#night shift fics

[leupagus]

x

#anyway I'm team 'please don't fuck your coworkers it will make for a bad time'#honestly the fic I want to write is one character having to listen to all the gossip about everybody else's love life#while their internal monologue is like 'WHY WOULD YOU FUCK YOUR COWORKER THAT'S A BAD IDEA'#it would obviously end with them fucking a coworker because: lol

goddammit I incepted myself

September 2023

Jack came back from his vacation right in the middle of Fucking New Kids Jesus Christ season, which was bullshit considering he’d tried to time his vacation to skip this entirely.

“You do realize you’ll have to meet them sometime,” Ellis told him flatly when he explained his logic. “Like, you can’t just skip introducing yourself to the baby interns and med students.”

“You’ve been here two years now, when did I ever introduce myself to you?” Jack pointed out. “Come to think of it, who are you—”

“I will beat you with your own leg and your nasty-ass Hokas, don’t think I won’t,” Ellis said, closing her locker and offering him her hand. “Come on, we’re late for rounds.”

“You’re late for rounds,” he said, but accepted the hand up. “I’m the senior attending tonight, God help you all.”

It was Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, statistically the quietest night of an ED’s typical week, and sure enough the board was only moderately disgusting when they came out to hand off with days. 

“Don’t say I never did nothin’ for you,” Dana said with a broad wink, giving Jack a peck on the cheek as she grabbed her keys from the desk. "Welcome back, handsome."

"Good to be back, gorgeous," he replied as she swatted him on the arm. He caught Ellis’s glare and spread his hands, what? Like it was his fault Ellis had gone and fallen in love with a straight woman.

“No, see, I haven’t fallen in love with a straight woman,” Ellis protested later, after they'd finished hand off and Jack had fobbed all the new kids off on some scrapes and the first foreign-object-up-rectum of the evening. Which left him with Ellis, who was also annoying, but he’d gotten used to her over the past two years. The new intern — who’d mentioned her son four times in the first forty-five minutes — and the second-year floater coming in from days — who’d already asked Jack if he knew how best to access hospital archives in order to study patient outcomes for a paper she wanted to write — were both so earnest Jack just knew he was going to end up hating them both.

“Aw, really?” Ellis said, grabbing the clipboard for North 17 — found comatose in the river two nights ago, some neurological damage likely but still breathing on his own, still no positive ID, still no change from last night. “I was hoping you’d like the cut of McKay’s jib.” She waggled her eyebrows.

“McKay — the bangs?” he said, miming scissors across his forehead.

Ellis rolled her eyes. “Yeah. The bangs, and nice smile, and the plucky attitude. She’s cute.”

“She’s an intern.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

Jack bit back a smile. “It has, in fact, stopped me before. I think what you mean is it hasn’t stopped Robby before, which I will allow. We really haven’t gotten anything back about who this guy is?”

Ellis shook her head, snapping on gloves so she could check John Doe’s pupil response. “Still reactive, just not waking up. But hey, maybe tonight’s the night.”

“Maybe,” Jack said. The guy was young, mid-twenties. Somebody had to be looking for him.

He followed Ellis out into the hallway. “Listen, even Robby didn’t ever date an intern. Collins,” he added as Ellis opened her mouth, “was in second year when they started dating.”

“Yeah, maybe when they started dating,” Ellis muttered.

“Personally, I don’t know what anybody’s thinking, dating someone from here,” Jack said. “You’re all freaks of nature who thrive on stress and adrenaline.”

“You listen to the police scanner on your days off,” Ellis observed, which was fair enough. “Criticizing the circus is pretty rich, coming from the ringleader.”

“Yeah, but I never fuck the monkeys.”

“That’s because—” Ellis paused and gave him a look. It was one he’d learned to live with the past three years: the expression of someone who was not sure how far they could go, if today would be the day Jack would be okay talking about Leslie or if it was a day where he’d shut down for the rest of the shift at the mere mention of her name. He can’t exactly blame them; for most of the first two years he never knew himself.

So he smiled and shrugged and gave Ellis an out. “Because I look at the messes you guys get yourselves in and I think, ‘no, actually, going home and listening to the police scanner is a better idea than having a tryst with someone from Neuro.’”

“A lobotomy is a better idea than having a tryst with someone from Neuro,” Ellis said. “Literally anything would be a better idea than having a tryst with someone from Neuro.”

“Didn’t stop Shen from getting together with, fuck, what’s her name—”

“Barreras,” said Terri as she went past. “That’s off again, by the way.”

Ellis grabbed the chart for their next room and made the slow/caution sign with her hand, frowning as she read. He could tell just from the way her eyebrows drew together what they were going to find on the other side of the door.

“Okay, this is Kayla Hourlis, 17, and her mom Isabelle,” said Ellis in a low, calm voice as she presented, and Jack made sure he kept his expression completely neutral while he listened to just what had brought Kayla Hourlis into the Pitt tonight. He and Ellis treated her quietly and carefully, explaining everything they were doing for her and her wide-eyed mother, the two of them holding hands so tightly Jack was afraid they’d break each other’s wrists. Though it wouldn’t be the worst injury either of them had, not by a long shot.

After, he and Ellis leaned on the partition outside the doors and didn’t talk for a minute or so. It wasn’t something Jack had missed, on vacation out in New Mexico. This feeling, like you’d disappear down the hole in your own stomach.

“What did you mean before?” he asked.

“Before what,” Ellis said, turning to look at him. Her eyes were only a little bit red, but too bright. Jack leaned further over the partition to grab the tissues tucked in the corner, and handed one to her. “Thanks.”

“Before, when you said you hadn’t fallen in love with a straight woman,” Jack said, clearing out the catch in the back of his throat. They’d be able to help Kayla and her mom, that was the important thing. They’d gotten to her before it was worse than this. He cleared his throat again and focused on Ellis. “Pretty sure Dana’s straight, I’m sorry to tell you.”

“First off, you’re not sorry at all, and your oppression of the queer community will not go unaddressed,” she said, ticking off the point on her hand. A little bit manic, but so was he, probably — less than an hour back and he was already seeing things worse than he had in Afghanistan. “Secondly, I’m not in love with Dana anymore. I’ve sworn off.”

“Isn’t this usually a New Year’s thing for you?” Jack asked, nodding at Jesse over by Chairs, who was making the can you be a scary doctor man for a minute face. “It’s only September.”

“Jewish New Year was last weekend,” Ellis countered, walking with him to Chairs where a big guy in a Steelers jersey was using one of the chairs as a toilet, more or less, in an attempt to express his displeasure at the wait. So that was the next twenty minutes of Jack’s life.

“Was the swearing-off your idea, or is this some hospital-wide Lysistrata?” Jack asked her later, sometime after midnight lunch and three different eyeball stabbing incidents. “Robby said him and Collins are splitting up. Shen and his PT soulmate are splitting up. Do I have you to thank for the two of them crying on my couch for the next month?”

Ellis laughed, though she quieted down as they came back into North 17 — still no improvement or deterioration, or name. “Listen, I don’t know what Shen did, he’s been on days, but Robby and Heather splitting up is all on Robby.”

“Yeah, that checks out.”

“Although me and her did decide this year was the year of no more white milfs,” Ellis added with a sad sigh. “They’re bad for us.”

“Only milfs of color, got it,” Jack said as he squinted at the John Doe’s display. “Or I guess, mocilfs? Mothers of Color I’d Like To — how does the dangling modifier work for that?” The guy’s BP was still weirdly high, but everything else pointed directly to overdose, do not pass Go do not collect $200. Then he listened to the conversation that was happening. “Wait, how does Robby count as a milf?”

“Hey, hey, don’t be gender essentialist,” Ellis said, holding her finger up in warning. “I know you had to take that sensitivity class twice, Jackie—”

“I only fell asleep the first time because you’d gotten food poisoning at PRIDEburgh.” Jack wondered if he could swap Ellis in for one of the new kids for a while. He’d have to think of a better reason than Ellis is picking on me and she will pick on you too, so you’d better get used to it. “So I had to come in and cover your shift the night before and—”

“—and you know that ‘milf’ is a gender-neutral term denoting—"

“—okay first of all, no, there are such things as ‘dilfs’—”

“That’s a completely different category,” Ellis said, her expression as outraged as if he’d argued about intubation with her (again). “You cannot seriously be suggesting that Robby is a dilf.”

Jack was actually seriously suggesting that Robby wasn’t a parent full stop, and thus could not fulfill the basic requirements of ilfdom, but then a guy came in with a pen through his ballsack and they had to hold up the rest of the conversation for a couple hours.

[gunwoo-bh]

THE NIGHT SHIFT

A MIN YOONGI x F!READER STORY

∞ Strangers to friends to lovers, university au, slow burn ∞

You chose a boring, quiet job at your campus’s 24-hour library for a reason: it kept you away from drama, gossip, and parties. It was positively uneventful. Until it wasn’t.

SERIES MASTERLIST

»» the night shift part 1

»» the night shift part 2

»» the night shift part 3

»» the night shift part 4

»» the night shift part 5

»» the night shift part 6

»» the night shift part 7

»» the night shift part 8

»» the night shift part 9

»» the night shift part 10

»» the night shift part 11

»» the night shift part 12

»» the night shift epilogue

DRABBLES & YOONGI POVs

»» oppa? [yoongi pov] 2.3k, fluff

[batty-pham]

Danny working in retail.

Dead end job.

He always ends up at the nightshift.

Everyone thinks the bags under his eyes are because he can't sleep.

He gets told all the time that he "looks like death" and he always just replies "thanks"

He just sorta stands in the dark corner and customers don't notice him, but they sorta inherently know he's there and avoid him, but he moves and they about shit their pants.

[luna-the-cretar]

Me whenever I’m at work and can’t write at that moment: I must write RIGHT NOW. If I don’t write I will DIE

Me, when I’m at home and can write: what are words

[pjs-everyday]

uuuuuhhh, I asked aizawa to pick me up after work and came out a bit late… do you think he’s mad at me? 😖👉👈

[seuonji]

night shift ★彡 xu minghao

xu minghao x yn ln

— a smau with written parts.

notes ๑ gn!reader, fluff, humour.

warnings ๑ profanity

彡when yn’s juniors finds trouble with some fellow college mates, yn goes through mountains just to get them justice, even if it means needing to infiltrate and make friends with the most intimidating clique on campus.

masterlist

profiles — folder.yn — folder.minghao

#1 expel him!

#2 observing!

#3 please hire me!

#4 i want to resign!

#5 better days when?!

#6 a bittersweet encounter!

#7 7th chance!

#8 wasted times!

#9 yn’s boyfriend!

#10 paracetamol!

#11 monopoly!

#12 an easy man!

#13 kuromi pic!

#14 white tee!

#15 lucky charm!

#16 …!

more to come…

[barnesafterglow]

night shift

summary: your growing fame becomes too much for bucky

pairing: actor!bucky barnes x singer!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: fame au, dual pov, unreliable narrators, idk how the grammys work (clearly), angst angst angst, steve is a good friend, bucky is Going Thru It, if you think this is joe + taylor coded you're prob right, directly inspired by night shift by lucy dacus

a/n: yearly fic, dedicated to new lovers

masterlist - i no longer have a tag list but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary to get updates! 🤍

You shoved him off of you, heart racing, breaths coming fast. You had said Bucky’s name, had whispered it in your most intimate moment, and now you needed to leave.

You said nothing else, gathering up your clothes and pulling them on as quickly as you could.

“Wha-”

The door slammed behind you, cold winter winds whipping around you as you realized you’d left your jacket on the hook by the door. It was your favorite, but one you were okay sacrificing as long as you didn’t have to face your embarrassment anymore.

Huffing a breath you could see in front of your face, you called an Uber - at least you had remembered your phone - and paced anxiously a block away from his building, hoping and praying he wouldn’t follow you out.

The entire ride home your mind spiraled until you turned off your phone, terrified this would make headlines already and, let’s be honest, no one would be surprised if it did. You hated that was the life you lived. As if your breakup with Bucky hadn’t already been tabloid fodder for weeks now, the public speculating every detail and warping every comment and photo posted. You had taken to keeping off social media altogether in the time since, trying to disguise your outings as much as possible and take back alleys to recordings and friends’ houses.

Your biggest supporter through all of this, surprisingly, had been Steve - Bucky’s best friend. He hadn’t been your friend first, sure, but he had become like a brother to you nonetheless, and he knew the situation better than anyone. You knew he still talked to Bucky just the same and, while that stung a little, you couldn’t fault him for being there for his childhood best friend too.

Which is how you ended up outside his apartment the very next morning, clad in your typical-as-of-late attire of a hoodie and a hat and sunglasses. It was also how you came face to face with Bucky for the first time since that fateful night.

“I didn’t come to sit here and watch you stare at your feet, James.” You stood from his couch, starting to seethe with pent up anger from your gradually failing relationship, all to end up here. What did he want? To absolve his guilt and shake hands and everything would be fine?

No. You had been the victim of his petty remarks and anxious jealousy for so long. You wouldn’t let him think he deserved your time when he didn’t respect the person you had become. 

Your anger flashed back to the week before, the last time you had been seen out in public together as he was breaking up with you at your favorite coffee shop, where he had paid for your drink and you gave him a hesitant kiss, even though you knew it was inevitably coming. He had led you to a table in the corner and proceeded to tell you that he was sorry but he couldn’t do this anymore, it was too much for him - you were too much for him. Okay. That’s all you said was “okay” before you pushed out of the chair and walked around the city until the sun went down.

By the time you got home that night, the headlines were already speculating your breakup, though neither of you had yet to shed a single tear.

-

Bucky blinked as you shuffled on Steve’s doorstep, eyes wide and contemplating the quickest escape. He didn’t blame you.

He had admittedly not handled your breakup the best; in fact, he regretted it almost immediately at the stricken look on your face, clearly not expecting it. He didn’t blame you for that, either, seeing as it had slipped out in a moment of panic.

You had gained a lot of fame over the course of your relationship, even more than him, and he didn’t quite know how to cope with it. And so the words had poured out, unable to be taken back, and here you were, weeks later, still at odds.

He thought every night of how to make it up to you. Public displays weren’t your thing and you had blocked his number the night of your big fight, so that was out of the question, and he didn’t fancy showing up to your house only to have the door slammed in his face either.

But now, now maybe that you were here on the most neutral ground you could stand on, maybe he could keep his foot out of his mouth and apologize. Words stirred in his hindsight, unable to string together a coherent sentence as your face morphed through the stages of grief in record time. Then, just as he was about to speak, Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him back into the house. Relief flooded your face as you drifted out of his sight, and he realized this probably wasn’t going to be as easy to take back as he thought.

“Buck,” Steve said as the two of them turned around the corner. “You need to leave.”

Bucky felt his face do something awful, a mixture of confusion and guilt, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He simply nodded and kept his head down as he shrugged on his jacket and passed by you in the doorway.

He could hear the soft sound of your sobs as the front door clicked shut.

-

Songwriting could be as easy as breathing and as hard as climbing a mountain. Right now, the words flooded out of you like a tap of water.

And so did the tears, staining your notebook paper and smearing ink, but still in your heart you knew you would never forget these lyrics - these words that so painstakingly came from your soul and laid it bare.

As you finished the last verse, you took a deep breath, sucked up the tears, and called Natasha. 

-

“Steve, I need to talk to her,” Bucky whined over a beer in a rundown bar in Brooklyn.

“No, you don’t.”

“I can fix it, I know I can.”

“I don’t think you can, Buck.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “She’s trying to move on. Don’t ruin that for her.”

“But-”

“No.”

Bucky mimicked Steve’s sigh and leaned back in his chair. It had been increasingly hard to justify his decision to end things with you. He didn’t know what he was thinking and he regretted every moment of it since then. 

“Do you think she misses me?” Bucky looked so hopeful, but he could see the sorrow in Steve’s eyes.

“I don’t know.”

-

The Grammys, the fucking Grammys, and you were performing. You were nominated for a couple, and the Academy had asked you to sing - preferably a new song - in honor of that.

Natasha wrapped you in a hug, twirled you around, and announced you were going out to celebrate. You hesitantly said yes, knowing the press would be everywhere and there was always the possibility of seeing Bucky.

But fuck him. This was your moment.

Which is how you ended up at your favorite dive bar in Brooklyn. Your first mistake.

It was your favorite because Bucky had taken you there so many times. But you couldn’t think of another place you would celebrate than the place where so much inspiration and so many lyrics had come from.

You didn’t scan the room as you walked in with your hand clutching Nat’s, the rest of your small circle of friends following close behind. Your second mistake.

Walking straight to the bar, you didn’t notice Bucky in the far corner, watching your every move. It wasn’t until you were a few drinks in, feeling the celebration kick in, that you spotted him.

At first, you intended to ignore him. This was your time, your night, your moment. He didn’t get the spoil that.

That is, until you went to the bathroom and he trailed you into the dimly lit hallway.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice a harsh rasp of beer and no sleep. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart stopped beating in your chest.

You weren’t prepared to see him tonight, not that you ever were these days. But tonight of all nights, the one that should have been carefree and fun and a glittery memory for years to come, was smeared with anger and heartbreak as you spun to face him.

“What the fuck,” you snapped as his fingers grazed your bare arm. Immediately you felt bad, seeing the hurt on his face, and your expression softened. “Sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.” The catch in his voice broke your heart, your own watery eyes matching his. For just a moment.

It took you too long to come to your senses - this was the man who had shattered your heart without a second thought - but he was already so close to you. His body only inches from your own, his hot breath fanning your face, and goddamnit you missed him. You missed him so much that your heart broke all over again.

Your mind cycled through a thousand different thoughts all at once: get away, come closer, touch me, keep your hands off. You couldn’t decide what you wanted in the moment.

You were so, so angry, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. His hands settled on your waist as the lights overhead flickered. Your hand pressed gently to his cheek, completely of its own volition. Suddenly, you were tracing the planes of the face you had once known so well. He looked older now, like your time apart had aged him, yet his was still as handsome as the day you had first laid eyes on him.

His eyes locked with yours, and neither of you said a word - not him to ask, not you to stop him - as he leaned in to kiss you.

-

It should have felt like a victory - it did feel like a victory - but there was something else there. Something dark and twisted and Bucky couldn’t figure out if it was coming from you or him.

The kiss could have lasted moments or a lifetime, he didn’t really know. All he knew was one second you were holding him close to you and the next you were shoving him off.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” your voice came out in a whisper, like you didn’t want to draw attention from the steadily growing crowd of the bar. He supposed you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” You nodded at his words, your fingers pressed to your lips like you could still feel him there. “I’ll just go.”

You nodded again, your eyes vacant, and he made his way back to the main room of the bar. He looked back in time to see you slump against the wall, and he knew that you were thinking of a way to erase any trace of him on you.

-

The stage lights came on, you strummed your guitar and started to sing.

The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit, I had a coughing fit.

You let the lyrics you poured your heart into spill out across the stage. Still, somehow - in the crowd of hundreds of faces - you spotted Bucky.

This time, it didn’t make your heart clench. Didn’t make you shed a tear or run away.

No. This time, it empowered you. Let him hear the lyrics he inspired. Let him feel that pain of your words and feel the hole in your heart where he had broken it. Where you were now healing.

-

Bucky watched as you sang, and you were mesmerizing. He could feel the echoes of hurt in your words, the hole in your heart he had put there. He knew, despite the last time he saw you, that there was no making up. There was no fixing what was well beyond broken. No chance for him.

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers,

Dedicated to new lovers.

[hiraethwrote]

so the one year anniversary of my blog came and went before i even had the chance to acknowledge it

initially i wanted to make a longer post, bur im still the busiest bee bc of work (you’ve heard me talk about it enough, sorry hehe) so this will do for now

tysm to everyone who has taken the time to read my work, interact with my silly little blog, follow me etc <3 it truly means so much to me, you have no idea and i love you all

and to every moot i have made here — you hold a special place in my heart always, and it truly brings me joy to see your posts, fics and in general interact with you, even if i’m not as active as i’d like to be 🫶🏻

all of you, this blog in general, has made this past year a lot more bearable for me and im truly grateful

[puimoo]

When the wrong batfamily and Dick Grayson fanfic plot bunnies attack.

[This is totally normal, right?]

Me: I would really like to be able to try and write one of my very serious, very interesting, plotty batfam and Dick centric-fic ideas that I have no actual ability to write because I have NEVER been able to write that kind of fic, and I am 10 years into crippling writer's block.  But … I love the ideas and want to somehow give them a try…

Puimoo’s brain: Or!  You could try and write the nonsensical and darkly humorous fic where Dick calls a meeting together of all his hallucinations and tries to set some ground rules with them because they’re interfering with his daily goings-on and he’s starting to get weird looks. (And, I mean, dead!Jason's caved-in head wouldn't be quite as distracting if he at least wore a hat, right? This is about compromise)

Puimoo’s brain: Or!  How about the one where the rain in Gotham is sentient and weirdly judgmental of other weather patterns?

Puimoo’s brain: Or!  The one entitled ‘10 Signs You Might Have Missed That Your Adopted Son Was a Victim of Human Trafficking During His Circus Days’, where the Batfamily start to realise that young!Dick was so good at being Robin at such a young age because he’d been groomed for the Court of Owls for years and nobody actually picked up on this while he was an actual child … oops! Bad, Batman!

Me: But I want to write –

Puimoo’s brain: Pft.  Like you’re going to write anything.  Writer’s block, remember? Go back to bed.

Me: But I’m at work.

Puimoo’s brain: BED!

And this is why I never get any actual writing done.

[chasedeys]

HI OKAY so like. in honor of these boyfriends sticking together by the grace of god and just sheer fucking stubbornness and taking matters into their own hands (sooooo sexy and also incredibly leaning to the power-of-friendship ass of them btw) and also because i feel sooo shitty for disappearing all of the sudden and ignoring a whole bunch of you </3 (thank you truly for all the sweet messages in my inbox asking me where and how ive been god yall are so sweet) and also it's such a fucking waste of 7k word vomit if i do end up not finishing this thing and i really do want to finish this but im lacking creative juices and honestly just shit time management but anyways. i present to you the mess of joeteemarr fic in its barely finished glory:

(DOOOO PRAYYY THAT I FINISH ITTTTT (i am on my knees) in spite of all the spoilers (?) you'll read through so it'd be like why the hell would you read this again kind of deal but well ahahahah just let me post this and look away okay 😭♥️)

all on his mouth like liquor —joeteemarr

intro — you came, you saw, you conquered // i couldn’t take my eyes off him, i think i heard a spirit call my name (banana yoshimoto, kitchen)

They’re both still in their leather ensemble—’so, did you coordinate the outfits, or?’ ‘ja’marr copied me.’ ‘excuse me? bitch, i’ll kill you.’—like they zoomed their way to Tee’s place immediately right after the game, after stopping by Judith’s for their usual order of burgers and fries.

Tee pokes at his own order of bacon burger, double helping of cheddar cheese and extra garlic, a wobbly little smile poking through when he spots the lovingly sharpied good game 5! the extra pies are for you!!!! don’t let uno eat them!!!!!!!!! on the crinkly wrapping paper. Judith, Cincinnati native, 57 years old and never takes money from Tee’s mother. Thinks Ja’Marr is the funniest man-child on earth and Joe the sweetest.

Ja’Marr has his jacket off now, tank top stretched tight over his shoulders as he slumps over his burgers snarling at Joe to stop stealing his fries. Tee carefully turns his gaze away from dark of his tattoos, the curve of his shoulders, the flex of his biceps when he tries to smack away Joe’s hand right over his burger.

But the thing is, if he looks away, he’s looking towards Joe—Joe, who’s leather jacket with nothing underneath is zipped down to his navel for some godforsaken reason, miles of pale skin and abs and golden hair and pink nipples flashing everytime he twists his torso to try and take Ja’Marr’s entire dinner or avoid his retaliations. Tee has to take away Ja’Marr’s plastic fork before he stabs Joe with it.

(They didn’t coordinate the outfits, by the way. They just ended up wearing something similar again with their weird otherworldly connection that Tee still tries to wrap his head around even now.)

—----------ja’marrs drops. sensitive,dfksdfkapoeskfo

Ja’Marr skirts his eyes away, mouth curling down, “I don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll deal with it Monday.”

Tee breathes out, extends his knee and presses his socked toes to the younger man’s calves. Ja’Marr twitches his leg against his feet, flicking his eyes at him and shooting him a small smile. He’ll be alright.

“No,” Ja’Marr says evenly, staring right at him even as he slams a hand at Joe’s over his plate, “but you were really fucking sexy.”

Tee startles, several clumps of mashed up potato slipping out of his mouth in surprise—real sexy, there. Ja’Marr really has no filter sometimes, calling any person he finds attractive to their faces with zero shame even in front of his boyfriend of however many years. Joe, ever so possessive, rarely even gets bricked up over it, from sheer assurance of his place in Ja’Marr’s heart. Hard not to be, really, with how steadfast and loud Ja’Marr is with his devotion to him. Tee has been called straight up ‘hot as hell’ by the other man for the past years that they’ve known each other and he still gets flustered over it, mostly because. Well. Whatever.

Joe turns his gaze to him as well, pausing his one-man crusade of pilfering his boyfriend’s fries. Tee slows his bites as he stares back, feeling weirdly caught like a prey in a predator’s gaze, a gazelle looking through the tan of the savanna landscape trying to find the glint of a lion’s eyes lurking in between the blades of grass. Joe’s piercing blues flick between his eyes, then slides down, slow, deliberate, purposeful, over the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, the curve of his lips, the turn of his chin, the hinge of his jaw still clenched from chewing the meat they bought for him, his—neck exposed by the stretched cotton of his ratty t-shirt, the tangle of his beard, the slight of his Adam’s apple, the nearly healed scar on the left side of his jugular from last week’s razor incident, even the loose hang of his faded clemson t-shirt over his shoulders, the dip of it showing off the skin over his collarbones, not too much to show his pecs, but the sheer force of the older man’s leer makes him—makes him push his fucking tits out like he can’t fucking help himself; shoulders, drawing back; spine, straightening; nipples, pebbling, fucking tingling; goosebumps and hair rising over his arms; toes, curling in—he knows each and every part of his body Joe looks over because the man’s so fucking methodical with it, everything else below his chest hidden beneath the table thank fuck, he thinks, of sorts, maybe, a blessing, a curse, who knows, he’s still trying to chew on his fucking bite of bacon burger the fuck.

Tee chokes on his late swallow—and drinks the puply orange Ja’Marr offers him with an obvious smirk holy shit what the ever living fuck. 

Joe goes back to eating his burger like he didn’t just. Undress Tee with his fucking eyes. What the fuck. What the actual fuck was that. Holy shit did he just experience a junior high schooler’s fantastical imaginary eighth grade period axe body spray doped up version of sex daydream or is he just. Insane. Was the burger spiked. What the fuck was that. 

Tee feels his lips twitch. Wow. They’re really—unsubtle. But, are they, really?

“

—And Ja’Marr growls. Tee startles, laughing up at him, but it’s all cut off short because, wait, holy shit—-

He’s got a lapful of Ja’Marr Chase, situating his ass snugly all over Tee’s thighs with his own folded on either side of his hips, arms up so he can press his palms on his cheeks, wrapping all the way to the back of his skull because they’re so big, and kiss him.

“Jesus Christ, Ja’Marr,” he hears through muddied ears. Joe, he knows his voice, always, but—everything is—muffled, dark, consumed to a single person over him 

He flutters his eyes open and gasps out trying to push air into his lungs and Ja’Marr’s face is right there in front of him—eyes piercing into his own as he purposefully bumps his nose to Tee’s and breathes into Tee’s gaping open mouth.

Fucking hell.

“Ja’Marr,” he breathes out, panic mounting—and: dick hardening in his sweatpants because Ja’Marr fucking Chase is all over his lap grinding down, arms around his shoulders, pretty face right up to his with deep brown eyes staring him down intently—hands trembling, acutely aware that his boyfriend of six fucking years is staring right at them from across the room, still stealing said boyfriend’s fries. That fucking heifer, jesus, his diet always goes out the window in the 24-hour window of post-game leftover adrenaline rush.

Ja’Marr—his best friend, the prettiest motherfucker he’s ever had the pleasure of—doesn’t even do him the honor of replying, lips stretching wide into a pleased smile and keeps bumping his nose to Tee’s over and over like it’s a little game to him. It’s ridiculously cute—the minute touches, the way Tee has to go cross-eyed to see it, the weight of him all over, the heady scent of warm wood basking him, it calms him down, lowers his heart rate, settles his breathing, makes his eyelids flutter, trying to keep himself from closing the distance and kiss the man again, seems terribly unfair to just—only have a single chance in his life to kiss Ja’Marr Chase once when he’s still inches away with his body language so open and willing. Joe, to the side, still fucking eating, not even acting offended even the slightest past the minute exasperated jesus christ, ja’marr, shoots him a weird dorky thumbs-up. The hell.

“You’re—“ Tee chokes out finally, acutely aware of every point of his palm pressed against the cotton wrapped around his best friend’s waist. Acutely aware of how his fingers are twitching, wanting, aching—to grip tighter, to drag downwards and under the hemline and then roughly up the warmth of skin, scrub at the expanse of it available and feel it shiver against the skin of his own palm. The only reason he doesn’t is because every joint, every muscle, every tendon in his body is locked up in, what, fear? Sheer desperate want? A man collapsed inches away from an oasis appearing out of nowhere  in a once barren desert, heat pouring over his body and making everything wobbly and blurry—his vision actually going a bit blurry because—

Fuck it all to hell, if he cries in Ja’Marr Chase’s face  just because he kissed him he’s killing himself and taking everyone with him.

Ja’Marr coos, pretty face closing in again and Tee automatically flutters his eyes shut just for the other man to press his lips softly against the thin skin of his left eyelid, keep dragging them along his lashes, letting his liquid tears seep into the crevice of his lips and pool around the corner of his lips, over the bridge of his nose, again to his right eye, and down to the highest point of his cheek—just to press harder and leave a wet imprint from his own tears.

God, Ja’Marr fucking Chase.

“You really gotta say something,” Tee squeezes out harshly, eyes squeezed shut tight and trying to breathe through his nose.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” is what Ja’Marr says, thumb brushing away the wet spots on his cheeks. Which. Well. Maybe Tee should’ve just told him to shut the fuck up and get off of him before he does something he’d regret, like—like kiss him again. And again. And again. Again, again, again, again, over, and over, and over, and over until he drops dead because he’d never grow tired of it, he doesn’t think.

“I see,” Tee says, not really seeing. He knows he’s ’fucking gorgeous’ but come one now, really.

Ja’Marr grins bright right up against his face, of course knowing what Tee’s not saying.

Joe leans down, nudging his boyfriend to the side, hunching over the two, tucks a palm to the side of Tee’s neck, all nine inches of it spanning across his skin like a hot brand, and kisses him too.

Tee breathes into his mouth, doesn’t even know how to kiss back, flabbergasted as he is, weighted down by his best friend on his lap, a hand on his neck that might as well feel like a noose, buzzing in his ears, a match of want being struck in him and he doesn’t know if it’s by him or if it’s actually the people he wants.

Joe hums against his mouth, lips turning down, “you’re not kissing me back,”

He’s actually fucking pouting against Tee’s mouth, Tee realizes. He doesn’t even want to let go of the kiss to speak, doesn't want to pout away from Tee’s lips. Oh god. What is Tee doing. 

Tee surges up, arms clenching around Ja’Marr’s waist, teeth tugging at Joe’s bottom lip, and kisses his quarterback right this time, feels him stretch his lips to a smile even as he licks into Tee’s mouth and sighs into the kiss. He’s relaxing his shoulders, drooping down, evening out—he was tense, he was worried, neck veins slightly popping, Tee realizes. This was important to him. Tee kissing him back—was important. To him. 

Oh.

Tee sighs into the kiss, too, relaxes and licks into the space he’s being granted access into, for the first time ever.

Ja’Marr gets handsy, apparently pleased as a peach at the grip Tee has on his waist. He presses his knees harder to the sides of Tee’s hips and grinds his hips down on his lap, palms exploring his torso all over, nails dragging across his nipples over the cotton of his shirt, face all over the skin exposed by the stretched elastic of his t-shirt’s neckline, tonguing his neck, his collarbone, biting his pulsepoint and making him gasp into Joe’s mouth.

next steps — i swell like a late summer jackfruit; my skin roughens, the pulp of my body so thick; i wait to be speared and wanted; if squeezed, i’ll leave my color on your hands (hồ xuân hương, jackfruit)

Joe pushes his back firmly and he follows through blindly. It’s his house, but Joe knows exactly where eveything is and he trusts literally anywhere this man leads him to, and, also, he’s really fucking distracted by this:

Ja’Marr bites at his chin, right by his beard, and Tee gasps—he’s a freak, what is with him, why is that so fucking hot—and he keeps tugging on the strings of Tee’s sweatpants, fingers brushing deliberately over the tent in his pants, then straight up cupping and squeezing his dick through the cotton when Joe makes them stop to turn a corner. Tee has to just shove the little shit towards the wall, press his head hard against it, and sloppily kiss his mouth to teach him some sort of lesson of some success god what is Tee trying to accomplish here Ja’Marr is so fucking—

An arm—Joe—circles his waist, pushing forcefully between the miniscule space between his belly and Ja’Marr’s and wrenches him back from the other receiver. He whines, fingers scrabbling at his best friend—”Wait! No!”—while Ja’Marr is just laughing and tilting his head back into the wall as he grins teasingly at their quarterback, “what, jealous?”

Joe reaches out and twists his left nipple through his tank top. Ja’Marr yelps and starts yelling expletives at him. Tee, leaning back into Joe’s embrace, sighs exasperatedly. Of course they’re doing this, even now.

Ja’Marr steps closer, trying to smack at Joe through Tee, and Tee puts his hands on his biceps to stop him—gets distracted, starts sliding his hands up and down the length of them because, fuck, how can he not, and then just grabs them and tugs him closer to kiss him all over again with Joe’s arm between their bodies. Man, whatever.

Joe sighs exasperatedly, pressed up all against his back, but he really can’t be all that pissed, because he’s mouthing all up Tee’s neck—what is with him and necks, jesus, 

He’s shivering, caught in the middle, Joe in front, Ja’Marr behind, hands all over him, standing up but he’s falling, stumbling but he’s being held up. There’s a boy in front of him, and there’s a boy behind him, and who is he but another boy asking to be loved and held.

He’s leaning back to Ja’Marr’s chest now, tilted to the side so he can turn his face and kiss him still, the other man’s hand spanning across his face pinning him to place as he presses his tongue into his mouth and moans into it, as loud as he always is anywhere else. Another mouth is all over his chest, tonguing at his nipples, teeth scraping over the dark of his tattoos, panting all over him like a dog, god.

He doesn’t wear boxers at home, and the two know that precisely, Joe stroking his cock through the cotton of sweatpants like it isn’t even there, the grey fabric getting soaked through. He lowers his mouth over it, eyes looking straight up at Tee and asks if he could. Tee nods frantically, not even knowing what the fuck he wants but it’s Joe Burrow, he could do whatever he wants to Tee and Tee would lay in his arms like a supplicant and rip his chest open all pretty and bloody and let Joe Burrow dip his chin in and lap it all up.

He whimpers into Ja’Marr’s mouth, fluttering open his eyes, eyelashes clumpy with tears, sweat, he doesn’t know, and Ja’Marr coos, brushing kisses over his eyes as he drags his palms all over Tee’s belly, scraping nails over his pubes and pressing down in time with Joe going down on him like he knows the exact rhythm of Joe’s every move and plan, even here, even now, even over the sweat and smell of sex of Tee’s body—especially, Tee thinks, over his body.

that’s one — makes a cathedral, him pressing against me, his lips on my neck, and yes, i do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars (richard siken, crush)

Ja’Marr breathes into his ear, biting at the helix and scraping his teeth over it like a dog. Tee whimpers, turning his head to catch his mouth in his and clack their teeth together, a shock of pain grounding him to earth so he wouldn’t float up to the heavens too high. Ja’Marr huffs out a laugh against his lips, “Knock it off, dickhead, I know what you’re doing.”

Tee scowls at him, hands tightening on Joe’s hair instead of reaching out to twist and pinch on his skin, like punishing one of them is the same as punishing the other, really, an extension of a singular subject. Joe groans around his cock, extremely pleased, of fucking course he is, and Tee keeps tugging at his roots in exasperation. Fucking masochistic little shit.

Ja’Marr snickers, dragging his tongue all over his neck, “See, natural Joe Burrow knower. Made just for him—to be his receiver, just like me.”

Ja’Marr, honestly, why the fuck is he like this—

Joe and Tee both groan in unison, Tee coming off it in a whine because, fuck, Joe’s mouth is still all up around his dick, the vibrations traveling up straight to his brain and fucking him up beyond repair.

Joe pulls off with an actual wet pop! and twists a hand harshly around his cock—which feels really fucking good, the fuck—like an apology that he isn’t sucking Tee’s dick continuously since he got the chance to, and pushes his torso up to prop his face by Tee’s head, cheeks pressed up against his, chin digging into his shoulder, and he can feel him kiss Ja’Marr rough and wet, with tongue and spit and biting at his lips.

Fucking helllll, they’re trying to kill him.

The man still twisting his hand around his cock like he’s getting paid to presses his cheek harder against Tee’s, and he’s jawing at Ja’Marr, Tee realizes with a breathless laugh—”Would you quit saying shit like that so shamelessly midsex it ruins the fucking vibe.” “What fucking vibe? If anything I’m adding to it, bitch, get back to sucking his dick, the fuck.”—and Joe slinks back down right after like he didn’t just stop mid-blowjob to argue with Ja’Marr over the receiver’s uncensored prattling.

Tee whimpers, Joe’s mouth enveloping his cock again like it’s made for it, all heat and tightness and perfect 

how do you write people getting their dick sucked. exactly. no really.

ja'marr lets him breathe but he's instantly kissing down his neck and biting his collarbones and pushing him down and dragging a tongue over his chest tattoos he's /relentless/ and when he looks to where joe is its to him grinning down at him with a hand guiding ja'marr /down/ 'that's one. you got me three right?'

“That’s one,” Joe says, his little impish smile Tee has recorded into his brain countless of times before shining down at him, lips dark red, chin and mouth all wet with Tee’s spunk, “You gave me three.”

“Three what,” Tee asks, stupidly, ears still ringing from the force of his orgasm. He’s still so focused on the bright wet glint of liquid decorating Joe’s lower face, his come, staining his skin. Joe isn’t wiping it away, letting it dry on his skin, flaking and caking and clumping against the corner of his lips. Tee wants to lick it away, drag it into his mouth with his tongue, switch it up and leave bite marks all around his pretty lips. All the red in the cold, now red from his teeth. Would Joe let him. Would Ja’Marr let him. Would he let himself mark that pale skin up, leave parts of himself all over his quarterback in ways he’s never had the guts to even finish the thought of before tonight?

Joe leans closer, mouth over him, damn the fact that Tee’s own come is all over his mouth now. Three, Joe murmurs as he kisses him filthily, sliding his tongue through the gap of his teeth, over his papillae, staining his breath with something of his own. Tee wants a shot of Joe’s own come down his throat, drenching the lining of his esophagus. The thought makes his moan, makes him choke into Joe’s throat, and the older man swallows him whole. 

Fuck, three—do they—are they trying to get him to come three times, the same amount of times he caught Joe’s pass for a touchdown? Christ. He’s getting lightheaded.

He laughs incredulously, flicking his eyes down to Ja’Marr mouthing incessantly at his navel, teeth scraping along the black lines of his tattoos, exactly like he said he wanted too. Makes Tee woozy with want, how Ja’Marr gets needy and desperate for it, thirsting over Tee’s body. How many times has he stared at him naked? Tattoos bared and thought to put his mouth on him? Drag a finger down the lines of stars on his stomach? He has never once caught Ja’Marr’s eyes on them—how sneaky had the other man been?

Joe’s hand is right on the younger man’s head like a brand, like he can’t bear to let go. on his head guiding him

, then back to the blond still staring him down. His smile is just as mischievous as it always is. Are they going to take turns, now? That’s the hottest shit he’s ever thought of, probably.

“What,” he can’t help but say, scoffing and teasing Ja’Marr, reaching a hand to tug on his ear and scratch at his cheek because he’s so fucking fond of this man he can’t keep it in, really, “you looking to suck me off too?”

Ja’Marr tugs on his dick, his sensitive dick—bitch—and Tee hisses at him, stopping his loving scritches to outright pinch at his ear because never the fuck he minds, this man is such a fucking brat, he can’t put this guard down at all.

The younger man jerks his head away, laughing. He grins up at Tee, teeth bright and eyes even brighter. “Nah, I don’t like shit down my throat. Wanna fuck me instead?”

Tee chokes on his spit. He blacks out, he thinks, by the question alone. By the idea alone. By the thought alone. His brain tries conjuring images and then it just short circuits. Where is he. Who is he. Why is he.

His head gets cradled, pulled to the side by a hand and he’s being kissed by a smiling mouth, pulled back down to earth slowly and surely until he’s kissing back voluntarily instead of on autopilot. Joe, hand pressed to his cheek and eyes wide open even as he’s stealing Tee’s breath away by kissing him sweetly and thoroughly. What a freak. Who kisses with their eyes wide open. Joe Fucking Burrow, that’s who. His quarterback who threw him three touchdowns and tried biting his neck on national television. Posted on every NFL official social media accounts and sent to him by his high school friends with the words bruh u fucking ur qb??? Which he apparently is, now. 

“He asked you a question,” Joe murmurs against his lips. Right. Sure.

Tee looks down to his lap and, damn, what a fucking image. Ja’Marr Chase, laying belly down on his bed with his torso half over Tee’s thighs, a hand curled loosely around his sensitive dick, the other holding his hand—when did that happen, Tee is squeezing it tight unconsciously and now he can’t let go even if he tried—cheek pressed to his left thigh looking up at him with his pupils blown wide open waiting patiently for Tee to look at him.

Right.

“You get to choose,” Ja’Marr says when he notices he’s got Tee’s attention. He tugs at Tee’s soft cock again—

“It’s not a toy,” Tee yelps, his unoccupied hand automatically curling around the other receiver’s hand around his dick.

Ja’Marr just grins wider up at him, unsticking his cheek from his thigh to press a kiss on the hand wrapped around his wrist.

“You get to choose,” he says again, “Fuck my ass or my thighs?”

Tee lets out a sound only audible to dogs and dolphins and aliens 900 billion light years away, probably. Ja’Marr smiles up at him, looking so shily pleased that he can reduce Tee to such a state by just asking a simple question. He has no fucking business looking so sweetly enamored up at Tee after asking if he would rather fuck him in the ass or his thighs.

He’s jostled around again, Joe tugging at his hips to the side so Ja’Marr can haul his ass up to sit by them. This seems to be a theme, with these two, pushy on the field and off the field and in the bedroom—he can’t even say he’s never even thought of it,  Burrow-Chase dynamic duo, in whatever form, whatever shape, whatever way he can have them. In his dreams only, he thought, but. But.

Ja’Marr is spreading open the hand he’s kept on holding since god knows when—like an emotional support hand holding he’s got to keep a hold on to get through sex and that thought genuinely fucks Tee up in ways he’s never even thought of—and he drops a whole packet of lube he procured out of fucking nowhere.

Tee stares blankly down at it. Holy shit.

“Bro, you’re taking too long,” Ja’Marr says. Tee flicks his eyes up to look blankly at him. “I want you in me, like, yesterday.”

He’s trying to fucking kill him, Tee realizes. Calling him bro, asking to fuck him in the ass, the fuck is wrong with him.

“You gonna finger me open or I gotta do it myself?”

NggGgRrrHff.

Tee doesn’t even know what came out of his mouth, surging his torso forward and bringing his hand up to tug at Ja’Marr’s skull, palm all over the back of his head so he can tug him closer to his face and lick his mouth open and just shut him the fuck up. 

Ja’Marr whimpers, the cocky slope of his shoulders slumping down like a puppet with its strings cut, hauling closer near desperately to settle over Tee’s lap and press his palms over his shoulders for support—kissing Tee right back, breathing hot haaas over Tee’s mouth as he tries gasping for breath.

Tee tugs on his lips with his teeth, presses wet kisses to the side of his cheeks, drags his own lips over his skin back to the tender spot of his jaw, bites over it, pecks a little kiss in apology, then presses his cheek over Ja’Marr’s hard so he can tug roughly on his earlobe with his teeth—thinks he can devour the other man whole, really, from the sheer hunger in his gut built up from day one of over-familiarly dapping him up and hauling him in for a hug under the then-flickering lights of Paul Brown Stadium in 2021.

The lube’s gone from his fingers. He realizes this because someone is tugging Ja’Marr’s hips up so he’s kneeling over him, then pressing a finger in without so much as an ’excuse me’. 

Christ, Joe is so fucking.

Tee can't even find the words, really, to describe his quarterback. 

Ja’Marr yelps, gasps, clutches tighter at Tee’s shoulder, eyelashes fluttering close as he tries to keep kneeling but Joe is apparently ruthless when he's opening someone up because the younger man just collapses all over Tee, Tee letting his weight down him as drags both hands over the other man’s back to soothe him.

“Want—” Ja’Marr chokes out against the skin of Tee’s neck, “—want you.”

Joe huffs out a laugh as he mercilessly twists two fingers inside his receiver’s ass. Tee feels dizzy looking at the 

“Oh I see,” Joe says, dangerously amused, “I see how it is, can't even settle for me no more, huh, when you got Tee Higgins at your beck and call?”

His fingers slip out, shining under the dim lighting of Tee’s night settings, and then he slaps a hand over Ja’Marr’s ass like every part of him is for him to toy over. Tee is still so fucking woozy from the image of it all, his hand rubbing at Ja’Marr’s back sliding lower to smooth over the sting from Joe’s palm.

(god, what an ass. tee can't help himself, grabs a handful of it and tugs it to the side to show his hole, shining wetly from joe’s fingers, a whole invitation for him. tee wants to put his whole mouth on it. lick him open nice and easy. press a finger in and watch as his entire body tremble and shake.)

Joe grins at him, wide and a bit mean, cocky and soooo full of himself, precisely like every other time he makes an insane throw, a run further than his usual short stops, a little overtime nail-biter win like just hours ago: his ice-in-my-veins shot that Tee paused and contemplated jerking off to hours before this.

He reaches over Ja’Marr's body between them, kisses Tee like he’s giving him his approval, then turns and presses the sweetest kiss to Ja’Marr’s nose, damn the fact that the other man is glaring and outright pouting at him.

“Bro,” he croaks out, talking to Tee but trying to shoot daggers at Joe with his eyes, “let me up, let me take this bitch down for one second then we can go right back.”

Joe giggles bright like an actual child, keeps pressing kisses over whatever parts of Ja’Marr’s face he could reach until the younger man’s lips stretch out wobbly for a smile that he can't help, still whining at Joe to shut the fuck up, would he, just for one day. 

Tee grins wide in spite of himself too, hands still all over his best friend’s ass and lips still tingling from a kiss from his quarterback.

He drags his arm up so he can cradle Ja’Marr, fingers reaching over to grip at his jaw and twist it until he's looking right at him and putting all that focus on Tee, murmurs low and raspy: “you said you want me?”, and shamelessly delights in the way the other man’s pupils dilate wide and gorgeous.

“Fuck you,” Ja’Marr says, jaw working against Tee’s grip, “Get your fucking fingers in me before i force myself on your dick, damn it.”

that’s two — from the base of her neck, to the arch of her eyelids, her beauty made a slave of me (adonis, transformations of the lover)

Ja’Marr nestles himself on his mound of pillows—Tee’s pillows. The pillows Tee sleeps with. His favorite pillows. The dark maroon sheets caressing his bare skin as he lounges on his self made throne, as he spreads open his legs, slipping one more pillow under his hips so he can present his ass to Joe and Tee and look expectantly at them. Tee is still so fucking lightheaded. How did he go from scoring three touchdowns to scoring a whole other touchdown? Ja’Marr—his best friend—who ducked his head to grin slilly up at him not four hours ago, telling him the next round of WR room steak dinner was on him. 

Joe pours lube all over Tee’s fingers, 

Joe’s plastering himself all over his back, but he isn’t pushing him at all. He’s just—there. Pressed up all over him, moving with him, breathing over the skin of his neck, nosing behind his ear. He’s letting Tee control how he wants to fuck his man, Tee realizes with a jolt, trusting him with Ja’Marr. 

joe plastered all over tee's back, cock nestled against his ass but he's not pushing tee around he's just following his movements, letting tee control how he wants to enter ja'marr and that also fucks tee up because joes trusting him with ja'marr!! with how he treats ja'marr at his most vulnerable!!!! telling him he can go harder, ja'marr likes whatever, can take whatever, joe leaing a hand in his belly and pushing to add in extra sensation of pleasure when tee pushes /in/ for the first time and he just collapses all over ja'marr and they're all groaning hoarsely in unison because fuck tees in ja'marr and he just pushed his ass back all over joes dick

Joe snickers at the other receiver. Tee feels him lift up an arm, nails scratching at his scalp. He’s murmuring softly at him, but Tee doesn’t think Ja’Marr is really computing any of it. 

“Aren’t you being so agreeable tonight? Some Tee Higgins magic keeping you all pliant and malleable?”

Ja’Marr whimpers, lifting his chin and biting at Joe’s fingers. Joe huffs, chest vibrating against Tee’s back, and every square inch of Tee’s body is filled with warmth.

calls him baby

ja’marr gets fucked up when tee calls him baby because joe calls him baby btw so

that’s three — to love someone is firstly to confess: i'm prepared to be devastated by you (billy-ray belcourt, a history of my brief body)

He’s leaning all over Ja’Marr now, gazing down the man who’s grinning woozily up at him 

Joe, nosing the back of his neck and palming his ass cheeks asking him if he likes to be fucked. Ja’Marr, hands still shaky coming up to drag over his sides and settle over his ribs like a key settling into a lock and clicking into place. Tee himself, chest expanding with breath and skin bristling with want from so deep within him it feels like it’s bursting out and changing the hue of his skin to red, to blue, to orange and black, purple and green, magenta and cyan, a kaleidoscope of colors like the big bang theory—he’s a new universe stretching and expanding and these two are his first and only planets, never to be let go.

He feels stripped bare in front of these two—is his every thought and want obvious in his face and every motion now? Do they see, now, how much he wants them? How much he—loves them? Is it obvious, now, that when he speaks to them he’s speaking like there’s a lodge of do you think of me when you’re alone without me wanting to burst out from his throat? That he aches alone in the center of a crowd when he doesn’t have them beside him? When he has them beside him, even, because they’re not really his to have? Does it show? Do they know? Do they care to know? Does he care to show them?

Tee breathes out loudly, ragged and deep. Joe shushes him, blows air against the curve of his C7. Ja’Marr surges up, presses kisses against his wet cheeks and babbles unknown words to him like he’s speaking through his shitty mic on stream. Tee would miss it, if their randomly scheduled streams were ever to peter off. Tee would miss them, if they were ever to fade away from him.

“Baby,” Ja’Marr coos, “sweetheart, my sweet, my love, my heart, my gorgeous,”

Tee shudders away against his lips and feels the man behind him curve a smile against the skin stretched over his cervical spine.

“My baby,” Joe joins in, voice jokingly grave, “my gorgeous, my sweet—”

“—quit copying me,” Ja’Marr whines, cutting him off, but he’s grinning against Tee’s lips, so he knows he’s just doing so to be annoying—just to put a smile on Tee’s face and it’s working, Tee huffing wetly against the stretch of his grin.

“—my number five,” Joe continues on without pausing, barely a fletch in his voice, “my silly rabbit, best hands in the league, insane body control, prettiest smile in the whole fucking world, favorite receiver to throw to—”

“Hey now,” Ja’Marr whines in earnest now, hands reaching around Tee’s body to stab around blindly at their quarterback. Tee breaks down in laughter for real this time, collapsing fully on the man in the bottom of the pile, letting Ja’Marr find a whole other thing to whine about—’teeeeee you’re crushing me you ass, joe don’t you fucking try it!’—and there was ice creeping from every distal edge of his limbs to the core of him, but there’s nothing but warmth now, chasing it away, clouding his head, keeping him sane. 

“But really now,” Joe interrupts, tugging his hips up impatiently, “I really wanna fuck you, do you wanna?”

Right. Jesus. Joe fucking Burrow, everyone.

Ja’Marr hums, peppering his cheek with kisses again, ever so free with his sweet affections. “Ten out of ten,” he says, “would recommend.”

Tee stares sideways at him, still settled with his weight fully on him. “That a full Yelp review for a Joe Burrow fuck?”

Ja’Marr sighs dreamily, scratching at Tee’s sides, “Do you really want one?”

Jesus.

Tee wiggles around, dragging his body against Ja’Marr’s and the man beneath him giggles when he brushes his fingers deliberately against his sides. He twists until he’s peering at Joe, squinting at him and pretending that the man didn’t just suck his dick so good Tee cried and stared at him like a second coming of Christ. Blasphemous, sacrilegious, irreverent, and yet, he has yet to be struck down and smitten—or perhaps he already has, and this is all a byproduct of his imaginary ruin.

“Think you can make it good?” He asks imperiously, already knowing in his bones this man would be as good at fucking as he is at literally anything else, as well evidenced by his previous attempt at giving Tee what was possibly the best blowjob of his life just, what, 40 minutes prior?

Joe scoffs, ducking his head down and pecking at his lips. “I just sucked your dick to incoherency, the fuck do you mean ‘can i make it good’? I got a pretty mouth and a pretty dick, think for yourself.”

Tee chokes in sheer disbelief—heart stuttering a bit at the brief press of lips but what-the-fuck-ever—the ego on this man, jesus. He flicks his eyes to the pink of his lips—shining, distracting, real fucking pretty—then, well, down past the puffy nipples and golden dusting of chest hair and layer of fat over abs to the nice curve of a cock—thick and long, veiny, a blushy pink head, a weirdly sexy little jolt like it’s show-ponying, like it knows he’s watching it and wants to show it likes it—that Joe likes Tee watching him. Yeah, real fucking pretty dick, too, damn it, fuck Joe Burrow.

Tee whines, turning back around to bury his face—knowing damn well it’s burning red even through the dark of his skin—in the curve of Ja’Marr’s neck and tries not to let the dual laughter of the boys who’ve quite literally captured his heart stutter it too much. Failed, but whatever, he’s got way too much practice over the years regulating his heartbeat to normalcy around these two.

Joe goes to scrape his teeth along the top his spine again and Tee shivers, feeling like prey caught in the maw of a tiger, which really won’t do—he’s a fucking bengal too, damn it. He bucks his hips back firmly, makes sure to rub the curve of his ass against the hard of his quarterback’s dick and hides his satisfied smile against his fellow receiver’s jaw when Joe gasps loud and startled, hand coming to grip at his hip hard, probably leaving bruises for him to brush his fingers wonderingly over later on.

Ja’Marr snickers approvingly, pressing his jaw back firmly against Tee’s mouth, “Yeah, tell him who’s boss, make him work for it.”

Tee presses a kiss right to the tender skin below his jawbone, leaves it there for a beat, two, three, feels like maybe he can make out the faint fluttering of his heartbeat against his lips, then lets up to say drily, “Pretty sure all your raving reviews does wonders for his ego. Don’t act like you’re not to blame here, Mr. Joe Burrow’s Numero Uno.”

Ja’Marr just shrugs unapologetically the best he could, pressed down as he is with Tee’s full weight all over him to the bed, never really one to be shy about his near piety to one Joe Burrow when it’s just them three. He’s been circling indistinct little patterns on the skin of Tee’s hips the whole time, but he stops for a minute to reach a hand up and tap a little rhythm teasingly over Joe’s thigh, now kneeling to the side, the only one still hard and with zero orgasms to his name that night, pouting but not admitting it.

Tee very obviously wouldn’t say no to having Joe’s dick inside him but playing hard-to-get just so Joe Burrow would pout and whine about not getting to fuck him is really—really fucking cute, actually, wow. Wow, god, Tee is so gone for him, he should really take a step back and regulate his entire life and emotional capacity, wow. Wow.

and in the end — over a distance of four hundred miles, her yearning and his yearning are intertwined, as though there were no spatial or temporal interval between them (jenny erpenbeck, kairos)

After it’s all done and not said, then, Tee’s left naked in the middle of the hallway leading to his bathroom, unable to take the steps back to his own room where his best friends are, clutching at his towel after having just pissed, and having orgasmed three fucking times by the combined willpower of his two closest teammates, all because he scored three touchdowns for a game—that might possibly be his last home game with them—that had playoff stakes. Fuck.

Heavy footsteps come up to him and he flicks his eyes up to see Joe staring him down—naked, gorgeous, sweat-slicked, his quarterback, his friend. Who had just fucked the bejeesus out of him.

Tee drags a hand down his face harshly. Stupid. So fucking stupid.

The lilt of Ja’Marr’s voice when he says my sweet, when he’s referring to Tee as my heart, when he’s saying Tee as my gorgeous. When Joe says gravely, jokingly, possessively, my number five, he’s saying that about Tee. 

Joe catches his hands—both of them—towel slipping away, and holds them and tugs at them until Tee is stumbling into him, lifting his chin up awkwardly so he won’t slam it into Joe’s nose but Joe doesn’t even do him the honor of avoiding it. He just tucks it into the curve of his Adam’s apple and breathes in deep like a weirdo. How many times has Tee just caught him with his nose buried in Ja’Marr’s neck as he hugs the receiver—how many times has he caught the man nudge his nose to the curve of Tee’s shoulder, right at the base of his neck, after a game when he comes to him for a hug. Oh.

“Joe,” Tee breathes out, trembles, wonders how he’s supposed to word this out, how he’s supposed to say how he feels, how he’s supposed to say t

Ja’Marr, breathing in his air and telling him he doesn’t want him to leave. 

Tee sees Joe grin down his phone at ass o’clock in the morning and knows he’s reading i love you in between the letters of Ja’Marr’s why the fuck is all of cincy awake at 7 in the morning.

Ja’Marr says hey, all sleepy with the vowel dragging and it sounds like come here, you two. Tee goes, Joe right behind him a half step away.

a little more down the line — the only heaven i’ll be sent to, is when i’m alone with you (hozier, take me to church)

you do like all those pet names

he calls me all that all the time joe says nosing behind tees ear

i like calling you that too tee says, amused. letting his neck bend even more, what even are the words uncomfortable stretch when joe burrow has his nose buried in the curve of it. 

you called me baby, ja’marr says then, shy and a little quiet, like he’s saying something he keeps close to him and isn’t sure how he should breach it out of him. 

i call him that, joe says next, grin audible even if its not visible from where he’s pressed up behind tee

oh. tee called him baby, told him to come for him, and ja’marr gasped into his mouth and bursted all over tee’s belly, drenching him in white, whimpering as he stared into tee’s eyes with his own watering but still kept it open, didn't even close it because he didn’t want to. couldn't, maybe, tee thinks again.

oh, tee says out loud for real then, bumping his nose forward to ja’marr like he's learning that ja’marr likes to do, okay then, baby, come here, baby, let me see you, baby.

ja’marr laughs, bumps his nose right back. don't wear it thin. 

never, tee swears.

my baby, my baby, joe murmurs finally into the back of tee’s neck, pressing his fingers into the insides of ja’marr’s elbows.

.

.

.

i want more thumps. i want more time. i want to waste my love on everything. give me a heart for ohio. —(joy sullivan, instructions for traveling west, an octopus has three whole hearts)

more time together for these three, please.

WHICH APPARENTLY HEY THEY DID IT 😭😭👍👍👍👍 GOOD FOR THEM!!! trey next so help me!! when treys news comes out (🙏) maybe ill post that treymarr unfinished oblivious courting fic idk we'll see that ones more of a mess than this and also wayyy shorter lmao but anyways:::: thank u for reading through this all if u made it to this end note 😇🫶 goodbye see u again whenever i have it in me to show up again akdhsjdjdj love yall bengals super bowl 2k26 Believe! or whatever it is they all say in that 2021 run 💖

thank you for every one of you who've come into my inbox to ask how i am by the way!!!! adore and miss you all very much <33

[cr4yolaas]

the night shift — prologue

masterlist | day 1

it's cold. too cold.

it's a little too late at night for any customers to arrive. tokyo is deemed one of the many cities that don't sleep, but with how quiet it is inside and out and the snow collecting softly on the windows, it seems that the world has come to a slumber.

the overhead lights flicker, slightly. someone would have to squint their eyes to see it. the freezers hum in the background, forever running for the satisfaction of others. a gentle melody that neither of them knows the name of loops from the speakers. it's just about the same as every other branch in the city.

and yet, for them, it's a sanctuary.

to escape from the reality of their lives is a blessing, and they find that solace in the walls of the convenience store, almost every night.

he likes to observe her. when their shifts align and they find themselves seated together behind the register, just like every other night, he observes, and observes, and observes, but he can only absorb so much. the color of her hair. the tint of her cheeks. the little habits.

he knows there's more to it. that, beneath the mass of flesh and muscle and bone, there are more intricacies than he could count on his fingers. but he reminds himself, every night, that there is no point in bothering himself with it. because, after all, they're just coworkers.

the alarm on his phone, set at exactly 11:30 in the evening, rings inside his pocket. they're both pulled out of the reservoirs of their minds and dropped into something more secure, something more familiar. a routine.

while he gets up to sanitize the counter, she moves to the register, the metal clinking at the little drawer pops open (he doesn't know, but she counts the money in her hands and wonders what it'd be like if it were all hers, just for a day). the heater shuts off and the door to the break room clicks shut. old shoes squeak against old tile while pen meets paper, little notes jotted into her mind that she'll (hopefully) remember to tell her manager about tomorrow.

silence washes over like a blanket. they don't fight it.

a sense of agreement, albeit not verbally disclosed, is shared between them — that much has been established since they were both employed, standing side by side in a line full of newcomers with too little shoulder space. there is no need to say anything. there is no need to do anything, other than their job. it's routine. it's necessary. it's comfortable.

but, the night shift drags on. and the more it does, the more he wants to break the routine.

ᡣ𐭩 thank you for choosing to read the night shift !!

ᡣ𐭩 this is one of my favorite projects ever i think. i'm so so excited for it

ᡣ𐭩 i wanted to introduce the ambiance and general vibe first so i hope this little prologue captured it well ^_^

ᡣ𐭩 in case you missed it, the convenience store that kags and yn work at is a common branch in this au. therefore it's not exactly a mega company but it's not a family business either

ᡣ𐭩 yn texts the manager's son bc he's an old man who stays around just for the fun of it. may or may not hate the son's guts, bc he's a bit of a privileged nepo baby

ᡣ𐭩 kageyama is a people watcher imo. bc of his analytical skills that are constantly applied to volleyball, i feel like he tries to apply similar skills to those around him sometimes. and who better than his coworker !!

ᡣ𐭩 anyways. i hope this smau turns out well !!

taglist: @causenessus @strawberryuri @iiwaijime @savemebrazilhinata @tiramizuloz @conrad4life13 @wyrcan @zazathezaer @nperoconelcositoarriba @winniethepooh-lover

italicized names cannot be tagged. check your account settings!

[gunwoo-bh]

The Night Shift - Part 10 [Min Yoongi x f!Reader]

MIN YOONGI x F!READER UniStudent!Yoongi AU SUMMARY: You chose a boring, quiet job at your campus’s 24-hour library for a reason: it kept you away from drama, gossip, and parties. It was positively uneventful. Until it wasn’t. 18+ MDNI Warnings: swearing, lots of kissing and making out, reader and yoongi are horny, smut (it's light but it's there), breast play, yoongi is so hard so often in this i feel bad, definitely fluff. wc: 8.5k A/N: So, this will mark a shift for the rest of the story and I am excited to explore this. Let me start off by saying that I have never in my life written smut in any way before thus there's definitely room for improvement. I am not gonna be a huge smut writer until I am comfortable but the only way to improve is to write it! If anybody has good tips? Please send in a message! That being said, I am so excited for this chapter and the last few ones! I hope you enjoy this!

THE NIGHT SHIFT

PART 10

TWO MONTHS LATER

Humming to a tune in your head, you're putting your things away and tapping your foot while looking at the clock with a sly smile on your lips. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you bite your lip when you see a text from your boyfriend. 

Boyfriend. 

Yoongi is your boyfriend, and two months in? You’re still amazed at how everything has turned out. 

After agreeing to date, you’d gone on a few more dates before labeling your relationship. It wasn’t a very long conversation, and you had both agreed to it in the midst of a makeout session. Because you did that lots now–making out. 

Waving goodbye to the security guard, you head out of the library right at midnight, and taking a sharp right, you are met with your boyfriend’s slowly approaching figure. He’s removing his headphones as he approaches you, glancing up and breaking into a smile only meant for you. You giggle as you run to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he lifts you. 

Yoongi deposits you back safely on the ground, pulling back and cupping your cheek as he breathes out, “Hey babe..”

The nickname makes your insides flutter. He’s gotten very comfortable with it these last few weeks, and you can be completely honest with yourself and anybody who would ask about the way it makes you feel. 

Giddy. 

“Hi…” You sound so needy when he pulls away from the peck he quickly presses to your lips. “How was work?”

He shrugs, “Quiet, actually. My mom told me to come pick you up even though there was some cleaning left to do…”

You snort, “I think she just wants you outta there.”

“Pfft, ouch, okay.” He grins while staring at you, leaning in to capture your lips in another kiss. “You still wanna come over?”

“What about Hoseok and Namjoon?” 

He hums, close enough that your lips are still touching, “Hoseok is on a date with your friend and Namjoon is staying over at Eunhye’s tonight…”

“Oh..” You’re gleeful at the realization. “Yeah, I still wanna come over.”

He leans back, taking your bag in his hand as you walk back to his apartment. 

It was about a week into officially dating that he invited you over, cooking for you for the first time, and there had been a handful more times since then. You had to swallow your words when Yoongi had proven with ease his culinary skills over a few cozy indoor dates you’d had at his and he had been more than happy to continue using said skills to impress you. 

You’d wanted to spend the nights on some of those date nights when it was getting late and the mood inspired nothing but desires to make out and cuddle with your boyfriend. The only hesitation came from the fact that there was always someone over and both of your lovely friends had been so supportive, yet so playful. The teasing wasn’t bothersome, but it didn’t allow for privacy when you both lived with roommates. 

Holding your hand when you walk up the short flight of stairs to his place, he keys in with you following closely. You love how after he removes his shoes he turns to you to take your jacket off as you remove your shoes. He tells you to wait a moment, disappearing for the briefest moment before returning with a pair of slippers he had bought especially for you. You swear this man surprises you every day. 

You shuffle in, following him as you yawn and move to settle on the couch. 

“D’you want food?”

You pout, “Ramen?”

He grins, “Your way or my way?”

“Yours. Duh.” 

He chuckles, opening cabinets and turning the stove on as you relax. The times you had been over you had become comfortable being in his space. Well, the space he shares with his friends. 

“Oppa?”

He turns around, “Mhm?”

“I’m cold, can I grab a blanket?”

He smirks, “My room, grab a hoodie in there.”

You smile in thanks, wandering over and nudging the door open with your foot. His room is remarkably neat, everything has a purpose and is meant to be where it is. It isn’t your first time in here, having cuddled many times over now while watching a movie on his laptop. You walk to his closet, looking through the many hoodies until you find the light grey one you prefer. 

You’re stepping out of his bedroom when you’re slipping it on and he dives in, catching you by surprise as you yelp and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his chest and directing your face to his without kissing you, yet. 

“Oh my god! You fucking scared me!” You smack his back playfully without much force. 

Yoongi laughs, leaning so close your noses touch, “Not sorry.”

You scoff, “Jerk.”

He swoops in quickly as he kisses you, bending your body back and straightening the both of you up as you exhale deeply when he pulls back.

“Hi.” He’s grinning, so proud of himself. 

“Mhm…” You’re embarrassed at the way your body reacts to his kisses and touches. 

But you don’t have much time to focus on them when he speaks, “I actually have something I wanna run by you…”

You don’t know why that sentence sends dread coursing through your body. Yoongi must sense it with the sudden stiffness in your body because he immediately cups your cheek, features soft and reassuring, “Nothing bad, I swear. Come on, your ramen’s ready. I’ll explain…”

He seems light and that allows some of your concern to slip away as you sit at the table in the living room with your carefully prepared bowl of ramen, a glass of water near it. God, he knows me too well. He sits down across from you with a smaller bowl of his own, claiming he had eaten before he had come to pick you up. 

“Explain away please…” He’s amused by your anxiousness but he spares you any more.

“So,” he leans, “the boys and I have been talking for months now about getting away right after our finals which are coming up…” he trails off, eyes meeting yours, “and because more than half of us have girlfriends now,” you both grin at that, “well, we wanna make it a whole trip and I wanted to ask you if you’d be up to come along?”

He pauses, letting the question sit for a moment, “It’s a cabin, by the way! In case you were worried it was actually camping-camping…”

You laugh at that, “That…wouldn’t have bothered me at all, but thanks for the clarification.”

He keeps watching you, waiting for your answer or for any concerns you might have. He’s nervous, not that you would have noticed until right now as he picks at his nails. “So, I have a couple of questions…”

“Ask away.”

He’s eager to reassure you. 

“For one, how are we divvying this financially? Second, how do we get there? How long? Annnnnd rooming…how will that work?” They’re all pretty straight forward questions. All of which Yoongi has an answer to. He’s only nervous about answering the final one. 

“It’s all split evenly, but it’s cheap ‘cause Seokjin gets a discount. His aunt owns the rental, but none of us want to take it for free. Uh, I’d be borrowing my parents’ car leaving them with the van which they’ve ok’ed. It would be you and I going there. It would be for one week only.” He stops there, pausing as he considers his next few words.

“And,” you start, “rooms?”

He looks up at you, chewing the inside of his cheek, “Well, there’s six of them and we have so many couples now…so, couples get rooms and the two singles share.”

“So, it would be you and me in a room?”

“Mhm. Would that be okay?” He asks.

That's an easy yes. You've more often thought about sharing the bed with him or spending the night over, but you hadn't been in a relationship since your first year of university. Meaning you also hadn't had sex since then either. 

You weren't the most experienced in that field, but you know what you're doing. You never felt like you needed sex to make a relationship work but your ex had different opinions, and feelings. You feared a repeat of that experience, that your lack of need for sexual intimacy would wedge you two apart. Because you did want to have sex with him. 

But Yoongi? You had to give him credit. He’s attentive and very much could read your cues like the back of his favourite book. 

“Yeah,” his shoulders relax, “that would be fine.” 

With a slight raise of his eyebrows he asks, “Really?”

“Mhm.” You confirm with a small smile. 

With relief settling between both of you, he gets his phone out and you do too as you organize everything pre-trip being that this is your first time there but his fourth. He answers a few more of your questions that pop up and before long, your joining the trip is figured out. 

You're helping him wash the dishes when you glance at the stove top clock, “I should probably head home after this…” 

He, too, glances at it really quickly. 

1:34AM 

His gaze shifts to look at you for a solid ten seconds, shutting the water and drying his hands as he leans his hip against the counter, “Do you wanna stay over?”

You snap your head up so fast, “Really?” 

He nods, “It's late…we don't have class tomorrow. Could make a day out of it if you're already here…” 

Yoongi can already tell where your beautiful, overthinking brain goes as he soothes your worries, “I bought a spare toothbrush the other day and you can use some of my clothes to sleep in…” 

You laugh softly, looking down to your feet. You feel him getting closer to you, his hand coming to rest on your cheek when you look up at him from under hooded eyes. 

“Thank you.” 

“Always.” 

He brings you a change of clothes and you use his bedroom to change, smiling to yourself at one of your wishes coming true. Even his smallest pair of sweatpants look huge on you, but as you open the door to let him back in he simply turns and stares. 

There's a smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he's stepping towards you, looking at you in his clothes. 

“Even though these are too big,” you snort, watching him hold in a chuckle as he speaks, “you look way better in ‘em than I ever could have imagined…”

You giggle, standing on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips which he fully leans into, slipping an arm around your waist to press you flush against his body and cupping your jaw with his other hand. He kisses with his entire body, never leaving much space between your bodies. 

“Sleep. What we need, though, is sleep.” He unwillingly pulls back, struggling to tear his eyes from your lips.

You pout but concede, removing his hoodie as he washes up. It's weird being here when you usually would be leaving to go home, this is usually the part when you imagine what it would be like to stay. Now, you get to live it. You stand next to the bed, feeling the fabric of the duvet as you glance over your shoulder to him. 

“Which side…?”

He grins, toothbrush in his mouth as he points to the left side of the bed. You feel his eyes on you as you get settled under the sheets and meet his gaze, realizing just how badly you like him. 

You reach over to plug in your phone as you lie back, shutting your eyes and relaxing until your side of the bed dips, startling you when Yoongi sits down. He hovers slightly above you, gazing down affectionately, and leans down to kiss you softly. Instinctively reaching for his cheek, you hold him and pull him further into the kiss as you move up the bed to sit a bit more upright.

The duvet shifts lower on your body, and Yoongi’s hand snakes across your back to flatten against your spine, making you suck in a sharp breath. Your hand on his cheek slips to his shoulder, then down his chest to his hip, earning a hiss from him as he recoils like he’s been burned. Panting loudly, he reaches for your hand and huffs a small laugh.

“Sleep…We definitely should sleep.” You read him carefully, understanding that you are both in the same boat. His pupils are dilated when he’s looking at you, “You okay?”

You nod, shifting softly, “I’m okay.” 

“Okay.” With shaking hands he grabs you and kisses you quickly, standing and looking back at you. “I’ll be a minute, yeah? I’ll be back…”

And as quick as the words leave his mouth he’s out of the bedroom and locking the bathroom door. 

You can’t explain the feeling that bubbles in the pit of your stomach. Arousal is definitely one of them, there is no doubt about that. No, but what you’re feeling right now is something entirely different and you feel the muscles in your face pull into a smile, hiding behind your hand for no reason as you laugh softly.

Pride. 

You are proud that you’ve elicited such a reaction out of him, and you know exactly what situation he’s dealing with in the privacy of the bathroom. You want to make sure he’s not embarrassed or that you’re not feeling any kind of negative way about what happened, but you don’t want to make it too obvious. 

So, you settle under the covers and shut the light on your side. You face his pillow and wait about ten minutes until the sound of a door opening and closing catches your attention. Next, the creaking of his bedroom door opening and closing is what you focus on as she shuffles around to shut lights before sitting on the edge of his bed, his back to you.

He doesn’t take notice of your being awake still when he settles under the covers, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. The lights shining in through his window illuminates his profile as lies still.

“Hey..” you whisper in the darkness, startling him.

“You okay?” 

“I’m fine…” you shift, “what about you?”

He’s silent for a few seconds like he’s considering his next words, “I am now…”

Vague but honest. He turns to face you, lying on his side as you shift closer in search of his warmth. He feels your hesitation, reaching for your waist as he pulls you closer and you hear him grunt when you hook your leg over his hip. He takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers when he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

“Did I do that?”

He scoffs, “Fuck..”

“Sorry…”

“No, baby, no, don’t say sorry…” He finally looks down to you, his eyes finding yours in the darkness. “If anything, that was exactly what was supposed to happen…”

He’s making light of it, letting the sentence die. 

So, of course, you have to be a little shit.

“Me giving you a hard-on?” 

He squeezes your hip, making you yelp as you smack his side before you both burst out laughing. Yoongi pulls you closer, pressing his lips to yours in a quick succession of kisses. 

“Where did this confidence come from?” He asks.

“You.” You confess. “Being with you…”

He pecks your lips again, “Well, you want me to be honest and say something that will definitely boost that confidence?”

You’re amused, giggling as you nod, “Mhm.”

He scoots closer and there’s no hiding from him as his lips ghost over yours when he locks eyes with you, “You absolutely gave me a hard-on and I had to deal with it…”

Pride. Again. 

You don’t even realize you’re laughing softly until he kisses your cheek, “Oookay, time for bed now…”

Humming, you shift to snuggle closer to him, and finally you shut your eyes. He holds you against him, his lips against your forehead as you both slowly drift off to sleep. 

Is this the moment you realize you’re falling in love with Min Yoongi?

No fucking doubt about it.

TWO WEEKS LATER

“Babe, remind me why we’re leaving earlier than the others again?” 

Yoongi chuckles, leaning in the doorway of your bedroom, “Because we’re the responsible ones.” You snort. “And because we need to make a stop at a grocery store close to the rental to buy a week’s worth of groceries. I’m the cook, and you are my assistant.” 

You snap your head to look at him over your shoulder, a light grin tugging at your parted lips, “I thought Seokjin was…” 

He scoffs, “Oh, he somehow got himself out of that…” 

You roll your eyes, “Oh, that little shit…” 

Things, since that night, have only continued improving between you two. The shyness you once felt dissipating with every new makeout session. And you had plenty. The newness of your relationship is still ever present as you continue to learn more about each other, growing more playful and more passionate. 

Your besties have remarked on the change in you these last few weeks. You’ve been told you’re blooming and it’s shown in the way you dress, and in the way you are with him around your friends. 

The last time Hwayoung and Eunji saw you date somebody, you had changed but not in the positive way you did with Yoongi. You shared absolutely nothing, your ex even refusing to hang out with your friends or for you to meet his friends and in the short eight months together, you became sadder and lonelier. 

But with Yoongi? It’s different. He encourages every part of you without enabling them. Your happiness, your sadness, your courage or your anger. His self-awareness for the complexity of the human emotions allows him to be of great support to you when you continue to learn about yourself. 

You shuffle back to your closet to grab a few extra items, “It’s just one week, but why is my brain telling me I need twenty different outfits?” 

He chuckles, stepping into your room and standing behind you as he places his hands on your hips, “Because you like options. You’re the same with your pens. And your notebooks. And books too. Which reminds me,” he leans his chin on your shoulder, “how many of those did you bring?”

You mouth the air, “...Three.”

He laughs, “You really think you’ll have time to read three books?”

“I’ll have you know, I am a really fast reader!” You turn around and you give him exactly what he wants as he pulls you into him, making you gasp. 

“I highly doubt you’ll have the time to read because I think we’ll be too busy…” 

You know he’s doing this to get a reaction out of you, simply because he’s discovered that between the two of you, the one who has been more daring with physical affection and intimacy is you. 

“Don’t tease.” 

“You know I love it…” he cups your cheek firmly, tugging your face to his as he presses a solid, meaningful kiss. 

He has to know he leaves you breathless with every kiss, “Okay, so, I will kiss you any time but we do have to get going so help me pick two dresses, please?” 

He laughs, letting his grip on your loosen as he walks to stand in front of your closet and without hesitation reaching for the green dress you wore on your first date and a flowery yellow sundress. You quietly take them from him, mouthing a small ‘thanks’ as you turn to your bag and fold them in. 

You zip it up and turn to him, “Okay, I am pretty sure I have everything and if I forget something, I will just have to get it when we stop before we get there…”

“So, I’ll take this to the car and we’re ready to go?” 

“Yeah, I’ll lock up then we can hit the road..” 

Yoongi grabs your two bags, “And Hwayoung and Eunji are riding with…?”

“Hwayoung will be riding with Hoseok and Taehyung and Eunji with Jungkook and Jimin. They’re leaving in an hour or two I think…” You shut your light.

“Cool, pretty much the same as everyone else…” He smiles as he leads the way out, waiting as you lock up. 

You’re just stepping out of the building when he’s closing the trunk, walking to the passenger side to open the door for you. You make sure to plant a quick kiss to his lips before you get in, and he follows suit. 

He turns to you once he’s seatbelted in, “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Grocery shopping with Yoongi is an experience.

One you’d relive for the rest of your life, honestly. 

You drive the cart around as he looks through every aisle, checking off item after item on his phone. He’s so focused and it’s very sweet to see him be this way because this is just mindlessly walking around the store and picking up things, no. Yoongi is very thorough with his list because they consist of every food preference for everyone, including any food allergies. You remember the text you woke up to a few days prior asking about any hated foods or allergies, which made you adore him even more. 

“Yoongi,” he turns to you right away, “what about you?”

“What?”

“Do you have yourself included on that list of yours?” He smiles softly.

“I don’t need to be on that list, because I know what I like and don’t like.” He looks back to the shelf. 

“Well, who takes care of the cook then?” He slows right down, looking back at you. 

He starts smirking, failing to hide his amusement, “What do you mean?”

You dig for your phone in your bag, opening a notes page, “You have a list for everyone. Let me make a list for you. You should have one.” 

He stands there silent for the briefest of moments as he stares at you. You can see an onslaught of emotions going through his eyes, chewing on his lower lip as he sighs. 

“It’s not very long…” 

You shrug, “Doesn’t matter. You should have a list.” 

He sighs, “Walk and list making then?” 

You laugh, “Sir, yes, sir!” You playfully give him a salute, pushing the cart just past him as he stops you as he grabs the back of your neck to bring you to him and your breath catches in your throat. 

“Thank you.” He glances from your eyes to your lips before leaning down to kiss you as you suck in a breath, lips brushing over yours when he pulls back. 

“Always…”

You feel his delight at the state of you, gently tugging you to keep following as you shop. 

Your Yoongi’s food list of likes and dislikes is very small because it seems like he’ll eat almost anything, except ridiculously spicy foods. Claims having grown up with his parents cooking a lot made him adventurous with food. But whenever he sees something he’s not particularly fond of, he makes a point to turn to you and let you know. 

You love how he indulges you in moments like these because it makes you happy. 

When you two are paying, your cart looks like you’re feeding a family of nineteen and it is almost comical even to the cashier. You’re packing everything into bags as Yoongi hands you items. 

Bringing everything into the car is a challenge too, moving both of your bags to the back seat as well as putting anything cold in the cooler you had in the trunk. You’re both exhausted when you’re finished, leaning against the car and laughing. 

“I’ll bring the cart back, can you text everyone and ask where they’re at?” He gently squeezes your hand. 

“I will…”

You get on the phone and message the massive trip group chat that was created.

You [10:14 AM]: We’re about an hour out, just finished shopping for food. Anyone there yet?

You see lots of text bubbles popping up as many of them respond, but what you get out of the texts is that Seokin and his girlfriend have just made it, with the rest soon behind and you two being last. 

You [10:16 AM]: We’re leaving now! See everyone soon! (smiling emoji)

“So?”

You look up to your boyfriend, “Seokjin and Sohee are there already. The others are right behind, so we’ll be the last ones there.”

He nods, smiling at you, “Let’s get going, they’ll probably be hungry by the time we get there…”

“You’ll be wearing your chef hat from the moment you get there…” you tease.

He sighs, “You have no idea…”

Far later that evening you’ve just come out of a shower, a towel tightly wrapped around your body as you glance at your reflection in the mirror. 

Out in the living room you can hear the laughter, the sound of people dancing and drinking. It feels youthful, like what you’ve been missing out on but you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t need a moment to recharge before heading back out. You made it your goal this week to enjoy your youth, to try new things and to get to know your boyfriend’s friends. 

Over the last two months you had gone to more than a handful of hangouts with his group of friends and with all the girlfriends too. You had become friends with everyone but you never were alone one on one with them. Which is why you want to take the opportunity to do that. 

You step out of the ensuite and freeze when you see Yoongi mid-reach in his bag, holding your hand to the towel. Now would not be the moment you’d want him to see you naked for the first time. Not like this, god no. 

“Hey baby…” you softly say, chuckling in mild embarrassment. 

He says nothing though. No, instead his eyes focus on every inch of your skin showing with that flimsy towel covering you. He forgets about whatever he had his hand on in his bag, standing up straight as he looks at you. He gulps visibly, wetting his lips while looking up the length of your legs. 

“My eyes are up here…” You tease but he doesn’t look away.

“I’m aware…” His tone is sharp, his voice just a breath as he finally looks up to your eyes. It reminds you of that one night, the first night you slept over and the reaction you had gotten out of him then.

“Look at me then…” He listens to you, eyes finally meeting yours and you realize then how heavily he’s breathing. “You okay?”

“I really want to kiss you.” 

You start smiling, “What’s stopping you?” He takes one glance at the towel, “Ah.”

Usually you would turn around and get changed, but you boldly walk directly to him and stand there, leaning up and using his shoulder for purchase as you peck his lips. You feel his hands on your waist, shivering when he brings you flush against his chest.

“Needed a recharge?” 

You hum, “Yeah, the shower helped. I’ll be out in a few minutes I swear…” you try to pull away but he pulls you back, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. When he pulls back he removes himself from you.

“I will see you in a moment then?” You’re grinning as he rubs the back of his neck. “Babe, please don’t laugh because yes, you made me horny…I’ll be just fine.”

“Alright, horn dog. Get back out there…” you wink at him as you grab your clothes, going back to the ensuite to get dressed. 

You’ve had many moments like these over the last two weeks, his deep very vocal appreciation of you boosting your confidence from zero to a solid eight at least. 

Min Yoongi lives to make you feel good about yourself, in more ways than one.

Your hair is still damp when you walk back out to the living room wearing a comfortable pair of sweatpants and one of Yoongi’s t-shirts. You are makeup free as you say hi to everyone.

“Oh look who’s back!” Hoseok jokes as he sees you. 

“How was that shower?” Sohee asks you. God, she’s so sweet. 

“Amazing, after that morning and all that cooking? Yeah. I could have stayed in there for an hour.” You joke, rounding the couch as Yoongi grabs your hand and tugs you to sit on his lap. He wraps his arms around you as you sit there, listening to the boys telling stories about their last time here. 

You feel the way he’s rubbing your back, using his short nails to gently scratch at it and using his other hand to hold your hand, “Wait, wait…so who nearly drowned?”

“Your boyfriend!” Jimin laughs, sipping his beer. 

You snap your head to Yoongi, “Wait, what?!”

“Okay, okay, let’s be fair and honest here? Someone,” he playfully glares at Taehyung sitting across from you guys, “was trying to use me for a boost and held me under water for waaaay longer!”

“I wanted to win!” Taehyung tries to explain, still obviously appalled that this story is being told.

Yoongi snorts, “We still lost though!” 

You’re holding in your laughter, hiding your face in his neck with one hand buried in his hair. He leans into your touch and you pull back to look at him. He looks at you softly and you’re smiling at him, and right as you’re about to kiss him you get dragged off his lap by your friends and all the girls. 

“Where are we going?!”

You from a few months ago would have never been seen in a swimsuit in a hot tub. You never would have been seen in a swimsuit, period. That shower turned out to be useless…except for maybe that kiss with Yoongi. 

Glancing over your shoulder to the boys still sitting in the living room drinking, you quickly lock eyes with your boyfriend which makes you smile. When you look back to the girl, they’re looking at you as you mouth the air. 

“Oh come on!”

They all start laughing, splashing some water at you as you laugh and protect yourself from the onslaught.

“You are so in love!”

You shush them, “Oh my god, shhhh!” You glance back to make sure the door is shut. “I’m not…there…yet?”

Hwayoung splashes you, “You don’t sound convincing, at all.” 

You throw water back at her, “Oh fuck off!” 

You’re all laughing as Eunhye, Namjoon’s girlfriend, speaks up, “You guys are really cute. I never imagined he was this open.”

“He’s opened up since meeting you. Seokjin remembers the day he first saw you two…” Sohee shares. “The boys have all been cheering you guys on.”

You find that really sweet as you lean into Hwayoung and grab Eunji’s hand, “These girls have been my personal cheerleaders this entire time. I never would have gotten my head outta my ass if it wasn’t for them…”

It feels nice, sitting in this hot tub and having a girl talk. Beforehand all you could do is live vicariously through your friends with their stories of hookups and failed dates, but now you’ve met on some even ground. You all have boyfriends now, at least in various stages of early relationships. 

Eunji grins, “Can you believe we all have boyfriends now?”

You laugh, “Actually? No. I didn’t even think I had enough of a social life to meet anyone. Yet, here I am.”

“Can I be honest? Sohee and I were really happy when we found out that some of the guys were going on dates…gave us hope for more girlfriends.”

“Do your boyfriends, like, update you on all the hot gossip?” Hwayoung asks.

Eunhye laughs, “Yes! They’re the ones most excited to send their boys off to be boyfriends.”

“I mean,” Sohee snorts, “don’t get us wrong, they’ll be the first ones to give them shit but really? They want them to be happy. So, they were cheerleaders for the guys too.” 

You pout, finding the image of Namjoon and Seokjin cheering Yoongi on to be the sweetest thing. You’re glad you both have amazing friends, people who supported you throughout this entire adventure of falling for each other. 

“I think I love him.”

You don’t realize the words leave you until they already have, the weight of the confession slowly sinking in as you look up at the girls’ faces. All their mouths are open, the shock evident on their faces as you mouth the air, trying to rewind the moment, but it’s too late; fooling yourself into thinking you could is useless. They heard you loud and clear. 

“Say what now?” Eunji asks, grabbing your hand under the water.

The realization sits heavy on your chest but there’s no use in denying it anymore, “I think…I think I love him…but it’s crazy, right?”

Eunhye shakes her head, “Not crazy. Sometimes…your heart knows it before your head does, because let's be honest, our brain is usually what stops us from letting us really be in our feelings. Especially when it comes to love.”

You blink slowly, “When did you know you loved Namjoon?” 

Eunhye smiles, the memory of the moment flashes through her eyes in an instant, “Like a month in? I thought we were just high school friends for the longest time because we've known each other that long…but,” she laughs, “but we were always more. He was just braver than I was and asked me out. A month in we were watching a movie at his and I blurted it out. I freaked.”

Everyone laughs softly as she continues, “No, I mean, like I freaked out. I tried explaining it away. But he just laughed and said ‘it's okay I love you too’ and that was it. Loving him was scary but after that? Falling in love with him was so easy.” 

You look to Sohee who tells you her story with Seokjin, “It was slower for us, a bit. Six months or so. He said it after a really nice romantic dinner. He wanted to get the point across that he wasn't kidding.”

You all laugh as you glance back one more time to Yoongi. He hasn't moved from his spot and he's so relaxed. You're paying close attention to the way the butterflies in your belly begin dancing slowly, fluttering along to the palpitations of your heartbeat. Is this what falling in love is? Are you there already? And what about him?

“You didn't think you'd be here, huh?” Eunhye's question catches you off guard. “He kinda snuck his way in…”

She was right. You never really paid attention to guys at school until Yoongi. Probably because of the way he took up space in life. He wasn't loud or obnoxious, no. He was quiet and commanded the space without much force. That's what drew your attention to him. 

“He did…” you smile, fixing the strap of your bathing suit. 

You sit in silence for what feels like way too long before you sigh, realization finally and completely washing over you as you turn to Hwayoung, “I love him. No doubt about it, I love him.”

Without another word all the girls shift and huddle around you, wrapping your up in a group hug. You're all laughing and sniffling tears back, pulling away and just bursting into a stronger fit of laughter. 

A few more moments pass with more stories of falling for the guys, getting to really hear even Eunji and Hwayoung's stance on their feelings. It's new to all of you, too. 

The sliding door catches all of your attention as Namjoon and Yoongi come out with multiple towels, prompting your decision to step out of the hot tub. The rest of the guys follow suit as you, one by one, step out. 

Yoongi is there waiting with an open towel as you let him wrap your up in it, staring up at him as he glances down at you with the gentlest grin pulling at the corner of his lips. 

“You pruning yet?” He asks as you slip your hand out of the cocoon he's created for you, showing him the tip of your fingers. He chuckles as he checks your fingers one by one. “Yup. Pruned.” 

You snort a laugh, “What an observation, babe…” 

He kisses your temple, tugging you inside with a firm arm around your waist. 

Everyone says goodnight and disperses to their designated rooms. 

When the door shuts behind you two, you let the towel slip from your body as you grab your clothes from earlier, “I'm just gonna rinse off and be right…” you let the sentence die when he stands there looking at your body, “...back.”

He sighs, “I know I'm staring and I am not even sorry…” 

His words send heat straight through your body, goosebumps covering every inch of your skin, and you know he sees it happening. While you were shy about your decision initially, you now don't regret wearing the two-piece swimsuit. You can live with him looking at you like this. 

You smile brightly, approaching him, and his hands immediately gather you closer to him. The warmth of his hands rubbing the length of your back, settling at your lower back, makes you gasp when he steals a kiss from your lips. 

You're pulled back just enough that his lips brush yours, and you grin as you push him on the bed, but Yoongi is quicker, tightening his hold on you as he pulls you down with him. You're left straddling him, his hands splayed on your thighs as he more than happily stares up at you. 

This was all part of his plan. 

You place your hands on the mattress on each side of his head, “Sneaky…”

“I got you exactly where I want though…” he grins, hands rubbing up and down your thighs. 

You're both quiet as you stare at one another. It's a vulnerable position for both of you, and you both revel in the power you hold. 

“Hi…” you breathe out, leaning on your elbows and bringing your face closer as your nose touches the tip of his. 

He takes one of your hands on your leg and gathers your hair at the back of your head, pulling you down for a passionately hungry kiss. Your back arches as you press into him, panting against his mouth when he rakes his short nails gently across the expanse of your back. The fabric of his jeans rubs the inside of your thighs deliciously, pulling back suddenly and smiling. 

He looks pleased with himself as he flips your positions, making you laugh while ending up under him with your legs spread and Yoongi between them, pressing into you as he grins and captures your lips. 

Being this close to him, you ached for this these last few weeks.

You hear the strain in his breathing and the groans leaving his lips when he plies yours apart, sighing into your mouth. You squirm under him when his mouth begins travelling down, planting kisses along your jawline. 

He pulls back to look at you, “Is this okay?”

You look down to meet his eyes, and he looks so hungry, so needy for yo,u but like he’s ready to pull away if you tell him to. God, you love him. 

“Yes, more than okay…”

He doesn’t dive back in right away, leaning further down and lying down on you with your legs wrapped around his waist. His chin rests on your sternum, panting with his mouth open as he looks up at you. 

You watch his eyes, taking your hand and running your fingers through his hair, and you smile when he closes his eyes, leaning into your touch. He pushes himself further into you and lifts his head, your hand slipping to his cheek as you bite your lip. 

“Can…” he stops, dropping his forehead to your sternum, “can I take this off?” 

When you’re about to ask him what he means by that, you feel his hands gently tug on the strings of your swimsuit top. You shudder in anticipation, nodding, but he quirks an eyebrow at you. Words, use your words.

“Yes…” 

He awakens once he hears the word, dragging his body against yours and your eyes are glued to his face when he sneaks his hand behind your back and you feel the pull at the strings as your top loosens. You both look at each other when it does, Yoongi checking in one final time as he tugs it off your chest as he tosses it to the ground.

You feel the heat in your cheeks when Yoongi finally gets his first full look at you. He’s reverent about you baring it all under him and he smiles, “Fuck, you’re beautiful…”

Yoongi gently traces the curves of your chest, your head falling back as you whine under his touch. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning too loudly, arching your back when he squeezes one of your breasts and uses his thumb to flick your nipple over and over, squeezing it as you hiss. 

“Still good?” 

Warmth settles low in your belly, willing to bet that if either of you slipped a hand between your legs there would be a beautiful slippery mess. You bite back a moan as he strokes your chest, making him sigh when you roll your hips. He probably feels you trying to pull your legs close together, but he stops you as he takes his knee and pushes them back apart.

Blindly reaching with your hands, you find his biceps as you dig your nails into his skin when takes your nipple in his mouth, gently sucking on it and flicking it gently with the tip of his tongue. 

You don’t think you’ve ever reached this level of arousal before because you’re left staring at the ceiling, focusing solely on the feeling of his mouth on your chest, his knee between your legs and your shared panting. You hate that you split your attention on what he’s doing and on not making too much noise, fearing being heard by the others. 

The wet trail of kisses he leaves on your chest slowly shifts location, dragging his lips down your body as you make eye contact with him. You feel the drag of his hands down your sides as he’s gripping your hips tightly when his fingers tug at the strings of your swimsuit bottom, mouth kissing and licking a path lower and lower. 

“Wait!” 

Your hands shoot out to stop him, panting loudly as you squeeze your eyes tightly shut in frustration at your brain. 

“Wait…”

He listens, staring at you in concern when you look down to him, “Too much? We can stop, it’s okay…” 

“I’m sorry, god, I’m such a bitch for–” 

“Babe, I’m gonna stop you right there, but you’re not a bitch for wanting to stop, okay? I’m glad you knew you could say stop or wait…” he sits back, looking at you. 

Not your body.

You.

“Do you wanna talk about what’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours?”

How he manages to make you smile even when you’re feeling silly is a miracle. 

“It’s…” Yoongi playfully glares at you, “stupid…”

“Let me hear it…” he watches the way you slowly drag yourself up the bed, “wait, actually…”

When he gets off the bed, you see the strain in his body from his arousal but he doesn’t complain. You watch him grab your sweatpants and his t-shirt you wore earlier, walking them back to you. He hands them to you and you take them, timidly slipping the shirt on before standing up and sweetheart he is, he turns his back to you as you get changed into the sweatpants. 

You reach for his hand to let him know you’re done, and he smiles nervously as you both sit back down. He refuses to let go of your hand when he scoots closer to you.

“So?”

You chew your lower lip, “Well, to start…that was,” you look at him, “amazing…”

Yoongi nods softly, licking his lips, “Yeah, it was…”

“I just…” he squeezes your hand, “I was not all there the entire time we…” you chuckle, “did that,” he snorts and you smack him.

“Sorry, sorry…” he chuckles. “Keep going…”

You shake your head, “I was…too focused on not making any noise, because I didn’t…want anybody,” you point to the room next to yours, “to hear us, well, me…and I didn’t want our first time to be restricted that way…”

He smiles affectionately at you, licking his lips, “I can understand…”

“I…wanna be free to be for our first time, y’know? I want all my attention on you and with no worries…” You confess. “It didn’t feel that way…I’m sorry…”

He shushes you, “I told you, I don’t wanna hear you apologize.” You open your mouth to protest but he’s quicker. “I’m a big boy…I wouldn’t even deserve to be with you if I couldn’t handle you saying wait or stop…”

Your heart swells, crawling over and wrapping your arms around his shoulders, being dragged on his lap as he simply holds you a while. When you pull back to look at him, he’s smiling softly up at you and he pulls you closer, hips flushed. 

“Baby?” He rasps.

“Mhm?”

He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek sweetly.

“I love you.”

Time suspends. 

The way that it does in clips you take when filming some aesthetic slow motion video on your phone. 

And just like that, you’re swarmed by a wave of emotions as this man cradles your stunned face in his hands and not understanding how his confession settles this uncertainty within you. He has no idea what those three words mean, aside from the obvious. 

“What?” It comes out in a breath, barely loud enough for even him to hear. 

You feel the slouch in his shoulders, Yoongi growing shy as he looks down to his lap. He chances a glance back up to your eyes, looking over your face and reaction as you huff the smallest breath. 

“I…mean it. I do. It’s…it’s quick, I know, but…” he trails off, “I love you.” He shrugs lightly. “You don’t have to say anything back…that’s not why I said it…”

Grabbing his cheeks you make him look at you, “Yoongi,” his eyes widen, “I was literally just talking to the girls about loving you…”

His face brightens the moment the words leave your lips. He’s not smiling fully; no, it’s a muted smile and his eyes shine bright as the meaning of your words clue in. 

“You were?”

“Yeah…” you’re giggling, biting on your lip. “I was.”

“In the hot tub?”

“In the hot tub, yes.” You’re grinning. “Asking them when they knew they loved their boyfriend…to help justify loving you this quick…” You wince like you’ve been delivered a blow, but it’s mild embarrassment from confessing to the girls first your feelings for Yoongi. “But you know what I realized?”

He answers with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Everyone is different. There’s no reason to be embarrassed about how fast I fell for you…” He grabs your hips. “So, yeah, I love you, too.”

He moves in so fast, lips crushing against yours sloppily as he tugs your hips flush against his because the last thing he wants is space between you. You push to force him on his back but he pulls back from you, making you whine in disappointment.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he grabs the back of your head, “you were right about one thing though. As much as I want it and I’m pretty sure you can tell how badly I want it…”

You do. You feel him under you, hard as a rock and probably straining in his jeans. He leans as close as he can, nose to nose and lips to lips, breathing against them.

“The first time I’m inside of you,” you’re lit on fire as he speaks, quivering in his lap, “will not be when you have to hold anything in…” he steals a kiss from you. “So, we can wait…”

“Are you sure?”

He laughs, “Yeah, baby, of course…” he sighs, grunting as he shifts under you. “I am gonna need a shower, okay?”

You giggle, hiding in his neck, “I’m soooorry…”

He’s snickering, “I said stop that…” He taps your hip gently as you swing your leg over and off his lap as you sit back on the bed. He makes sure to press a kiss to your forehead before he pulls back, “I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

You never expected things to turn out this way. It almost feels far too easy but you know it hasn’t been. Battling your own brain about your relationship and about your feelings, needing reassurance from him more often than you’d like. But Yoongi was so good to you, giving you that comfort when your insecurities danced all over you. 

You were learning to self soothe when your own head got the best of you. And you had even opened up to Yoongi about your not wanting to rely on others to soothe your fears. You remember laughing when he promised he was not trying to play psychiatrist to you and you believed him. His tips were helping, as difficult as it was to fight against your own intrusive thoughts. 

But right now? Lying in this bed, your body on fire from the earlier ministrations, and your heart happy, pounding against your ribcage, you look back to the door of the bathroom to where your boyfriend is. You hear the shower shut off and it isn’t very long before he comes out, just pulling his shirt on and looking up at you, wet hair dangling in front of his eyes. 

“Hey…”

He looks satisfied, cheeks lightly pink as he grins, “Hey you…” he starts shutting lights off as you follow his movements around the room right until he gets to his side of the bed. 

You’re giddy the entire time, pulling the sheets out to let him slip under them and he immediately reaches for you, pulling you back against his chest. He tucks his legs up against yours, holding your hand as you snuggle in for bed. His chin rests comfortably on your shoulder, kissing the spot behind your ear as you sigh. 

“I’m happy…”

“That’s you do when you’re happy? You sigh?” 

You snort, “It’s a happy sigh, y’know? When you’re just, like, happy and you release the happiness and just…” you force a more exaggerated sigh to leave your lips, prompting a laugh out of him. “Happy sigh.” 

His hand snakes up from your abdomen to grab your cheek, pulling your face to his while pressing his lips to yours. He pulls back, his eyelids heavy as he looks down at you from under his eyelashes, “Happy sigh.” 

You smile, content together.

“Mhm, happy.”

A/N: I would like to thank you for your patience for this chapter and the next few ones! I am so happy this one is out, I have been writing non-stop. These next few last chapters will move faster but there will be a good conclusion to the story. We're getting closer to the end! But it's never the end really haha!

tag list: @muchwita @kam9404 @ot72025 @lalazilz @janeelizabeth1216 @rinkud @yngisstuff @lolpanda94 @angelicbunnee @wubbz05 @illicitelle @legendarydreamqueen @flyxfall @mintmango-min @moorepls @gojomyoneandonly @yoongiiuu93 @wobblewobble822 @michaela0901 @ariakamil @watchingover-hypegirl @lovesvt17 @misschelliejeon @niieceyy @this-most-assuredly-counts @ronaa33 @yoonminv @meghanacloud @petroogorodnik @existentialzaddy @illnevertrustmyselfagain

Post separator credit to @hyuneskkami

[simpjaes]

night shift part 2 if you want to? i enjoyed it so much and i reblogged i swear!

oOooOOOOooo, check this shit out:

[ender1821]

and I’ll never see you again if I can help it

Posted on ao3: read here!

In which Gem tries to sort through the past and the present.

…unfortunately, Pearl is always there.

[thegrimreaperisanerd]

On a lighter note somebody on A03 just dropped this comment on Chapter 15 of DUCKLINGS THAT DROWN with a fan comic???? They gave me permission to repost it here and I had to because I'm obsessed!

Dolores Dei in her waiting outfit? The black speech bubbles for (real) Kim contrasting the white, pure, *fake*, speech of dream Kim?? How they're all drawn in general???

THE GAME MENU AS THE DREAM ENDS AND HARRY WAKES UP ALONE IN THE DARK???

I have been looking at this for hours.

[lavenderfluorite14]

A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav

Chapter 11: Fun

Summary: Astarion is surprised, in more ways than one, by the morning after. Rating/Warnings: PG, casual murder, poisoning, degradation/humiliation. Full tag list on AO3. Read on AO3. Chapter 10❤️‍🔥

Astarion wakes from his trance surprisingly refreshed. He stretches his nude body languidly, enjoying the brief flash of soreness in his muscles. Beside him, Tav still rests peacefully. He openly admires her, his eyes lingering on the bite marks he gave her last night. The mottled petals of the bruises lay so beautifully against her skin. 

The morning sunlight streams through the canopy in golden ribbons as Astarion quietly rises, moving to bask in a nearby sunbeam. His mind goes blank as he lets the pleasure of it all wash over him. He hasn’t felt this good in a long time.

His plan is working. He’s safe and full. The morning sun feels so warm on his skin.

“Good morning,” Tav interrupts his musings, her voice gravelly with sleep.

“Good morning,” he replies. He’s loath to turn around, wanting to keep sunning himself, so he shifts slightly so he can watch her out of the corner of his eye. “You’re up early! I thought you’d be exhausted after last night.”

“Oh, I am,” Tav yawns. She arches her back in a deep stretch, her nipples pebbling in the morning chill. Light purple hickeys dot her breasts, each one a small reminder of their night together. They will take days to fade. “I quite enjoyed myself,” she admits, smiling at him. Astarion preens. Of course she did. All according to plan. Behind him, he can hear Tav get to her feet. “Did you have fun?” she asks, suddenly tentative. 

“Of course, my darling,” Astarion answers, surprised by the question. “You’re a veritable feast.” “Good, I’m glad,” Tav says, relieved. “Towards the end, I was worried that something may have been wrong?” Astarion stiffens imperceptibly. “But I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to ruin the moment.” Astarion isn’t quite sure how to explain this. 

“I was holding back a little, it’s true,” he reveals. “I didn’t want to lose control. Delicious as you were, I didn’t want to go too far.”

It’s the truth, it’s just not the whole truth. For the sake of the plan it was imperative that he perform correctly, and that meant remaining in control. But even though their tryst may have been tailored to Tav’s pleasure and tastes, he still enjoyed himself. Even holding back, he experienced more pleasure last night than he has in decades. But there is no need to talk about all that.

“Oh,” Tav says, obviously chewing on his words. It occurs to Astarion that he has never had to navigate a “morning after” before. Not like this. Is it always so awkward? So vulnerable?

“Now let’s go, we have a long day ahead of us,” he prompts. He turns towards the oak tree, where he had left his clothes, but stops when he sees the pensive expression on Tav’s face.    “May I ask about your back first?” Tav asks. 

Of course she had noticed it. Most of the time Astarion tries to forget it is even there. He considers brushing her off, burying his shame even deeper down. But a bigger, louder part inside of him howls for comfort.

“It’s a poem,” he explains, crossing over to the oak tree to gather up his shirt. He had left it carefully folded at the base of the trunk. “A gift from Cazador.” He pulls his shirt over his body, fussing with its fit. “He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas. He composed that one over the course of a night.” Tav just listens, letting him speak. “He made a lot of revisions as he went,” Astarion finishes, his voice soft and deep. He can’t quite keep the pain from those last few words.

“That’s awful,” Tav says quietly.

“Yes, well. ‘Awful’ does aptly describe Cazador,” he replies.

“Are you sure it’s a poem?” Tav asks.

“Of course I’m sure,” Astarion insists, not sure at all now. “That’s what Cazador said, as he was carving it into my back.” Cazador, who of course was a completely trustworthy source of information. 

“It just doesn’t look like any poem I’ve ever seen before,” Tav presses. “Well, I didn’t say he was a good poet!” Astarion cries. “What do you mean, ‘it doesn’t look like any poem you’ve ever seen before?’”

“Well for starters, why did he write it in Infernal?” Tav asks. 

“Infernal?“ Surprise jolts through him, settling in the pit of his stomach where it quickly curdles into fear. He has no idea what this means, but it can’t be anything good. Nothing with Cazador is. 

But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change what happened. 

“I-Who knows. The bastard was insane,” he says dismissively. “Now let’s go, before I regret my restraint last night,” he purrs, trying to pivot this conversation back into comfortable territory. 

Tav looks at him thoughtfully before silently dressing and gathering up her things. His flirtation falls flat, ringing falsely even to his own ears. Its hollow echo follows them all the way back to camp, where they both quietly slip into their separate tents.

~

They smell the goblin camp before they see it. A miasma of filth blankets the base of the western mountains in a bouquet of smoke, sweat, death, and dung. And, of course, that one singular, arresting note: blood. Old and new, stale and fresh, rotten and delicious. It stinks to high heaven. 

There’s a group of goblin warriors guarding a narrow entrance that passes for a gate. Tav pulls them all aside before they engage.

“Listen, you three,” she levels a serious glare at Astarion, Shadowheart, and Lae’Zel. “I know the past few days have been….” She pauses, trying to choose her words carefully.

“Thoroughly frustrating?” Shadowheart remarks. 

“The time of your life?,” Astarion offers, suggestively.

“Bad,” Lae’Zel declares. 

“Bad,” Tav agrees. “And I know this group has had its challenges. But I don’t know what we’re going to find in there, and I don’t know what we are going have to do to make it out alive. Hopefully with Halsin, but we need to anticipate the worst. We can only make it through this together.  I need the most vicious and ruthless fighters of our group to have each other’s backs today. So, can you put aside your differences to make this work?” 

“Of course, darling. I’m a consummate professional,” Astarion vows. 

“Affirmative,” Lae’Zel confirms.

“So long as nothing is said to me, I’ll be fine,” Shadowheart says, turning up her nose. Tav sighs. 

“I’ll take it. Let’s go.”Tav is all business now, already forging ahead with the business of the day. Which is perfect, because Astarion has absolutely no desire to address the morning’s awkwardness. He’s trying to enjoy his victory, but something still feels off to him. Last night was a success, but there’s a nagging voice inside of him that says it was not enough. That he will need to do more to truly secure his place.

Lae’Zel, Shadowheart, and Astarion all watch as Tav bluffs her way past the goblin guard at the entrance. Just as they are about to pass, the guard stops her and points to a gelatinous turd at his feet. He gestures to it with his hand and pantomimes applying it to his face. Tav takes his suggestion, bending down to scoop up the excrement. 

“Oh no,” Astarion whispers to their cohort.

“She wouldn’t,” Shadowheart whispers back, incredulous.

“She had better not,” Lae’Zel growls. Tav looks back at them over her shoulder. Their disgust for this is palpable, magnified in triplicate. Her eyes find Astarion’s.

And she winks. 

Tav flings the poop directly in the goblin’s face, immediately souring any hope of peaceful entry. Astarion laughs a high, whooping laugh as he rushes to high ground. He easily snipes the goblins who try to call for help while Lae’Zel, Shadowheart, and Tav clear the remaining guard with relish and ease. So much for goblin security.

“Did you really think that I would do that?” Tav asks them as she leads the way inside. “Did you really think I would smear shit on my face?”

“I’m never quite sure what you are going to do next,” Astarion teases. Tav glares at him, playing at being insulted. Well, maybe she is a little insulted. “I just meant that you are full of surprises, darling.” 

Tav hums a low, sarcastic note. “Good surprises, I hope?” she replies. There’s a hopeful glimmer in her eye that makes his stomach flutter.

“Naturally. Only the very best,” he promises, his tone low and provocative. Tav disguises her smile with a playful eye roll.

“If you debase yourself like that for a puny goblin I truly will leave,” Lae’Zel warns. Astarion and Shadowheart hesitate at her words, but Tav giggles as if it is a joke and not a serious threat.

“Noted, Lae’Zel. I will not smear poop on my face.”

Once through the gate, no one questions their presence. The goblin camp is utter chaos, and probably more surprisingly, filled with more than goblins. As they cross a crumbling bridge, they spot a familiar face on a makeshift dias across the way. 

“Is that? Volo!?” Tav gasps. Volothamp Geddarm, noted writer, adventurer, and overall smarmy fuck, fumbles his way through a monologue of nonsense as a crowd of goblins jeers and pelts him with trash.

“With fragulous crown and sceptre abrade, Dror Ragzlin short work of the innkeeper made!”

“Bravo!!!” Tav cries, clapping loudly to drown out any booing. The goblins scowl, side-eyeing Tav with annoyance. 

“Come on darling, that’s not the kind of show they want,” Astarion whispers. “They want to mock him.”

“Z’ose friends o’ yours?” A female goblin asks, her voice laden with suspicion.

“Of course not! No funny business here!” A flustered Volo laughs nervously. He shoots a quick glare at Tav.

“What are you doing? I’m busy here!” He says, shooing them away. He begins his screed again.

“Dror Ragzlin….Dror Ragzlin….” Volo tries his best, but he eventually trails off pathetically. A goblin chucks a cup at him, splashing Volo with the dregs of stale ale. 

“If you aren’t gonna perform, you’re goin’ back in tha cage!” The goblin yells. Volo withers before her.

“Of course, ma’am,” he grovels. She shoves him harshly off the stage, much to the delight of the crowd.

“We have to help him!” Tav whispers to their group. Astarion, Shadowheart, and Lae’Zel all share a look.

“We are not here for the annoying wizard. We are here for the druid, as you said,” Lae’Zel reminds her firmly.

“It’s true, I did say that. But, we will almost certainly have to fight to free him! Won’t that be fun?” Tav says. Lae’Zel considers this.

“I do not fight for ‘fun.’ I fight to win. I fight for the honor and glory of Vlaakith,” she announces.

“Tav, this is Volo you are talking about,” Shadowheart complains.

“The Volo. Maybe if we save him he will put us in his next book!”

“That’s precisely what I am afraid of,” Astarion says. 

“But then we’ll be famous!” Tav smiles sweetly up at him.

“Make us rich and famous and then you have a deal,” Astarion counters.

“Lady of Sorrows, will you two stop flirting with each other? I don’t know if any of you have noticed, but this hellhole is a temple to Selûne,” Shadowheart spits out the name with vitriol. “Even if it’s appropriately defiled, l don’t want to be in a temple of the Moon Witch for longer than I have to be,” Shadowheart whines. Tav looks away shyly, chastened. But when the cleric turns away, Tav looks at him and pulls a face behind Shadowheart’s back. Astarion stifles a smirk.  

Something between them is changing, which is perhaps why it feels off to him. They have always shared banter, but it seems as though she’s actively trying to make him laugh now. And if he makes a joke, he can depend on Tav to laugh, even in a wry sort of way. It’s flirtatious, but it’s fun.

Fun. Perhaps he should chase that feeling. After the revelation that there may be more to his scars than he knows, a little fun with his lover at the expense of some goblins sounds like just what he needs. Lover. The word sounds so serious. And yet it isn’t. Not really. It could mean a lot of things. 

As they walk, Astarion takes in more of their surroundings. They seem to be in a courtyard, which has been hastily transformed into a feast hall. Meat of some kind roasts on an open spit while goblins fill their tankards from a nearby cauldron of liquor. Merchants haggle with customers while other goblins eat, sing, fight, and make merry in a haze of hedonism.

One voice emerges above the din of the camp, bragging about recent conquests. “Weaker than pixies, humans!” A goblin squawks. A gaggle of his comrades laugh at his harsh words. Even surrounded by admirers, the squat, scarred goblin still catches their group staring. “Wot are you lot doin’ ‘ere? ‘More pests?” he eyes them up and down. “You prolly think you rule the world,” he sneers.

“That’s not true. We don’t think we’re better than anyone,” Tav pipes up. Astarion catches Shadowheart’s eye, then Lae’Zel’s. He doesn’t need the tadpole to know they all firmly disagree with Tav’s assessment.

“Everyone says that, then they spit in our faces,” the goblin snarls. “But no more. Things’re changin’. We got the Absolute on our side.” He gives them an evil look, sizing Tav up. “Ya better learn yer place.” The hairs on the back of Astarion’s neck stand on end as the goblin advances towards them, a look of pure hatred and disdain on his face.

Cazador has given him that look many times, right before he made Astarion do something particularly ghastly.

“Go on. Kiss my foot,” He points to the ground, wiggling his toes. “Or I’ll wipe that nasty look right off yer pretty face.” 

“End him or leave him. But do not grovel to this slug,” Lae’Zel says firmly. 

“Just kiss the damn foot. Worse things have been shoved in your face lately.” Shadowheart is speaking to Tav, but she is looking pointedly at Astarion. Predictably, it seems the others noticed their rendezvous. He gives Shadowheart a quick, saucy wink. She scoffs but fails to completely conceal her smirk of amusement. 

Astarion can see that the goblin is growing impatient. “Well, go on. Give him a nibble,” Astarion urges. It’s horrid work, but it’s one kiss and then she’ll be done. It will be easy and then they can be on their way. Tav looks at him with surprise. He raises an eyebrow.

“I’m waiting, princess” the goblin jeers. Tav rounds on him with a withering glare.“How about you kiss my foot, before I knock that smug look off your face,” Tav says. At the first hint of pushback, the goblin quickly changes his tune. “Look mate, piss off! Yer not welcome ‘ere,” the cretin says, puffing up his chest.” Tav plants her foot in front of him. “Kiss my foot. Now,” she orders, in a tone that demands obedience. Fear flickers across the goblin’s face as the crowd falls completely silent. Tav points down to her foot and a little thrill passes through Astarion as he watches the goblin sink to his knees. He places a surprisingly delicate kiss across the worn leather of Tav’s boot. “There, I done it,” he says, rising back to his feet. 

Tav gives him a final once over as she turns away. 

“Good,” Lae’Zel says approvingly. The crowd parts for them as they leave.

“Arrogant swine,” the goblin mutters after her, but Tav pays him no mind.

“Aren’t you the domineering tyrant,” Shadowheart teases. 

“Only when I’m pushed,” Tav laughs. “I’m not wearing poop and I’m not kissing goblin feet,” she promises. 

Astarion will do what he has to do to survive and he doesn’t begrudge others who do the same, but there’s just something about a person who refuses to be pushed around. Who wields power unapologetically. Astarion snakes his hand around her waist, pulling her close. “You continue to delight and surprise me, darling,” he whispers in her ear. Tav shudders against him and he gives her hip a quick squeeze, releasing her as he playfully retreats out of reach. Shadowheart coughs loudly. 

“Lady of Sorrow guide us,” she prays pointedly. Her prayer is interrupted by a hoot of terror as a small, bedraggled clump of feathers darts past them and into a crowd of goblins, which parts for it as it scampers away. “What are they doing to that poor creature?” Shadowheart cries.

Astarion leans against a stone wall as Tav barges over, inserting herself into whatever that business is. He watches as she crouches down to speak softly to the frightened owlbear cub. Something has definitely shifted between them. 

Funny. Clever. Cunning. Ambitious. Fierce. “It’s no use,” Tav says, returning. “I gave the cub my scent, but it can’t escape so long as the goblins have it trapped.” 

“Well, then it sounds like we have some killing to do,” Astarion says. Lae’Zel grunts approvingly.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind killing some goblins to help that sweet cub,” Shadowheart agrees.

“Same here. But let’s try to find Halsin first. Once we’ve freed him, we can grab the owlbear on the way out.”

“We can still have some fun in the meantime though,” Astartion suggests. “What did you have in mind?” Tav asks. He opens his pack and flashes a bottle of Wyvern toxin at them. “We can cull some of the horde as we go. Watch this,” he grins toothily before swaggering away towards the vat of suspicious booze he had noticed earlier. He thumbs the cap of poison, concealing the flask in his sleeve. He loiters for a bit, watching as goblins meander past. He grabs a nearby discarded cup off of a table, covertly pouring the poison inside. He walks over to the punch bowl, pantomiming filling his cup as he slips the poison into the dubious punch. He takes a few fake sips from his glass as he walks back to the group. 

“Battle is more honorable. But I suppose this is efficient,” Lae’Zel remarks. “That’s absolutely terrible” Tav admonishes. Astarion frowns in surprise, but Tav quickly drops the act. “I love it,” she says, smiling. “Now, let’s go, before they catch wise,” Astarion snickers, smiling back. The group beelines for the heavy doors to the temple, putting as much space between themselves and their crime as possible. “What will your evil little mind think of next?” Shadowheart says as they disappear deeper into danger.

~

Chapter 12: Penance