for your clothes, grabs them from him and puts them on the cupboard in the hallway. Then she looks at him.

"You're coming in, yes? We're having barbecue now and cake in a bit. I'm not letting you drive four hours here just to deliver her clothes."

...

Twenty minutes later is when you get Tyler alone for the first time. Your mother has schlepped him with you through the whole garden and introduced him to every single person there - "He's the guy who saved her yesterday!" (because, obviously, your story had been about the only topic anyone had talked about so far) - your father first and foremost, who hugs Tyler so tightly that for a moment you're afraid he'll break him.

You catch up with Tyler just as he finishes loading his plate with food, finally on his own after your mother has excused herself to go cut up more bread.

"How'd you find me?", you ask, sipping at your ice-cold coke and eyeing him up. It's the one question that had been burning in your mind for the past twenty minutes. How in the hell had he managed to find you? It's not like you'd left a note with your address next to your clothes (though in hindsight, you don't remember how you'd meant for him to bring them back to you).

He looks almost bashful for a second.

"Boone noticed you'd followed our account", he explains then. "He figured out your last name from your handle and searched the phone book of the city on your mom's license plate. And then he read out all the names until I recognised your mom's because she'd introduced herself to me yesterday."

Your eyebrows raise, further and further the more he speaks. You swallow. Silence falls for a second, then two.

"You know, some people would call that creepy", you say, but your lips tug up into an involuntary grin that gives away more quickly than you'd wanted that you aren't one of those people. Tyler grins right back at you.

"Personally I think it would've been more creepy if I'd kept your bra."

...

It's 9:20 when your mother comes over. You've long since switched from barbecue to cake, then to snacks. Your feet are tucked underneath Tyler's legs, propped up against the side of his garden chair and he's running his fingers up and down your calves.

You'd spent the afternoon chatting away and laughing, barely talking to anyone but him. Your 'family get-together' had turned into more of a date. You certainly aren't about to complain, though.

"Tyler, you're staying the night, right?", your mother asks, a fresh plate of chips in her hands that she puts next to the almost empty one on the table in front of you.

"I don't want to overstay my welcome", he says, all gentlemanly even as your mother rests her hands against her hips and stares him down.

"Young man, you're welcome in this house any time, for however long. I'm not letting you drive home four hours. You're staying the night." Then she points at you. "She's still got a couch in her room that you can sleep on. I'd offer you a guest room, but half the family's staying here and we're already out of air mattresses."

So an hour later, you're rummaging about your room, picking up clothes off the couch and stuffing them in your closet to make room for Tyler. He's leaning against your doorway, looking around, taking in the mess that is your childhood bedroom.

"Nice posters", he says, and you throw him a look over your shoulder that could be deadly. He's grinning all sarcastic, only chuckling as his eyes meet yours. "You could put up one of my shirts here."

You have to snort at that and before you can even really think about it, you've pulled the shirt Boone had given you yesterday from where you'd put it down on your desk. You throw it at him carelessly and he catches it with no effort at all, which - paired with that fucking grin - shouldn't be as attractive as it turns out to be.

"Knock yourself out", you say, then you turn back around to your closet and tug out bedsheets for him. "My old poster glue should be in one of the desk drawers."

You don't think he'll seriously do it, but you seem to have misjudged him. Badly. Because he gets to work immediately.

You watch him for a few stunned seconds before you decide to just leave him to it. So while you turn the couch into a makeshift bed for him, he glues that goddamn "Not My First Tornadeo" shirt to your wall.

"Fits perfectly if you ask me", he declares eventually, barely concealing the amusement dripping from his words. You smooth down his sheets before you look up at your wall. He's put the shirt up in one of the few empty spots, right between your Maroon 5 and Destiny's Child posters.

"Yeah", you snort. "Perfectly."

You give him a toothbrush and let him use your bathroom. While he's gone, you change into your pajamas, fold his shirt carefully and put it on a pile with Lilly's pants and her socks. Honestly, a little part of you already mourns the loss of it - but another part of you already has hope for another shirt. Maybe in a different context.

"What're you doing?", Tyler asks, shutting the bathroom door behind him. You don't look up as you fold the other clothes you'd thrown onto your desk yesterday.

"I put Lilly's things and your shirt there, you can take it back tomorrow", you explain, starting a second pile of your own clothes next to his.

"Keep my shirt", he says. That finally makes you look up at him.

Which isn't a good idea. Not at all. Because he's standing there in nothing but his briefs and good fucking lord-

You'd known he's handsome. You'd known he's broad. But you hadn't known he's fucking ripped. You shouldn't stare. You're very aware. You definitely shouldn't stare. It's incredibly rude to stare. It's very inappropriate to stare. But goddamn, this man is built so perfectly god himself must be jealous.

You have to forcibly blink yourself back to reality. You're definitely red in the face when you finally manage to meet his eyes again. And he's raised his eyebrows in a way that tells you he's reading your every emotion right off your face.

"Sorry, come again?", you croak out, brushing your hand through your hair and realising just a second too late that your eyes have travelled down too far again.

"I said you should keep my shirt", he repeats, a very, very obvious grin on his lips. "It looks better on you."

"Okay", you agree, a little too quickly. The heat in your cheeks comes from more than just the half-naked view of him now. He thinks his shirt looks better on you. You don't even care if that's a line. "I'll... I'll go brush my teeth real quick."

When you come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Tyler has made himself comfortable on your couch. It's a little too small for him, you realise, but he doesn't seem bothered. He's pulled the covers up to his hips - you can still stare at his chest, to your delight. And he's put one hand under his head, flexing his bicep in a way that has you hurrying over to your own bed so you won't jump him right then and there.

"Alright, goodnight, Tyler", you breathe, adjusting your pillow and wrapping your blanket around your body as if grabbing at it will somehow ground you.

"Goodnight", he echoes, and then you turn off the light.

It's quiet. The only noise is the laughter of your family a floor below, all settling into bed themselves. It's quiet and it's dark.

And you're staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing.

Oh, god. He's so fucking hot. He's so fucking hot you want to throw yourself out of the window. He's so fucking hot and he's on your fucking couch, barely ten feet from you. He's so fucking hot and he'd driven four hours here just to bring your clothes.

"Tyler", you say, barely two minutes after you'd turned the light off. He hums in response - still awake. You don't know what you'd expected. "Thanks again. For, you know, for everything."

"Anytime", he replies, and even though you can't see his grin, you imagine you can hear it. You nod into your pillow. Then silence falls again.

It lasts maybe another two minutes.

"Your family's nice", he says then. You can't help but smile.

"Thanks", you mutter.

"I like your mother", he says. Your smile only grows. You turn onto your back and stare at the dark ceiling.

"She likes you too."

It's the truth.

Tyler stays quiet. You don't even try to close your eyes this time - you can hear him breathe, deep and relaxed. It's calming. You're sure it could lull you to sleep. If you were anywhere near tired, that is. This way, you just blink at black nothingness.

"Were you really a Destiny's Child fan?", Tyler asks eventually, his sheets rustling.

"Yep", you say.

That's it for that conversation.

You don't know what it is, the darkness or the silence, but something pushes on your chest and weighs you down, warming your skin as it settles on your body. It's a tension, thick and heavy, one that had grown with every scrap of conversation.

"You know-", he starts again, but this time, you've got enough.

"Tyler", you interrupt, turning onto your side and pulling your covers with you. "Get up here."

You can't see him as he throws his bedsheets off himself, can't watch as he heaves himself up, can't look at him as he strides over to your bed - but you hear the rustling of his covers, you hear the couch creaking, you hear his steps on the floorboards. And you feel the mattress dipping when he finally sets his knees on your bed.

You don't wait until he's actually in there. You don't think you could possibly wait until he is. You just push yourself up, grab onto the first part of him you can get your hands on (his shoulders), cup his face in your palms and pull him into you.

Right into your kiss.

Tyler Owens kisses you for the first time in the darkness of your childhood bedroom. For the second time in the morning light in your bed. For the third time in your parent's kitchen, right as your mother walks in. For the fourth time in his truck, after your parents all but throw you out of their house and force you to go home with him. For the fifth time in front of his own house, where his crew watches through the window.

And after that, Tyler Owens loses count of just how often he kisses you. Because he kisses you every day for the rest of his life.

[demonicbaby666]

hi pookie🥰 any chance you’d write a fic where fem!r has never had an orgasm and Emily thinks she can change that?!

Never Have I Ever

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 2.9k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, oral sex, fingering (r!receiving), top!Emily, bottom!reader, reader is also a bit yapper, there's like the tiniest bit of fluff if you squint at the end

Summary: A history shadowed by unfulfillment and shortcomings in the bedroom was an unfortunate reality for you. It was why one night, when you found yourself alone at a bar at the centre of a certain stranger's attention, it didn't seem so outlandish to give something new a try.

A/n: She's backkkkkk! and probably not gonna post for another month UwU... Also, thank you as always to the lovely, amazing @hotchscvm for reading it through and giving me live reactions MWAH <3

The music, that’s what you remember: the sound of smooth saxophones, sweet piano chords and the occasional tick of a snare drum. It played perfectly in your ears as you sat alone at a local bar, nursing an exceptionally balanced martini on that sublime Friday evening. The weather was pleasant, and the previous company was friendly after a tiresome day—interesting enough to engage you but casual enough not to exhaust you. And it all ended with the quiet buzzing of a vacated table and an inviting presence beckoning you to the bar. 

End the night at an appropriate time, take an Uber home and perhaps dodge a frightful hangover or walk over to the exceedingly beautiful brunette sitting alone, get close enough to her lips to smell the rich whiskey that was being lazy swirled around in her tumbler, and perhaps taste the sharpness of the distilled grain on her tongue? It was your decision to make. 

Her eyes, the bitter shade of coffee, sweetly called for your attention, flickering to and from the empty seat beside her. It was not so much a command as it was a challenge. The playful glint in her eyes told you as much. She studied you with piqued interest that was far from unwelcome and filled your stomach with a reverent fire you had not experienced in quite some time. You ached for more.

Mind made up, you grabbed your drink, slung your purse strap over your shoulder, and walked over to this enticing stranger. And as you did so, you took care in matching the sway of your hips to the lulling melody of a saxophone, enjoying the view of the brunette’s pink tongue peeking out to wet her lips. The fire in your stomach roared.

You set your drink down and slid onto the bar stool, noting how you were observed. It was neither clinical nor invasive. It was more inquisitive. Like the older woman was trying to figure you out without so much as asking you a question, and honestly, with how her eyes squinted and her lips curled ever so slightly at the edges, you believed she might already have you read. 

It was nothing short of intimidating to feel so bare whilst completely clothed, well completely clothed with a generous helping of cleavage. There was an itch to be on evening footing with this illustrious stranger, enough to start a dangerous game. 

“Never have I ever…” you purred. 

The game was well received, and you found that Emily, you discovered was her name, was rather bold. She didn’t shy away from any question you threw her way. If anything, they seemed to amuse her. By the time she’d come to ask you the question that turned the evening’s tide, Emily was coming close to needing a third drink. 

“Never have I ever slept with a woman,” she said, her gaze so attentive it was almost unnerving to leave your drink untouched. 

She was disappointed. You saw it in her eyes, in the way she threw her head back to down the remainder of her whiskey. You knew she wasn’t grimacing from the burn. No, the ice had melted a long time ago and watered down the rich liquor. The lines of displeasure around her mouth came from realising the evening was probably all for nothing, that she should have gone home instead of trying to find stress relief in the bed of another stranger. 

“It’s not that I haven't wanted to,” you began, trying to find the confidence to continue in her shifting expression. “I’ve never really had the chance.” 

Emily wasn’t giving you anything, and unfortunately, in an effort to drive away the awkward silence, you kept talking. “I find women attractive, and god knows I imagine it.” Blabbering was more appropriate. “Not in a weird way. I mean, is there not a weird way? What I mean is I seem to attract men, specifically ones with an aversion to loyalty, which is crazy as none of them could get me to,” You cut yourself off, far too embarrassed to even look the older woman across you in the eyes. “Please say something before I dig a hole deep enough to bury myself alive in.” 

“No.” Emily drawled, suddenly glowing with a newfound sense of purpose. “I want you to finish. What could they never do?” 

You looked up at her wide eyes, then carefully around the bar as if one of your aforementioned exes was hiding in plain sight. 

You muttered, “Can’t you put two and two together?” 

“Oh, I can. I’m just desperate to hear you say it.” 

Did you want to answer? No. But there was something niggling away at you—the feeling that this woman would not let this go. She seemed like the determined type. 

“Fine,” you huffed, looking down at your drink, using your straw to stir the clear beverage. It was painfully obvious you were avoiding Emily’s eyes, but you couldn’t care less. “None of them could make me cum.” 

There was another bout of silence, stretching long enough for your cheeks to turn to fire. You took small sips of your drink, trying to occupy your mouth before you started blithering on again.

“I could change that.” 

Your head snapped up.

“What?” You asked, winded, slightly dazed, and mildly alarmed that if you had swallowed a second later than you did, you’d probably have spewed your drink all over yourself and Emily.

“Never have I ever let a stranger give me my first orgasm.” And the way her eclipsed eyes twinkled under the overhead light left no doubt in your mind that Emily had found a goal for the night, one she would not easily let go of. 

“Okay,” you whispered. 

—

Leaving the bar together, standing side by side in the chilly evening breeze, Emily took out her phone. One sideward glance told her all she needed to know. Your hands were clasped together, fingers desperately grasping at the sides of your trousers. Your jaw slung to the side as your teeth gnawed the sides of your mouth. Your eyes followed every moving vehicle that sped past, though Emily suspected you didn’t see much of anything beyond the subject that seemed to plague your mind. That’s when the older woman passed her phone over to you.

You shot her a puzzled look, to which she simply rolled her eyes teasingly enough to colour your cheeks rouge. Apparently, it was obvious what she wanted from you, though you seemed to miss the memo completely and continued to stare blankly at the lit screen. 

“You’ll be more comfortable somewhere familiar,” Emily wittingly sighed. 

A meagre ‘oh’ was your only response, that and finally taking the phone from Emily’s outstretched hand and entering your address into the blinking search bar. When you handed it back, you didn’t miss the humoured smirk on her face or the little shake of her head as she slid her phone into her back pocket and looped an arm around your waist. 

As it turned out, Emily was right. The moment you stepped into your apartment, your anxieties did not disappear but did lessen. The excitement of your predicament bubbled in your stomach, no longer masked by nausea, excitement that only grew with each kiss Emily placed on the back of your neck. 

It felt a bit like being young again, staying out past curfew, playing tag with friends and toppling over one another in and among all the excitement. Hell, you almost did fall over on the way to the bedroom, laughing and wrangling with your trousers until Emily calmed you, dropping to her knees and pressing light kisses along the outskirts of your thighs. She helped you out of your pants, making no effort to get back up. Instead, she continued to map both your legs with her hands, kissing up and down and occasionally marking the spots she found you most responsive to. 

“Lay back on the bed,” Emily instructed, finally standing up. 

Despite spending the last year of your life in that bedroom, you couldn’t quite remember anything. Not where your wardrobe was, not where your bedside table was, and not where the end of your bed started. That’s why when you greedily tried to continue to kiss Emily, walking back, you completely misjudged the distance between the back of your knees and the edge of your mattress and went tumbling back. 

It would have been slightly mortifying had the look on the older woman's face been anything less than thoroughly amused as she followed you onto the bed. You met her eyes with a shy smile, in contrast to your brave hands that led her to your breasts. Once there, Emily squeezed and kneaded them till you were sure you’d go mad if you didn’t feel her touch directly against your skin. The older woman seemed to have the same thought, with fingers at the bottom of your shirt pulling it up and up and up till she had to break away to remove it. 

Then there you were, in your bed, in only your bra and underwear, a stranger above you admiring the contours and curves of your body. What you expected was that uneasy feeling deep in your stomach, which people usually get should they find themselves in a position in which they are singled out, like a deer caught in headlights. Instead, what you felt had a stark resemblance to waiting in line for a ride. There was, of course, some unease churning in your stomach, a sprinkle of fright hastening your heart, but unsurprisingly, excitement seemed to be the dominant emotion. It bubbled away in your chest, rumbled low in your tummy, left your head dizzy, and it was perfect. 

You were smiling like an idiot by the time your senses came back to you. A moment short-lived and stolen away when Emily decided it was time to do away with her clothes, ridding herself of them piece by piece till she too was left in only her bra and underwear. 

She was perfect, from head to toe, pure perfection that it became a challenge to find something to settle your eyes on. There were her shoulders, toned and balmy, begging to be touched; her breast, firm yet soft like silk, demanding to be kissed; there was her heat, hot against your thigh with only a piece of lace shielding her arousal from wetting your skin. It was a new sensation, but not an unwelcome one, and as if possessed by the need for more, you latched onto her ass, pushing her firmly against you and tasting her tongue as her mouth fell open in a silent gasp. 

Emboldened, you raised your thigh, pressing it to the growing wet patch of Emily’s underwear. You relished the small moan that came from the older woman, how it echoed into your throat, but that was as far as you were allowed to press before control was seized from your grasp, quite literally. In a flurry, you found your wrists pinned beside your head, Emily sitting up above you, smiling like a Cheshire cat, though you were not oblivious to the rapid rise and fall of her recovering lungs. 

She took a moment to gather herself, letting her eyes wander over your body. The brown pools of her irises had eclipsed black with lust, forcing a whole-bodied shudder to traipse down your spine. She looked hungry, needy, and determined. 

The pressure eased over your wrists, and you were given a look that told you enough not to move but instead observe Emily freeing her breasts from the shackles of her bra. And that you did. You watched, enraptured, breathless and in awe, and said nothing when she leaned down to reach behind your back. With practised ease, she pulled your bra from your arms, tossing it to the floor and turning back to give attention to your air-kissed nipples. Her teeth played around one pebbled tit whilst her fingers taunted the other. 

Foreplay was something you had experienced, but Emily was taking the trophy home for stretching it out to perfection. Already, you could feel the beginnings of your arousal slick between your thighs. There wasn’t a second where her touch left you as she wormed her way down your torso, her fingers tickling the sides of your belly, the underside of your breast, her mouth insistent on kissing every inch of your skin. Her warmth surrounded you like a blanket. 

Eventually, when she reached low enough to come face to face with your panties, did she raise her eyes to your own and ask without so many words to remove the last barrier standing between her mouth and your waiting sex. 

“Never have I ever let someone go down on me.” 

She waited for your nod of approval, small as it was, to peel the soaked panties down your legs. 

There was a moment’s pause when the evening air of your bedroom kissed your tender flesh, forcing the emergence of a little gasp to leave your throat. The inhalation and pleased sigh that came from between your legs beckoned your attention, but there was nothing to do but throw your head back when cold was replaced by warmth—the tickle of Emily’s breath and the tip of her tongue slipping between your sex. 

Bated breaths were all you knew. Breaths that chiselled away at your lungs till they both felt simultaneously deflated and full, till the first appearance of sweat glistened over your brow, and the dawning of slight tremors shook your belly. And only when a single digit was eased into you did you finally breathe again, a breath so sharp it felt like your body was reawakened. 

Vaguely, you registered the shuddering of your limbs; you weren’t so far gone to have lost all control of yourself, and the soft caresses of Emily’s tongue against your clit weren’t enough to have you writhing. They were, however, enough to pry small whimpers out of you. 

Being vocal had never been your thing, though, in truth, it was hard to be vocal in earnest when you were gaining nothing out of the inconsistent jamming of a cock inside you or the never-ending cycle of a vibrator pressed against your cunt, buzzing and buzzing till you felt as though maybe you’d tip over the edge, only to come to a standstill and a slow torturous come down from nothing. In those situations, it was hard to get even a moan out, excluding the fake pornographic ones men go crazy for. Emily, however, was successful in changing this. 

One finger suddenly became two, then three, and whimpers and little gasps were a thing of the past. For a moment, you thought the neighbour was banging against your wall, screaming out, only to be muffled by the dense wall dividing you. That was, of course, till you realised the banging was the blood rushing and thudding in your ears, and the screams were none other than your own. They were loud and boisterous, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care because this was surely heaven. The perfectly paced pumps of fingers, the sucking, licking and occasional nibble against your clit, and most importantly, the encouraging squeeze of Emily’s hand against your chest, it was all heaven. 

Every grain of pleasure you felt was monumental, simmering and exploding inside you over and over again. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything other than simply exist under the tense pressure that was reaching a colossal peak. Your hips moved purposefully, matching Emily’s rhythm until the push and pull between the both of you was symbiotic. 

The closing act, the final push, was the press of fingertips curving against a spot within you so sweet you tasted honey on your lips, sugar on your tongue and nectar spilling from your sex. 

When you came, you cried.

It wasn’t an outburst of pouring tears nor a cry of eternal joy. It was simply a few tears running down the sides of your face as you smiled and let out a sigh of contentedness, one, perhaps, you had been holding in for years. Years of bending to people’s wishes, even if it meant giving up your pleasure, years of shameful attempts at fucking yourself to exhaustion only to gain no reward, years of yearning for precisely what you were just given. 

“You’re loud,” Emily whispered against your belly, kissing the small divot of your belly button. 

You waited for a spell, colour draining from your face. Dawning on you was the realisation that whilst you may have thoroughly, thoroughly enjoyed yourself; your counterpart may not have. 

You shifted uncomfortably, turning your head to mask your blush. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, hoping the blotchy red patches on your cheek mirrored ones of exhaustion, not embarrassment. 

Emily shook her head, making no rush to work her way back up your body. Each kiss felt like fire and ice. 

When she finally did meet your eyes, she gave you a small smirk.

“I like it. It’s refreshing,” the brunette muttered, touching her lips to yours, painting your mouth with the tang of her tongue. 

If the kiss wasn’t reassuring enough, the next thing Emily said ensured she would find pleasure only momentarily. 

Slipping her underwear off to her ankle, she flicked the offending garment far across your room and sidled up your body till her sex was waiting directly over your mouth. 

“Never have I ever…”

Tags: @ssa-sapphic @red1culous @sapphicprentiss @five-bi-five-mind @whosprentiss @asolitaryrose3 @imlike-so-gaydude @maybe-a-humanbean @bossofcriminalminds @jareguiromanoff @lovelyy-moonlight @storiesofsvu @mrs-prentiss @romanoffsho @waitaminutebaby @jarexuslover @lesbodietcoke @milfsincrime @noahrex @pnsteblnme @girloversstuff @ratsnestinmyhair @propertyofemilyprentiss @chloeelou02x @gayestswiftie @waitaminuteashh @chestnutninny @evelinearmani @luv-unknwn @lesbodietcoke | click here to be added to my taglist

[corroded-hellfire]

Ok, ok, I have a question about As You Wish. Will reader's friends who appeared in "just-a-spark" (Peter and Tony if I'm not wrong) appear again? Because I'm a bit curious about their reaction to the news that she is dating Eddie. if they were teasing her when they met him for one second, I can't stop wondering about what they would say after knowing they are actually together.

I love love love this idea! I feel like this is a little bit of redemption for Eddie too lol. Here’s Just a Spark for anyone who may have missed it ☺️

Words: 2.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie had planned a romantic picnic at the park, complete with your favorite sandwiches, a few pudding cups that the boys are sure to notice are missing later, and a bottle of wine. What Eddie hadn’t taken into consideration though, is that the park is the same place where the playground is, that has children running around, screaming, crying, and laughing. It didn’t make much sense to leave two children with Wayne just to be surrounded by dozens of them.

Luckily, there’s a park closer to your college campus that students like to spend time at. No playground, just a lush green field with large, leafy trees dotting the property to provide shade on the sunniest of days. 

It’s mildly crowded there as you and Eddie arrive and pick a spot near a small trickling brook that runs over smooth stones in shades of grays and browns. Your boyfriend shakes out and lays down a yellow checkered blanket and sets the tan wicker basket down smack down in the middle. 

“After you,” Eddie says, sketching an overdramatic bow and gesturing for you to sit. With a soft giggle, you tuck your legs underneath yourself and settle down on the ground. The moment his body is seated next to yours, you’re lunging over and slipping your arms around his neck. How were you supposed to contain your happiness when your handsome and thoughtful boyfriend did all of this just for you? 

Eddie chuckles and lets out a puff of air as he’s knocked back slightly, originally leaning forward with the intention of opening the picnic basket. Before he can open his mouth to ask what this affection was for, you begin pressing kisses all over his face. A peal of laughter rings out of Eddie as your kisses become more fervent, as if you’re trying to make sure you didn’t miss a single inch of the skin on his face. Large, ringed hands rest on your waist and Eddie manages to bring you even closer to him so you’re straddling one of his legs.

When you inevitably need air and pull back, your lips are kiss bruised from all their work and the scruff on Eddie’s jaw. The two of you look into one another’s eyes as you attempt to catch your breath, reveling in your own personal little bubble.

Eddie’s throat tightens as the pressure of tears builds up behind his eyes. Not only did you just show him some of the cutest affection he’s ever received, but you did it in public. There were people all around. People your age. Probably people you recognized from classes or seeing around campus. But you still attacked him with kisses right here in the open. Almost like you’re proud to be out here with him. Eddie has to clear his throat and wipe his nose to cut the emotion off before it becomes too much. 

No one has ever acted this way with him in public before, though. The most his ex-wife ever allowed was a quick peck on the lips outside of the house. And that was on a good day. Honestly, he was lucky if he got to touch her at all—whether in public or in private at home the last few years. 

“Was that too much?”

Eddie’s attention comes back to the present and sees your brow pinched in concern. He can’t shake his head quick enough to reassure you.

“You have no idea how much I loved that, princess.” One of his hands comes up to cup your cheek. The softness of your face nuzzles against the roughness of his palm and the contrasting textures feel like heaven for both of you. 

“Do you want to eat?” Eddie asks.

You strain your neck to try and peer inside the basket. 

“Did you make this?” you ask, trying to contain your teasing smile. It’s no secret that Eddie could burn water. 

“I made the sandwiches, yeah,” Eddie says, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you flush against him now. “Believe it or not, I’m capable of spreading condiments and stacking cold cuts between two pieces of bread.”

“A step up from pouring cereal into a bowl. I’m proud,” you joke, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. 

Eddie sighs and shakes his head as he tugs the picnic basket closer to the two of you. You assist him in unpacking everything before getting comfortable between his spread legs. The taste of mayonnaise and turkey fills your mouth as you lean back against your boyfriend’s chest. He chews on his own sandwich as the two of you sit there in a companionable silence. 

A cool breeze blows through the park, shaking the green leaves that are now dark and full again in the springtime. The babbling of the water falling over the stones and rocks in the brook is one of the most calming sounds you’ve ever heard, and it leads you to closing your eyes. The sounds of nature around you, the wind kissing your skin, and the man you love warm and solid behind you have you feeling a sense of peace that you’re not sure you’ve ever felt before. It seems like there was always something to worry about in the past. A test, a fight with a friend, some stupid boy, money troubles, family drama, you name it. But this moment is serene. Nothing could be wrong when you have Eddie here with you. 

Both of you stay seated like that after you’ve finished eating your sandwiches and the only reason you move is because Eddie’s stomach rumbles so loudly against your back that you can feel the vibrations from it. A cackle of laughter explodes out of you at the sound and sensation as you sit up. 

“Pudding?” you ask.

“Ooh, sounds good,” Eddie says. 

Pushing yourself onto your knees, you shuffle over to the basket and reach in, fumbling around to find the Snack Packs.

“Do you want the van—oh!”

A neon green frisbee landing right next to you on the picnic blanket startles you, stealing your concentration away from the dessert. There’s a black insignia on top of the frisbee and as you lean in to get a closer look, you realize that it’s your college’s crest. 

“I’m so sorry about that!” A voice calls as it approaches you. A familiar voice, you think to yourself. 

Sitting back on your heels, you twist your body to see who’s coming up behind you. 

Surprise steals your breath as you lock eyes with Tony, your friend from college that you haven’t seen in a little while. But coming up behind him is Peter, who you’re decidedly less eager to see. He’d started out as a good friend but after one date (that you’d only agreed to in your attempts to get over Eddie anyway) that was less than stellar, he hadn’t accepted “no” as an answer for a second one. Luckily, you’ve been able to dodge him for most of this spring semester. 

“Didn’t mean to almost nail you in the head,” Tony says with a sympathetic chuckle as you hand the frisbee back to him. It’s not surprising that he’d thrown the disc so far though, since his biceps are the size of your head. 

“It’s okay,” you reply with a small smile. Your eyes flit over to Peter, and you see him watching Eddie wearily. It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. Out of the two men, Eddie isn’t the one who you’d have to sleep with one eye open around. 

When Tony’s gaze shifts to Eddie as well and you see recognition spark in his eyes, the memory of them all meeting one another at the Fourth of July Fireworks comes back to you. Where, if you’re not mistaken, Peter was a bit of an asshole and even Tony made some comments that weren’t the nicest. 

Disregarding whether they got a proper introduction that day or not, you scoot back over towards Eddie and curl up against his side. 

“Guys, this is my boyfriend, Eddie.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the older man give your classmates a smug smile as he slips a warm, comforting arm around you. 

“Eddie, this is Tony,” you gesture towards the shorter man who could be The Hulk’s body double. “And this is Peter.” The taller, tanner man nods his head once, his blunt jaw-length hair bobbing with the motion. 

“You two,” Peter says, motioning between you and Eddie, “are together?”

“We are,” Eddie responds, glee dripping in his tone. You can practically hear the thoughts running through your boyfriend’s mind. 

That’s right. She’s with me.

There’s a pregnant pause where no one says a word. Laughter from others in the park and the nearby barking of a dog are all you can hear. 

“Cool,” Tony finally says. His voice cracks at the end of the word, a clear sign of the fake cheerfulness he put into it. 

“Explains why it didn’t work out between us,” Peter says softly, as if part of him didn’t want you to hear him. 

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you feel Eddie’s arm tense around you. The eyes of all three men land on you: Tony’s curious, Peter’s worried, and Eddie’s wondering if you want him to say something for you. But you’ve got this. 

“No,” you say slowly, dragging the word out. “That would have everything to do with your shitty personality and the fact that you used a gift card to TGI Fridays on our first date. And you stiffed the waitress, so I left her the tip. And you’re a trust fund baby!”

Peter scoffs, his brown face turning red all the way up to the tips of his ears. He looks away from you and digs the toe of his Reebok sneaker into the grass. 

Tony presses his lips together so tightly that they almost disappear while Eddie buries his face in your neck to hide his laughter. The shake of his shoulders gives him away, though. 

“Whatever,” Peter mumbles. “Have fun with your old man.”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” you call out as he begins to turn away, “I do!”

Tony suppresses a chuckle at your words while you can feel Eddie smirk against the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder. 

“Well, uh,” Tony says, clearly unsure of how to follow your little outburst. “Guess it’s not Peter’s week. He was badgering Cailee for a date and on Thursday she kneed him in the balls.”

Both you and Eddie burst out in laughter at that, the mental image of the gorgeous strawberry blonde being especially amusing to you since you know the girl. 

“Oh, I wish someone got that on video tape,” you say. 

Tony chuckles and nods his head in agreement. “Well, I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t follow him. But it was nice to see you. And, uh, nice to meet you, officially I guess, Eddie.” Your classmate steps forward and offers his hand to your boyfriend.

Eddie leans forward and grasps Tony’s hand, shaking it and nodding his head in agreement. 

“You too.”

Neon green frisbee gripped in one hand, Tony gives you a small wave with the other before he turns in the other direction and jogs after Peter.

Once he’s gone, you sigh and slump against Eddie’s solid body next to you. 

“You know,” Eddie muses as he slings his arm over your shoulders, “when I saw you with those guys on the Fourth of July, I was insanely jealous.”

“What?” you ask, tilting your head to look up at him.

“Yeah,” he says with a soft chuckle. “I saw you with these young guys, hanging out, having fun. Made me feel even older. I started feeling sorry for myself. But look at me now. Got the girl of my dreams and that shithead got kneed in the balls the other day.”

An airy giggle bursts out of you at the reminder.

“And by the prettiest girl at our school,” you add.

“No,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. He doesn’t miss a beat. “That’s you.”

“Eddie,” you say, playfully rolling your eyes, “you’ve never even seen Cailee.”

“I don’t have to.” He makes it sound final, simple as that. No room for arguing. “Tony doesn’t seem like a bad guy.”

“No,” you agree. “Just a dumb college boy sometimes.”

“How lucky am I that dumb college boys aren’t your type?” Eddie asks, tilting his head and giving you a shit-eating grin. 

“Hmm,” you hum as you reach up and lightly trace your fingers along his stubbled jaw. “Nope. I’m definitely into sexy dads with tattoos and curly hair that I can really grab onto.”

“Never been so happy to not be younger,” Eddie mumbles, making you laugh. The sound lights up his face and he flops down on his back, tugging you down on top of him. “God, I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You lean down and press a quick kiss to his nose. Just as you’re about to open your mouth to say more, Eddie’s stomach growls again, making you giggle. “Pudding cup coming right up.”

Eddie pushes himself up on his elbows and watches as you climb off of him and crawl over to the picnic basket to grab him a snack, an adoring smile glued on his face.

“God, you’re perfect.”

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

spider-man!ethan hc!!!

ethan landry masterlist

- when he first came to your place fucking wrecked (bleeding from a bunch of cuts. suit ripped in so many places. black eye forming) you had two reactions. 1. panicked 2. wanting to throw up. we are not medical professionals in this house hold, hell no.

“y/n, it’s- it’s okay.” ethan’s voice weak and his body folding over. “ethan it’s not fucking okay! you need a hospital!” “no! no hospital. just- just get a first aid kit.” “i don’t even think we own one and i’m not a fucking doctor. i’m not doing any stitches, you’re gonna suck it up and do them yourself.” and you left your room looking around your apartment for any type of medical supplies.

- ethan either is constantly talking, throwing jokes at the bad guys. it’s mostly when he’s in a good mood or blabbering as his own distraction when fighting. but when he’s really pissed off (like if someone hurts you🫣) he goes silent and doesn’t hold back his strength (well more like he’s doing 85% than his usual…45%?)

- his first year of being spider-man (complete suit and alias recognized by the public) he was dealing with some purse snatchers on 11th and franklin (i’m not from NY leave me alone!!!!) so when he webbed them up and handed the bag back to the single mother he turned on his heel, ready to swing away, but his eyes found you in the dissipating crowd. mouth lightly parted, a slight breeze playing with your hair as you held the straps of your school bag. (he fell in love again and you kinda grew an interest in this bug hero)

- ethan’s really sweet to kids when they come up to him as he’s spider-man (you know that AG SM bts where he’s playing basketball with some kids?? ethan would do something like that)

“mr. spider-man?” ethan turned at the little voice and crouched to be eye to mask level with the adorable little boy and girl duo. “what can i do for the both of you?” the little girl had glossy eyes and the boy was holding her hand, “we got lost on the way to the library. our mom said to go there after school so she can take us home. can you take us? i’m the big brother, i’m supposed to keep us safe.” ethan smiled brightly under his mask, eyes barely squinting from the action. “and you did the right thing to come to me for help. i can carry the both of you to the library, that okay?” the boy beamed and the girl perked up, tears no longer staining her round brown eyes. so ethan scooped the both of them like nothing and walked the two blocks to the library making simple conversation.

- okay so after you guys start dating (go read A Spiders Bite, same world) nothing changed too much from your previous dynamic. just a few things were new and something to get used to doing (kissing, hand holding, touching both intimately and lingering, going on explicitly stated dates, stealing ethan’s clothes, sometimes wearing the suit and getting…frisky with each other) but honestly with how much you wanted each other, you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself

“i think i’m gonna barf,” mindy commented to tara. the two of them were walking through the campus and then tara started to smack mindy’s shoulder repeatedly then pointed at the green grass and to a big oak tree keeping the summer shade away. mindy was about to ask what was so interesting about a gross couple sucking face with the girl sitting in the boys lap when tara almost screamed, “it’s fucking ethan and y/n! holy shit!” neither of you told your friends about your relationship yet. the group chat was a fucking town hall meeting with the spam texts.

- you buy a bunch of spider-man themed items. shirts, toys, plushies, cards, makeup collabs, even bandaids!

“i think you’re my stalker at this point,” ethan joked when he walked into your room one day and noticed the new spider-man blanket and pillow set. “didn’t know you wanted to sleep with spider-man this much, almost starting to feel like the other woman when i’m the boyfriend….AND HE’S ME!!!”

- okay, so let’s say the symbiote came down to earth and ethan’s dealing with evil scientists where they are studying the substance and it attaches itself to ethan. so we know it changes the host personality (SM3 nightmare) so ethan’s personality would definitely be a bit like his ghostface reveal (too cocky and for sure an asshole for no reason. and it hurts you cause where did your sweet and awkward boyfriend go?)

“ethan, what’s up with you? what’s this new…personality?” ambushing him at his house, needing to get to the bottom of this. ethan laid on his bed scrolling through his phone and ignoring you. “ethan, stop being a fucking asshole. this isn’t you.” “well maybe this is the new me so get used to it sweetheart.” and he said the usually loving pet name with such a douche bag tone it made your blood boil. “fine. don’t fucking talk to me until you get your shit together. i don’t want to see or hear from you, landry.” and you slammed his door on the way out, tears stinging your eyes.

- okay, leaving emo ethan alone for now. back to sunshine ethan! ethan still has trouble sticking up for himself so you’re his protector, just like you said in 7th grade. (he asked for no pickles. a 6’2 muscled boy standing behind you trying to make himself smaller)

“damn…” ethan muttered as he inspected his food. “what?” you asked around the fry in your mouth. “uh, nothing. just didn’t cook my burger right. it’s- it’s fine. no- no, y/n-“ “excuse me, sorry,” you flagged down your waitress and politely ask if they could remake ethan’s burger. and when you looked back to ethan his cheeks were turning red with embarrassment and you were about to apologize if that bothered him, but he just set a hand over yours and said “thank you. wouldn’t have enjoyed my food as much.”

- chad is a spider-man FANBOY AND HE WILL DENY IT BUT ITS TRUE. and it makes ethan flustered.

“chad just say you want to date spider-man.” mindy teased her twin. you were sat beside ethan at the table and noted how his eyes widened at her comment. you couldn’t help your quiet chuckle while chad tried to defend himself. “fuck off, mindy. he just seems like a cool dude. saving the city, friendly with the civilians, probably could bench press a car, bet he gets all the ladies-“ “okay, okay chad. stop talking about your crush.” and ethan’s ears turned red. you leaned into his side and whispered in his ear, “chad is your hall pass if you want.” and ethan fully wanted to die.

- okay another symbiote moment. so in the Spectacular SM peter becomes the host for the goo and there’s a fight with him and the sinister six, but then we find out he was asleep and the symbiote was using him like a puppet. so same thing with ethan. he’s asleep at your house him the big spoon you the little spoon (he likes being little spoon when he’s had a ROUGH day) so you wake up sometime in the night and when you look at the time it shows 3:38am and ethan is not beside you. so you look around the place and he’s nowhere, it makes you worry and angry. he’s never left this late at night, he’s usually always beside you the next morning. so when he is back in bed later that morning you question him.

“ethan where were you?” voice scratching from just waking up. you turned over in your messy bed to face ethan’s sleep puffy face. he groaned and his brows scrunched, “what are you talking about?” voice thick and deep, and usually that’d make you smother ethan in kisses, but you reworded your question. “last night. you disappeared around 3:40, where’d you go?” hoping it wasn’t the answer you were conjuring up. he inhaled deeply, “i didn’t go anywhere. was here the whole night.” “okay, now your just gaslighting me. why? with some side chick who’s got the hots for spider-man?” (possible black cat mention🤔) ethan couldn’t help the huffed laugh and that made you frown further, “i’m serious ethan. were you with some other girl?” and that fully woke ethan up, “no! no, sweetheart i swear i didn’t go anywhere. i mean, maybe i had a sleep walking moment, but i swear i wouldn’t purposely leave you at night.” his eyes a panic as he reached his hands to your waist and pulled you closer. you weren’t sure if you fully believed him, but you knew with certainty by his voice that he wasn’t cheating on you. “you know, i had the weirdness dream.” “what kind of dream?” “i was in central park at night and i’m dressed in a black spider-man suit fighting off doc ock, electro, scorpion, and sandman. really fucking weird.” and when you checked your phone later that day to see video footage from last night showing the exact description ethan gave you, you knew something was wrong.

- okay okay, i need more fluff to balance this growing angst. for halloween the both of you did a couples costume of han solo and princess leia (god i’m so fucking lonely😭)

“should of done luke instead,” mindy randomly commented. you replied, “you do know luke and leia are siblings, right?” she shrugged her shoulders, “seems more like luke than a han.” ethan couldn’t help butting in now, “what’s that mean?” “i think you know, chanel boots.” and walked away leaving the two of you speechless.

- you want to adopt a puppy, ethan wants a cat. so you get a potted plant. it dies after a week. “we’re not gonna be good parents” ethan said seriously while you couldn’t help chuckling behind your hand.

- okay i gotta bring up the upside down kiss, COME ON!!!! so your walking down the alleyway of your apartment dropping off your trash (idk something for you to be in alley) and your kinda distracted until a web shoots at your shirt and gives a tug.

“ethan! i really like this shirt,” you whined while pulling at the sticking substance. he tugged you closer and his boyish giggles sang into your ears, “sorry, sorry. you were a bit zoned out, didn’t want to spook you.” “and this was better?” “…eh” you walk closer to there he’s hangin from a web upside down, “really embracing the spider, spider-man.” teasing how his feet sat on the webbing as he held tightly, “aren’t you gonna get light headed?” “no, doesn’t affect me anymore” “lucky bastard” he chuckled some more and you walked closer to be face to face. he was a bit lower, big eyes sitting near your chin. you raised your hands to hold the sides of his face feeling the raised bits of fabric on his mask. “you know, i’ve always wanted to kiss a superhero. kinda a wild fantasy that was hard to fulfill.” voice dropping to a seductive coo with your thumbs tracing over his masked cheeks. ethan was quiet and then, “well, what kind of hero would i be if i didn’t help a beautiful civilian?” his voice also lowered and the masked covered up any signs of red blooming atop his skin. “can i pull your mask up, spider-man?” (y’all be KINKY!!!!) “just over the nose, gotta keep my identity.” you bit into your bottom lip while smiling, “of course.” your fingers slipped below the seam of his mask and teasingly rolled it until only his chin, parted mouth, and tip of his nose were visible. “you have lovely lips.” something you say all the time to ethan. his upside down mouth smiled, “and they are pretty lonely. so if you could plant one on me sweetheart, i’d really appreciate that.” and who were you to deny the friendly neighborhood spider-man of such a request? it was definitely a bit weird with the new angle, but the two of you simple feel into your usual rhythm. (i don’t feel like describing it, i’m sorry) when you pulled away first slowly you kept your eyes closed, letting the lingering tingle wash over you. finally when you opened them and look at ethan he fully said, “that was hot. we gotta do that more often.” and you fully agree.

[cherrycola27]

Star Spangled Seresin

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Political situations. Unrequited love, one night stand, military and political inaccuracies. Smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 3: An Interview with a Vice President

The fourth date came much faster than Jaycee had anticipated. Less than a month after she had been left waiting in Jake's office.

Now, Jaycee was in the bedroom of her apartment, trying to figure out what she was going to wear. She wanted something that made her look sexy, but she needed to be professional. She had definitely let the deadline of her interview with Jake sneak up on her. She was hoping that she could squeeze it in before Jake squeezed her in all the right places.

She settled on a red dress and black heels. She opted to leave her hair with its natural wavy texture and pulled half up. A subtle, smokey eye and crimson shade for her lips completed her look.

Before grabbing her bag, she gave her apartment the once over. If all went well, she and Jake would be tangled in the freshly laundered sheets of her king-sized bed, and tomorrow, she would dance around the kitchen in his button-up while making breakfast.

She sighed. She couldn't believe she was letting herself fall for him. It had been years since she had allowed herself to love or be loved, and honestly, it scared the hell out of her.

..............

After a dinner of the greatest sushi she had ever had in her life and a private screening of her favorite movie, Jake and Jaycee tumbled through the door of her apartment in a mix of teeth and tongue.

Jake was dead set in getting her dress off of her but Jaycee needed him coherent for a few minutes.

"Jake, wait." She breathed out when his lips dropped to her neck. He whined and tried to pull her back in as she pulled away from him.

"My interview." She breathed out. "I have to finish my interview with you for my editor. She giggled as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

"We can do that some other time. There are more—pressing matters to take care of." Jake whispered huskily in her ear as he pressed her between the counter and his body. Jaycee could feel just how hard he was.

Jake swept her hair to the side and planted languid kisses from her shoulder to just behind her ear, whispering all the filthy things he wanted to do with her. Jaycee was trying to pull up her interview questions on her computer, but Jake's charms were getting harder to resist.

"You're distracting me." She grumbled. "Not well enough, obviously." Jake laughed before slamming her computer shut and turning her around. He pushed the device out of the way and perched her on the counter before removing his shirt and tie and tossing it to the floor.

Jaycees eyes went wide as she drank him in.

"How are you even real?" Jaycee asked as she ran her fingers down his torso and through his diastasis.

Jake barked out a laugh as she scratched her nails along the deep v that cut into his hips.

"If I'm dreaming, please don't wake me up." She moaned as Jake dropped to his knees.

"I couldn't agree more. Jake said as he pulled her to the edge of the counted and spread her legs. He was greeted with the glorious sight of her bare cunt. "You little minx," He remarked when he discovered she'd forgone underwear for the evening.

He leaned forward, wrapping a hand around each of her thighs before placing a tender kiss on the inside of each of them Jayce hummed appreciatively as she steaded herself on her elbows to watch him.

His mouth made his way up to place a kiss just above her clit, right where she needed him most. Her groan of frustration faded into a sigh of pleasure as Jake used two of his broad fingers to open her up. He reveled in the sight of her absolutely dripping for him. Jaycee jolted when she felt him spit onto her clit. He watched his saliva run across her sensitive nub and down her puffy folds before collecting it with his tongue and swirling it around her aching center.

"Shit!" She exclaimed as the firm muscle of his tongue fucked in and out of her. One of her perfectly manicured hands left its place on the counter and gripped his blond locks as he continued to bury himself in her.

Jake shook his head back and forth, bringing his tongue deeper inside of her. His nose pressed against her clit with each pass.

Jaycee planted one of her high heels on each of his shoulders before Jake blindly reached up and guided them all the way over. She locked her ankles behind his head, while her thighs became a pair of earmuffs for him.

"Son of bitch. That feels so fucking good." Jaycee cried out as Jake continued to nip and lick and her center. He'd began to alternate sucking on her clit and driving his tongue into her. Each swipe bringing her closer to the edge.

She forced her eyes open to take in the sight below her.

Jake was shirtless, griping her thighs for dear life. She'd probably have ten finger shaped bruises tomorrow, but she didn't care. His hair was askew from where she had run her fingers through it.

His eyes were closed as he perched before her on his knees. His body was pressed against the counter, trying to be as close to her as possible. He looked like he was praying, and maybe in his own way, he was worshiping. Her kitchen was his temple, and she was the goddess he would sell his soul to serve.

"Why is it so fucking sexy seeing a man in power on his knees? You look so fucking pretty between my thighs. You know that? What a view." She moaned out.

"The view from my perspective is pretty great, too. Now cum for me baby. Please—wanna taste more of you." Jake groaned.

Jake rutted his hips against the counter and moaned into her core. Jaycee dug her fingers into his scalp, unsure of who was enjoying this more. "Fuck, Jake. I hope you answer questions just as well as you do this." Jaycee groaned. Jake smirked against her folds before wrapping his lips around her clit.

That sent her hurdling over the edge. She came with a cry of his name. One hand in his hair as she tried to decide if she wanted to press him closer or pull him away. The other gripped onto the counter so hard, her knuckles turned white.

She collapsed onto the counter as she tried to take air back into her lungs and regulate her heartbeat.

Jake had his forehead pressed into one of her thighs as he rubbed the other, gently easing her back to reality.

He stood up and helped her sit up. Jaycee kissed him with fervor, tasting herself on his lips and tongue. She wrapped her legs around him and kicked her shoes off. The unceremoniously clattered to the floor.

After a few helpful tips, Jake had successfully managed to get the two of them into her bedroom, where they wasted no time stripping the rest of their clothes.

Jaycee wrangled Jake on to his back and was currently grinding her wet center over his impossibly hard cock.

"No, I'm going to tell you how this is going to go. I have five questions, and you're going to answer every single one of them while I ride you. You stop answering, I stop. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Vice President?" Jaycee said as she glided over him.

Jake nodded furiously. He would probably agree to give her government secrets if that meant he could be buried inside her.

Jayced grinned a Cheshire smile before reaching back and grasping his full length in her hand. She tentatively lifted her hips and sank down on him until she was fully seated on him. She'd never felt so full in her life.

She tentatively lifted her hips before dropping back down. Building a steady but pleasurable rhythm for the both of them. Jake's hands found her hips to help guide her movements while Jaycee leaned forward using his torso for leverage.

"So. Mr. Seresin." She grunted out. "What would you say has been the greatest accomplishment of the administration in the first one hundred days." Jaycee asked.

"Um—I—the legislation we just passed on health care." Jake replied in a broken tone.

"That's going to help so many families. What has been the most challenging aspect so far?" She panted as she tilted her hips so her clit would catch on his pelvis each time she dropped onto him.

"Fuck if I know." Jake groaned as he planted his feet to meet her thrusts. Jaycee reached down and grabbed his hair, forcing him to look at her.

"What was the deal?" She reminded him as she slowed down.

"Trying to get party leaders to see that we are all on the same team. It's not Dems versus Reps versus Independents. We all have to—work—together." He ground out as his orgasm started to build low in his belly.

Jaycee asked a few more questions. Each one took more and more effort on both of their parts as they both tried to stave off the inevitable.

"Last—question. What—is—your—bi—biggest—goal." She asked through strangled sighs. Willing herself to last for just a few more minutes.

"I can't— baby doll—I'm—I" Jake tossed his head back. His neck was strain so hard that Jaycee could see each delicious vein in it.

Refusing to let herself be beaten, she took a hand off his shoulders and slapped him, just hard enough to get his attention before stilling her hips.

Jake let out a truly pathetic and needy whine when she did.

"Absolutely not, Mr. Vice President. If you want to cum, you're going to answer the rest of my questions. You want me to be able to write a good article, don't you, Jakey?" Jaycee whined as she began to roll her hips against Jake's once again.

"Be a good boy for me, Jake. Just one more answer." Jaycee goaded him. Jake spit out some answers about improving foreign relations and reducing the national debt. Satisfied with what he said, Jake picked up the pace, and Jake planted his feet. He used his newfound leverage to fuck up into her.

..............

Jaycee and Jake were both teetering on the edge when her phone rang. She looked over to her nightstand and caught a glimpse of your contact picture. A wicked smile flashed across her face as she reached forward and stilled her movements

"What are—" Jake said with a confused look. He was so close, his body burned, craving release. Jaycee chuckled before bringing her finger to her lips as a silent reminder for Jake to be quiet.

"Hello." She said as she answered the phone. "Oh, hey!" She chimed as she said your name. Jake's eyes went wide. You didn't know the two of them had been seeing each other. He couldn't believe Jaycee was doing this.

"Oh yeah, my date went great. He was a real gentleman." Jaycee smirked down at Jake. He experimentally thrusted his hips up, causing Jaycee to bite back a moan. She narrowed her eyes at him before rolling her hips as you continued to talk on the other end of the line, none the wiser. She did her best to stay composed as she talked to you, but Jake was hitting all the right places, and apparently, she was too.

An audible groan left his lips. Jaycee snapped her head towards him, just as you asked her "What was that?"

"Oh, just the TV, I'm watching an action movie." Jaycee lied as she slid her hand from Jake's shoulder to his throat. She curled her thumb and index finger around his airway and gave it a gentle but firm squeezed to remind him who was in charge.

After making up an excuse to get off the phone with you, she tossed it somewhere in her room to find later. Once she was no longer preoccupied, Jake brought one of his hands and placed it over the one of hers that was still around his neck. He gave it a firm grip before saying "harder."

"Yes, sir." Jaycee responded before tightening her grip on him.

Her rhythm became sloppy, and her thighs trembled. They burned in the best way. Jake latched onto her hips and flipped her beneath him.

His hips and grip never faltered as he pounded into her.

Jaycee came with a cry of his name that was so loud that she's sure her neighbors will complain. Jake followed behind her, painting her walls white with his release.

Thoroughly spent, he collapses on top of her, trying his best not to crush her. A thin layer of perspiration covers both of them. The scent of sex hangs thick in the air as the two of them try to regain control of their breathing.

................

The next week, when her article comes out, Jake has to restrain himself from buying every single copy he can get his hands on. He beams with pride each time he reads it.

He wants nothing more than to text everyone he knows and tell them about it and how proud he is of his girl. But he knows he can't. He can't even tell Rooster.

Jake settles for texting Jaycee that he loves the article and sends flowers to her office anonymously, of course. He also has his assistant make a note that Jaycee is the only person from the Post he will let him interview him because he was so impressed with her —technique.

................

When Jaycee returned from lunch, she heard the whispers and saw the quick glances from her coworkers. When she rounded the corner to her office, she discovered what they were gossiping about.

Two dozen red roses, the same shade as the dress she had worn last week, sat on her desk. She quickly shut her office door before pulling the card from the stems and reading it.

"The article was amazing. So proud of you. Can't wait to see you again, baby doll. Love, J"

Jaycee read the note again. The words seering into her brain before shoving it inside a drawer.

She sucked in a few deep breaths as the realization hit her like a freight train. She'd let this go too far.

The long awaited chapter 3 is here!

Taglist: @daggerspare-standingby @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @hecate-steps-on-me @roosterscock @roosterbruiser @seresinsbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @xoxabs88xox @avengersfan25 @blackwidownat2814 @loveforaugust @mak-32 @cottagecori @amysteryspot @heyimmadisonn @bradshawseresinbabe @lewmagoo @cassiemitchell @die-cunt @shipinabluebottle @malindacath @violyn20 @imawkwardlysoc @books-for-summer @blackroseboulevard @recordblues @desert-fern @luckyladycreator2 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @diorrfairy @je-suis-prest-rachel @dakotakazansky @mizzzpink @a-linabean @amklibrary @jstarr86 @actuallyazriel @krismdavis @bradshawsbaby @wkndwlff @withahappyrefrain

[certifiedhitmaker]

Revampity vamp Noel Noa hc's + mini fic?

This takes place in Japan bc i said so. Ummm, chubby fem black reader implied but no explicit skin color or body descriptions besides chubby cheeks are stated. It's implied in my head. (Obvi, Nsfw, genitalia descriptions, um dubcon I guess? Oral sex, sir kink.) Noel is in yellow, you're pink. This was a much needed revamp, the other Hc's were fucking terrible. Anyone that sees this, send me asks!!! I'm bored and I wanna write! Enjoy bby. Muah muah muah!

Noel has a big dick. It's not too long, but it's girthy so it stretches you out nicely. His tip is definitely a nice light pink, but gets to be more of a deep blush color when he's about to cum.

Ater, he comes home from practice, the gym, anywhere from being out all day, he hits the shower and then as if it were a routine, he makes his way to you, ready to fuck, already stiff and jerking himself off.

His favorite position is you on top, riding him. (idk, he just gives me very lazy vibes, like he's tired from being out all day, he wants to feel good, but he don't wanna put in a whole lotta work? Like he'll occasionally thrust up into you but for the most part your legs is gon be working.)

He definitely has no issues, giving you a little bit of 'help', like if you were steady tryna act like you couldn't take it or if you weren't bouncing fast enough, he's quick to grab those damn hips and make you. If he gets fed up enough with you tryna run from it or your slow ass pace, he'll flip you over, and just start plowing your shit.

I honestly think if you call him sir, he'll just lose his mind. He absolutely loves it, say "Yes sir." to him one time while yall are fucking and watch how fast he'll cum.

He does not play any of that attitude/petty shit, he'll have you on your knees so damn fast you'd get whiplash. he'd shut you up reallll quick by making you suck him off.

He was already having a shitty ass day, all he wanted to do was come home to you, and relax but you clearly had other plans. You were upset and in a sour mood because one of the only hairstylists in Japan, that can actually do your hair, canceled on you last minute.

He walked through the door and you were nowhere to be found, which is strange because you usually come and greet him whenever you hear the door open. He walks inside, taking his shoes off and heading to the living room to find you sitting on the couch, watching some show. He can already tell you're in a nasty mood. He walks to the side of the couch you're on and speaks. "I'm home." he says plainly. "I can see that." the irritation in your voice as clear as day. (that was ur first mistake bby.) He sighs through his nose, "What's wron-" you interrupt him, sucking your teeth and waving him off. (this was the second) As if a switch flipped in him, he immediately made his way to the couch, sitting down in a manspread position. "Get up, get on your knees." "...What the fuck do I gotta get up for?" "This is my last time telling you, get up and kneel." You done got yourself in a world of mf hurt, and you knew what was coming.

You quickly got up and kneeled in front of him, resting your hands on both his thighs. He lifted his hips, just enough to pull down his sweats and his boxers, pulling his dick out, it was already semi hard, the tip a darker shade of pink, a little bit of clear fluid, dribbling out and down the side. "Open." "I'm sorry-" "Open." He cared very little for your attempts to weasel your way out of your consequences, he shut it down every time. Before you could even open your mouth, he grabs your face, squishing the fat of your cheeks and pulling you closer to him, forcing your mouth open. "Tongue." You stick your tongue out, he then taps the tip against it, removing it to circle it around your glossy lips. The sparkly clear gloss, mixing with the saliva from your tongue on his tip is mesmerizing. He lets go of your face and pushes your mouth onto his dick, your chubby cheeks puffing out, as he makes you gag as his tip hits your throat. He holds the back of your head down, keeping your lips wrapped around his base. "You can take it all." He grunts out. He pulls you back up for air, your lips leaving and circle of the leftover gloss around his base. You're panting, trying to catch your breath as his yellow eyes just stare into you. "You'll tell me what's wrong after I finish?" "Yes." "Yes what?" "Yes sir."

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

This Week's Been Nuts So Here's Another WIP

This one features Freya (plus size elf sorcerer) and Astarion, set post-game. I might even be relevant to @dhampling's interests. Veers into NSFW talk pretty quick but nothing happens...yet.

“You’re not coming?” Freya asked, holding out her gloved hand to Astarion. It was the second year in a row they had come to stay a month in the ancestral city of the Wildhearts in the north. They were out at night (of course) with Freya insisting on skating.

“Not tonight, darling, but you go and enjoy. I’ll be right here.” It’s far better to admire her from here and not while wobbling on skates.

She smiled. “Alright, love. Maybe after we can get you some hot spiced wine and something for me.”

He nodded, waving at her as she turned to get onto the frozen river. “Whatever you want, sweetness! I’ll be here!” No matter what, I’ll always be there for her. He sat on a bench and watched her skate along the river. I always take great satisfaction and pleasure from watching her. She’s utterly divine.

Then he saw her helping a child who was about to fall.

Even before their marriage (honestly, before we defeated the Netherbrain), Astarion had researched dhampirs---half-vampires born of a vampire and a mortal. Some books detailed truly horrific experiences of dhampirs who clawed their way out of their mothers. Other tomes stated that those books were salacious nonsense and had accounts of normal dhampir pregnancies. All this information he shared with Freya previously, and her reaction was a simple shrug. “I suppose we can try and see what happens” was what she said. Well, that and “if it doesn’t happen for us that way then we can always adopt.” But I’ve been interested in creating our own little dhampir.

The stirring had grown particularly strong lately. And here it goes again. The urge to…breed her. A not insignificant smirk graced his lips. He knew she loved that kind of talk from him. She melts into our bed each time. What a delectable treat, my sweet is. Astarion was taken out of his increasingly sinful thoughts when he saw her waving at him, skating back to the snow-covered ground. “You done, my love?”

Freya nodded, her freckled cheeks pink. “Yeah. Missed you too much.” She carefully made her way to where he was sitting, a smile on her face. “I can always come during the day tomorrow if I want. I just want to be with you now.” Still smiling, she unlaced her skates.

“Well, aren’t you the sweetest?” He cooed. “Coincidentally darling, I was also thinking the same thing.” If the books are correct, then I simply need enough blood. Enough flowing through me to make our little dhampir. Watching her clean the blades of her skates, he could not help but lean close to her ear. “I want to fill you like the most decadent little cream puff. Stuffed full of my seed until you are bursting, my pretty.” When he heard her squeak, he giggled. “Does that get you excited, Freya darling?” Of course it does. Whether she admits it or not is another matter.

Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of red. Nearly matches her hair. “I-yes! You know it does! Naughty man!” She stammered, glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot. “Why, do you want—”

His lips captured hers in a heated kiss. After a few moments, he tugged on her plump bottom lip with a smirk. “As I said, I want to fill you. And fill you. And fill you. Until…it is certain you are with child.” He gave her a quick kiss before continuing. Oh, her ears are bright red. How adorable! “Well, it might even be ‘children,’ sweetness. Can you imagine having twins?”

Freya’s mouth opened and closed several times. “I…love, we still don’t know if it’s even possible. We’ll try, of course—”

“We will do more than try, darling. We will succeed.” He put the wiped down skates into a leather bag and stood. “In fact, we should succeed and have at least a dozen.” With a toothy grin, he offered his hand.

She sat with her mouth hanging open.

Astarion chuckled, still waiting for her to take his hand. “My love, you said you wanted a large family. A dozen is an…excellent start to making that dream come true.”

[theragnarokd]

the cosmic get-along shirt of truth

[dirkjake, rated teen thus far, mention of suicidal ideation, Earth C]

There is a warm body slumped across Jake’s mattress when he opens his eyes. Oh, bloody botheration, did he not kick out his latest one night stand? This is going to be so awkward. 

Jake is sitting up and pulling on his pants when belated, horrified understanding turns his blood to ice.

“J’ke?” Dirk mutters.

Oh no. Oh no no no. This is so much worse than he’d thought. “I have to go,” he blurts.

Except the words change somehow, twisting in his mouth, and what comes out is, “I don’t want to be here.”

The silence behind Jake feels charged. 

“So go,” Dirk says, finally, words curt. 

This is an absolute fucktangle of a situation, and Jake will figure out how to fix it later. For now, he’s gone.

Except that he walks two feet away from the bed and comes up short, as if pulled by an invisible leash. 

“Well?” Dirk asks, snippy. “It hurts to know that you don’t want to be near me, so I want the rejection to be over with already.”

Another silence as both of them digest this statement. 

“What,” Jake says, “the ever-loving mother-of-mercy thrice-bedamned fuck.”

“Cosigned,” Dirk says, grimly. “How the fuck did I even get here?”

Jake paces, feeling the edge of the invisible tether binding him. “I don’t like this. I don’t like being the one tied up. I want to go.” The last words are an honest to Dickens whine, worthy of a toddler in a tantrum. Then Dirk’s earlier words come up. “I don’t want to hurt you!” he yelps. “I never meant to.”

“Well, guess what: you did.” Dirk finally gets his ass off the bed. “Fine. If you’re not going, I will.” 

Jake watches Dirk go, halting after a few bare steps. “You can’t leave either, can you,” Jake says. “Well, that’s perfectly awful.”

God, what is he saying? Why is he saying this?

Dirk sits on the bed. “You are such a fucking asshole.”

“I didn’t mean to say it,” Jake says, wretchedly miserable. “I was going to say something that didn’t hurt you that was a total lie, instead.” 

Dirk looks up at him. He doesn’t have his shades, which honestly feels more indecent than seeing him nude ever has. “Contradiction in terms, bro. You’re hurting me anyway.” His face is flat, but his voice is tense with emotion Jake doesn’t think he ever heard him express. His mouth twists, pained. “Which I would rather die than tell you, but guess what, here it comes.”

Jake could honestly tear his hair out. “Don’t you see? That’s why I have to get out. I hurt you no matter what!”

“I’d still rather you stayed,” Dirk says, his voice soft, almost strangled. Then he abruptly goes face-down on the bed and tries to smother himself with a pillow. 

“Alright,” Jake says grimly. “We’re going to need outside help.”

~

It’s been ten minutes, roughly, and Roxy is still laughing. 

“Done yet?” Jake says. “Only Dirk is about to strangle me if we don’t get this solved.”

“Don’t be stupid. I’ll strangle myself,” Dirk says. “I want to most days, anyway.” He looks at Roxy’s suddenly stricken face and hunches on himself. “Come on, it’s not like it’ll be a big loss. Fuck. I wish I could curl up like a pill bug and have the earth swallow me like discount painkillers.” 

Roxy makes a wounded noise and throws her arms around Dirk. “Okay, once we fix this? So much therapy for you, babe. All the therapy.”

“I’m god-tier,” Dirk says, pathetically. “I’d just revive anyway, unless it counted as just because I’m actually a horrible person. Which, fair odds.” 

“I wish I was anywhere but in this conversation,” Jake says. 

To his surprise, Dirk pats his shoulder. “Same, bro.” 

“Right,” Roxy says, with a militant gleam to her eyes. “We’re getting reinforcements.”

~

Rose doesn’t laugh. Her mouth curves very faintly, however, and stays that way.  “It seems you are under some kind of compulsion to be honest,” she says.

Heated, Jake says, “By gum, I’d wager this is something a tad more sinister! It keeps making me say,” and then the devil possesses his mouth and he goes on: “what I actually mean.” He paws at his own face, horrified. “That’s entirely true! Not a false word about it!" He sags. "Oh, ratshit."

"Fascinating," Rose says. "And you, Father dear?"

"Every time you call me that I die a little bit inside," Dirk says, expression pained. "Which I didn't want to tell you, in case that was asking too much and got you to realize you want nothing to do with me." He buries his face in his hands and groans. 

"I'll chalk that down as a yes," Rose says smoothly. She steeples her fingers, looking at them. "Did anything unusual happen before this started?"

"I woke up in Jake's bed. I didn't go to sleep there," Dirk says, face still hidden by his hands. 

"He didn't," Jake confirms.

Rose's gaze feels like a vivisection. "And the day before?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Jake says. "I worked on machinery in the transportalizer hub. I went out to a club and took a guy home to fuck him." He shuts his eyes in mortification, and yet he cannot shut himself up. "He left afterwards without a fuss, I think. I was falling asleep at the time."

"Can I just have a lobotomy?" Dirk asks nobody in particular. "A lobotomy would be nice right now."

"Alas, your brain must remain intact." Rose leans her chin on her hands. "What about your yesterday, Dirk?"

"Normal. Worked until three am," he says. "Stayed up until five reviewing every single regret I have, then I guess I fell asleep." His mouth twists.

[wolfnprey]

Quliot Poll Snippets!! 📜

Thank you to everyone who voted yesterday! It truly feels so nice to have people interested in my fics. Two of the fics tied in the winning result, so you all get to enjoy a snippet from both!

The first snippet comes from the Institution!Q & Future!El fic, Know That Means I'll Have to Leave. It was hard to choose because I'm...so emotionally involved in this fic, but here's a piece of heart-to-heart between Julia and Eliot:

"I didn't even know how he felt about you," Julia starts, stiltedly. "I didn't know he was driving himself into the ground like he did trying to cure Niffin Alice. Maybe that's because those memories of talking to Niffin Alice through him in the Brakebills cells are marred by not having my Shade at the time.  "But that's the difference, Eliot." She turns her head, and Eliot feels the pull to look back at her, their feet carrying them confidently to their partially-known destination. "It wasn't just about him doing what he had to in order to save the world or us, his friends. It wasn't about his high fantasy hero's quest. It was Quentin being willing to burn down the world to save the person he loved most." His feet stumble, hearing the words said so brazenly from the only other person who truly knows Quentin. Honestly, it's asinine for Eliot to feel the denial surge up within him.  Hasn't this whole time traveling adventure based on Jane's confession proven Julia's words as true? Or the fact that Eliot is just as willing, just as deperate, to burn the same world down for Quentin in return? Still. Promising to be braver can still have its bumps. He can admit more things about himself, but looking at it mirrored in Quentin's own actions still has some resistance.  His mouth opens up and dishes out the words like the force of habit that they come from. "No, I – I wouldn't say that."

And this second snippet comes from my mess of a soulmate-reincarnation fic that involves Quentin and The Monster, Scared I'm Getting Close to the Day That I Die. I've jumped around on the few pieces written for it so far, so enjoy this scene that...comes later on in the fic. :

Quentin can't look away from the Monster – no, the Creation – in front of him. The rejoined body that removes itself from the altar and stands, unclothed, in front of him is startlingly familiar to Quentin. There's no way for him to recognize this Monster's true body and yet the thing that's at home in his chest says otherwise. He feels drawn to it like a moth to a flame, or the way he was helpless but to approach the lazing student on top of the Brakebills sign. Olive skin that's both parts smoothed and chisled like one of the ancient Greek statues, a tall frame that's the perfect height for Quentin to comfortably crane his neck back for tokens of affection or tuck under its chin in an embrace, plush lips with a dimpled chin beneath them and bright hazel eyes above that glow with a rim of gold around the irises, and a nest of dark curls gently surrounding his face. Just enough features to make Quentin feel like he's staring at Eliot's twin, or clone, or whatever else the universe has decided to hit him over the head with.  What the actual fuck is happening? Quentin's eyes fall away to where Eliot's crumpled form still lies against the side of the altar. Still alive, still pale and weak, still Eliot. Fluttering eyelids relieve him from the storm that's active underneath Quentin's skin. He needs to do something, he– "Quentin," the Nameless Creature breathes out with a content smile, "I remember now."

[mumucow]

6. “Please stop trying to hide them from me.”

Okay, right away I will blame @spaceprincessem for the length of this prompt, her bad influence is making me lose control over the size of anything I write.

Also took a bit longer, because I got a new game and got distracted and before I knew it it was Valentine’s so I did two in one.

Enjoy! And Happy Valentine’s Day! - AO3

“Please stop trying to hide them from me.” It was the first thing that Eddie said once he opened the door.

There was a chill breeze of the morning and Buck would die saying that it was what caused the shiver that when down his body and not the fact that Eddie looked as smug as possible even with his hair all disheveled.

Buck was more than happy that his body reacted to Eddie so well, so he smirked back taking the box that was hidden behind his back to their front. 

“You look like you are plotting something. Chris is still asleep.” Eddie walked back inside the house, not even bothering to look over his shoulder to make sure that Buck was following him. 

“I figure. I just wanted to surprise him.” Buck easily took the hint and followed Eddie into the kitchen to set the box on the counter. He opened it up to reveal heart-shaped cookies with strawberry jam in the middle.

“Those look good. Where did you buy them?” Eddie had already a coffee mug in his hand and with the other, he tried to reach for one of the cookies which Buck batted away.

“I bake them myself.” Buck focused his eyes and he went back to close the box, mostly to try and hide the shade of pink that was definitely covering his cheeks.

He knew exactly how Eddie was looking at him. It was a look he only gave Buck or Christopher, full of wonder and fondness. Something that Buck didn’t know how to handle and how to place in his chest.

“Of course you did. But why can’t I have one?”

“Because these are for Christopher to take to school, for Valentine’s. So he can share with his classmates.” Buck said as if it was obvious and then looked at his best friend. “Also, I saved a few to take to the station.”

“I thought you didn’t like Valentine’s.” Eddie frowned at Buck and Buck honestly just wanted to kiss that frown away.

“The first time I tried to celebrate it was stressful and I ended up in the hospital.” Buck shrugged and then grabbed himself a mug to get some coffee as well. He leaned against the counter while waiting.

“Exactly.” Eddie still looked confused as to where this was going.

“Valentine’s isn’t just for lovers. It's to enjoy friendships as well.” And Buck really enjoyed everything Eddie gave him, even if he wanted more. “Do you like it?”

“I hate the stress of it, how it’s impossible to get a table or to buy flowers that are so damn expensive and will only last two days.” Eddie wrapped both of his hands around his mug as he thought. “I do enjoy that the next day the chocolates are way cheaper.”

They both laughed with that, the noise filling the kitchen with warmth and the sense of home. Buck could melt in it.

“Did you ever get flowers?” Buck nipped at the corner of his mouth, a plan already forming in his head.

“I got Shannon a few times.”

“No…I meant has anyone given you flowers?”

Eddie seemed to be caught off guard by the question, his eyes trained on Buck as if he was trying to read his mind and figure out where this would lead.

“No, and they will die anyway, especially with my black thumb.”

Their conversation was interrupted right away by Chris’ arrival and Buck was more than glad about the boy’s sense of opportunity. He was more than happy to find that Buck had made him a surprise with the cookies.

The team also loved the surprise. Eddie even sneaked a few to himself before Buck called everyone to show them the treat. Buck wasn’t capable to stop him this time around.

A few days after Valentine’s and Buck had been able to get everything he needed for his plan to work as he wanted. He had sneaked away from the team just before their shift could end. He unlocked both his and Eddie’s lockers because obviously, they knew each other’s codes.

“Come on Buckley, don’t fuck this up.” He took a deep breath and put everything he had got into Eddie’s lockers before closing his own.

No one seemed to have noticed that he was gone so it was enough to make him relax just a bit. Buck knew it wouldn’t last long.

His heart beat like crazy when they all got into the locker rooms, Buck tried to play as cool as possible but he was eager to see Eddie’s reaction. Both Hen and Chimney were distracted by their own conversation.

Eddie looked shocked when he opened the door, looking around to make sure that no one was playing a prank on him.

Buck had put inside the locker some of Eddie’s favorite chocolates, he had even baked a few more of those heart-shaped cookies that his best friend seemed to love so much and a small tiny cactus in a frog-shaped vase.

Eddie didn’t say anything, didn’t even reach for Buck. Just took his clothes out and started to get changed but he closed the door of the locker when usually he left it wide open. Maybe he was ashamed.

Buck felt his chest tighten losing track of everything else as he changed into his civilian clothes.

“Buck.” With that reaction, Buck had already prepared himself for heartbreak. And of course, Eddie had figured out right away who had put those things there. He had been too obvious about it. Maybe he had been too obvious all along and Eddie had noticed and done nothing about it so Buck wouldn’t hurt.

“Buck,” Eddie called again a bit closer to him and Buck almost flinched at it.

“Yeah?” Buck tried to not sound like a teenager asking his crush out but he miserably failed by the look Eddie was giving me.

“You forgot something.” That wasn’t what Buck had expected Eddie to say.

“What?”

“You forgot to put a card saying “Will you be my Valentine?”” Eddie was actually smiling at him, even if the corner of his mouth was twitching a bit as if he was nervous.

“It’s not Valentine’s Day anymore.” Buck stupidly said. It took him a few seconds to realize that Eddie wasn’t mad at him anymore.

“Buck.” Eddie stepped closer to him, sending a shiver down Buck’s body again. They might be in the locker rooms but the walls were still fully made of glass.

“I wanted to surprise you. Sometimes it’s better to celebrate on nonspecial dates. So it’s truly a surprise.” Buck knew that he was rambling and moving his hands around too much.

“I agree.” Eddie reached to hold him by his shoulder, the warm thumb ghosting over the skin of Buck’s neck. “Come over tomorrow night. We will be alone and we can talk. I will ask Hen if she can take Christopher for the night.”

“Okay.” Buck said dumbly, still not really believing that this was happening.

He watched as Eddie carefully set everything in his go-bag and left the locker room, even stopping at the door to look over his shoulder and send Buck a smile.

Buck was doomed.

Buck didn’t tell anyone about their night and he was pretty sure that Eddie hadn’t fully revealed to Hen why he needed the night alone or by this time Hen would have probably shot Buck a text. Even if just to wish him luck.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and knocked on the door that he was so familiar with. His hands still shaking a bit when he set it down at his side.

Eddie opened the door looking just as beautiful as ever, it was definitely one of the outfits that Eddie would use for a date, it showed off all his best features.

Meanwhile, Buck had stressed over what to wear and end up with a blue button-up that would highlight the color of his eyes.

“You look…” They both started at the same time to just end up with a laugh, it was clear they both had the same thoughts.

As Eddie led the way toward the living room, Buck noticed how his jeans hugged Eddie’s ass perfectly and yes this was definitely a date outfit.

Buck was taken by surprise when they reach the living room, the lights were set low and the furniture had been pushed aside so a blanket was stretched out on the floor. On the coffee table near it, there were glasses and food that looked amazing. And even a few candles.

“Eddie…” Buck was in awe of it.

“Too much? The restaurants aren’t going to do Valentine’s dinners anymore and I think this is more us.” Eddie almost sounded nervous, as if Buck would hate any of this.

Just the words us made all Buck’s body heat up. This was real. This was really happening.

“I could kiss you right now.” The words left his mouth way too fast and when he looked at Eddie, he could see him relax.

“I want that. Badly. But I feel like we would get distracted if we started like that.” Eddie now sounded a bit more like himself, more sure of himself. “Dinner and talking.”

Buck nodded and they sat down. He should have brought something with him if he knew that it was a real date and not just a talk down for what he was trying to do.

Their night went as usually always went, calm and easy. No awkwardness, the only thing that Buck was more aware of was how much they touched each other, it had always been there of course, but before he hadn’t noticed how Eddie would blush when their fingers brushed when reaching for something. Was it always there?

“I get the chocolate and the cookies. I ate them all already.” Eddie confessed like it was a secret to keep between them, it was light and fun. “But why the cactus? Also, the vase made Christopher laugh so hard. He wants it for himself as he quoted “Once you kill it.””

Eddie snorted fondly at the thought of his kid and Buck just drank all of that, his best friend would do the same when Buck did something obnoxious.

“Exactly because of that. You said you never got flowers. Cactus don’t need that maintenance and they do give flowers.” Buck explained and before he could keep going Eddie was kissing him.

It was a weird position since they had been sitting on the floor. Both of them supporting their torso by only using one arm and they relaxed the rest of their bodies. Now though, Eddie had come closer, which Buck didn’t notice happening, their hands so much closer together on the floor. Eddie’s free hand was now cupping Buck’s jaw to handle him better and Buck’s hand had ended up on Eddie’s waist to pull him closer. 

The taste of wine and the dessert they had just finished being exchanged through their tongues and Buck could die happy.

“I thought we were going to talk.” Buck breathed. Their mouths still close together, Eddie huffing in exasperation.

“We did.”

“We didn’t.” Buck swallowed the lump in his throat. “Not about us.”

“Do we need to? We both want this. We just had a date and nothing is different except the fact that we can kiss and not hide what we feel. Do we need to talk more than this?”

Buck needed a more clear answer of what they were, he looked expectantly at Eddie. His hand still burning hot against Buck’s neck and then everything seems to make sense on Eddie’s face.

“Buck…” It was gentle as the kiss that Eddie planted in the corner of his mouth. “Maybe there is one big thing that will change.” Then another kiss right at the corner of Buck’s birthmark. “I will no longer say you are my best friend.” There was a teasing smirk on Eddie’s lips.

For a second Buck’s brain tricked him into a bad place, but he trusted Eddie with all his heart. Literally. He felt like his heart was now beating inside Eddie’s hands.

“Then I am your what?” Buck didn’t expect to sound so breathless.

“Boyfriend. Partner. Everything that I thought I would never get and didn’t deserve.” There was a flash of sadness in Eddie’s eyes as he spoke about the past. 

This time it was Buck who closed the distance between them, making sure to show all the love in their kiss. Sometimes he forgot that he wasn’t the only one with demons. Everyone carried their own, but Buck would make sure to push those demons away from Eddie, just like he knew that Eddie would do it for him.

That was one of the best things they had. They had seen each worst and best. And they saved each other, they still choose each despite everything.

[total-fandom-tr45h]

yo Viking AU!! I am absolute love with the tattoo choices, more Skoll and Hati imagery with Sun and Moon, yes please~ I gotta ask, how do two animatronics end up in a Viking settlement? - @clxckwork-sun-n-moon

Hehe, glad you asked >:3

I probably have posted this on here before, but I honestly can't remember- if I did, i didn't tag it well and can't find it amongst my four hundred something posts so here!

The Metal Vikingr

“In two days time, two metal men will appear. Welcome them into the clan, and train them to be warriors. These metal men will save your clan.”

It wasn’t uncommon for you to receive prophecies in your dreams. You had been blessed by the gods from a young age, and practiced seiðr to assist your clan. What confused you was the mention of ‘metal men’. How could that be possible? You would just have to find out.

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

“Vǫlva!”

You had been enjoying a moment of quiet when a man from the village came running up the hill to your humble little house on the outskirts of the village. His name was Asmund, a drengr and one of the few people who would just sit and talk with you, not expecting you to use your magic or give a prophecy. The two of you had grown up together, Asmund’s father even treating you like his own daughter. When you were gifted your magical abilities, Asmund was the only one who didn’t fear you, staying by your side as you struggled with the prophecies that constantly flooded your minds and haunted your dreams. 

“Asmund, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You smiled softly at him, a soft red hue encroaching on his face as he stared at you a moment before shaking his head, remembering why he was here. 

“Strange creatures have washed up on shore, father told me to get you.” 

Right on schedule.

You sighed softly and stood up, stretching before walking over to Asmund. “Let’s go. I believe I know what you’re talking about.” You started walking down the hill, humming a tune while Asmund jogged to catch up with you. “You know what they are? Are they part of a prophecy or something?” He asked, tilting his head in curiosity. You nodded, looking at the shoreline to see a crowd of people gathered around something next to the docks. 

You picked up your pace, speed-walking through the village, nodding in greetings to those who said hello. You made your way to the group and cleared your throat, causing them to look at you and hastily move to make a path for you through them. What you saw laying on the rocky shore of the river was something you never thought could exist.

Two tall, lanky metal men lay side by side on the ground, water lapping at them gently. One was coloured like the day, yellows and golds decorating his strange figure. He wore strange pants decorated with red and yellow stripes, frills around his neck and waist, and ribbons on his wrists. Adorning his head was a crown of spikes, reminding you of the rays of the sun. His face had a crescent shape on it, one side a different shade of yellow than the other, and his mouth was slightly agape, eyes closed as if asleep. 

The other one looked almost identical, but was decorated like the night, dark blues and greys covering his body. He dressed similar to his counterpart, but his pants were blue with stars on them, a matching cap of sorts affixed to his head. The crescent of his face was two drastically different colors, one half being blackened while the other was a light grey, reminiscent of a crescent moon. He too looked like he was asleep, almost peaceful. 

You looked over at the spectral crow that had alighted on the dock, and nodded your head towards the metal men as you spoke. “Are these the prophesied ones?” The crow slowly nodded its head before taking off with a caw, flying out of your sight. You clapped your hands together and turned to the crowd, looking between all of them. “I need some help bringing them to my home, please.” There were hushed whispers between the people, and Asmund stepped forward to help along with a few other reluctant men. 

It took 6 of the strongest warriors to carry the metal men to your little home, three for each as they seemed to weigh quite a bit despite being so thin. You instructed the men to bring them into your home, and they obliged, propping the two up against a wall next to a basket of herbs you had just dried. After waving the men away, you began to inspect the two, poking and prodding their supposed sleeping forms.

Their outer ‘shell’ was actually soft, feeling almost like skin, but cold to the touch. Their faces felt the same, and you wondered just how they worked when a strange sound came from the sun-themed one as you were inspecting the moon one. You jolted and stood up, taking a step back and holding your breath. Slowly, the metal man began to move, fingers twitching and sun rays rotating around his head slowly as he opened his eyes, their soft blue glowing like a candle in the dimness of your home. 

It took him a few seconds to get his bearings, but once he did he jumped up, causing you to yelp in surprise as he began pacing around, hands tugging at the rays adorning his head while he rambled. He spoke in English, and you gave a silent prayer to Freyja for your gift of language, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to understand him.

“O-oh no, oh no! This is not good, no no no, not good! Oh gosh, what’s going on…” 

You stood there, watching him and not noticing the other one stirring, opening his eyes and looking at his counterpart before speaking. 

 “Sun, where the hell are we?”

He asked, standing and halting ‘Sun’, placing his hands on the others shoulders. ‘Sun’ shook, looking around the room nervously as he began to fiddle with his fingers. 

“I-I don’t know, Moon- oh! H-hello!”

His eyes landed on you and he gave you a nervous smile, ‘Moon’ looking at you as well, eyeing you skeptically. You smiled back, hiding your own nervousness as you took a step towards the two, holding your hands out in a peaceful gesture. “Hello. Please, do not be alarmed. You are in Norway, in my village. You are safe.” It felt weird to speak English, not used to it since you hardly ever needed to. Your assurances seemed to only slightly calm ‘Sun’, and ‘Moon’ let go of the others shoulders to cross his arms and stare at you.

“Why should we believe you? How did we get here in the first place? Did you kidnap us?”

He squinted his red eyes at you, almost causing you to shudder under their intensity. “I have no clue how you got here, you were found on the shore of the river. I had you brought here to my home. Whether you believe me or not is up to you, but not believing me will make things very difficult for all of us.” You lowered your arms, putting one hand on your hip as you jutted it out to the side. (Ooh, sassy)

You stared at them for a moment before shrugging and turning away, beginning to sort through a small pile of herbs that sat on the table behind you. You heard them whisper between themselves before they went silent again. A few seconds later you felt a tapping on your shoulder, and you turned around to see ‘Sun’ tapping his pointer fingers together nervously. “U-um, we have decided that w-we believe you. Do you know by chance why we are here, though?” He asked, his voice wavering like a frightened child. 

You smiled softly, setting down the herbs you had in your hands and turned to face him. “As a matter of fact, I do. You were sent here to help protect my clan, or so the prophecy said.” You put your hands on your hips, looking between the two of them. ”Now, what are your names? I’m yðvarr náli, but you may call me vǫlva.” You watched as they looked at each other before looking back at you. 

“I-I’m Sun, and this is my brother Moon. What, um… language do you keep using? I don’t recognize it.”

You blinked at Sun, confused. “What do you mean? It’s Norse.” 

Sun frowned, and Moon sighed. “Old Norse, of course. We’ve been sent back in time. That’s just great!” 

The lunar ‘man’ threw his arms into the air in exasperation, and his brother turned to him, panicking. “T-time travel?! B-but that should be impossible!” 

Your eyes wandered from the blabbering of Sun to your doorway, where a spectral cat walked through the door. “Freyja, good to see you. I have a question.” The cat sat down and curled its tail over its paws, then nodded. “Is there such a thing as traveling through time?” The cat pondered for a moment before nodding slowly. 

“Who are you talking to?”

You looked up at Moon, who was watching you curiously. You looked back to the cat, only to see it had vanished. “Oh, nobody really.” 

He scowled at you, crossing his arms. “Uh huh, there was something in the room that you were talking to, but it’s gone now. What was it?” 

You groaned, sitting on a little stool that was nearby. “Sit, this may take a while.” The two obliged, sitting on the floor near you, looking at you almost like the children from the village did when they came to listen to your stories. 

It had been midday when you started your explanation, and it took until dusk to finish, the two telling you a bit about themselves in the process. “Wow…. you can use magic… that’s so cool!” Sun remarked, his eyes glowing brighter in the low light of your home. 

There was a knock at the door, and you stood up, stretching before walking over and opening the door to see Asmund standing there. “Asmund, come in! I’d like you to meet the two you’ll be helping to train into fine drengr like yourself.” You ushered the young man in, practically pulling him through the door into the warmth of your home. 

Asmund stood frozen, staring at the two animatronics, as they had told you they were called, sitting on the floor of your house, taking up quite a bit of room as they were so large. “Asmund, this is Sun and Moon.” 

You gestured to each respectively, and they both nodded their heads at him. Asmund blinked a few times before clearing his throat. “Ahem, um, nice to meet you…? I’m Asmund.” The man seemed uncomfortable, to say the least. 

”This is Asmund, my childhood friend and one of the people who are going to train you.” You explained to Sun and Moon, seeing as they didn’t understand him.

You’ll have to fix the language barrier issue before they start training. 

Asmund grabbed your arm, dragging you outside, the sky painted with the coming night sky, stars just barely visible. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, you don’t know what they’re capable of-” He began berating you, but you just lifted your hand, making him shut up. 

“Asmund, with all due respect, I know what I’m doing. And for you to not have faith in my decision is to not have faith in the gods, so I suggest you be quiet and help.” 

You snapped, already irritated with his behavior. Asmund looked at you like a wounded puppy before nodding and hanging his head in shame.

You sighed and gave Asmund a pat on his broad shoulder, then looked up at the darkening night sky. “You should go home, Asmund. It’s getting dark. I will see you tomorrow.” You removed your hand and turned, heading back into your house where Sun and Moon were waiting, standing over your table where you had been sorting herbs earlier. 

“Alright, sorry about that. Is there anything I can get to make you two more comfortable?” You asked, standing behind them. The two seemed to jolt slightly, turning around quickly to face you. Sun looked ashamed, while Moon was donning a deadpan expression. 

“Oh, n-no thanks! We’ll be perfectly fine for the night, yup! Although…” Sun spoke up, but trailed off at the end of his sentence. You were about to ask what the matter was when a loud chime echoed through your home, coming from Sun.

[BATTERY LOW. RECHARGE IMMEDIATELY.] 

Sun hid his face in his hands, seemingly embarrassed while Moon chuckled. You tilted your head, not quite understanding what was going on. Moon crouched down to your eye level, his soft chuckling trailing off as he spoke. “I know you don’t have electricity, but do you have anything to eat?” 

You blinked a few times, still not quite understanding but you nodded, shuffling over to where you kept your food. You grabbed a few things, then brought them over to where Sun was now sitting, still hiding his face. 

“Here, I brought you food. Eat while I get beds ready for you two.” You set down the food, which both of them begin to eat immediately. You turn and head to another part of your home, gathering some bedding while trying to think of a place to set it up for them, finally deciding on a spot near the door. 

You hummed as you set up their beds, lost in your thoughts when you felt something touch your shoulder. “Yes?” You asked, not even turning around to see who it was. After all, with your abilities and ties to the gods, it wasn't uncommon to get visits from strange beings.

“Uh, we’re done…. let us do that.” Sun’s voice spoke up from behind you, and you waved him off, continuing with your work. 

“No, you’re my guests, it’s the least I can do.” You finished making the beds and stepped back, turning to see that both Sun and Moon had been standing there, watching the entire time. “There! I’d suggest you get some rest or whatever, tomorrow is a big day for you.” 

The two looked at each other with slight concern on their features, but you just grinned up at them. Moon shuffled over to one of the beds, sitting down before sprawling out. The mass of pelts and blankets were too small for his large form, and the sight made you snicker. “So, what are we doing tomorrow then?” Sun asked, pulling your attention back to the sunny robot. 

“Tomorrow, I will teach you two my language.” You said, reaching up to give Sun a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Nothing to be worried about. Now, off to bed with you! I wake up at first light, so you will be too.” 

Sun sat down on the makeshift bed next to his brother, who seemed to already be asleep. You smiled at them one last time before extinguishing all the lights in your home, save for one candle you used to navigate to your own bed. Curling up under your blankets, you let out a small sigh before allowing your eyes to close and slumber take over.

[distantpagesandpapercuts]

@cold-steel-eyes

Continued from here.

"Oh, it's no problem at all." He simply laughed off her concern for him. Not wanting her to fret about something that isn't much of a big deal in his eyes, but still appreciative for her need to look out for the courier. Buck usually does fine in colder temperatures, since his body tends to stay on the warmer side, it's his colleagues that he worries about. It was a simple gesture that he would have done for anybody, he only hoped that she would understand his other purpose. He almost wanted to sling his arm around her shoulder and bring her closer to him, but he respected their boundaries and the last thing he wanted to do was make the brunette uncomfortable with his gesture. He liked Kira, very much, and would like to pursue a possible relationship with her, but only when it was right by her. The pair walked down a cracked sidewalk near Freeside, passing many of the locals as they went about their day. It was always a treat to spend some time with each other. The two of them are often busy with their own respective line of work, so time like this is always a treasure to Buck. He just hoped to make it a bit more special. Then he remembered. "Actually, I just recall hearing about this new coffee house that opened up not too far from here," He honestly wasn't that much of a coffee drinker, but he knew Kira always enjoyed them in between her work schedule. Besides, he could always substitute it with a tea or hot chocolate. Plus, from what he heard out of the mouths of others; they had the best apple dumplings this side of Nevada, and he'd been more than eager to try them out for himself. "Perhaps, we could stop by for a moment and get something to warm you up?" "My treat." His grin was easy but the noticeable shade of red that seemed to cover his pale face had betrayed his relaxed demeanor and showed his romantic intentions.

He insists it's no problem, but it's obvious from the way her golden eyes stare at him from behind her glasses that she's watching him. Waiting for even the slightest hint of his discomfort. A which point she had every intention of insisting that he take the coat back. But for the moment, he seemed fine.

It was a kind gesture, but Buck was nothing if not kind. Always. He was the kindest person she'd ever met. Always smiling despite there being not terribly much to smile about out here in the wastes. Kira found herself gravitating towards it more often than not. If only to sort of bask in it. He radiated it to her when he was nearby- his smile was contagious. It made her feel nice, warm even. It was enough to temporarily dispel her doubts of him. No one could be that happy out here. Not genuinely. Could they?

He musters the strength to be kind in a world that offers more pain than anything.

She hopes she can be like that one day.

Until then, she'd have to settle for these spotty visits. Both were fairly busy in their work. Kira studying and Buck travelling. So when these opportunities arose, Kira found herself making excuses not to show up for classes or work. Today- she was too sick to help the already too sick.

Truthfully, whenever the Followers needed to send word out for supplies? She would take it down to their little pony express and search for him. If only as an excuse to see him for a moment. More often than not he wasn't around. But it didn't hurt to try.

Hm?

"Coffee? Was there a surge in supply? A crop came in? How exciting." Kira liked coffee pretty well, she preferred tea if she were honest. But she drank quite a bit of coffee in order to keep up with the demands of her work and studies.

He mentions warming her up and she smiles up at him, noticing the color of his face.

"That'd be lovely, thank you. Though, I have a sneaking suspicion that it's not me who needs warming up. You're already turning red from the cold. Poor thing," She muses this softly and with concern.

"Lead the way."

[cophene]

p. fugo ending || ✦.⁺ delivery stock.

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pairing : vento aureo x gn reader summary : a college student tries getting the attention of some of the most admired and attractive people on campus, only to get caught up with stands and vigilante groups in the process. notes : modern au, multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn't follow canon plot word count : 2.5k+

═ ☆.  THANKS FOR COMING WITH ME,” Fugo said. “Signor Pericolo always gets a huge shipment of new inventory right around now. His shop is small enough for him to manage by himself, but he always appreciates it when I come by to help with cataloguing.”

(Y/n) pretended to look bored. “Oh, is that what we’re doing? I thought we were going to do something fun.”

“Hey, we’re both fresh out of the hospital. There’s no need to overexert ourselves.”

(Y/n) rolled their eyes, smiling. They didn’t mind helping with book sorting at all. The little bookstore was a great place to spend an afternoon, and frankly, they were happy to spend any time with Fugo that wasn’t in the hospital. Already, he was looking noticeably better, his dark-blonde hair shining in the sunlight and his eyes bright despite the slight shadows beneath them. The doctors had removed the bandages wrapping his limbs, and the welts and sores left behind from Purple Haze had faded to pink, healing skin.

They didn’t know why, but they absolutely loved the short-sleeved shirt Fugo was wearing today. It was one of those indie shirts you could only find in independent clothing stores, plain beige with a green monster decked out in crooked horns. Or what (y/n) thought was a monster, anyway. The design was on the verge of ugly, but veered over to the realm of adorable instead. And the little green scarf peeking out of Fugo’s collar was so cute (y/n) was tempted to tear it off and kiss him.

“Do you mind if I stop by the café quickly? I just need to grab something,” said Fugo, pulling into the parking lot. 

 (Y/n) agreed to wait for him in the car, feeling like a kid whose dad had forgotten something at the store. A few minutes passed, and someone tapped on (y/n)’s window. A girl with sharp eyes and a mouth already curling into a smirk. Since the engine was still idling, (y/n) hesitantly rolled the window down.

“Hey,” the girl said. Her long hair was drawn over her shoulder, along with braids that were a few shades lighter. There was an eight-pointed star over one of her eyes that could have been a scar or a tattoo. “Are you with Fugo?”

(Y/n) had stumbled across random Stand users enough to be wary of anyone approaching them out of the blue. “... Who’s asking?”

The girl stuck her hand through the window, nearly catching (y/n) in the eye. “Call me Sheila. I work with Fugo at the café.”

(Y/n) reluctantly returned the handshake. “(Y/n).”

“I honestly thought you’d be more attractive.”

(Y/n) blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be. It’s not really your fault. Genetics and all that.”

Sheila surprised (y/n) by opening the backseat door and getting in Fugo’s car, cool as a cucumber. Was she supposed to get a ride with (y/n) and Fugo or something?

“I mean, with the way he was going on about you, people would think you were straight out of a renaissance painting. I’ve never seen Fugo act like such a dumbass. Has he asked you out yet?”

“I don’t—”

“I don’t know how he would. That guy has less charm than a concrete wall. He always gets more tips than me when he busses tables, though. It must be how painfully timid he seems. Is that what drew you to him? His tragic shyness?”

(Y/n) blinked at her. Blunt. That was the word (y/n) had been looking for. This girl didn’t seem fond of softening her words, no matter what it was she said.

The driver’s side door opened, and Fugo slid into his seat.

“Sorry you had to wait. I had to look around for—Sheila? W hat the hell are you doing in my car? ”

Shelia wound a braid around her finger. “I was just talking to your elusive crush. No need to sound so horrified.”

Fugo’s face turned an impressive shade of red. “Get out.”

“Is this what you’re up to when I have to cover your shifts? You’re using protection, right?”

“Sheila.”

“I never thought someone like you could get boned. There really is someone out there for everyone. I wonder when my someone will show up. You gotta tell me, (y/n), how good is Fugo? I hear guys like him are absolute demons in bed—”

“Holy shit, Sheila. I will never make you clean the espresso machine again. Just please leave.”

“... Can you say that again? I need to get it on record.”

Fugo banged his fist on the car horn, making (y/n) and Sheila jump. 

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving.” 

Sheila took her sweet time getting out of the car seat. She walked around the front of the car before saying through the windshield, “You’re taking all the closing shifts too.” Fugo narrowed his eyes. He stomped on the gas pedal and peeled out of the parking lot, barely missing Sheila by a few inches. 

“She didn’t say anything rude to you, did she?” Fugo asked, exasperated.

(Y/n) smiled tightly. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Fugo shook his head. “Since the first day we started working together, Sheila won’t get off my case. There’s always something about me she can find to badger about. I knew it was a mistake telling her about you. Sheila loves getting into my business.”

“I wouldn’t mind having a friend like that.”

“Oh, everyone says that before they get a Sheila in their life. Between her and Narancia, I’m surprised they haven’t ground my last nerve into dust. Purple Haze is going to come out one day and—” Fugo fell quiet at the mention of his Stand. (Y/n) could tell he was remembering the night of the fundraiser.

“That was stupid of you, you know,” (y/n) said. “I never would have expected you to do something like that.”

“I had to do something.”

“But it didn’t even work. You got seriously hurt. If Vanilla Ice hadn’t gotten the antidote there in time …”

Fugo sighed. “There’s still a lot I don’t know about my Stand. I just wish there was a way I could figure it out without … turning myself into goo.”

“At least you still have it,” (y/n) said quietly.

He looked at them. “White Satin hasn’t come back?”

“I can still summon it, but it’s so weak I can hardly do anything with it.” (Y/n)’s chest tightened at the thought. They hadn’t thought they would miss the glimmering strands if it ever disappeared, but here they were.

“I meant what I said in the hospital,” said Fugo, “that there’s nothing wrong with your soul. If souls are alive, it would make sense that your Stand might change at one point. Or grow weaker. Something like that.”

“Something like that.”

Fugo reached across the gearshift to squeeze (y/n)’s hand.

At the bookstore, the door wouldn’t budge when Fugo pushed on it. He glanced at the open sign, then pressed his face against the glass to peer inside. He tried the door again, pressing his entire frame against it. It moved a few inches, but not wide enough for them to enter.

“What’s wrong?”

Fugo rubbed his shoulder. “It’s … you’ll see. Come on, we’ll have to use the back door.”

(Y/n) followed him around the bookstore, wondering what on earth could be blocking the door. 

“Signor Pericolo!” Fugo called, edging around the bookkeeping supplies and shelves at the back. “Sir, are you here?”

The grey-haired man’s reply was so faint it sounded like he was in a different building, rather than a few feet away. When they finally arrived in the main store, (y/n) gawked at the sight.

The entire front of the store was swamped with boxes. (Y/n) literally could not see the front desk with all of the cardboard covering it. Some had been emptied; others were half-open, revealing glossy paperbacks and shiny hardcovers. There had to be at least thirty books in every box, and with how many boxes there were, (y/n) had a hard time understanding how the wiry little bookkeeper had managed to get them all inside.

(Y/n) had never seen anyone look aghast, but Fugo’s expression had to be close.

“Signor? Where are you?!”

“Over here!”

“There’s a path right there,” (y/n) said, stepping around boxes to get to it. They picked their way toward the front counter, Fugo scuffling behind them. (Y/n) gingerly steadied towers of boxes as they went, their heart tripping up more than once as they heard Fugo knock boxes over behind them. At last, they found the cash register, and Signor Pericolo sitting underneath the counter like a child in a pillow fort.

 “Sir—” Fugo frowned, then looked around them as though making sure the boxes were real. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“Inventory delivery,” Pericolo replied, smiling serenely. He nodded at (y/n), one of his eyes wandering while the other crinkled in amusement.

“Yes, I know, but this—how did this happen? You’re not keeping all of these books are you? How did you even get them inside?”

“I told the delivery boys to just leave them inside yesterday. You can see how that went.” Pericolo set the book he’d been examining back into its box, then reached for another one. “I have many bookkeeping friends in the city, Fugo. It’s hard for them to schedule deliveries, so I offered my store as an address until they could be picked up. I was only looking at them.”

Fugo pushed a hand through his hair, shooting a look at (y/n). They shrugged, just as confused as he was.

“Sir, you can’t even open the front door,” (y/n) said hesitantly.

Pericolo beamed at them. “Well, that’s what the two of you are here for, isn’t it?”

(Y/n) didn’t think they’d over sung the alphabet under their breath so many times in their life. Fugo and (y/n) hustled around, trying to return the store to some semblance of order, weaving in between customers as they dropped by and raised their eyebrows at the mess. Signor Pericolo’s method of organizing books was easy enough to follow once the boxes had been moved and sorted by type and genre. The majority of them turned out to be copies of reference books Pericolo sold to the nearby schools and colleges. Those boxes were loaded onto trolleys that were ridiculously hard to maneuver, much to (y/n) and Fugo’s irritation. They found that the best way to move these trolleys to the back was by (y/n) pushing one end and Fugo pulling the other. (Fugo was kind enough not to complain when (y/n) squished him between the wall and the trolley when they turned corners.)

The boxes labelled for other bookstores were thankfully lighter than the reference materials and found their temporary home stacked behind the counter. (Y/n) and Fugo oohed and ahhed at the remaining stock that belonged to Signor Pericolo, admiring sleek first-editions and pretty children’s books. They would run between shelves and the front counter, asking Pericolo whenever they couldn’t decide what book went where.

The weight of books in their hands and the scent of crisp paper eased (y/n)’s thoughts. The work was actually enjoyable once they got into the rhythm of it. It was immensely satisfying to slide books onto shelves and watch the pile of boxes grow smaller. 

Fugo would smile at them everytime they caught his eye in the gap between shelves, his hair adorably mussed. Whenever (y/n) climbed the stepstool, Fugo would hold onto it, even though they were barely a few feet off the floor. There were other times when Fugo would rush up to (y/n) excitedly, pointing out an interesting picture or tidbit he found, laughing at (y/n)’s smartass remarks. 

“Last box,” (y/n) said, sliding the boxcutter through the tape.

Fugo slumped against the wall. “Thank god. My legs feel like they’re about to give up.”

(Y/n) lifted the flaps of the box.

“Fugo.”

He looked at them. The tips of his ears turned red when he spied the book cover in their hands.

“We should burn that entire box.”

“There will be no burning of books!” Pericolo yelled.

(Y/n) smirked, waving the book in Fugo’s face. The book was only one of the raunchy pulp fiction novels stashed in the box, the covers featuring half-dressed women and men with gleaming, ridiculous muscles.

“Quit it,” Fugo laughed. He snatched the book from (y/n), then hefted the entire box and shoved it in the back storage room.

“Nobody wants to read those,” he whispered, going to the front counter. He reported that all of the books had been shelved and organized, and Signor Pericolo clapped his hands.

“Grazie! The lovebirds have accomplished in an afternoon what would have taken an old man a week.”

(Y/n) chuckled. “It was our pleasure, Signor.”

Pericolo reached into the register and handed them each a 50 euro bill.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Fugo said, pushing the money back. “It was the least we could do, Signor. We were happy to do it.”

“And I’m happy to give this to you,” replied Pericolo. He wouldn’t back down until (y/n) and Fugo had pocketed the money. “Pick something out that you like and then get out of here! Don’t spend the day here with little old me.” He waved his hands at them.

(Y/n) could not resist grabbing the pulp fiction novel. They flipped through it, reading aloud all the steamy portions to Fugo on the ride back, in a ridiculous breathy voice that made Fugo bite down on his lip to hold back laughter.

They arrived back at Sapiena just as the sun was beginning to set. (Y/n) finished the paragraph as Fugo killed the engine.

“He nibbled my neck and shivers raced across my skin. He was so powerful. So dominant. Of course, he would protect me.” 

“How are you reading all of that with a straight face?”

“Because it’s funny. Imagine if everyone walked around saying stuff like this.”

“I dunno, sounds pretty nice.”

(Y/n) shoved his shoulder. “Shut up. That’s terrible.”

“Is it? What would you say if someone nibbled on your neck?”

Fugo was leaning towards them. His eyes were intent on (y/n), strands of hair falling into his face. (Y/n) tucked them behind his ears, suddenly keenly aware of their heartbeat.

Their hand lingered by his face.

“Can I kiss you?” 

Fugo’s breath hitched. 

“Of course.”

(Y/n)’s fingers slid into his hair, and they pulled him close. His mouth was warm, irresistibly soft. They felt him twist in his seat, wanting to get closer, his hands moving to their back. 

Fugo made a strained noise, and (y/n) jolted back. 

“Seatbelt,” he muttered. “I forgot my goddamn seatbelt.”

(Y/n) smiled ruefully. “Way to ruin the mood.”

“God, I’m sorry,” he laughed. “Can we do that again?” 

His mouth found (y/n)’s, and the two of them would’ve stayed like that a lot longer if Fugo hadn’t accidentally touched the car horn, scaring the shit out of them.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s the car’s fault, not yours.”

“I’m so bad at this,” Fugo groaned. “I need to pick up a book on making out or something.”

(Y/n) smirked. “The best way to learn is with practice.”

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[assortedvillainvault]

Heey! Loved the Poly! Hades and Hook x Reader, but I can request some Poly! Hades and Facilier x reader or Poly Hook and Facilier x reader ((you can choose which one you like don't worry, I love the three of them)) thanks!!

Heyo! Facilier isn't on my list of characters but honestly I am LIVING for the idea of Poly Hades, Facilier and Reader, so we're going to town on this!

Poly!Hades & Dr. Facilier x Reader:

So I'm just going to open with this: time is weird and the afterlife dimensions sometimes overlap.

So yes, it's entirely possible that a 20th Century soul gets yeeted into the ancient greek Underworld, though the Jury is out on whether that was a genuine accident vs the Loa's idea of creative punishment or they simply ran out of patience for the guy after he died and they collected his debt.

Either way, Facilier ended up in the Styx, and coincidentally fucked up Hades' entire organisation system.

I'm going to headcannon that you as the Reader in this case actually works for Hades - at least initially - but on a way more lenient lease than Meg ever was. More like an employee than a soul-bound slave.

So you're the one who fished one poor unfortunate Doctor out of the river and plonked him, shivering and wide eyed, in Hades' throne room. Pain and Panic were out attempting to catch his shadow with a torch and a net, which you left them to.

Hades is slouched on his throne, boiling mad yet attempting to play it cool, as he attempts to parse where the fuck Facilier came from and where to send him. And in panic, with no powers and at the mercy of a strange god, Facilier falls back on his greatest talent: talking.

You notice Hades' eyebrows uptick as soon as Facilier opens his mouth. One smooth-talker instantly clocking another, and you allow yourself to smile slightly as Facilier lays out his case and the Lord of the Dead's posture goes from irate-overworked-desk-bound-administrator to the sort of relaxed yet focused lounging that lions adopt when starting to get hungry.

Eventually, you suggest that - while a fitting location is thought up for the Doctor - he could stick around the main palace for a while. You'd keep an eye on him.

Hades eyes smolder as you put a hand on the shade's shoulder. Your own relationship is already Polyamourous as he's married to Persephone, so ground rules for a new partner of interest have been agreed between you all for a while. Facilier cathces onto a hidden meaning in your looks, but wisely decides to keep his head down for the minute and see how this goes.

It barely takes a week before you two are flirting.

It barely takes a month for Hades to join in.

It barely takes a year for Facilier to once again be among the living his shadow has free reign in the Underworld he's met Persephone and charmed the socks off her enough that he gets to join your previously exclusive girls-nights (RIP Hades) and you have no idea how you've managed to land Both of these men but you sure as hell aren't complaining-

Reader you're in voice kink heaven ok for god's sake batten down the hatches these two sound sexy just reading the admissions paperwork and they know it. The teasing is a nightmare.

Shadow sometimes feels everything is getting a bit too chummy and will initiate prank wars to sabotage any dating activity going on in the immediate vicinity. He has bets going with Pain and Panic.

Facilier is an extremely thoughtful partner. More than once he's appeared to help with your work, with dinner and a gift that he remembered you offhandedly mentioned last week. More than once you've found him subtly helping Hades get breaks from the eternal grind that is Underworld maintenance, initiating affection and cuddles that you've realised Hades needs way more than he asks for.

The bed has been expanded and group sleeping piles are forever.

Honestly, Reader, you've landed in an actual gem of a relationship.

It's just that every few decades they both attempt to usurp the cosmic powers that be and it becomes your job to unpeel them from the stonework where the other gods smote them into non-existence. C'est la Vie.

[extravaguk]

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

wordcount: 15k

genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader

rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)

warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much

author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!

Inkphoria

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.

Inkphoria

You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'

You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.

'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'

But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.

'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'

That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.

The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks

"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."

Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.

"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."

She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"

"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."

"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"

"Nipples. Like, one of them."

Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."

The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.

Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.

"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.

He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?

"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."

September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.

Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.

So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.

"It's fine. I can do it."

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"JK, sweetheart!"

Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.

"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."

Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.

"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.

Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.

Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.

It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.

Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.

And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.

Dammit.

He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.

He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.

"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.

You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.

Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."

So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-

He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.

"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.

Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.

Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.

"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.

You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-

"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.

"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.

"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.

"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.

"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-

He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.

Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.

"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-

He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."

He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.

"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."

But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.

"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."

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"Let me see!"

It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.

When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.

But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.

Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.

You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.

Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.

So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.

So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.

But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.

But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.

You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.

It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.

And oh, did it react.

He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.

There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.

You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.

And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'

You swear you almost came right on his table.

And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.

So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.

"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"

"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."

At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"

"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."

There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.

"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."

Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.

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You know he's here.

Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.

It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.

You don't see him, but you feel him.

You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.

You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.

You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.

To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-

Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.

You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.

"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.

"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"

Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."

When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.

"You okay?"

The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.

"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.

Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.

Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.

"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.

"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."

"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"

"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.

Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.

And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.

"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"

You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.

"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"

"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."

"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.

"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.

He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.

His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.

Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.

Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.

Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.

Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.

"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.

"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.

"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."

Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.

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Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.

He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.

He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.

He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.

So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.

He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.

You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.

He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.

"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.

"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.

"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"

Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"

"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."

Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.

"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"

Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"

"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.

"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"

"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"

Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."

"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"

It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."

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You've made up your mind.

And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.

It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.

Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?

You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.

You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.

But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.

So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.

And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.

"Fuck him."

"I know right? Fuck him!"

"No. I mean, fuck him."

And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.

"A date."

"Yes."

"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"

He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.

"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."

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Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.

He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?

"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.

He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.

How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.

But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.

He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.

It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.

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It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.

You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-

"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."

"Sharon Stone?"

"Chaelin's cat."

To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.

He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"

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Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.

You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.

You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.

To your surprise, none of that happened.

The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.

There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.

It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.

"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.

Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.

"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"

"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."

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tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.

At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.

But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.

It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.

"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.

You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.

"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.

"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."

There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.

"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.

"Jungkook."

You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.

"You have to stop saying my name like that."

With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.

"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.

"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.

But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.

The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.

He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.

"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.

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"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."

"Yes."

"And you came before the ride was over."

You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."

She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.

"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"

There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."

There's another pause, and then-

"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"

You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.

Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.

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It's not that you're mad.

Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.

Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.

'Next time, maybe.'

And there hasn't been a next time.

The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.

But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.

It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.

Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.

'you free on saturday?'

You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.

So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.

And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.

You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.

You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.

A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.

"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.

Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.

"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.

Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.

You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.

His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.

"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.

You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.

It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.

"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.

Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.

"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.

"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.

"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.

There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."

Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.

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At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.

Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.

"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.

"Rocky road."

"Why?"

He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."

You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."

"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.

"Okay, fine. Why?"

"You're boring and basic."

You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."

You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.

You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.

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The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.

It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.

It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.

It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.

It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.

Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.

But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.

You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.

Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.

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Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.

It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.

He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.

He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.

And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.

Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.

He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.

"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.

"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.

"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.

"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."

Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.

"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."

"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"

You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.

Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.

"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.

"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."

You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.

He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."

"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.

"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"

"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"

"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"

You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"

He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"

"Ju- "

"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."

Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.

You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.

"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"

"Please, don't laugh."

That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.

She doesn't laugh at all.

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"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."

"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."

"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."

"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.

"I know. I'm just sad."

"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."

"I know."

There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.

"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.

He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.

He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.

He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Inkphoria.

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.

'You're crazy about him.'

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.

'And he's cazy about you too.'

Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.

That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.

The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."

You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"

"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.

"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.

She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."

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Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-

Knock knock.

He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"

He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.

"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.

"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"

"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."

Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.

You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."

"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."

You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"

"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"

The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."

He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.

He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.

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The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.

This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.

"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.

Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.

"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.

"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.

Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.

He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.