#so many of the sex scenes are really fucking awkward and uncomfortable

[poorwillednightjar]

there should be more media showing bad sex, i think? not even like ABHORRENT sex. unenjoyable sex, but like. mediocre. middling. Average. cuz that shits real too!

and i think there should be hot people shown having bad sex too

[msfbgraves]

The CK writers can’t NOT know how the Sauna scene looked! I don’t know what gay culture was like in the 80s for non-Americans, but I do know, as an American, that gay men frequented saunas and gay bathhouses to engage in casual sex with other men. It was considered a “safe” spot away from judgement, and part of the gay cruising culture. And the fact that Terry engages with Daniel in a sauna, apparently without clothes (?) speaks volumes. What with Daniel looking so frightened, all done up to the throat with his white virginal robe…meanwhile Terry towers over him and doms him without laying a finger on him. The scene is LOADED. Especially given how campy and off his rocker Terry was in KK3…and the general weirdness of that movie, and how much gay, grooming, and obsessive subtext there is…the sauna was such an odd and perhaps deliberate choice for Terry and Daniel to have an interaction. I’d sell my soul to get the answer from the CK writers on this!

Nonnie, I really can't help you. All I know is that both Cobra Kai and and of course The Karate Kid III are very mainstream pieces of media and they're writing for the mainstream. Now, I've also seen mainstream writing teams deliberately trying to write queer themes and kink and it often comes out really off putting. If you watch Hugh Grant in "Maurice", with the faintest veil of plausible deniability, you get a beautiful queer romance, but watch "A very English Scandal" and it's completely awkward and unpleasant. As for kink, Paul Giamatti and Maggie Siff in "Billions" are just uncomfortable, they're so not into this dynamic, like the writers, presumably. But in stuff that would never be marketed as "queer" or "kinky" people often end up having to fan themselves, and I think that's because the writers either are completely oblivious or they have to pretend they are but I'm guessing the former, giving the actors more freedom. I really wouldn't put it past them to think of that sauna scene as "just" a callback in CK. Did they mean to cast a female lookalike of Terry as Daniel's wife? They didn't even know they'd get Thomas on the show and they don't know how to write character - there's hardly any overlap between their young versions of Terry and Kreese and what Marty and Thomas are playing, and I don't blame the actors for that! And yet! Daniel's ill fitting suits! The way he still gets sexually harrassed by his "rivals", be it Tom Cole or Johnny Lawrence painting a dick on his face - somewhere the penny dropped for Daniel that all these boys not so much wanted to kill him but they wanted to fuck him and men still want to fuck him and I think it was Terry that opened his eyes. Triple painful that with Terry he was into it and that ended badly. But he's learnt to see it and he doesn't like it, if he does flirt people into buying his cars. Was that the writers or Ralph? Hm, I think the writers didn't want him to look sexy and Ralph has a no nudity clause that some nuns may find a tad restrictive (no way he was unfamiliar with creeping men in Hollywood, the way he stayed away from anything romantic in his films) and yet here we are. It reads as a middle aged man who has been either beat up or prepositioned one too many times. And Terry was the first to use sex against him. And Terry knows he was the first. And he knows that'll fuck with Daniel's head six ways to Sunday because he knows they have chemistry. And it's a brilliant role reversal because Daniel has also used flirting to get what he wanted from people. He would have called it friendliness and it was, but he loves asking for it when he knows people can't do anything to him even in high school, he knows it confuses men and makes girls like him. He does it to Johnny in the first film and Chozen in the second but when he does it with Terry he doesn't get the usual flustered confusion but now Terry is doing it to him and he's never been at the receiving end of that...

...but it's very plausible that in his sales jobs he totally was and it was Amanda who taught him to weaponise it and there's something very hot and very familiar about her anyway...

The only way I can get this to make sense in my head is:

Ralph and Thomas have always known exactly what they're doing. I really applaud how Ralph has played the shadow of Terry before we knew Terry would even be in Cobra Kai. And Thomas' re-entry in the series is seamless. No continuity breaks like with Ralph and Billy. Man is a writer who knows his craft and he made them listen to him or he wasn't coming on the show.

The writers do not consciously know - if they knew they'd try to undo it in the text - but they do pick up on it and it bleeds into their writing.

[randomlonelymusician]

The De-Queering of Kahaku

WARNING: LONG POST!!!

From the moment he appeared on the pages of the seventh volume of To Your Eternity (and declared that he only was into women), I gravitated toward Kahaku’s character. At first, it was only a mild interest, as he was quite different from his predecessors, but then a certain scene happened:

(I know it's the anime version, but they adapted this pretty well.)

I thought of everything about him I read before. I never really thought much about his attraction to Parona-Fushi until then. (Not like I was paying much attention to what I was reading that first time around.) But once I saw that, I did. It was obvious that Kahaku is so fucking queer. 

Kahaku’s sexuality is never stated explicitly in the text, but he’s often interpreted as bisexual. He’s shown attraction to Fushi in Parona’s form, and he’s in love with Fushi, a male-presenting genderless being, as Fushi themself. It’s also pretty heavily implied that Kahaku has internalized homophobia, based on how often he tries to convince himself that Fushi is a woman, or how awkward he was during the whole same-sex love conversation. 

I assumed that most people watching this would see Kahaku as bisexual or something of the sort, since the implications about his sexuality are laid on so thick. But even with all that, many people believe that Kahaku is heterosexual. 

Recently, there was a Reddit thread posted by a friend of mine asking for opinions on Kahaku’s sexuality. In that thread, not a single person said they thought he was bisexual. (One person made a joke about him being gay, but that doesn’t really count.) The most common response to the question was that Kahaku is “Fushi-sexual”, or that he is plain ol’ straight. 

While I obviously take issue with people who believe he’s straight, I also take issue with people who label him “Fushi-sexual”. This label is taken from the single-target sexuality trope, and is often used in this case in tandem with the “if it’s you, it’s okay” trope. Whether intentional or not, these labels try to erase Kahaku’s queerness, throwing him into a category where Fushi is his “one exception” to being heterosexual. 

I do believe, though, that a lot of the people labeling Kahaku “straight” or even “Fushi-sexual” are not doing it because they don’t want queer characters in their story, but because of simple misinterpretation. An easy example is how so many people put the single-target sexuality trope on Kahaku, when I think it’s pretty clear that that’s not where Oima wanted to go with his character. Kahaku shows a lot of signs of internalized homophobia, most notably when he tries to convince himself that Fushi is a girl. I think that in his introduction scene you can also see hints of internalized homophobia in how adamant he is that he is only into women.

(The shoujo bubbles and the awkward pause!)

A lot of fans (especially on Reddit) just see this as him trying to reassure Fushi that he won’t chase after him like his predecessors did. While this is true, there are more layers to this scene. The second one is the irony that he literally falls in love with Fushi two seconds later, but the third is how it shows his internalized homophobia. With so many layers to so many of his scenes, I can see how easily someone can misinterpret parts of him.

But then there’s stuff like this:

Like, the direction it went was that Kahaku was in love with Fushi? Which is, in Fushi’s main form, a same-sex relationship? Or at least a queer relationship? And the scene shows how uncomfortable Kahaku is with non-heterosexual relationships?

Unfortunately, there are some people who deny that Kahaku is queer just because they don’t want queer characters in a story they like. Some people who just don’t want to admit that Kahaku loved Fushi as Fushi, not just as Parona. I remember when the first season was airing, people would ask about Fushi’s gender quite a bit. Many people would say that they’re a guy true and true, and that there’s no way they’re agender or non-binary or anything that they considered “nonsense”. But not too long ago, when Kahaku started liking Fushi for Fushi, they started saying that Fushi’s not “technically” a guy and that they’re genderless, so Kahaku liking them isn’t gay. You see what I mean? 

It’s frustrating that queer characters have to shout their sexuality at the reader for them to accept it. And even then, who knows. 

On a positive note, the sentiment in this fandom is a lot better than many others I’ve been in. I think because on Tumblr, at least, this fandom seems to have a queer majority. Or at least most people who respond to me are queer.

Even on Reddit, the majority of people agree that there is at least some presence of queerness in To Your Eternity, whether it be from Kahaku or Mizuha. 

I just needed to rant about this. It’s tiring being a queer person in a fandom. If you headcanon a character as queer, you’re told to stop “ruining the show” and to find real queer characters. But once you find real queer characters, you’re told they’re not queer actually queer by (cishet) fandom members. 

Just let Kahaku be queer in peace.

(PS - Kahaku and Mizuha have pages on the LGBT Characters Wiki!)

[uncl3badtouch]

📢 Spoilers if you haven't read it 📢

I read 📚 (full disclosure, I listened to this one and it took 44 hours) "It" recently and I'm still reeling. I finished it sometime last week, and there are still scenes that truly haunt me. My mind was also blown with the big finale, but that'll come.

It started off with a bang, the man getting bit 👌🏻 very scurry. But then there were a handful of things that don't get repeated today, and people know about that, so not to beat a dead horse, that's all I'll say. That there were so many slurs I actually learned one I've never heard before. 😅

Anywho, he's apologized and it's the last I will say of it. Soooo, getting back into it, the first chapter really sets you up for what's coming. Now, the next few chapters, I'm not sure if everything I'm gonna say is in exact order but I'm gonna try my best!

Everyone gets their call from Mike to come back to Derry, and suddenly, they remember. Bill had even remembered his brother who he hadn't thought about in years. Derry is a special place where you forget everything as soon as you leave it. ✨️ it is explained better in the book 📖 We catch a glimpse into everyone's lives and how different they all are after they grow up and leave.

Stanley kills himself because he couldn't deal with everything again. It's sad but also the worst because it weakens the gang 😕 everyone meets at the restaurant and they have the famous scene on the food becoming gross stuff and they have to pretend they don't see it. But that happens after they tell a majority of their childhood story, flipping between everyone's memories that are returning to them slowly.

We see some of the traumas the kids endure without It involved. These kids were soo tough. Some of the things they got through... 😔 but here we learn about all the other times that It had popped up too, some of the stories were crazy! And we don't see them in the movies.

The werewolf that the boys encounter is 👌🏻. 🐺 It's so scary and so... almost unexpected. It was probably one of my favorite memories discussed. They laughed and had a decent time then decided to head their separate ways for the evening, and regroup the next day to take It on.

They each run into their own monsters on the way to their shared destination, and each of those monsters is really cool in the way they appeared and who they appeared to. Personal favorite, Beverly and the witch in the candy house 🍬 🍫 🏠 (gotta read it to find out 😉). Soooooo fucking sick. I wish it was in the movies.

They all end up back at the townhouse they're staying at and Beverly and Bill go heels to Jesus in the most awkward way. Like, I was super uncomfortable with how Mr. King described the whole scenario, and it made me roll my eyes so hard people could hear it. He's not a romance writer, that's for sure. I also want to say that the scene after the kids all beat It for the first time, where they all have sex sith Beverly, super unnecessary and super inappropriate in my opinion and we didn't need it to push any part of the story forward. The worst part of the book in my opinion.

When Henry comes back is super eerie. It really made me tense and I really love the crazy of it all, but things didn't go how I had known them from the films and it was really dynamic in that evening leading up to the final fight.

Mike is barely hanging on at this point and the gang decides to get going. I believe it was early morning, I'm not sure the exact time so sorry about that. But the gang goes with Eddys arm broke again and they're down two members. But they make it to the lair of It.

It was difficult and gruesome and Bill's wife is missing, but they make it through all the obstacles. They perform the ritual of Chud and we meet the turtle. I get it and don't at the same time. I'm still thinking about it's significance days later.

Oh, also, I find out that It is female, and pregnant, and it blew my mind. So much so that I had to stop it and call my brother just to talk to him about it because it just blind sided me. Like, I don't know, it just shook me 🤷🏼‍♀️

There was a lot of the story that doesn't get very touched on in the movies. There's steampunk birds, talking moons, gay bars, and a lot of violence and hatred (It was involved in gang murders! Yikes!) And there's so many extra story parts that are sooo good to read about and I would live to see in the movies, but I'm not sure 6 hour movies are everyone (I mean, I could do it, cue lord of the rings) but some of the scenes would be super difficult.

King truly is a a beautiful story teller. He's famous for good reason and deserves all the credit he gets in creating these terrifying and amazing stories. I would never think about half the things he had, he's truly a creator of terror. All in all, I think I'd give It 7/10.

There was so much good 👍🏻 honestly and truly and I wish that more of the book was recognized, but there was a lot I thought could have been taken out. Not including the aforementioned things, there's a ton that I personally don't think moves the story forward in any good way.

Would I re read this? Probably not in its entirety, but I will go back and read read certain scenes

Would I recommend it? Yes, I really do. Take the time to read it or listen to it once in your life. It really is worth it.

What did you think?

[deadqueenz]

Waylon Park x Female Reader: Another Type of Healing (Part One)

There’ve been many times where you would ask yourself was this right? The number of times you've found yourself in his arms, and he would leave before it became awkward and uncomfortable, pretending the fact you two had kissed never happened.

And it wouldn’t be long after that before you two would take it a step further, finding yourself in your current predicament, having sex on the sofa and somehow ending up in his bed.

The same bed, his "wife" once slept in. But was she really a wife to leave her husband alone after everything he went through? He did what was right, exposing Murkoff for the low-down shit fair running behind the scenes, and if it wasn’t Waylon who exposed them, then who would?

You already knew who, Miles Fucking Upshur. At the thought of him, a gentle smile breaks out on your face. As much as you two fought, you couldn’t bear to hold any ill-will towards your own brother. Yeah, he may’ve been an over-confident Investigator when it comes to finding evidence, and an even more pain in the ass when it came to being the older sibling, but at the end of the day, all you had for each other was love.

With your parents dying when Miles just turned eighteen, and you were turning seven soon it was a huge blow to you both. Though your parents had money, it was going out the door as quickly as it came, leading Miles to take up odd jobs until he found one that wasn't "ass-grating." And, "Had a shitty boss."

Yeah, your brother had a foul mouth, it was amazing you haven't grown into his habit. Though, if you tried to say more than three curse words, Miles would've made you eat his dirty socks....again.

Your throat tightens as you try to hold back tears. 'It's not fair, he should be here. He should still be alive.' You silently curse yourself for thinking of Miles for this long, rubbing your eyes furiously to keep the tears at bay.

Gulping greedy amounts of air to steady yourself, you place your trembling scarred hands on your knees for a few seconds before wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. You jiggle your leg up and down, trying to get rid of the energy.

It was impossible, memories of your brother from the asylum invaded your brain. Chris Walker throwing him from the second floor, he was going for you, but Miles managed to get the giant man's attention on him at the last minute, and in a fit of anger, he threw Miles over the side.

Luckily, the idiot had no injuries. You immediately distrusted Father Martin from the get go, but as your brother said, neither of you had a choice at the moment.

Then that fucking lunatic of a 'doctor', you and Miles got separated not long after seeing Father Martin, and luckily saved Miles before he lost his fingers. The two of you then gave the fake doctor a run for his money, (figuratively speaking) and trapped him in the elevator where he died.

You would feel bad at that moment back then, but after what he was trying to do? Hell no. "Y/N, you saved me...Thanks." Miles mumbled as you two sat leaned up against a surprisingly clean wall. He looks down at his hands, moving all of his fingers and wincing when the poorly wrap yellowish bandage digs into the gash.

"Stop it you dumb ass, before it becomes infected." You seethed, punching Miles in the arm. Miles didn't react to your punch, instead continues to stare down at the bandages. "Y/N?" You watch him closely, hesitantly opening your mouth to speak.

"Yeah?" Miles swallows hard, running his non-injured hand along his pant leg. "I think I'm starting to lose my mind in this place. Fuck, you shouldn't be here damn it, you should be at home." His voice cracks at the end.

Miles runs a hand over his face, grinding his teeth together so hard the sounds made you wince. You haven't seen him like this since the last time you both visited your parents graves years ago. What you did next, didn't require any words.

You moved closer to Miles, watching his chest heavy as he tries to steady himself, he didn't like showing his weak side, to you, himself, or anyone for that matter. But there were times when he just couldn't hold back his real emotions, when things finally took a toll on him physically, emotionally and mentally.

You hug him, wrapping your arms around him and he does the same with his left arm; holding you tightly against him as he cried. And silently, you cried along with him. Both of your tears staining his pants and shirt, but he didn't care, not now.

A memory flashes in your mind as the two of you held on to each other for dear life; Miles sitting by himself in the dark living room of your family home, he had thought you were asleep but you woke up to get a midnight snack, and that's when you found him crying into his hands on the worn out sofa.

Miles was nineteen and you were eight, at the time you didn't fully understand how much of a strain everything was on him. But you were slowly getting it. He had many jobs, and after a certain amount of time; weeks, maybe even two months if luck had it.

Something would happen that got him fired, you remember those days; he would come home earlier than usual, going straight to his room and slam the door. Not long after that, you would hear him punching and throwing stuff as he cursed his heart out.

Not even a full day would passed before he was searching for jobs once again. At sixteen you were able to start working, Miles would tell you constantly that you never needed to, but you explained to him how many times you caught him crying from stress and exhaustion, how he gave up school when he was a senior just so he could work more hours, his terrifying work ethic.

And you just wanted him to take it easy for a chance, or at least aim for something he truly like. Miles had came home that day after another failed job search, finding you looking over job fliers that were posted on the corkboard at school.

He hid his face with one of your father's worn out hats, chuckling as he ruffled your hair to which you pouted and whined, but let him do it anyway. "You little shit, you taught you to become cool, huh?" "Not you obviously, dumbass."

"Careful there, I'll make you eat my dirty socks again, and who knows when was the last time I ever cleaned my room?"

Y/N sticks out her tongue, blowing a raspberry as the two siblings shared a heartful laugh, Miles wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his chest.

"Love you Y/N, you're an okay sister."

"Love you too Miles, you're an awful brother."

"What the hell?!"

You smile at the memory, nuzzling your head closer to Miles chest, his heart rate was normal, and he wasn't crying anymore; just staring blankly at the wall in front of you two while lazily moving his fingers through your hair with his good hand.

"I love you big brother." You whispered softly.

"I love you too, you little shit." A smirk makes it's away onto Miles's face, looking down at you, he shoots you the middle finger.

"....I hate you." His face falls immediately in shock and disbelief; eyes widening at your words. Only when you bury your face in his shirt, your shoulders moving as you muffled your laughter, did he realize you were joking.

"You little shit, I should kill you."

"Not until you go first, ugly."

"I'm handsome, damn it!"

"Who lied to you?"

"You damned-"

You pull away, getting to your feet as you sigh dramatically. "Come on lazy, let's continue and get the hell out of here." You hold a hand out to Miles, and he takes it, gratefully.

Once he was on his feet, he pulls out his notebook, writing something down with a ghost of a smile on his face before putting back in his pocket.

"Alright, let's go." He says pulling out his camera, while giving you a wink. "Let's put these fuckers in the dirt, I'm not stopping until I'm fucking dead."

The two of you continue forward, ready to face the unknown. Together.

"Miles...." You whispered in horror at the burning sight of the priest before you, turning your head away, you see Miles still staring....and even filming the horrific scene.

"Miles, STOP!" You reach for the camera, but the look in Miles's eyes stop you. "He wanted me to do this Y/N, he wanted everyone to see, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do."

He looks up at the burning corpse of the Priest, watching his followers' now as the Priest slowly stops moving all together. "I'll show the whole world, how sick this fucker really is. I don't even feel anything about him dying in front of me. I actually want to laugh."

Miles chuckles bitterly, cursing the priest under his breath and out loud. "Their tongues and liver, mines. Yours."

"Miles, let's go." You state urgently, pulling on your brother's arm who only continues to laugh. "There's no time to go fucking Joker on me, let's go!"

"I want the one on the right."

"Why should you get fairer one?"

"You take her tongue, I'll have her liver."

"Indeed."

Miles steps in front of you, camera now pointed at the two twins you've met previously. "Touch my sister, I'll kill you." He growls, clutching the camera tightly as he swiftly changes the battery.

The twins stare at Miles blankly, before pulling out machetes and slowly moving towards you both. "More like they'll kill you, now come on!" You grab Miles by the arm, pulling him roughly as the two of you run away, not once looking back...

[laraluvie]

Now that lita is officially over, time for an overall review, an honest one. See, I fucking fell in love with lita, specially the characters and the actors, but I have a LOT of points to make.

Starting with the criticism. The producion. Terrible. Fucking awful. So many scenes got ruined because of it. The sound and visual team were playing around I swear, volume of conversations being too low, you could hear the mics, background music too loud, transitions from one scene to another so bad you get pulled out of the story, clothes being visible during nc scenes, scenes not making any sense whatsoever, the cuts, everything... just bad. Also whoever directed their acting, not even the actors could save some scenes because of the awkward position they got put on set.

Also obviously the wife, black giant, and spanking thing. Seriously, mame? 

Talking about the characters now, I wasn't really into payurain because of all the "I'm dumb and cute" thing going on with rain, it made me uncomfortable, the couple became adorable after they got together, but both characters were a little forced to fit the powerful and smart top and the naive and dumb bottom narrative. But then prapaisky came...and I have to admit, I started this series because of them, I read their novel and their characters are so much more interesting, sky is very smart and witty (although they still made him act cute because he is younger annnd obviously because he is a bottom 🙄), prapai is super understanding and mature, the only mistake in his character in the series was how they portrayed that party scene, I feel like the one in the novel made more sense.

Going into prapaisky...there's so much to talk about them...it amazed me so much how prapai could read sky from day one and also respect him, he respected his time, his feelings and never for a second doubted him. The scene where he cries because sky can't became one of my all time favorites, and fortpeat did an amazing job portraying it, tho I still wish they showed sky crying real tears and not only sobs because it would make the difference between his previous cry scenes and this one clearer.

Now going full on compliments, and I will be commenting a lot more about fortpeat because yes they became my protected babies. Since the first time he appeared peat showed such good expressions, he brought sky to life and made him one of my favorite characters ever, when his arch started you could see clearly the change in sky's eyes, he is an actor who express so much through his eyes, the change in his gaze in prapaisky first meeting when he realized prapai wanted sex from him and then later on in the one where prapai says he wants a smile and he gets so surprised, I was STUNNED with his acting, sky is not an easy character at all, he is traumatized, he is mature and likes to pretend he is strong all the time, he helps everyone but never asks for help, he pretends to not care when he cares a lot, the way peat was able to portray the slight changes with subtle body signals, his posture, his smile, his eyes, small expressions...CHIEF KISS. Also fort...his crying scenes, his empathetic scenes, his I'm in love...so SO GOOD, the moment his arch began and he looked at sky with such curiosity and confidence I knew it was the end, he understood prapai so well and he acted while feeling it all, the scene where he comforts sky while you can see in his eyes his own heart is breaking. A FUCKING PERFORMANCE. He nailed all the whipped scenes and let's not talk about the nc ones, I am not prepared to talk about his body language during those, absolutely not. The way both had so much chemistry and the EYE CONTACT!!!!!!! The way they could communicate through their eyes so well, you could feel the love and trust, the fear, the sadness...I can't believe they are both new to this. 

Of course all four actors did well, but I needed to emphasize them. Anyway, the series wasn't perfect at all, but I'm gonna miss my weather gang a lot, hope to see the actors working together again (with a better production team pls).

[freelancearsonist]

Scenes From a Divorce

Jonathan Levy x gn!Reader

Rated R for themes of cheating, divorce, moral ambiguity, some non-sexual nudity, some talk of sex, and everyone is the bad guy

5,504 words

A/N: okay so i have to preface this by saying that this basically just piggybacks off the entire plot of the series so MAJOR SPOILER ALERT!!! huge thank you to @aellynera​ for putting up with me obsessively working on this fic over the five weeks the show ran and betaing each part 🥺 also it feels very important to me that you all know the font i used on the scene dividers is called “jonathan” 🥰

“I mean, she basically just asked if we were fucking other people.”

You’re trying your best to focus on the task at hand, but Jonathan’s dramatic retelling of the awkward interview he experienced with his wife has you shaking with laughter to the point that you have to put your scissors down.

“I mean, I seriously think it was less uncomfortable the first time I met Mira’s parents. And I could tell she was uncomfortable too, which I hate. I hate seeing her like that, like some kind of trapped animal. Almost called it off right then and there.”

He’s so sweet. God, he’s just so sweet that you want to crawl into his lap. Why do all the good ones have to be taken?

“But it was good, right? I mean, it’s important to discuss the different aspects of your relationship. Even when you’ve been together for ten years.”

He hums thoughtfully at your response as you pull the curls above his ears taut—he really is the perfect client; never wiggles or flinches and even warns you if he’s about to sneeze. It’s rather endearing, actually.

You’ve been cutting his hair since you first graduated from beauty school and the salon owner took a chance on you. It was really unusual, as many of your coworkers were keen to tell you—the kindly middle-aged woman who had been in charge of the salon for the fifteen years it had been in business made a habit of hiring only the best veteran hairdressers in the state.

For the first six weeks in the salon you worked as an hourly employee while your boss breathed down your neck and assessed (a bit harshly, in your opinion) every cut and trim you made to your model clienteles’ heads.

And their hair cuts were completely free during your training period, but only select people were allowed to sit as models. You were supposed to invite friends and family to sit for you, but all of your friends and family were thousands of miles away in the small town you’d grown up in before moving to Boston to chase your aspirations.

For that reason it had been a bit difficult to find model clients during your training period—most of them were close personal friends of your boss, and that made the pressure even worse. You knew that they wouldn’t hesitate to tell her if anything was out of place or unsatisfactory, and it kept you on your toes the entirety of what turned out to be the longest six weeks of your life.

The best thing that came out of it—aside from establishing yourself as a worthy stylist in one of the best salons in Boston—was your friendship with Jonathan.

He’d come in late one night—a little breathless and soaked from a trademark Boston thunderstorm—hoping for a walk-in during the last week of your training, and your boss had been confident enough in your abilities to let you loose on his rain-soaked curls. 

Jonathan’s always been a big believer in giving students chances, and you’re glad he extended the courtesy to you. He’s become your favorite client over the two years that you’ve been keeping his gorgeous curls under control—although you’d never admit that to anyone.

Having a crush on a married man isn’t exactly something that you’re proud of.

Your favorite thing about him is that he’s an extrovert by nature. You were a little apprehensive about going into a talkative profession because you lean a bit more toward the introvert side, and it’s clients like Jonathan that make you love the conversational side of your job.

He guides the conversation effortlessly, and when there’s a pause it never feels awkward. You could spend hours talking to him without ever feeling exhausted the way you do with some clients.

“So, besides the worst interview in the history of interviews, anything else new since six weeks ago?”

That’s a pretty loaded question, he realizes, and even though he knows you couldn’t possibly know about the pregnancy, it kind of feels like you know that he’s held something back.

He’s never had a very good poker face, after all.

“She—Mira—she’s, uhh…” he squirms a little uncomfortably, but you see it coming and pull your scissors back before he can throw you off. “That night, she told me… she’s pregnant.”

It shouldn’t feel like a dagger, but for some reason it does. A dagger stabbed right in your gut by a man who isn’t yours and you have no right feeling anything for.

“Wow,” you breathe. “I mean, congratulations! That’s so exciting, Jonathan.”

He smiles at you in the mirror, but you can see a sadness in his eyes and you immediately regret saying anything.

“Thanks. I… I mean, I really want to keep it, and she said she did too, but…” he takes a deep breath, and you busy yourself with brushing the short hairs from his neck so you don’t have to look him in the eyes. 

“I could just kinda tell, you know? Like she was saying one thing but meant another. So I don’t know what’s going to happen. And I mean, obviously it’s up to her! I don’t want her to go through nine uncomfortable months again if it’s not what she wants. I just… I guess one of us is going to be unhappy no matter what happens.”

“It’ll be okay.” Maybe you’re overstepping, but you can’t help setting your hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “I know you’ll make the right decision.”

His eyes meet yours again through the mirror, and when he reaches up and squeezes your hand it feels more right than anything has in a long time.

He looks so shaken when he comes in, and you’re surprised to see him. 

He normally books his six week trim at the end of every appointment—it’s something you’ve come to know about him, that he likes routines and having everything planned out. He’s not very spontaneous, but there’s something endearing about his predictability.

But he cancelled his last appointment last minute, and you don’t see him for another two months since then.

You almost reach out and ask if you did something wrong, but you know he’s been struggling with his marriage lately. Or, more accurately, struggling with his own thoughts since the abortion.

Whatever the reason is, you don’t want to add any unnecessary stress to his life.

And then one day he bursts in right as you’re turning on the “open” sign, no appointment scheduled, eyes wildly searching around the room.

He looks completely unhinged and you’re almost frightened before you remember that you trust him.

Eyes swollen and red, wearing a sweater that doesn’t even remotely match the sweatpants he’s pulled on that are hastily tucked into his sneakers like he stepped into them and ran the entire way here. His hair is sticking up in all different directions like he came here straight out of bed and your heart breaks to see him like this because you’ve only ever seen him composed and neatly put together.

“Jonathan?”

Your voice breaks him out of whatever trance he’s in, and you cast a sideways glance at the other opening stylist to let her know that it’s okay, no need to call the cops on him.

“I didn’t know if you would be here.” His voice breaks—and with it, your heart. “I didn’t… know where else to go.”

“Come here.”

You take his hand and lead him into the back, set him down on the break room couch because he’s shaking so badly you think he might fall over. He declines your offer of coffee, water, tea, knuckles white from the way he grips onto his knees. Even still, with every muscle in his body pulled taut, he’s trembling.

“Jonathan, what’s the matter? Is everything okay?”

“She left,” he coughs, and for a moment your mind starts racing, already planning every step you’ll take if he’s about to have an asthma attack. But he clears his throat and then continues. “She’s seeing another man, she’s in love with him, they knew and they didn’t tell me… she just left. Just like that.”

When you take a seat next to him his entire body crumples, and you eagerly accept him into your arms as his body wracks and shakes with heavy sobs.

Part of you had worried, over the last two months, that you might never see your favorite client again. And now here he is, face pressed into your lap, crumbling into pieces in your arms. Not exactly how you expected your day to start.

“Shhhh, it’s gonna be okay.” You don’t know if you’re overstepping, but it’s not like it’s the first time you’ve touched his hair so you allow your hands to brush through his tangled curls. It’s the least you can do to sooth him, but it seems to be doing the trick.

It’s a long few moments before he composes himself enough to speak, but he keeps his face pressed tightly against you to the point that you worry he might suffocate himself.

“God, I’m so sorry,” he sniffles. “You must think I’m such a fuckin’ weirdo.”

“Maybe a little bit,” you tease with a gentle smile. “But I like that about you.”

He gives you a better explanation this time, with the detached nature of a film critic reciting a movie plot. How she came home late and told him out of the blue that she was in love with another man, how he begged and pleaded for her to have some sense, to take things a little more slowly and see reason, how she refused and walked out the door without looking back. How his friends had known all along that their marriage was going to collapse and kept it from him like it was nothing.

“I know you must think I’m so fuckin’ weird, that you’re the first person I think of after losing everyone else,” he chuckles dryly.

“Hey, I’d like to say that we’re close enough to call ourselves friends. Right?”

“I only ever see you here,” he points out with a humorless smile. “But sure.”

“Well, let’s change that then. I don’t have an appointment for an hour, let’s go get some coffee. Some fresh air will do you good.”

In this moment, being his friend feels like the most important thing that you’ve ever done. He’s never needed someone as badly as he does right now,  and for some reason that you can’t explain you’re entirely prepared to take the whole day off just to be there for him in a way that his wife and Peter and Kate were too cowardly for.

Your heart has never ached more for someone than it does as you see the light dying from his eyes, even as he wears a smile and tells you, “Thank you for this, I’m feeling much better.”

It doesn’t scare you, the way you think it should.

At least, until the night of.

And then there’s butterflies swirling in your stomach so violently you think you’re going to puke.

The only thing that really makes it better is when he wraps you up in his arms and tells you, “there’s nothing to worry about, she’s going to love you.”

And you trust him. You trust him more than you trust anyone.

But there’s something to worry about, and it surprises you that he doesn’t realize it. Maybe he’s too encapsulated in this new romance that you have together.

Meeting Ava for the first time is terrifying because you can’t replace Mira. You know that, she knows that, and Mira knows that. Even if Mira doesn’t know of your existence—you haven’t asked Jonathan if he’s told her about you, it doesn’t seem like any of your business—she knows that she could never be replaced.

That’s the upper-hand here, and what you can see from the way that she keeps this marriage dangling by a thread even though she’s the one who left—she wants Jonathan as a back-up plan in case things don’t work out with Poli. And she’s allowed to do so because she will always be his wife, Ava’s mother.

You feel for her. She must be so terrified, so lost, so alone. If she wasn’t hurting Jonathan the way she is, you might even like to be friends with her.

But that’s why this first meeting has so much hinging on it. Because if you appear like you’re attempting to replace Mira—to either Jonathan or Ava—it could be the end.

Of course, Jonathan doesn’t realize that. It’s completely subconscious, but over the last few months together you’ve learned how he works. He’s sensitive and smart and he understands you. But he also understands himself, and what he needs is someone who isn’t another Mira.

You’ve done a remarkable job of that so far, and today could either solidify that or it could ruin you.

When Mira uses your name, it sends a shock of affection through your heart. For Jonathan, of course—for the fact that he cares enough about you to talk about you to his wife.

She pulls you into a hug, which catches you off guard—from everything you’ve heard, you kind of expect her to be a cold and conniving bitch.

But she grins as she looks between you and Jonathan and says, “this is great, I’m really happy for you.”

“Ava, there’s someone really special I want you to meet.”

It warms your heart to see the way Jonathan’s entire face lights up when his daughter walks through the door, clad in a bright pink backpack and tiny sneakers to match.

Ava greets you warmly, although it’s a little apparent that she’s eager to go upstairs and play after a long weekend stuck in her mother’s hotel room.

Mira leaves in a hurry, clearly not keen on sticking around and you don’t blame her. It must hurt, to see Jonathan like this. You can see the regret, the conflict in her eyes. The helplessness.

You wish you would’ve met her under better circumstances.

But it’s a lovely night. Ava seems very excited about the stories you tell of your work, even though the idea of being a hairdresser must be pretty boring to a five-year-old.

But as the evening winds down, you don’t have a single butterfly left in your stomach. They’ve all turned to love and migrated to your heart as you watch Jonathan with his daughter.

“She adores you,” Jonathan tells you after he returns from tucking Ava in for the night. “I was honestly a little worried. Mira said it took a little while for her to warm up to the idea of Poli, so I wasn’t sure how she’d handle meeting you.”

He curls into your side on the couch, rests his head on your chest so you can play with his curls the way you know he loves.

“You really think so? I was really nervous.” You chew your lip as you choose your next words carefully. “Mira seemed… shocked.”

He hums at your words. “She didn’t think it would work out. Which is such bullshit. If she can work with Poli and be happier than she was with me, it shouldn’t be hard to understand that I’m happier with you.”

It makes your breath catch in your throat. You’ve been very careful about not pushing him, not wanting to rush him into anything, and he appreciates your patience. But he doesn’t need it.

He thought it was a little ridiculous, when his therapist told him to start writing three pages first thing in the morning. But he’s grown to love it. It’s a time of introspection, and a time to examine all the change that he’s encountered. And you, by far, are the best part.

Because while he’s conditioned himself to hide a portion of himself away, you let him unload everything on you. Years and years of repressed emotions that he was too scared to give to Mira because she was already dealing with all of her own confusion and depression.

You accept his anxieties and his worries with excitement. Not only because it’s a part of your job—he likes to lovingly refer to you as a “therapist with a razor”—but because you understand. You can relate to so much of what he feels, and you don’t try to pretend when you don’t comprehend something that he’s feeling. Instead, you try to get him to help you understand.

“I love you.”

It’s so quiet that you’re not even sure you really hear it, or if your brain is just giving you what you want.

“Maybe it’s insanity, but I really do,” he continues. “I’ve never felt so much like myself as I do when I’m with you.”

He tilts his head back to look up at you, and you don’t waste a moment to press your lips firmly to his.

“I love you too, Jonathan.”

You scream when you see him.

It makes him jump, but you don’t have the capacity to feel guilty over it because you’re so scared you can’t even breathe.

It was supposed to be ten minutes tops. They would go through everything together and then sign the papers.

You were a little hesitant, when he told you. Because he did tell you about the night that they stayed together, about how they’d almost slept together on the living room floor, but he told you that they hadn’t. That he’d pushed her away.

And maybe part of you was scared, when he mentioned this meeting, that if she propositioned him again he wouldn’t say no. That you’d get a phone call from him saying that they decided to try and work everything out, that you’re not a part of the equation anymore.

But you trust him. He says he loves you, and you believe him.

You’re sobbing into his chest before he even has his coat off, and he’s too stunned to do anything other than stand there and let your tears soak into the fabric of his sweater.

He feels disgusting. You’re crying into the sweater that he fucked his wife in and he just wants to peel all his clothes off and burn them in the backyard.

“What the fuck did she do to you?”

“I deserved it,” he mutters. “I need to get changed.”

“Get in the shower,” you demand softly. He winces a little bit when your hands cup his face to get a better look at the scratches, and all you can do is grimace apologetically. “Jesus, these are deep. Come on, shower. Let me help you clean these up.”

He’s just thankful for any excuse to get out of these fucking clothes.

“What the fuck happened, baby?” It’s gentler when you ask this time—his head tipped back under the stream of the shower so you can wash his hair. It’s not entirely necessary, but you know it brings him comfort. He’s told you it’s his favorite part of sitting in your chair at the salon—when you run your fingers through his hair and wash it with your expert fingers. It’s become his favorite way to unwind after a stressful day.

He takes a deep breath. Then another.

You know everything he’s struggled with in the three years that have passed since Mira left. It’s why this relationship is so special to him—he’s not afraid to tell you every little thing that comes to his mind.

So he knows he has to tell you everything that happened. Even though it’ll break your heart. Because if he keeps it a secret, what’s stopping him from keeping other secrets? And then there’s no transparency, no communication, and suddenly his relationship with you is exactly like his marriage with Mira.

No, he has to tell you. Because like this, there’s at least a chance that you can forgive him. But if he keeps it a secret, he won’t be able to forgive himself for lying to you.

And even worse, if he kept it a secret and you somehow found out?

He doesn’t want to take that chance. He can’t take that chance.

“She was late,” he starts after another deep breath. “Had a meeting with Ackerman. She umm… she got fired. Which she didn’t tell me until later, after we—“

He can’t do it. His tongue goes limp in his mouth and he feels your hands in his hair and he feels like the worst excuse for a human being on the planet.

You’re patient with his retelling of events, giving him a few seconds to continue before you prompt him with a gentle, “After you signed the papers?”

God, how he wishes it was that simple. He wants nothing more than for that to have been all that happened.

“We had sex.”

He’s the smallest man in the world. He’s the size of an ant and he wishes you would step on him and let his corpse wash down the drain.

Your hands rip away from him like his scalp has turned into a hot stove burner.

“What?”

He can’t open his eyes. He can’t bring himself to look at you because he knows that you’re crushed. That your heart is shattering and he won’t be able to live with himself if he sees on your face the hurt that he’s making you feel.

“She was stressed and upset and… it just happened.”

You’re out of the shower in a flash, but not before you turn the water temperature all the way down. Jonathan yelps at the icy water and fumbles for a few seconds before he successfully turns the knob off, and as angry as he wants to be he knows he deserves it.

“It just happened,” you repeat. “Your dick just slid inside her on accident. Fuck you, Jonathan.”

“No, it’s not like that,” he insists, but he knows arguing is futile. He deserves your hatred. “I… I didn’t feel anything.”

You just stare daggers at him, completely dumbfounded.

“I… I know it was wrong. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. But… I didn’t feel a thing for her. All of those feelings that I’ve had, that I’ve been trying to get rid of? They just vanished. Like they were never there at all.”

“And that’s… supposed to make it okay,” you state blankly. “You know what? You need to call the movers. Tell them to take your shit somewhere else because it sure as hell isn’t gonna come here.”

Jonathan’s hands shake as he pulls his towel off of the hook on the wall. He knows this is what he deserves. He cheated on you. It doesn’t matter that he’s still technically married to Mira, because he cheated on you. You, the person who helped him through the darkest time of his life. You, who showed him how relationships should be—how love should be. You, who is always so patient and understanding.

But this isn’t something you can understand. Because you trusted him. You trusted him not to cave to his desires, and he failed you. He failed himself.

“No, honey, please just listen to me.”

He knows he doesn’t deserve to make excuses, doesn’t deserve a chance to explain himself after what he’s done. But he can’t stop himself from trying. Because as desperate as he was to keep Mira from leaving, he’s ten times more desperate to keep you.

“Listen to you?” You laugh coldly. “What is there to listen to, Jonathan? Did you even sign the fucking papers or did you just come here to tell me that it’s over?”

“I don’t want her! I want you!”

He’s never raised his voice at you before, and he regrets it the moment it happens.

“Do not yell at me.” Your jaw is set so firmly that you think you might chip your teeth.

You’re seething and he can see it—can practically see the steam rolling from you.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He knew this would happen. Knew it was the most likely possibility. He doesn’t blame you—in your shoes, he’d be furious too. He’d want to leave.

“We signed the papers,” he whispers. “I told her that I didn’t feel anything for her, that I wanted to be with you. She wouldn’t stop crying, trying to get me to stay. She broke up with Poli again and she wants to come home. But it’s too little too late. Because there’s no home for her anymore. And I know she only wants me again because she’s scared to be alone. It’s the same thing that happened last time. And if I didn’t have you, I would let her come back. I’d let her walk all over me and I’d thank her for it.

“But I have you. I have you and I can’t lose you. I’ve never even really been myself until you and if I lose you I’ll lose my fucking mind. I’ll lose myself. You’re the only person I’ve ever felt safe with and I told her that and she beat the shit out of me when I tried to leave. And God help me, I pushed her back and it finally got her to sign the goddamn papers. And I signed them too. And all I could think about the entire time was coming back here and being with you.”

You’re sobbing and shaking and all Jonathan can feel is relief. Relief because you curl into him, bury your face in his chest and wrap your arms so tightly around him that he can barely breathe. Relief because you’re not storming out the door.

It doesn’t fall apart like you think it will.

That’s a lie, technically, because you really don’t expect it to fall apart at all.

How naive you are.

But you can feel him slipping through your fingers, and at first it scares the shit out of you. It feels like your entire world is ending because there’s no way you can lose him after enduring so much with him. After loving him so much.

But then he’s gone.

He makes excuses, like how it was the wrong time to get into a relationship, that he was probably subconsciously using you as a way to work through the grief—as a way to get back at Mira. And that’s not fair to you, so he needs to leave before he keeps doing it.

They’re just excuses. They’re cardboard boxes disguised as cinderblocks.

It hurts less because you saw it coming months ago. This relationship, this love, has been on a ventilator for more than a season. But that doesn’t make it stop hurting entirely.

Your heart breaks for Ava as you’re packing your things up in boxes. She finally had some stability with you and her father in one home, she was finally starting to feel back to normal, and now she’s losing it again.

You feel as if you’ve failed her.

You’ve all failed her, in a way. You and Jonathan and Mira and Poli.

It’s a few months again before you see him. You move to the other side of town, start a new job at a new salon. It feels right to have a fresh start after losing four years of your life.

And then he walks through the door and the paper walls you’ve built and labeled as your new normal come crashing down.

He says he’s been invited to give a TED Talk. He needs to look completely immaculate and you’re the only person he trusts with his hair.

You want to tell him not to get hit by the door on his way out.

Instead, your mouth tells him to sit down in your chair.

“I’ve missed you,” he hums when your fingers card through his curls, and you want to scream at him. To tell him how unfair it is that he had to show up and destroy every semblance of ordinary you’ve built over the past few months.

“Did you lose my number?” There’s a bit of venom in your words, and you’re sure he hears it, but he’s gracious enough to ignore it.

He clears his throat awkwardly, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at you. “Nope, no, just… didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”

“I didn’t.” I don’t is what you meant to say, and you repeat over and over in your head that you should correct yourself, but with each passing moment you realize that it’s going to be increasingly more awkward to say so after such a long pause so you don’t say it at all.

“But you do now?” There’s hope in his voice, and you should squish it like a bug while you can.

Instead, your mouth betrays you. “That remains to be seen.”

You want to scream at yourself. Want to tell yourself that this didn’t work the first time and it won’t work now. That he doesn’t really love you, he just loves having support—he loves not being alone.

You’re still screaming at yourself mentally when he takes you out for coffee the next day.

“I think I was too… hasty,” he tells you. “And I… honestly, I’m amazed you’re even sitting across from me right now. I know I have no right to try and explain anything about what happened to you.”

You want to agree, to tell him that he and his explanations can go to hell. Instead, you close your mouth and let him keep talking.

“I’m scared to be in a relationship right now. And I’m scared to be alone. I just… I never knew that at forty-four years old I’d feel so lost. I think I had my life more together when I was in high school.” He chuckles at that, looks up and sees the lack of a smile on your face. He clears his throat before he continues. “I’m scared that… that I’ll lose you the way I lost Mira. And I know that’s not a reason to push you away, that’s a reason to communicate and talk about my feelings with you, but I—“

You silence his rambling by carefully setting your palm over his on top of the table, and it shuts him up immediately. He never thought he’d feel your touch again and it renders him completely speechless.

“If you can’t trust me to talk about what you’re feeling, if you can’t trust me to help you through this… there’s no point in us even being here, Jonathan.” You let out a deep sigh after a few seconds because he’s not saying anything and with each passing second of silence it feels like another inch of your relationship’s grave is being dug. “I just don’t get why you waited so long. Why didn’t you do this years ago?”

“Because I needed you.”

“But you don’t need me now.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He exhales deeply as he runs his hands over his face, and now that you’re pausing to take a good look at him you can see all the exhaustion. All the confusion. It’s bleeding off of him like a bad odor and it breaks your heart.

A part of you doesn’t know if you can handle being swept into his exhaustion and confusion again.

And even worse, a part of you wants to. You want to take his misery and help him carry it because it’s crushing him alive and you want to ease the burden.

But part of you knows that it’s just too heavy and if you try to get under it with him it’ll just crush you too.

So this is the choice you must make: do you watch it consume him and walk away perfectly fine, or do you try to help—knowing that you’ll fail—just so he doesn’t go down alone?

It’s the ultimate moral question. One that he’d find very fascinating if he wasn’t the main part of the equation.

But the horrible, ugly truth is that you love him. You love him and even if he doesn’t love you, if he’s incapable of feeling anything towards you, there’s no way you can be an innocent bystander while he’s crushed alive. You don’t care if you’d be better off parting ways and wishing him luck. It’ll eat you alive if you don’t at least try for him.

Falling asleep in the same bed again feels like a death sentence.

It also feels like the first time you’ve truly been alive since you left.

.

THE END

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[randomshyperson]

Love is Outside the Screen - Part III - Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Summary:  The one where Reader plays Vision in the MCU and she falls in love with her co-worker Elizabeth Olsen.

Warnings: (+18), smut, sexual themes, strap on use, teasing, fingering, sexual suggestions, explicit language, explicit, obscenity, a bit of praise kink, dom/sub dynamics, bottom reader mostly, switch dynamics, power dynamic changes, slight possessive sex, brief angst, alcohol mentions, arguing, jealously, fluffy.

Words: 7.935 K

A/N> Instead of writing my series, I'm continuing works that were finished already. This is basically porn honestly haha No, but jokes aside, we have fluffy moments with a lot of smut. Good reading everyone!

Part One | Part Two | All Works Masterlist || AO3

//-//-/////-///-//

Love is Outside the Screen - Part III

Northern Ireland, two years ago.

You slipped under the long wooden table as the script indicated.

Your character was supposed to give a slight nod, and then gasp because of the torso injury, and you followed the script perfectly.

When the director yells cut, you stand up, trying not to bump into the makeover they did on your clothes.

"That was great, guys!" Shouted Alex Graves in the direction of the cast scattered around the medieval set. "Let's call it a day."

You were exhausted.

The Game of Thrones footage was absolutely grueling, and time-consuming, although it allowed you to learn something new with almost every scene.

Walking back toward the dressing room to clean up your makeup, you smiled shyly at the girls in the salon who congratulated you on the day's performance while helping you to remove your costume.

While they were going through your hair, you decided to check your cell phone.

There were two missed calls from Lizzie, and you felt your heart swell with guilt immediately.

She had also sent you messages asking if everything was okay, or if you were busy, and saying that she missed you, and you wish you had answered them all, but your routine had been completely absurd.

You felt your chest ache with longing every time you thought of your girlfriend.

When you signed the contract, you knew the conditions, and so did Lizzie. But nothing prepared you for the real thing.

Almost three months without a decent conversation, not even video calls, and the lack of her in your life was making you frustrated and irritated all the time. You were sinking into the screenplay and the recordings, because you simply hated not having Lizzie in your day-to-day life.

"Thank you girls." You said as soon as you noticed the makeup completely removed from your abdomen.

The change in the script killed your character sooner than expected, and you should go home early, even though it was going to take two or three months, it was much less than originally planned.

Grumbling softly, you went back to the dressing room, deciding to call Lizzie now that you would have a little time alone.

She doesn't answer until the second-to-last ring.

"Yes?" Her husky voice signals that she was asleep, but all you can feel is your body shaking at the sound.

"It's me, baby." You reply tenderly as you sit back in the armchair, pressing the cell phone to your ear as if you wish you could reach into the device and touch your girl.

"Oh, hey." She comments sleepily, and you wonder if she has closed her eyes again, or even opened them. "It's late."

"I know, I'm sorry." You say leaning back in the armchair. "I wanted to check that everything was okay because I couldn't answer you earlier."

"Don't worry, darling." She says softly, almost sleepily. "I just missed you."

"Me too, my love." You assure her, feeling your chest tighten slightly. My god, you just want to see her, hold her, touch her. "Lizzie, darling, are you asleep?"

"Yes." She whispers, making you smile.

"I love you baby." You say. "Call me when you wake up, I will interrupt as many scenes as it takes to talk to you."

"Behave yourself in the studio, love." She mumbles sleepily, and you laugh lightly. It was the same warning she gave on your last day in California, on the way out of the airport. "I love you. And I miss you."

You cursed the entire movie company at once when you could perceive the upset in Lizzie's tone, even in her sleepy state. You repeated that you loved her one more time before hanging up the phone.

As you put your cell phone away to grab your keys and head back to the hotel, you wondered if a breach of contract was really so bad.

//-//

Present, California.

You felt Lizzie's arms wrap around you as soon as you made mention of getting out of bed. You smiled, turning your body to look at her.

Her sleeping figure with her eyes closed, her hair slightly tousled made your heart warm with affection.

You loved her so much.

Raising your hand to her face, you stroked her cheek gently with your thumb, and watched the woman sigh softly, and even in her sleepy state, lean into your touch.

"Lizzie." You called softly, trying to wake her up. And did so again until she mumbled softly, leaning her face against the pillow. You let your hand wander to her hair, enjoying the softness as you stroked her scalp with your fingers. "We need to wake up baby."

Lizzie just mumbled again against the pillow cotton, making you smile at the cuteness of that scene.

You moved closer only to deposit short kisses across her face, and only stopped when she let out a husky giggle.

"Good morning, love." You whispered against her ear, and were about to pull away, but she tightened her arms around your waist, keeping you almost on top of her, making you smile.

"Good morning." She sighed back against the skin of your neck, and you blushed slightly when you felt her inhale your perfume and then tighten her fingers around your waist. "Fuck, I love you."

You laughed softly at her sudden, hoarse confession, but let your arms slip around her shoulders, burying your body against Lizzie's. The tenderness was wonderful, and she moved one hand up to caress your back while the other remained on your hip, her thumb moving across the skin beneath your blouse.

You tilt your face away just to look at her, and already you find her with her eyes wide open, a shy smile on her lips.

"I love you too, babe, but we need to get up." You tell her, and you almost get the impression that she's not even listening, because all she does is look at your face with adoration.

You bite back a smile as you feel her legs move beneath you, her bare foot caressing your ankle before she spins you around quickly and stands over you, the sudden movement making you sigh and tighten your arms intertwined around her neck.

"Lizzie!" You exclaim humorously, but all you get is a low murmur as she sinks her body against yours and buries her face in your neck.

"How much time do we have?" She asks against your skin, her lips dangling on that sensitive part of your collarbone and sending a shiver up the length of your spine.

"Enough." You reply already affected by her touch, closing your eyes to enjoy the sensation.

Lizzie smiles against your neck, beginning to deposit chaste kisses against your skin, making you sigh softly.

It didn't matter how many times you had been together or for how long, your body reacted to her in the same way. You only hoped that you wouldn't be late for your appointment with the Marvel directors, but when Lizzie slipped her hand up into your pajamas, you didn't care about that anymore.

//-//-//

London, 1 year and 9 months ago.

It's your third time on "The Graham Norton Show."

You finished taping Game of Thrones the day before, and this was your last appointment before returning to California. To Lizzie.

Part of the cast is sitting next to you, and you are glad for that because you are distracted this evening and can use the time they answer questions to think about your girlfriend. And you miss her for sure.

Graham, the host, asked questions about the final season, and about day to day life on set, and after Kit Harington and Emilia Clarke commented on everything being amazing, and not telling anything about the plot since they weren't allowed to, you were slightly surprised that the subject shift went directly to the romance rumors between the cast.

"I hear that some of you have been becoming close friends outside the set." Graham begins with a chuckle, and you and the cast share a chorus of dissatisfaction that makes the audience laugh. "Which is normal in a long series of course. But we wanted to bring that in because we love gossip."

"Since I'm married, can I have a drink in the dressing room?" Kit jokes, drawing laughter from everyone.

"You're supposed to help us with the arguments". Graham replies humorously. He leans back in his chair slightly to point to the monitor behind him. "We have some behind-the-scenes photos here. And Miss Clarke looks very comfortable."

The audience laughed at the comment, and you tried to cover it up with an awkward laugh. It was a picture of Emilia Clarke, your colleague who plays Daenerys Targaryen, on your lap. But the moment was badly misinterpreted. The photo was taken right after one of the prom rehearsal scenes, and Emilia had gotten one of the coordinations wrong, and you laughed when she fell on you.

Of course, this kind of insinuation was happening because to the media, you two were two single women. And you were used to this kind of questioning, but still, it was always uncomfortable.

"We were dancing, Graham." Emilia argues humorously. "It's not what it looks like."

The audience lets out a chorus of disappointment, and you and Emilia giggle awkwardly.

"Was that the mating dance, ladies?" Graham teases and you want to dig a hole in the ground, but all you do is keep up with everyone's laughter. "Despite all the jokes, I think Marvel's couple is going to be threatened."

The comment makes your heart race, but the audience is very approving, applauding heartily.

At least with this you can talk about Elizabeth.

"Is tonight the night you are going to take over America's dream relationship or can we just keep saying that you and Emilia are together, since there is not the slightest chance that someone that attractive is single." Graham tells you with humor making the audience and cast laugh. You try to keep up, not wanting to seem rude. You wish you could tell him that there is nothing wrong with being single, but you don't think you want to create an awkwardness so you just settle back in your seat as you joke:

"Unfortunately I will deny it again, Graham" You reply. "And I'm not dating Emilia either, I assure you."

You spend the rest of the evening dodging the comments, and are exhausted by the time the interview is over.

"Hey, are you going back to the hotel already?" Kit asks you just as you walk back to the dressing rooms, and you deny it with your head.

"No chance, I'm leaving." You reply. "I'm going straight to the airport, I have a flight in two hours. What about you, Harington? Aren't you going home to see your wife?"

"I didn't know we were talking about wives." He jokes making you blush and look away. Kit didn't know about Lizzie, but he knew you had someone. "Of course I want to come home, but I still have some appointments here. And Rose is in Spain."

"That sucks, man." You comment and he murmurs in agreement, shrugging.

"Yeah, but longing sure makes the sex better." He retorts with amusement and you grimace before laughing.

"You're unbelievable." You joke before waving yourself off in farewell, turning in the direction of your dressing room.

As soon as you enter, you take your cell phone out of your pocket and try to call Lizzie, but it goes to voicemail. You leave a message saying that you can't wait to see her and get your things ready to leave.

After saying goodbye to the cast again, and taking a taxi to the airport, you receive a message, but it is not from Lizzie.

*Sara evil agent* sent you an attachment.

You frown at the matter. "Off-screen romance? Would GOT star Emilia Clarke be dating queer Marvel protégé?"

You call Sara the same minute.

"I literally said I wasn't dating her!" You complain as soon as she answers and hear Sara laugh on the other end.

"Oh, honey, I told you, the media loves a little gossip." She says. "And you need to stop setting up fake girlfriends so quickly, I can barely keep up."

You grumble in irritation and your agent lets out a giggle.

"Don't be so grumpy, it's just a rumor and the last time I checked you were a single woman so I don't see a problem." She says and you bite the inside of your cheek. Since your lack of excitement about GOT, Sara suspects something. Neither of you says anything, but you know she's not an idiot and figures you have a girlfriend. "Are you going back to LA already?"

"Yes, I'm catching my flight in an hour."

"I hope you're ready to record, Lady Vision." She jokes. "Your scene schedule is getting closer."

"I plan to rest this week." You warn, slightly distracted. "Game of Thrones really was something different."

"I just hope people like the ending."

You giggle and Sara wants to know why, but you don't give her any spoilers. After asking if everything was okay, and assuring her that you had eaten something before the interview, you hang up.

Lizzie didn't text you back and you fell asleep on the plane.

//-//-//-//-//

California, three years and eleven months ago.

Your heart was beating so fast that you could hear it in your ears.

But Lizzie's hand in yours was doing a good job of calming you down.

Maybe it was just because you had waited, or maybe it was because you were so much in love, but you don't remember feeling so nervous about the idea of having sex with someone. Not since your first time.

And well, now with Lizzie, it was actually only the first time you two were going to sleep together. You didn't have to be nervous, but you were.

Liz opened the bedroom door as soon as you two reached the room, and dragged you inside with her. You closed the wood as you entered.

The tension was palpable in the air, and you wondered if you stayed still long enough, she might hear your heartbeat.

You looked at her, your eyes locked on each other, and a shy smile on your lips as you approached, stopping inches from her body.

Lizzie holds her breath.

"Are you nervous?" You ask in a husky voice, raising your free hand to go around the length of her arm with your finger, admiring the way her skin shivers at your touch.

She just shakes her head and you smile, resting your hand on her cheek.

"It's just me." You comment as you lean your forehead against hers, and you both close your eyes in anticipation. "We can stop if you're not sure..."

"I'm sure." She interrupts half breathlessly, her hand tightening its grip before letting go of yours, so that she brings both hands to the sides of your neck. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." You assure before breaking the distance, bringing your mouths together in a firm kiss that draws a sigh from both of you as your hands move up to Lizzie's waist.

It doesn't take long for the kiss to deepen, your tongues fighting together and the sensation making your head spin and your body heat up.

Lizzie gasped against your mouth before parting for breath, and you used the opportunity to let your fingers run down to the hem of her shirt as you pulled it up. In motion the piece was off, and she copied the same to remove your blouse.

You bit your lip as you looked at the sight of Lizzie's exposed torso in front of you, her nipples hardening in the air making you feel the tightness beneath your stomach increase.

You lunged forward, grabbing her left breast with your mouth, and Lizzie let out a loud noise in her throat, throwing her head back as your tongue skirted her left nipple.

She was so hot and smelled so good, and the sounds she was making were driving you insane.

You moved your hands up to her breasts as soon as you brought your mouths together again, your tongue circling hers as you played with her hardened nipples, and it wasn't long before Lizzie began to whimper, closing her legs and thrusting her hips towards yours for more friction.

You smiled against her lips, you would give her exactly what she needed.

//-//

California, one year and nine months ago.

Leaving your keys on the counter, you were surprised by the silence as you entered.

It wasn't that you wanted Lizzie to stay late to wait for you, except that it was exactly what you wanted.

You left your bag on the living room floor and called her name twice before assuming she was asleep.

Sighing slightly, you went up the stairs to your room, but it was empty. All the other rooms were empty, which made you frown.

Okay, you didn't expect Elizabeth not to be home just the day you were returning, after months of not seeing each other.

But you didn't have much time to think about what might have happened, because a clearly drunk Lizzie stumbled into the house, fighting against the lock and her own balance just as you were coming down the stairs.

"You're drunk?" You ask in a voice in a mixed tone of disbelief and concern upon seeing her, and Lizzie is startled for a moment before giggling.

"Look who's here, California!" She announced to the room with irony and with open arms, stumbling inside. "Hollywood's most eligible bachelorette, watch out ladies and gentlemen."

You frowned at the little scene, Lizzie walked with difficulty to the kitchen as you finished going down the steps, she murmured quietly and you with your arms crossed, trying to understand exactly what was going on.

"What happened to you?" you ask as you follow her across the room, Lizzie takes off her shoes with difficulty, almost falling to the floor at least twice. When you make mention of helping her, she holds up her hand for you not to, and you are starting to get worried.

"I went to have fun." She replies with a humorless laugh. "I can have fun."

"Of course you can." You retorted with a raised eyebrow, watching Lizzie take a deep breath and close her eyes as she leaned her back on the countertop, probably getting a headache from the way she buried her face in both hands for a moment. "Who did you go with?"

"I don't know, Mom." She sneered wryly, and you clenched your jaw. Lizzie laughed at your expression, and pouted. "Oh, did I upset you? Sorry, darling, I'll try to be a good girl for you."

You shook your head slightly.

"Babe, what is happ..."

"Don't call me that." She cuts off quickly and you look at her in surprise. Lizzie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath and when she looks at you again, she has thick tears in her eyes and you feel your heart soar. "I saw the pictures on television, Y/N. I saw the pictures, I saw your interview, I saw the videos on instagram. And I guess I understand, because she's beautiful and we haven't seen each other in months but I thought you loved me..."

"wow, what are you talking about?" You interrupt, confused and frightened, and Lizzie looks like a complete mess. She is crying and you reach up to touch her face, and try to calm her down. "Babe, breathe, I don't understand."

She whimpers softly, and you wonder how much booze she really has consumed.

"You are going out with that woman and I love you and everything is horrible." She declares in a whiny voice and you look at her with a frown.

"Lizzie, what..."

But she pushes you and walks off toward the bedroom, and you try to keep her from falling over drinking at least three times until she can get up the stairs properly.

"Lizzie, wait, talk to me." You beg but she keeps walking and you enter the bedroom a moment after her, watching her walk to the closet and start throwing all her clothes out while mumbling about cheating.

You take a deep breath with your hands on your waist, letting out a humorless laugh. It was an absurd scene to say the least.

"Elizabeth Olsen, stop this immediately!" You command as soon as she steps out of the closet, and she widens her eyes slightly as she shifts the weight of her feet before veering to the floor. You sigh as you walk toward her. "Babe, look at me."

"No."

"Lizzie."

Reluctantly, she does so. You soften your expression, feeling your heart soar at the image of her face, longing invading your whole heart.

"God, I missed you." You confess half breathlessly and Lizzie looks on the verge of tears. "Darling, where did all this come from? I'm not seeing any other girl."

"I saw the pictures..."

"Lizzie." You interrupt seriously, shaking your head slightly as your hands land on her shoulders. "I have no one but you. I would never cheat on you, I don't know where that came from. I wish you hadn't drunk so much so we could have a serious talk."

Lizzie gives a mischievous little smile, her gaze half lost because of the alcohol.

"I'm not drunk." She mumbles clearly intoxicated, making you chuckle slightly.

"Of course not." You said as you pushed the loose strands of her hair behind her ears. "You made a mess in the bedroom, babe. Why don't you try to sleep while I clean up?"

Lizzie sighed, clearly tired but shaking her head in denial

"I don't want to sleep." She said as she brought her body closer to you, her hands squeezing your shirt. "I want you to fuck me."

You bit back a smile, looking at Lizzie with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah?"

She murmured in agreement, her fingers trying to open the buttons of your shirt, but she was clearly in no condition to do so.

"I'd like that too, but you're drunk." You say as you move your hands to hold hers, smiling at the grumble of frustration she lets out. "Go lie down, I'll get some water."

"But..."

"Bed, Lizzie." You ordered again as you intertwined your hands to lead her to lie down.

She was reluctant a few times but eventually agreed and lay her down on the mattress, placing the comforter on top.

When you made mention of getting up, she held your hand.

"Don't go." She asked softly with her eyes almost closed. You smiled.

"Aren't you thirsty?"

Lizzie denied and pulled your hand, you moved closer to lie beside her and she wasted no time in entwining her body in yours.

You let your fingers run through her hair and she sighed lightly, not taking long to fall asleep. You waited a few more minutes before moving, getting out of bed as gently as possible so as not to wake her.

After collecting the clothes Lizzie had thrown across the room and putting them away in the closet, as well as putting the party clothes she was wearing in the wash, you went back downstairs, looking for your bag to take to your room.

Your cell phone vibrated as you walked up the stairs.

It was a message from Scarlet, and you laughed lightly as you read its content.

“I heard you're coming home today, right? Lizzie was really upset about the rumors that you were dating, and asked me to take her out for a drink. I dropped her off at home, but she was pretty shaky. I didn't know you two had a thing, can we talk about it over coffee tomorrow?”

You were relieved that Scarlett was the person accompanying Lizzie, but now she knew you two had something. You were tired of it honestly. The secret. All you wanted was for everyone to know how much you loved Lizzie. And judging from recent events, that was a problem for her too. Or at least it was enough for her to drink more than she should.

But you would have to wait until Lizzie woke up to have this conversation, so you went back to your room, and after putting away the clothes from your bag, you took a shower and put on your pajamas, wasting no time in joining Lizzie in bed again.

//-//-//

Caribbean, one year and six months ago.

Following the music, you continued to dance slowly, your hand around Lizzie's waist while the other was entwined in the air with hers.

The luxury hotel where you were staying that week was hosting a Hawaiian themed evening, and well, after spending the day in the pool area, you decided to dance a little.

In that moment, with Lizzie in your arms, you were at peace completely. Moments like these, like waking up with her in your bed, or cooking together, or rehearsing your lines while curled up on the couch under the blanket were more than enough to make you sure that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Lizzie.

You smiled before pulling your body away slightly, just to look at her. And she looked back at you with the same adoration, her cheeks flushing slightly.

You spun her into your arms then, making her laugh as you pulled her back, your hands resting on her neck as your hips swayed to the rhythm of the ukulele of the band playing on the stage.

There were a few other couples around, but you could hardly notice anyone but Lizzie.

You continued dancing, and you rested your forehead on hers, closing your eyes and breathing in her perfume. Lizzie smiled, stealing a quick kiss before resting her chin on your shoulder, following the rhythm of the dance.

When the show ends, you follow the crowd in the clapping for a moment before Lizzie entwines your hands and pulls you toward the bar.

"That was fun." She comments with cheeks flushed from the dance, her smile soft as you stand near each other, your hands intertwined as you reach for the menu.

"Dancing with you always is." You retorted charmingly, releasing her hand only to fit it against your waist, drawing a chuckle from Lizzie.

You ended up sharing some drinks and snacks, and you were starting to feel higher with each sip.

Lizzie was in the middle of a joke when you interrupted her.

"Marry me?"

She blinked in surprise, a confused chuckle escaping her lips.

"What?"

Maybe it was the drinking. Probably not, because with the emerald eyes looking so intently, you suddenly felt very sober. Your heart raced too, but you were never more sure of anything than you were now.

"Marry me." You repeat with a confident smile. Lizzie blushes with wide eyes.

"You... Are you serious?" She asks in surprise, and you let out a sigh, moving closer to take her hands and put them down on your racing heart.

"I love you." You tell her with nothing but sincerity. "I want to spend my life with you. I was planning something bigger, perhaps, at your parents' summer house. I would get down on one knee in front of your family and hand over the ring I've been carrying for three months." You confess and watch her look at you in shock. "I've been waiting for the right moment, Lizzie. But I've just realized that every second with you is the right moment. I want you to be my wife. Do you want me to be yours?"

It took a second for her to react, her expression changing from shock to pure happiness, the tears appearing in her eyes and the smile so big it made her eyes small.

"Yes, yes, of course." She replied between one shy laugh and another, moving forward to kiss you over and over again.

You couldn't stop smiling as you kissed her, and you giggled against each other's mouths, pulling apart to embrace each other.

It didn't take long for the people around the bar to notice and start clapping, but you didn't care.

All you were seeing was your future wife.

//-//-//-//

California, 1 year and 9 months ago.

You finished putting the coffee jug on the tray, the last missing item, before carrying it to your room, taking careful steps not to trip over anything on the way.

Lizzie was already awake, but still in bed. The glass of water in her hands and the missing pill on her bedside table indicated that she was already treating her hangover.

"Good morning, darling." You greeted as you entered, walking over to the bed to leave the platter on top of the sheet next to Lizzie.

"You're home." She commented in a mixture of surprise and embarrassment, you just made a noise with your mouth as she sighed, running her hand over her face, probably because of her headache. "When did you get home?"

"Last night." You respond by watching her. "Just before you."

"Sorry." She says moving closer. You gently pull away from her attempt to kiss her lips, and Lizzie frowns. "What?"

"I was worried." You state seriously. Lizzie lets out a sigh, leaning her back against the bed completely. "I thought you were going to pick me up at the airport, but you didn't call. And then I find the house empty. Until you arrived, completely drunk at dawn."

Lizzie crossed her arms, looking away. It was your turn to sigh.

"What's happening, Elizabeth?"

"It 's nothing."

"Elizabeth."

"Stop it." She asks impatiently, turning her face to you again. "Don't call me that."

You just frown in confusion. "It's your name."

"No." She exclaims annoyedly, closing her eyes for a moment. "You only call me Elizabeth when you're angry. And you can't be angry at me because I have the right to go out!"

You watch her stand up, as if running away from the conversation, and you sigh impatiently, massaging your temple with your finger. Lizzie begins to remove her dress, clearly intent on going to take a shower.

"I never said you had no right to go out, Elizabeth." You retort ignoring the annoyed grunt she lets out at you continuing to call her by her full name. "I just think I have the right to ask why after we agreed on something, you changed plans at the last minute and decided to disappear."

"It's funny that you want to demand something from me when you've spent the last few months without giving me any satisfaction of where or who you were with!" She accuses angrily and you grimace in indignation.

"Oh, so it's about my work?" You retort angrily. "The last time I checked we had decided that I was going to record and come home. You said you were fine with that!"

Lizzie gave a humorless laugh, her dress falling to her feet as she worked to remove her bra.

"Well, you know what, I wasn't!" She shouts angrily, throwing the bra angrily into the closet. You need to remember that you are angry with her as you have the vision of her breasts exposed in front of you while she is yelling at you. "I didn't agree to the endless get-togethers with all those sluts around you! And I sure didn't agree with your flushed face on television flirting with Emilia Clarke in front of the whole country!"

You stared at Lizzie in shock, but she just grunted in irritation before turning to go to the bathroom.

"No, I think it's so funny you bring that up, you know, Elizabeth." You spoke aloud as you stood up to follow her. "Because when I said Aubrey Plaza was flirting with you, you told me it was just business. But suddenly, Emilia is something that bothers you!"

"God, this is so different from Aubrey!" she retorts in irritation, finally naked, before stepping into the shower. You were beginning to find it hard to remember why you were fighting now that you had the view of her wet silhouette in the shower stall, as she raised her voice to be heard beyond the sound of the water. "We were supposed to be flirting in the interviews, it was all for the movie. You were just falling all over Emilia for no reason. All those smiles and giggles." She declares angrily, making you bite back a smile. Lizzie naked, angry and jealous was hot as hell.

"I really can't believe we are having this conversation." You complain as you unbutton your pajama shirt. "The most absurd part of it all is you thinking I would have anything with anyone else."

"You say these things but don't live up to them with your actions." She retorts, annoyed. "I wouldn't think anything of it if you didn't flirt with other people!"

"I didn't flirt with anyone!" You return defensively, your blouse finally coming off. Lizzie's annoyed expression almost falters, but she keeps her gaze above your breasts as you take off your pants. "And honestly, none of this would be happening if everyone knew we were dating!"

Lizzie frowns, her anger finally dissipating with your sentence. You step into the shower stall with her, and she looks at you dubiously.

"You...you want to go public?" She asks, studying you as the water falls on her back. You swallow dryly, keeping yourself in front of her.

"Only if you want to."

Lizzie holds out her hand for you to take, and when you do, she pulls you gently until your breasts are almost touching.

"Do you think we're ready for that?" She whispers as your foreheads lean against each other. You sigh as you rest your hands on her waist.

"With you, I'm ready for anything, Lizzie."

She sighs against your lips, her hands moving up to your neck.

"I can't think about that with you naked in front of me." She mumbles before moving forward against his lips.

Kissing shouldn't feel this good.

You slide your tongue over hers a moment later, and you both sigh in need, feeling the effects of so much time apart. Your hands move down to her ass, squeezing the flesh and forcing her against you, and the direct contact of exposed skin makes Lizzie whimper.

You press her against the glass of the shower stall, feeling the shower water against your back as you hold your mouths together in a passionate, hungry kiss.

When air was needed, you ran your kisses down your girlfriend's exposed collarbone, enjoying the way she sighed in anticipation, her hand moving up to the back of your neck to encourage you.

"God, I missed you." You sighed before sucking on the sensitive spot on her collarbone, making Lizzie whimper as she dug her nails into your shoulder.

She pulled your face back to hers, kissing you urgently, and you pressed your body against hers, your hands moving down to her thighs and up so that she entwined her legs around your waist.

The contact of your exposed intimates together made you both gasp in the kiss, but you slid your tongue against hers again, savoring her taste as your hands moved up to her breasts, squeezing and cupping them with a full palm, your fingers playing with her hardened nipples and making Lizzie sigh wetly.

"What is it baby?" you teased when she was unable to keep up the pace of the kiss, throwing her head back as she felt your hands pressing her breasts hard, and Lizzie grunted as she bit her lips to keep from moaning, looking up at you with dark eyes, clearly struggling to keep her expression impassive. You smiled, pressing your hips forward and watching her close her eyes tightly, unable to contain a low moan that escaped her throat. "I want to hear you, baby."

"I'm still mad at you." She declares in an affected voice, and you murmur in understanding, lowering your face to her collarbone, and licking and kissing the skin, making her shiver.

"Is this angry sex, then?" You sneer as you move your hips forward again, the sensation bringing a rising wave of pleasure to both of you. "It doesn't seem like it."

Lizzie sighs impatiently, and puts her legs on the floor, pushing you away by your shoulder.

You are so stunned by the sudden break in contact that you barely have time to absorb her turning off the shower before she pulls you by the hand out of the stall.

You were about to ask what she was going to do, but she pushed you onto the bed, and disappeared into the closet.

"Lizzie?" You called out uncertainty, preparing your apology speech for what exactly you couldn't say. But she walked out next, and the sight made your mouth go dry. "Damn."

Elizabeth was wearing a strap-on, the rubber penis already fitted in the front and ready for use. And from the determined expression on her face, she was more than willing to prove to you that she was pissed.

"Fuck me." You breathed aroused by the view, and Lizzie gave a wry chuckle as she approached the bed.

"Oh, I will." It was her only warning before she broke the distance, kissing you fervently, her tongue exploring your mouth and pulling the air from your lungs, making you see stars.

You let out a low moan, moving your hands up to her waist to pull her to you, but Lizzie pushed your hands away, breaking the kiss and moving one hand up to your neck, squeezing lightly as she made you look at her.

"Knees, ass up." She commanded in a husky voice, her gaze glittering with lust, you bit your lips to keep from moaning again, feeling your pussy pulsate with desire as you obeyed, turning on the bed quickly as Lizzie positioned herself behind you. "I'll teach you not to flirt with other girls."

"I was n-fuck." Your speech turned into an horsy whimper as she suddenly penetrated you with the dildo, you were so wet that she had no problem at all, the toy slipping into your folds with ease, filling you completely. Lizzie chuckled breathlessly, her hands steadying your hips.

"God, you're so hot." She murmured, moving slowly inside you, the action making you clench your fists in the sheets and arch your back, your pussy clenching against the dildo.

"Fuck, Lizzie."

She thrust again, this time hard, her hands squeezing your hips as she went deep inside, making you moan loudly.

Before establishing a rhythm, she leaned against you, her hand coming up to your hair and pulling you back as she brought her mouth to your ear.

"You are mine." She whispered before she thrust hard inside you, making you moan. "Do you understand?"

"Not quite yet, try harder." You teased breathlessly, the pleasure at having the dildo all the way inside you making you half dizzy. Lizzie grunted angrily, this time stroking even harder, making you see stars as you whimpered, your body beginning to tremble.

"Quit being a brat or I'm going to fucking stop." She warned against your ear, thrusting more slowly this time, and you moaned breathlessly, barely able to keep your eyes open.

Lizzie set a slow pace, but thrusting hard as you moaned and whimpered, every time the dildo entered you making you even wetter and aroused, to the point that you were unable to hold back the loud moans, and she giggled.

"Look at you, a horny, begging mess." She sneered against your ear. "You are mine, and only mine."

She whispered, her strokes deep inside you. "I want you to remember that when you flirt with other girls. How good I make you feel."

You whimpered, your pussy clenching against the dildo for more, Lizzie keeping the strokes torturously slow. Seeing your state, she laughed softly, pulling out of you completely.

Before you had time to complain, she turned you over on the bed, spreading your legs as she bent down, thrusting deep inside you. Your moan died against her lips as she kissed you hard, laying against you as she buried the dildo inside you.

You could feel Lizzie everywhere. Her breasts against you, her lips on yours, and it was too much. She thrust hard again, deep and fast as you had your legs around her waist, and her tongue on yours, and you began to tremble in spasms, pleasure spreading throughout your body.

Lizzie smiled against your lips as you lost the ability to respond to the kiss, moaning and whimpering at the closeness of your climax. Her mouth moved down to your neck as she kept up the pace of the thrusts inside you, and your hands tightened around her waist, pulling on her hips for more friction.

It wasn't long before you fell over the edge, the tightness under your belly exploding, the pleasure spreading to the tips of your feet as you moaned against Lizzie's ear, crumbling under her.

As you tried to normalize your breathing after such an intense orgasm, she straightened to look at you, her eyes had adoration in them.

"You did so good." She praised against your lips. "Did you learn your lesson?"

"I did." You replied in a husky voice, taking a deep breath to control the effects of climax.

In one swift motion, you spun you two around on the bed, sighing as you felt the toy move inside you.

"Now you will learn to honor your appointments, Miss Olsen." You warned as your hands moved down to the latches of the strap, removing it as Lizzie bit her lips, looking at you with a mischievous gaze.

You shifted to remove the strap and toss the toy on the floor, returning to sit on Lizzie's lap, your mouth returning to hers immediately.

When she began to move beneath you, you smiled against her lips, pulling away as you rested your forehead against hers and let your fingers play with her wet entrance.

"Use your mouth." She asked breathlessly, her nails digging into your arm.

"My baby wants my mouth?" You teased, moving forward to lick her lips and pulling away with a short laugh when she moaned as she chased your mouth unsuccessfully. You circled her clitoris with your fingers, and Lizzie gasped. "The next time you want to get drunk, at least text me, my love." You warned as you penetrated her with two fingers at once, feeling her hot and slippery, while Lizzie moaned loudly against your mouth. "Do you understand?"

You removed your fingers, playing with her entrance until she nodded frantically, pushing her hips toward your hand. But you laughed lightly, pulling your hand away completely, and leaving her with a confused expression.

"I thought you wanted my mouth." You scoff, already ducking, as Lizzie looks at you expectantly.

"God, you always fuck me so good." Lizzie comments as you kiss her thighs, moving down. You smile against her skin, finally reaching her pussy.

You stare at her before moving forward, your tongue against her clitoris as she sighs with need.

"Don't torture me." She begs breathlessly, her wrists locked on the bed, you smile, lingeringly licking her, and she closes her eyes tightly.

"I won't, my love." You assure her before returning your mouth to her pussy, kissing her entrance before you begin to suck and lick, devouring her with desire.

She moans loudly, letting out affected sighs with each movement of your tongue inside her, and you hold her thighs to keep her open for you as you eat her out.

It doesn't take long for Lizzie to reach her edge, already near the limit from fucking you, but it's still delicious to have her crumbling against your mouth like a weeping mess, her orgasm on your tongue as she screams your name.

You climb your body back up onto her, and kiss her tenderly, unlike anything so far.

Lizzie is trying to control her breathing from the climax, but sighs in satisfaction as she tastes herself on your tongue.

As silence falls over you, you sigh lightly, your hands caressing her face.

"Are we okay, Lizzie?" You ask as you settle down to lie across from each other. She leans into the touch of your hands, as her hands come up to your waist.

"I don't know." She confesses. "But I want us to be."

You smile, using your finger to take a strand of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear.

"Do you think going public will make us better?"

"I don't want to love you in secret anymore." She says and you feel your heart soar. "Do you understand?"

You smile. "Yes, babe. I feel the same way."

She gives a relieved smile, her gaze passionate. You break the distance, and kiss her gently.

When you break the kiss a moment later, you look quickly at your bodies. "I think we should have this conversation with clothes on." You comment and Lizzie giggles.

"Later. Now I show how much I missed you in my bed." She says before bringing your lips together again.

You certainly wouldn't object to that.

//-//-//

Atlanta, three years ago.

You hesitated at the entrance to the restaurant.

Through the window you could see Lizzie, and all your cast mates, as it was the closing celebration of the WandaVision filming.

You swallowed hard, the object in your pocket suddenly becoming too heavy.

You startled slightly when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"I guess we're both late, huh?" Kathryn Hahn, your cast mate, remarked gently, putting her car keys away in her pocket clearly having arrived right with you.

You gave her a lopsided smile and she noticed your hesitation, assuming a worried expression.

"Everything okay?" She asked.

You shifted your gaze to the window again, watching Lizzie giggle shyly, her gaze shining slightly. She looked around too, searching, and you knew it was for you.

"Yeah, I just...I was just having a moment of doubt." You say still looking at Lizzie. Kathryn followed your gaze, and smiled, but didn't comment on it.

You sighed, reaching into your pocket and pulling out the object.

"Wow, are you going to...?" Kathryn asked in surprise but you gave a humorless laugh.

"No, I couldn't." You say swallowing dryly, and looking away from the velvet box. "I don't know if I'm ready."

"And when either of us are?" Kat returned, making you smile.

"How did you know you were going to say yes to your husband?" You asked next. Kathryn sighed thoughtfully.

"I didn't." She replied. "There's no way to know until you get asked. But what I did know was that I loved him. And that's what really matters."

You absorbed her words in silence, and then put the box back in your pocket.

"I think she loves me." You say. "That will be enough until I find the right moment."

Kat murmurs in understanding, and then pushes her shoulder against yours lightly.

"Just don't wait too long." She warns with a smile, nodding her head signaling for the two of you to enter the restaurant and join the rest of the team.

When you enter, any thoughts of Lizzie denying your marriage proposal are driven out by the image of her contented smile when she sees you arrive.

//-//-//-//

A/F/N> I'm not even gonna try to say this is the last time i'm continuing this work because at this point, I just know I don't believe my own words anymore haha. Tell me what you think people.

Tag> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight

[taechaos]

No More

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: dark romance, college au

synopsis: Perhaps love isn’t all you need to be with Jungkook. Maybe it's a sign you and him weren't meant to be.

warnings: fluff, daddy kink, public sex, degredation, mild angst

word count: 6.7k

a/n: dedicated to a good old gemini, known as pretzel anon. happy birthday! this was shit! 💞 can someone let me know if i made a stupid mistake i was really high while writing this lol

If every couple goes at their own pace, how does one know if the relationship is rushed or a slow burn? What is considered a date, and how many do you have to go on to stop calling it a date? Maybe there’s a book called Dating for Dummies.

Jungkook has taken you out once: a fast food meal on the curb across your campus. Romance is subjective, so you thought it to be very romantic when he fed you a french fry under the streetlights while you were too stuffed to finish your food. “I paid for it,” he’d said, “so you have to eat it all.”

“I’ll eat anything from your hand,” you’d replied bashfully. He got a bit awkward after that, and you regretted saying it until he began feeding you and even holding your drink to your mouth. It was a successful first date, but you wanted it to last longer; feel your heartbeat out of rhythm with every smile he threw at you until the sun came up. Unfortunately for you, he walked you to your dorm a little after dinner.

Luckily for you, you know that wasn’t your first and last date. You’re going to ask him out for the second one because it’s a beautiful day outside and you’ve studied all morning for your finals to clear up your schedule for Jungkook. A walk in the park sounds nice, then a picnic, maybe he’ll even hold your hand! Is it too soon for another date though? It’s only been less than a day… 

You’re wearing your favorite outfit for the occasion: a pale blue floral dress that has a rectangular collar on the chest—without cleavage, God forbid—and sandal heels to match. You even styled your hair, and hopefully dressing to impress works; you don’t want him to say no. The current issue is finding Jungkook, and you don’t want to be that person, but you’re avoiding calling him in case you bust him with another girl by searching instead. It makes you guilty for having trust issues, but infidelity has its impacts.

Regardless of your internal concerns, you’re happily humming as you skip on the sidewalk, checking every corner for a certain someone. So far no such luck, and if he isn’t in his dorm, and if he doesn’t go off campus on Sundays, where could he be? In someone else’s dorm…?

“Stop,” you scold yourself with a roll of your eyes and continue your hunt. Next location: the back of the building. The front is cleared out, so is the dorm; what’s happening in the most secretive area? “God,” you sigh. Is this how your thinking process has always been? You hope it is.

The beat in your steps has gone missing when you’re rounding the exterior of the building because of your reluctance. You’re contemplating calling him until you see the back of a man with a girl in front of him by the benches, presumably kissing from the smacking noises. You clench your phone in your dress pocket as you watch them, hesitant to find out who the guy is.

“Jun–” Your voice goes quiet when you see the tattoo of a dragon on his shoulder, peeking out from his black loose tank top. It’s not Jungkook’s tattoo. You bite your lip and ignore the relief in your tight muscles; he’s dating you now, that’s what he said. It’s different, so there’s no point in worrying about his loyalty. 

You shake your hands off and walk faster to the taboo spot. There’s no point in worrying, there isn’t, not when he told you he would make it up to you. There’s no reason for your heart to race from expecting the worst when you make the final turn.

A shaky breath leaves you and a small smile follows when you see him smoking with his friends by the back exit. There are four people with him, Taehyung included, who is sharing a cigarette with him. He notices you first because he’s facing you whereas Jungkook is facing the clear forest across. He waves you over with a wide grin, his eyes lighting up.

“I see a pretty girl at 9 o’clock,” Taehyung says and Jungkook turns his head, the rest following his lead. You take tiny strides while approaching them and bite down on a shy smile.

“Hi,” you greet in a small voice. Your eyes immediately lock with Jungkook’s, who looks baffled.

“Hey yourself,” Taehyung greets back. “Care to share?” He holds a burning cigarette out to you with a slight bow, as if offering you a rose.

“She doesn’t smoke,” Jungkook answers for you without looking away. Is he displeased?

“Have you ever tried it?” he persists before inhaling the stick and blowing it in your face. You cough and hold a fist to your mouth, shaking your head. Jungkook slaps the back of his head before taking the cigarette from him and putting it out on the wall he’s leaning against. “You owe me a whole pack now.”

“Care to introduce us?” a guy you don’t know asks curiously. 

“Oh, right–”

Jungkook cuts him off before putting names onto the three strangers’ faces, Namjoon being the one who asked for the introduction, and when he comes to you, he says, “Meet… my girlfriend.”

“Thought you said she was a lousy nerd, Taehyung,” Yoongi comments before chugging from his flask. “Doesn’t look like it to me.” Taehyung chuckles uncomfortably before rubbing the nape of his neck as you tilt your head at him, the glint in your eyes never fading at Jungkook’s words.

“I didn’t get a close look at her before, didn’t know she was a real beauty,” he recovers with a flirt. Another slap on the back of his head. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Seokjin diverts the topic. He appears very nice and seems to be the only one not smoking. His friendly smile puts you at ease and you politely tell him, “The pleasure is all mine.” Good first impression on all of Jungkook’s friends: check.

Your boyfriend ignores the interaction and stares at you until you gaze at him as well. “What are you doing here?” You can’t read his expression.

“I wanted to ask you…” you play with your fingers nervously, “if you wanted to go to the park with me?”

Jungkook quirks a brow as Namjoon and Seokjin wiggle their brows, Taehyung frowns, and Yoongi smirks. Quite brave of you to ask him out in front of his smoker friends, and it’s impressive that you play into such a role of textbook love: only caring about what your crush thinks. When Jungkook peeks to see their reactions, more or less weighing their judgement, he’s satisfied when he realizes none of them give a flying fuck about him being with a girl next door; someone outside of his type of rather than a free escort, really. 

He doesn’t care about what they think when he smiles down at you and says, “Let’s go.” You bounce on your heels when he swings his arm over your shoulder and walks away from the scene. The unsteady heartbeat is back for the same reason as last time, but you’re waiting to request something else.

The park near the university is peaceful with groups of friends hanging out; couples sitting on benches; the sun shining down on the trees and grass as you aim for the ice cream stand. You try to muster up the courage to ask him first, but you’re feeling courageous as you pull away from his arm and instead latch onto his hand and intertwine your fingers. You glance at him with a blush to see his reaction, but he doesn’t look at you and only squeezes your hand nonchalantly. His grip is tighter than yours. Maybe it’s from the heat, but his cheeks are tinted in a light pink shade. 

You stumble on your heels when you stare at him for too long, but you recover from a fall last second. He holds onto you anyway, furrowing his brows at your shoes. “High heels? Are you trying to reach my height?”

“You like them,” you giggle and continue your struts more carefully. When he frowns, you worry, “Do I not look good in them?” 

“Why would I like them if you can’t walk in them? You look pretty in flats too.” 

After a whole afternoon of eating ice cream, blushing at anything nice Jungkook said, listening to his music while sitting under the sun, the evening has come. Throughout the day, you were dreading the end of it because every second with him is so enjoyable. The warmth of his hand when you play with his fingers is a feeling you never want to forget, and you didn’t notice the little smile on his face when you were lying on his chest as he watched you do the most endearing and innocent thing one could think of. 

“So precious,” he’d thought. It makes the argument from yesterday feel all the more terrifying when he remembers how close he had gotten to losing this moment. It’s nothing he’s ever experienced or even seen before; plain jackpot.

You’re off the school grounds as you walk on the streets passing cafés with Jungkook, hands locked and feeling perfect. You wonder if he has ever done this with anyone before, but then he’s never been in a relationship. Who are the people that comment in his Instagram posts then? A question strikes you, and you admire his side profile as you ask, “You don’t like it when people call you– Ah!” Your balance wavers as you stumble again, this time falling on your knees after your ankle bends. With the pain tolerance of a baby’s, your eyes instantly water and you let go of his hand as you hold onto your ankle. It’s sprained.

“Shit, are you okay?” He crouches down and picks you up bridal style before sitting you down on a nearby chair. The café’s lights allow him to see the scrape on your knee and the bump on your ankle. “Hey, hey, don’t cry now,” he rubs your injury soothingly as he cringes at your tears. He doesn’t know how to comfort you as you whimper and sniffle. 

“Damn these heels,” you cry quietly. 

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at your wording. “This is my second time hearing you swear. Swearing apparently helps with pain though. Say ‘fuck’.”

A chuckle leaves your mouth, but you decide to try it anyway; the throbbing muscle hurts too much. “F-Fuck.”

“Fuck these heels,” he encourages.

“Fuck these fucking heels,” you level. Maybe the theory is correct, because it feels slightly better when he laughs at your rare vulgarity. A minute passes with you trying to keep your tears at bay while he lightly massages your wound.

When he notices you calm down, he asks, “I don’t like it when people call me…?”

You sniffle and rub your eyes before saying a few seconds later, “Daddy.”

He blinks, stares at you, and his heart skips a beat. With your soft pout and red nose, you look so little to him. “... Yes?”

“Huh?”

“Oh,” he smoothly snaps out of his shock, “I don’t have that kink… Um, say it again?”

“Daddy?” 

It sounds different hearing it from you. Without the drawn out whine or the eggplant emoji next to it, and with your voice, it actually sounds cute. “What does that word mean to you?” he shifts the conversation with a subtle blush.

“I don’t know. You call a fatherly figure daddy, right? A man who takes care of you. People say it during sex too. You’re being a daddy right now.”

“Stop,” he warns lowly, “we’re in public.” He stands up from his kneeling position and picks you up in his arms again. “Have you ever called anyone that?” 

You clasp your hands behind his neck as he walks with ease, as if he isn’t carrying anyone in the first place. “No. My dad walked out on my mom when I was little, and I haven’t met anyone who treats me like you do.”

“Wait, you… think of me as your… daddy?” His eyes are wide and he’s gaping at the path in front of him with knitted brows. He looks so intimidating when you scrutinize his features, but you know he’s just flustered. You timidly nod against his shoulders. “Christ. Why?”

Your answer isn’t immediate because you don’t want to come off as too strong, but he’s impatient as he squeezes your waist. “I know you don’t want people to call you that,” you whisper understandingly, “but you’re so mean to others, and you hurt anyone who upsets you.” He rolls his tongue around his cheek uncomfortably. “Whether it be with words or actions. But you’re so sweet to me… You can be really rude, but you care a lot too. You don’t even smoke around me,” you laugh lightheartedly. 

“I mean, you are a baby. You make it difficult to not treat you like one,” he jokes with a hint of truth. You snuggle into his neck with a lopsided grin and your breath fans his tan skin. “I don’t like being an asshole to you, but I’m not exactly a nice person either.”

“You’re carrying me to my dorm,” you point out as a counter.

“I’m only nice to you; somewhat. And… I don’t like being called daddy by horny women, or men for that matter. I’ve never liked it, so I’m not exactly sure why I’m hard right now.” You tense against him. “Something about your sweet, innocent voice calling me daddy is really fucking hot.” He sighs to collect his thoughts; he can’t wait until he’s in your room. It would just be torture. “Did you get on birth control, baby?” He keeps his volume low in case of someone eavesdropping.

“Yes,” you mumble and grow nervous at what he’s thinking.

“Good girl,” he exhales and swiftly enters an empty alley between two restaurants. “Quite the slut too, telling me all this in a crowd.”

“I’m sorry,” you breathe as he presses you against the wall and has you wrapping your legs around his waist. He’s so thoughtful, carrying you even when he’s shaming you so you don’t put pressure on your injured foot. The shadows casting from the walls in the narrow space limits your vision, but you don’t need to see anything when he’s doing all the work by rendering you immobile from the press of his hips.

“Good choice with the dress,” he says while pulling out his belt and releasing the buckle. You hold onto him tightly without the security of his hands. He pushes his jeans down and has you towering over him by adjusting your position from the back of your thighs. Your breathing is quick and shallow from the anxious anticipation of the raw stretch, but he’s so nice to you today: he shoves your panties to the side and rubs your folds to collect your arousal as lube. He’s being thoughtful by relaxing your walls with his fingers first, and you bite down on a moan at the sensation. He’s still taking care of you by silencing you with a bruising kiss. 

“Thank you,” you sigh against his lips. His two knuckles are deep inside you as they curl and scissor. As nice as he is, he’s also very impatient and it’s not long before you feel his tip lightly poking at your entrance. 

“Ideal for a quick fuck.” He flashes a dazzling smile before it falters in order to concentrate on positioning himself. He closes his eyes and bites his lip as he slowly enters you, a lot more gentle considering the setting and knowing how vocal you get. A hum rumbles in his throat as you gasp when he’s halfway inside. When he bottoms out, he waits a few seconds for you to adjust before his rough nature returns. “You gonna stay quiet for me, little girl?”

“I’ll try.” Your heart is pounding in your chest when he leans in your ear, his breath tickling your neck. 

“You know that’s not what I wanna hear,” he whispers. He isn’t going to fuck you until you say what he wants, and your diffidence doesn’t make an appearance when his fingers are digging so hard into your thighs, his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s completely nestled inside you.

You lean into his ear as well, and meekly say, “I’ll try my best, daddy.” You can feel him shiver under your hands and hear him grunt, “God,” before he starts moving. Fast. You’d think he’s in a rush from how his pace picked up so quickly—roughly—but he may have just discovered his new kink. 

There’s no point in being quiet when the slam of his cock is enough noise deep in the alley, and he realizes that before you do. You’re bouncing in his arms, mouth open in a silent scream with only huffs leaving to not expose your doings, until he growls, “Say it again. Again and again.”

The chilly breeze from the night weather doesn’t affect you when he has you flush against him, and heat creeps all over your body not only from his hard and impatient thrusts but also from his words. “Daddy,” you whine, the same drawn out whine that he used to hate hearing; it makes his abs contract and clench now, a groan catching in his throat. He sounds almost animalistic, and your eyes screw back in pleasure. 

“Quiet, you fucking slut,” he reminds with a following moan. 

“I-I’m sorry, daddy,” you whisper in a strained voice. You can’t keep your vocal cords steady when he’s knocking the breath out of you every time he hits your cervix so deliciously. Jungkook’s a total paradox when he’s being so aggressive yet sweet at the same time, but it feels too good for you to complain. Your head is in the clouds when he bites on your shoulder to practice what he preaches: being quiet. 

“Do you love me?” Maybe that’s not the way you should go on about asking to hear his sweet nothings, because he bites you so hard that you feel his teeth break your skin. 

“The fuck kind of question is that?” he snarls. He licks a drop of your blood off of his lips when he faces you, but the bruising pistoning of his cock doesn’t differ; maybe slams into you even harder. “Hm? Answer me, dumb little slut.” He pinches your thigh cruelly, emitting a pained gasp from you.

 “I just want to hear you say it, please daddy,” you mewl. “I love you so much.”

“Keep fucking begging.”

You initially thought Jungkook became more honest and affectionate when you’re being intimate, but it seems that one word brings out a different side to him: wild and sadistic. Perhaps there are two sides of him being a daddy, one not so much of a fatherly figure. Controlling, dominating, and violent. You’ve received too many bruises in one night.

“Please, please, please, pretty please,” you comply in a cry and hug him tighter.

“Missing something,” he tuts with a breathless laugh. “I love you, stupid girl, more than anything.” He stops ramming into you, and the drag of his throbbing length loses its pace but not its strength. “So, so fucking much,” he strains before slamming into you one last time for his release. With him stuck brushing against your sensitive spot and his shaky moan, your lashes flutter and you clench down on him with the intoxicating wave of your orgasm coursing through your trembling figure. You whimper his name as his cum fills you, the warmth coating your walls while you lose your sense of awareness. 

“Stand on one leg,” he breathes. You know he’s referring to your safe foot, so you disentangle your legs from his waist and stand. The only sound aside from the drown out dialogues from the restaurants nearby is your panting. Though he’s just as drained of energy as you are, he adjusts your dress and underwear for you, even fixing your hair before he pulls up his pants and lifts you. “Don’t call me that around others by the way– especially Taehyung.”

“I promise,” you assure with a chuckle.

The next day, a dreadful Monday, is not so bad when you get to link with your boyfriend and other friends by your usual spot on the benches. You don’t have a lot of lectures throughout the day, and you sit next to Jungkook who’s chatting with Taehyung and Yoongi after your long morning lecture in the afternoon. You peck his cheek as a greeting with a lovesick grin, and the former annoyed look on his face vanishes when he sees you. Soyeon and Minnie are close by, and thankfully there’s no tension between anyone. You’re forgiving, but you aren’t going to forget.

“So you two are actually back together, huh?” Taehyung says with a mocking smile. “What goes around comes around, Kookie.”

“Taehyung, you’re not making this any easier on yourself,” Yoongi murmurs.

Jungkook scoffs and rolls his tongue around his cheek—an irritated habit. “Well then Tae, I’m going to be polite and ask you to not be a homewrecker.”

“I have been hanging around Soyeon too much lately…” he jokes with a tilt of his head.

“Don’t turn this on me,” she says with a quirked brow, tone as soft as Jungkook remembers. You sit back and sigh at their bickering. “I didn’t know his name, you have no excuse to be flirting with her.”

“He isn’t–” You can’t get a word in when Jungkook agrees, “She’s fucking right, you know. Stop tailing around me to get a look up at her skirt.”

“I am not–"

“Oh for God’s sake,” Yoongi sighs like you do. Both of you share a guilty look, apologizing on each other’s behalf. It’s only when you start tracing the tattoos on Jungkook’s arm that he finally looks at you.

“You like it?” he asks, a bit smugly. You nod with a tiny smile. His tongue darts out to lick his lips before he pecks yours, and says, “I’ll add your name to the collection. Thinking of inking my knuckles.”

A blush from his kiss, and a bashful smile from his idea graces your face when you cutely pout, “No…” He laughs at your very obviously fake denial and closes in on you, teasing in a whisper, “Yeah? You like that?”

“Look at you two being so adorable,” Taehyung interrupts with a dreamy sigh, “but I want ice cream.” He holds his hands up by his elbows on the oak table and leans his face on them with fluttering eyelashes. “Kookie? Ice cweam? Pwease?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jungkook winces at the disgustingly cutesy face he makes, and you release a humoured breath at the friendlier banter. “Go buy it yourself, moron.”

“I don’t have money and I want her tea on how you two made up,” he flutters his lashes again with his fingers intertwined; begging so silly. “Pretty please.”

“Now I’m definitely not going to leave you alone with her.”

“Baby,” you interject, and his eyes widen at the nickname. “I want ice cream too.”

He flashes a quick glare at Taehyung, easily giving into your needs with a sigh. “You’re paying, fuckface.” He snatches his wallet the moment it’s out of his pocket and walks off while spinning it between his fingertips.

“He stole my fucking wallet,” he frowns without offence. “Oh well. So…” his eyes trail to you with a mischievous glint, “you never smoked before, right?”

You shake your head, a bit curious—albeit amused—as to where he’s going with this. 

“You wanna know something? Jungkook reeeaaally likes smokers,” he stretches his hands for emphasis. It piques your interest, and you raise a brow. “I can teach you. We have to do it fast, before he comes from the store. Okay?”

“Um… okay,” you laugh as he switches seats from across you to Jungkook’s spot. 

He takes out his pack where his lighter is also stuffed as he speaks, “So what I’m gonna do is teach you how to shotgun.”

“You can’t do that with a cigarette,” Yoongi states in boredom, a plain contrast to Taehyung’s hyperactivity. “Don’t listen to him. He’s lying to you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck– okay, sorry, didn’t mean to say that.” He turns to you with glimmering excitement, “It’ll be easier on you if we do it with a shotgun.” You merely shrug because you don’t even know what that means. He sticks a cigarette in his mouth before holding up a hand to his lighter, inhaling until the tip burns. Smoke flies past his lips as he explains, “You inhale from the filter, but don’t inhale too much. You’re going to cough, maybe feel a little lightheaded since it’s your first time, but try to hold it in, okay?” 

Taehyung peeks behind Yoongi before shifting his attention to you. He takes another drag from the cigarette but doesn’t exhale. “Okay,” you say with a nod, sharing his excitement at a new experience that Jungkook could potentially approve of. You can rely on Taehyung’s honesty, though the bad memory from before leaves a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you’re ready to create better memories with him. He flips the stick until the filter is between your lips.

He wraps his lips around the tip and your eyebrows shoot up at the proximity. He holds your face between his large palms, and the cigarette is hidden behind his hands. He leans closer and nods at you, and you take the cue to inhale. You hear Yoongi blow out a deep breath just as you take in a shallow one. The urge to cough strikes you instantly, and you hold it in the best you can; your cheeks puff out as you slightly wheeze, and smoke leaves from both your mouth and nose. That’s when Taehyung pulls back, the intense eye contact gone, and you hear Yoongi scoff and the heavy footsteps of someone else. You cough into your hand when Taehyung slips it out of your mouth and holds it under the table.

“What the fuck?” Jungkook asks incredulously and throws three wrapped popsicles on the bench. You feel slightly dizzy when your small coughing fit ends, and you grow confused as to why your boyfriend is glaring at you with such intensity as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and Taehyung.

“Had to take you up on the homewrecker offer–” Taehyung’s sentence is cut off when Jungkook pulls him up by his collar, hesitates with his fist flying midway, then forcefully pushes him onto the pavement instead. He’s also confused– frantic, and doesn’t know what to do.

You’re semi-conscious of what he’s doing, but consuming nicotine for the first time leaves you feeling quite strange. You feel like you’ll stumble if you try to stand up, and slur if you speak, so you just wait it out.

“What– Why are you just sitting there?” he asks you with violent gestures. “What the fuck?” He holds onto his head, and all of your friends are quiet as they watch him. They must have missed you smoking for the first time. Yoongi waits for him to stop pacing.

“It’s not what you think, Jungkook,” Yoongi calmly tells him. What is he thinking though? “I know it looked–”

“The fuck it did! Right fucking in front of me? How the fuck are you so calm?” he yells. 

“Hm?” you say. He watches you in astonishment: bottom lip jutting out and brows scrunched. If he didn’t see you shamelessly kissing Taehyung out in the open, he would be doubting his own vision because of how unbothered you seem. It bewilders him; why aren’t you reacting at all?

“They weren’t–”

“It took almost one fucking week of dating for you to resort to this?” Taehyung is still on the ground as he sends you a warning glance, Yoongi is unbothered by the ordeal because he’s constantly interrupted, and Jungkook is fuming at you while you just sit there.

“I was just curious,” you relate to the cigarette that is still lit beneath the grass next to Taehyung.

An astounded laugh is his only response as Taehyung smiles at you, but you’re only looking at Jungkook. “And here I thought, like a fucking idiot, that you were the only girl unlike my mother. And you,” he looks at his old friend with menace, “show your face around me, and I won’t hold back again. God, I need to kill someone,” he sighs before storming off. So he doesn’t like cigarettes?

When the fog in your mind begins to clear up, you stand to go after him just as Taehyung blocks your path. “I need to tell him I won’t smoke again,” you try to push him aside, but he doesn’t budge.

He laughs. “It’s not about that. He thinks you and I kissed because I made it look like it.” Just as you’re about to confront him, he clarifies, “Listen, I just want his reaction on this, okay? Don’t you want him to feel how you felt when he kissed your friend?”

“I’m over that.”

“Are you though?” No, you aren’t. “Aren’t you paranoid? All nervous when he’s around other girls? Or even when he’s just not around you?” Your silence prompts him to continue, “You’ll truly forgive him if you take revenge. You know he won’t do it again if he feels the same way you felt.”

“But that’s cruel…” you try to reason.

“And what he did wasn’t?” 

Like the little devil on your shoulder, he enters your mind and reads it for his own agenda. What is his intention? Do what he couldn’t do with his ex? Is he… helping you? What he did was bad, so why aren’t you calling him out for it?

“What do I do?” you dodge his question. He knows the answer anyway.

He smiles with satisfaction. “Let’s talk it over a few cigarettes, hm?”

Back to square one– no, square zero. At square one, you could at least interact with Jungkook, do his homework and have him kiss you when he was satisfied; you don’t have anything to do with him now. Taehyung warned you of this, told you Jungkook would start seeing other people and avoid you unless he wanted to hurt you. How he knows him so well is beyond you, because that’s exactly what happens in the next four days.

You watch him from afar like before, see that scowl on his face that you haven’t seen in a long time after you met. Only two aspects have changed: the eye contact and Taehyung’s lack of presence around him. Jungkook’s eyes are always on you, filled with so much disdain and hatred, even when he’s kissing another girl. Smoking stops you from crying because of how dizzy you get, and Taehyung is always with you – waiting. Both of you are waiting for Jungkook to do something, and it’s a surprise Taehyung still hasn’t been beaten to a pulp for just talking to you.

Maybe it’s a sign that you and him weren’t meant to be. In the span of a short while when you were together, only problems have surfaced. So much misery and anger in a relationship isn’t normal; it’s toxic. But you wait anyway.

“Look at him glaring at you with a girl on his lap,” Taehyung chuckles before lighting up his cigarette. He’s leaning on the wall next to the campus entrance with you.

“Nothing new,” you croak and take a drag from yours, coughing again. It’s déjà vu, if anything. One has to learn from their mistakes to reach success, right? This situation is just one of them for the better of your relationship. Has to be. 

“Worldstar,” he sings with a laugh. “I kind of miss hanging out with him, though; and the rest of my friends.”

“Yeah.” You can’t exactly pay your utmost attention to his words when you’re having a staring contest with Jungkook, who is practically devouring the unidentified girl’s mouth. It doesn’t sting as much as long as he has his eyes on you because you know what it means now: he’s trying to make you jealous. You didn’t know that before, but you didn’t know Jungkook as well as you do now before either. 

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“You somehow always do.”

Your reply humors him. “You want to go up to him, tell him what I did. But you know I’ll stop you.” His eyes squint as his cheeks hollow to inhale the nicotine. It’s a Marlboro Red, not exactly fit for a starter like yourself. You hate that you can’t even stand without using the wall as a leverage, but the effect is a necessary distraction.

 “Why are you… so invested in this?”

He shrugs. “It may not seem like it, but it’s going to help strengthen your bond. It also gives you enough time to stop liking him and fall for me instead, but that’s just a plus.”

“What?” you slur. The cigarette is hanging on for dear life between your fingertips because of how weak you feel.

“We should kiss– for real this time,” he blurts. “He’ll talk to you sooner. God, I really want to kiss you.” He drops his stick before grabbing your face and softly crashing his lips against yours. You don’t close your eyes, you don’t really do much of anything while he does what he wants. It goes on for twenty seconds before he slowly pulls back. “He’ll talk to you tonight,” he exhales. “You’re welcome.” He pecks you again.

You finally close your eyes and your head hangs limply. “You’re the real problem,” you murmur, “you keep tearing us apart. The villain.”

“That kiss was on me,” he admits, “but I’m just making you face reality. Sometimes you have to be the bad guy, right? Only reason I can smoke with you is because Jungkook cares a fuckton about me. I’ll make it up to you as well, when your relationship isn’t a fucking lie.”

Couples go at their own pace, don’t they? Maybe this is how long it’s supposed to take for you to be one with your betrayed boyfriend. This is the real beginning; Taehyung is just the catalyst. 

You see it when Taehyung is gone and Jungkook isn’t kissing back anymore. He isn’t even glaring. He’s just blank.

Perhaps love isn’t all you need to be with Jungkook.

It’s late in the evening and the nicotine still hasn’t worn off. You haven’t moved an inch from your spot and neither has Jungkook from a distance, still on the same curb across. The girl left when she didn’t receive any responses from him for a minute straight. An emotionless “fuck off” was enough for her to angrily storm off.

You have no idea where Taehyung went and you’re sitting on the ground with your knees to your chest and hands on your sides. Jungkook is staring at you from the bench. You just need to wait because he’s going to approach you like his friend told you.

People aren’t in the yard so it’s mostly empty in the open space. The lights from the streets and inside the building you have your back against don’t allow you to see your boyfriend clearly enough. He doesn’t have an issue with making out your features though. That kicked puppy expression on your face is drawing him, but he hasn’t been cruel enough.

It’s been difficult treating you like shit, so he doesn’t bother. It’s pathetic anyway, more pathetic than having smeared lip gloss on his mouth that he hasn’t wiped off. He knows he shouldn’t be so immature – he’s twenty years old. He’s old enough to be able to communicate, but no one’s been making it easy for him.

He has to decide whether he wants to be with you or just end it all before he feels any worse. 

As the saying goes, no pain – no gain.

Jungkook slides down the wall and sits next to you after trudging in your way. It’s silent at first, and he doesn’t return your gaze when you look at him. You wait, and so does he. But he’s more impatient than you are; more hurt. 

“What did you see in him, for God’s sake?” His voice is tired; words merely a sigh. You stay patient. “I mean, right after I opened up to you? Why?”

“I was paranoid,” you croak quietly, as if you’re about to faint, “terrified of you being with someone else. Maybe if you felt what I felt…”

He lightly shakes his head. “No, you didn’t think of that on your own. You didn’t kiss him either.” You lean your head on his shoulder. “You didn’t want to smoke, didn’t want any of this to happen. What are you doing, my love?”

You sigh. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t do anything.” The issue is that you let yourself be manipulated and molded into anything Jungkook likes, but he’s never told you what he likes. “All I know is loving you. That’s it,” you shrug tiredly, “that’s all I do. Everything I do, I do for you.”

“I’ll ask you for one thing– okay, two. Scrub your fucking lips and never talk to that piece of shit again. I’m not friends with good people,” he turns to you, “I don’t want you around them. I’m stuck in a constant cycle of toxicity and you’re the only good fucking thing in my life right now. I don’t want you to smoke or talk with my friends.”

“Then why do you?”

He stammers, “I-I’m used to it, I don’t fucking know. I know how to protect myself, but you’re too… untainted for them. Look at us, we don’t even fucking dress similarly. You and I have nothing in common.” He huffs to himself and looks up to the sky. “If you know what’s good for you–”

“You are good for me,” you interject.

“Don’t fucking lie to yourself,” he scoffs at you, “I’m anything but good for you. Do I give a fuck though? No. I’m selfish, and I don’t want to lose you. But if you–”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

Another moment of silence passes. He’s the one to break it again. “I don’t want to have an issue like this ever again. No more infidelity, or whatever the fuck, no more silence. Communication, right?”

“Right. And no more getting involved with your social life.”

“Thank you,” he bows his head and licks his lips with a sigh. “I can’t deal with this again. I don’t want to leave like my dad, whore around like my mom; I just want to have normal fucking relationship problems.” His anxiety translates to his body language: nibbling, knee bouncing, cracking knuckles. He doesn’t like to talk about his family, friends or even you. You’re calmer in comparison. “Tell me… we’ll start over.”

“I’m not resetting my love for you,” you playfully nudge him.

The corner of his mouth curls. “Not like that. Let’s go back to you doing my homework.”

“Really?”

“I missed a fucking assignment today, okay?” he laughs. “I want to forget about all of this sad shit, you ever meeting my friends, Sooyen or whatever, all of it. Just you and me, okay?”

“Set our own pace,” you add with a nod. “No one interfering with our… bullshit.”

“Don’t fucking swear,” he puts a hand over your mouth and pushes your face with a wide grin. You giggle with him. 

Now that Taehyung and Soyeon’s over, there’s nothing left to chance with the involvement of someone else. Trust blooms instead, and it’s not so bad when Jungkook shares a cigarette with you as you take tiny puffs per his instruction. You are safe with him; not dizzy, lightheaded, manipulated, nothing. 

You’re happy, and so is he. Maybe that was the intention, but it means nothing. Taehyung sought vengeance through your relationship, and that’s that. No one can hold Jungkook against you when he’s in the palm of your hands, ready to tell you more than anyone else can offer. 

Jungkook’s love and trust: check.

When he flicks off the ash of his cigarette, you snuggle into him and whisper, “I love you daddy.” His ring glimmers under the moonlight as he pets your hair.

“Love you more, babygirl.”

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 1)

summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.  

word count: 2875

warnings: smut... sort of (oral f receiving), voyeurism/exhibitionism (kinda?), touch of angst, lots of pining and awkwardness, jealous bucky being jealous, alcohol use (reader gets drunk)

Nothing annoyed you like being surrounded by stylists and being primped and prodded for hours at a time.  It made you feel claustrophobic to be touched so much: makeup artists only inches from your face, tailors watching you change, hairstylists nearly spraying you in the eye or burning you on the forehead every few minutes.

Not to mention how uncomfortable it was to actually be in the whole get-up once they were done.

But, such was the nature of a red carpet event.  This one was going to be particularly bland because it wasn't even a premiere or awards event but a launch party for a perfume campaign.  How lame is that?  It's one of those things that really only exists so that there can be pictures of it to put in a magazine, because they're always running out of good pictures of celebrities to publish.

Finally all dolled up to the point that you didn't look even very much like yourself anymore, your assistant accompanied you downstairs and into your driveway where your car was waiting; and, more importantly, its driver and your driver, Bucky.

He was a gruff sort of guy; certainly a man of few words and many brooding glares.  Sometimes you thought he didn't like you— like maybe he resented your fame or something— but then he'd turn around and be so sweet all of a sudden and you didn't know what to think.  For one, he demanded to open the door for you every time you got out of the car.  Sometimes he even extended his hand for you to grab on to, which was especially useful for red carpet events when you were usually wearing skinny heels that were impossible to balance on.

Such was the case tonight as well, and you smiled up at him as he helped you out of the car and up towards the steps of the venue.

"Thank you," you smiled at him, and he barely smiled back.

"Have a good night, madam," he suggested, a formal stuffiness to the way he addressed you.

You nodded,  "You too!"  That made you pause, though, because you weren't sure what his night would entail at all.  "Say, what is it that you do when I'm at an event like this?"

He seemed confused by your question.  "Um, I sit in the car and wait until you're ready to leave."

Guilt seared in your chest and you frowned.  "That's it?  You don't, like, go out?  Catch a movie?"

"Nope.  That would prevent me from doing my other job, which is watching the points of entry to make sure there aren't any threats to security going in."

"Right…" you trailed off.  "You could always come in, you know, grab some free drinks and stuff."

"I thought you didn't want any of your team following you around at events."

"Yeah, don't follow me around, just mingle and kill some time!"

Bucky shook his head.  "If I'm not there as your driver or as your security, then I'm not there."

You shrugged.  "Suit yourself, but please feel free to, like, get some food or whatever you wanna do while I'm in there!  Don't just wait on me!"

He smiled, but it looked a little rehearsed. "Thank you, madam."

You realized he'd been holding your hand through the entire conversation, cause you'd asked him your question midway through getting out of the car.  Awkwardly, you finally dropped his hand and waved goodbye, escorting yourself up the last few steps and into the door.

God, he must think I'm such a freak.

//

God, she must think I'm such a freak.

Bucky munched on the sandwich he'd had delivered (yes, to the car, how else was he supposed to get it?) as he dutifully watched the entrance.  Against your advice, he had every intention of just sitting around and waiting for you, but he wasn't bored; he had a Mets game on the radio to keep him company.

"— top of the third, bases loaded, DeGrom is at the plate with one swing left aaaaaand… he strikes out!"

"Shit," Bucky grumbled to himself around a mouthful of pastrami.

Glancing up, he saw someone stumbling out of the party: squinting, he realized it was you.  He looked at the clock with a furrowed brow, noticing it was a little earlier than he'd thought you'd leave, but then he saw that there was someone with you… a guy.

Bucky set his sandwich down and turned the key in the ignition as he watched you pull your phone out of your clutch— ostensibly to text him to bring the car around, but he was already ahead of you, quickly exiting the parking lot and circling the building so he could pull up at the steps.  He was about to get out to open the door for you but this random guy did it instead, before tumbling in after you.

"That tickles!" you protested with a giggle as your new friend started to kiss your neck, his hands all over you before Bucky had even gotten the car moving.

You were too drunk and distracted to notice that the partition was still open.  Of course Bucky had considered closing it, in fact he wanted more than anything to close it so he wouldn't have to see this, but some sick part of his brain needed to see it.  How else could he know if something went wrong and he had to get back there and stop it?  How else would he keep you safe?

How else would he get to find out how you sound when you're being touched like this?

He couldn't see too well with it being the middle of the night and all, but every time he drove past a streetlamp or particularly bright neon sign, the colorful glow would shine in and cast light over your neck where your head had fallen back in pleasure; or your collarbones, exposed where your dress had been pulled down; or your chest, rising quickly with the speed of your panting breaths.

Ogling you in the rearview mirror made him feel like a total creep, but it satisfied a bit of the urge he'd been feeling ever since he started driving you.  He wasn't actually a driver, at least not usually; he was more or less your bodyguard at this point, but you were really adamant about having a small detail and so that was why he was working double-duty tonight… and why he'd been doing so for almost three months now.

"Baby," you gasped, and his eyes shot right back to your reflection; you were writhing against the seat, and he could just barely see the top of the guy's head where it was buried between your legs.  You took your bottom lip between your teeth, lips curling into a relaxed smile.  His cock was not only hard but throbbing at this point, as if that was going to do him any good.  He barely ever got to look at you, and he knew he would never, ever be able to touch you— beyond holding your hand as you stepped out of the car, at least.  Whenever he did that, he imagined for a moment that he wasn't your driver at all but your date, that he would get to keep your hand as he guided you down the red carpet with him.  Not that he wanted any of the attention that you got, of course, but at the same time he did like the idea of all those photographers snapping pictures of his arm around your waist, or you looking up at him with your hand on his chest.  They'd all run stories wondering what a beautiful, successful, massively talented woman like you was doing with a guy like him, but he wouldn't find the energy to care about crap like that if he had you all to himself.  

Another whimper from you pulled him out of his daydream, reminding him to focus on the road as best he could.  He knew you would hate him if you knew that he'd thought about you like that.  Or if you knew about all those times he'd checked in on you while you slept at night and lingered a bit too long.  Or if you knew that he had rewatched that one sex scene you'd done in your last movie about a thousand times.  It always broke his heart to see you underneath some other guy (his name was either Dermot Mulroney or Dylan McDermott or possibly Dermot McDermott?) and yet it turned him on like nothing else to watch you immersed in pleasure.  Similarly, now, he couldn't stand knowing it was someone else making you moan the way he was hearing, but it was the best he was ever gonna get.

"Oh god," you sighed, "fuck, yes, yes, oh my god yes—"

His grip tightened on the steering wheel and it must have been the noise of the leather stretching that made you notice him; as if every dream and nightmare of his was coming true at once, your gaze met his in the reflection of the rearview.

He was so screwed, and he was totally going to get fired tomorrow, but he couldn't look away.  Your eyes were like dark magic the way they pulled him in, kept him locked on you as his face started to burn so hot it could cook an egg.  

Staring you down, he saw your mouth fall slack as your hands reached down to grab your date's hair and tighten into fists.  Shivers shot down his spine as he imagined the way it would feel if you pulled his hair like that.  

The longer you kept looking at him, the more a very dangerous thought danced in the back of his mind…

What if she wants me to watch?

Which, even more concerningly, started to slowly morph into another idea…

What if she wants me?

He was sure you were coming.  It wasn't obvious; you didn't say anything, didn't moan too loud, didn't scream or sob or call out any names (which made it easier to pretend it was for him) but he could tell.  Your swollen lips were parted silently as he watched your breath catch in your chest, and your hands clenched around fistfuls of hair.  What he would give for you to pull his hair like that, and come for him like that— except he wouldn't have stopped there, unlike your current companion who was already moving back up your body to kiss you hungrily.  

He'd always thought you had really pretty hands, and they looked pretty good sliding over the back of this guy's suit jacket, but he liked them best when they gently pushed him off.  "We're almost there," you mumbled as Bucky turned the car into the driveway, using his fob to open the gate.  

Once he'd come to a stop outside your door and turned off the engine, the three of you exited and stood up as you yawned and stretched.

"You'll take Jack here home, right?" you asked Bucky quickly.

"It's Jake…" the man corrected with hesitance.

"Right, Jake," you smiled, "you'll take him to his place, right?"

Bucky gave the guy a smile dripping with gloating contempt, loving the disappointed look he was wearing as he realized he wasn't going to be spending the night in your bed.  "It'd be my pleasure," he announced coldly.

"Great, thanks," you sighed.  Standing on your tiptoes to give the guy a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the shoulder, you thanked him for a great night and made your way into the house.

Jake looked around in confusion for a moment before getting back in the car along with Bucky, sighing and running his fingers through his hair.

"What address am I going to?"

"Uh, 333 15th Street, in Brooklyn," the guy replied, pausing to let out a soft but incredulous laugh as the car began to move.  "Level with me, man: does she… do this kind of thing, a lot?  You know: bring guys over, make it seem like something's gonna… happen, but then just send ‘em back home and never call again?"

With a silent glare, Bucky rolled up the partition.

//

You heard the front door, even from your current location of the shower upstairs, and knew Bucky was home— okay, not exactly ‘home’ since he didn't leave here full-time, but home in the sense that he was in your home and in the place he would be staying tonight.  You just hoped he'd actually stopped the car before kicking Jake out; he never cared much for when you had guys over or really just interacted with guys at all, because of the "security risks" or whatever.

Next, you heard him coming up the stairs and passing by your door.  "Hey, Bucky, you out there?" you called to him.

"Yeah, what is it?" he answered through the door. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just—" you stopped when you heard the crinkling of paper.  "What is that?  Do you have food?"

"Um, yeah," he answered.

Your stomach growled; the event had only had tiny hors d'oeuvres, and the alcohol in your system enhanced your desire for a midnight snack.  "What kinda food?"

"It's a sandwich— well, what's left of one: I was eating it while I waited for you."

"Are you gonna finish it?" you asked curiously.

"No, I was thinking I'd put it in the fridge for tomorrow."

You paused a bit before asking, "Can I have it?"

"Yeah, sure, you can get it in the morning—" he began.

"No, now!" you clarified.

There was a pause before he responded.  "Right now?  In the shower?"

"Yeah, just bring it in here!"

"I-I'll let you finish showering first—" he stammered.

"No, Bucky," you whined, "just come in here!  I'm hungry!"

Another pause before he finally opened the door, his blurry figure visible through the steam-covered frosted glass. 

"What's on it?" you asked as you washed the last of your shampoo out of your hair.

"It's pastrami on rye with jalapeños, fresh mozzarella, pesto and some sort of spicy aioli or something."

"Ooh, come to mama," you purred as you reached over the top of the door with opening-and-closing grabby hands, squeeing with glee when he placed the wax paper package in your grasp.

"Okay, enjoy your drunken shower sandwich," he congratulated grimly, about to turn and leave.

"No, wait, where'd you get this?" you asked as you leaned out of the stream of hot water to unwrap your bounty.

"Uh, you know the deli on 8th and Columbus?"

"You went all the way out there?"

"No, I had it delivered."

You snorted with laughter.  "Couldn't leave me alone for even a minute, huh?"

"Well, I fully intended on leaving you alone for this shower."

But you didn't really notice that comment because you'd just taken a bite and couldn't stop yourself from moaning loudly around it.  "Oh my god, Bucky, this is so good!"

He cleared his throat.  "Uh, glad you like it."

"You have good taste in sandwiches!"

"I think the word for 'taste in sandwiches' is just 'taste,’” he pointed out, his smirk audible in his voice.

"Can we go to this place tomorrow and you can order for me?"

"We can do whatever you want tomorrow," he relented.

"If you drive, I'll pay,” you offered.

"I always drive.  And you always pay,” he pointed out.

You frowned, not visible to him through the steamy glass.  "I do?"

"You pay my salary, so, yeah…"

You laughed, a little too hard. "You're so smart!"

"Sure,” he replied quickly.

“Okay, I’m almost done in here,” you informed him.

“With the sandwich or the shower?” 

You laughed with a little snort, which would’ve embarrassed sober you.  “Both!”

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then,” he replied, starting to go back out the door.

“See you tomorrow, Bucky,” you waved even though he couldn’t see it.

“I don’t know that I will,” he admitted, “you’ll probably be hungover and lock yourself in your room all day.”

“Hmm, possibly,” you agreed as you pondered that.  “Then I guess just ‘goodnight,’ and I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Goodnight,” he replied and stepped out of the bathroom— you could hear him go downstairs and shut the door to his room, and you glanced down at the last bite of your/his sandwich with a smile.

You must have gotten in bed at some point, cause that was the last thing you could really remember before you woke up a bit before noon, bright orange sunlight shining directly on your face where it rested on the pillow.  You groaned and turned over, feeling like your brain was too big for your skull.  You sat up when you saw a menagerie of unfamiliar items on your nightstand.  A bottle of pedialyte, a bottle of Fiji water, a few aspirin, an orange and a banana waited for you in a pile, with a little piece of paper sitting in front which you read.

Hope you’re feeling alright, these might help in the meantime.  -B

You smiled, twisting open the Fiji and taking a sip.  Bucky always took such good care of you, even in ways he didn’t need to.  What would you do without him?

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 2x10 thoughts

GOOD GOD.

“No Weddings and a Funeral” is like being hungover but also coming out of a hangover. Having a terrible cold but also feeling better and appreciating every breath that comes through your nose. Embarking on an organizational project and accidentally falling into a photo album and crying about the pictures and organizing almost nothing tangible but making a few things more clear in your brain.

So much of this episode is about the AWFUL POINTLESSNESS OF DECORUM. How loud is too loud when you’re drinking stolen wine and shrieking about sex in a church right before your father’s funeral? How should you feel--thirty years later, as an accommodating, anger-averse person--about having been too angry to attend the funeral for your father who killed himself? What expression should you make when you show up really late to a different funeral? Why must you wear uncomfortable shoes just because someone died? What happens in your mind between standing up to give a eulogy for a man you’re still angry with and choosing to Rick Roll your mom and everyone else as an act of complicated love, humiliatingly incomplete until someone else starts to sing? Should you worry about your therapist seeing your normally tidy flat in a full-on state of depression mess? Is it okay to be offended that your boyfriend is so uncomfortable about death that he can’t stop making morbid jokes? Should you care about other people caring that you’re crunching an apple in church or squealing with joy to be reunited with a friend you’ve not seen in awhile? Are you obligated to explain your behavior if your kid doesn’t understand how you could stay with someone unfaithful? How far behind the counter should you sink when your [undefined relationship person]’s mother has just let you know she can see your dick through your underwear? Is a funeral reception an okay place to find a hookup? Is a funeral reception a decent spot for a break-up? Is a funeral reception a good time for a love confession when you know the person you’re confessing to is happy with someone else? And who do you make eye contact with when you can’t look directly at the person asking you if you’re okay when there’s so, so much about you she doesn’t know yet? Even if--for this tiny little moment within a vast swath of many okay and not-okay moments--you’re honest when you tell her that you are?

I fucking adored this episode because it answers all these questions very simply: Show up. Show up for yourself. Show up for your friends. Try not to harm yourself. Try not to harm your friends.

I love that this episode is about the messiness of adulthood and the things we bring with us from childhood and that it takes place partially in Rebecca’s childhood bedroom, and in Ted’s childhood memories. Dwelling in those places (whether physically or mentally) isn’t an automatic recipe for regression, but it does get everyone closer to the things that made them who they are, to the unresolved and half-buried parts of them that still make them tick today.

Forever obsessed with every single detail about Rebecca’s childhood bedroom.

Forever obsessed with Deborah’s decision to Rick Roll herself every single morning of her life.

Forever obsessed with Rebecca’s decision to Rick Roll her father’s funeral as a way to not have to make up a single word about her father and to do something very vulnerable and kind for herself and her mother and everyone.

Forever obsessed with Ted’s decision to Rick Roll Rebecca Rick Rolling her father’s funeral.

Forever obsessed with an entire found family backing it up.

I love that it is Isaac’s leadership that ensures every single member of the team attends the service for Paul.

I am very, very interested in Jamie’s love confession to Keeley because I do think it will spark some reflection in Keeley but I do not think it’ll go the cliched love triangle route.

Each scene with Rebecca and Sam struck (for me, a human being sharing a subjective perspective on the internet) the tender-awkward-beautiful-stressful chord I was hoping it would. I think it’s wonderful that Sam is honest with Rebecca about how difficult it is to keep their relationship a secret, and I love that Rebecca has a million mostly-unarticulated reasons for why she’d much prefer the secret to continue. I like that Sassy, Keeley, and Nora respond to the revelation as friends; they might be tempering their judgments in part because they’ve all gathered to bury Rebecca’s dad, but I don’t think their reactions would’ve been that different even on a happier occasion.

While there are a million and one different reasons why a continued relationship between Rebecca and Sam could cause serious ethical problems, I really love that when people share big news on this show, the people who care about them generally react by trying to see why the person is doing what they’re doing. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t also hold each other accountable, but in my book it’s OK that Keeley’s first reaction was to feel happy that her friend is having some fun.

Also everyone has been making weird judgment calls this season, and this episode felt like a moment of real breakthroughs in terms of people telling the truth about things that happened to them and leaving themselves open to honest responses from others.

September 13, 1991. It’s so tenderly, beautifully, overwhelmingly meaningful that there’s still so much Ted and Rebecca don’t know about the things they have in common in these parallel lives they’re leading. The scene between Sarah Niles and Jason Sudeikis is so beautifully acted, and so is the scene between Hannah Waddingham and Harriet Walter. The way they intertwine to communicate that Ted and Rebecca basically lost the ability to trust their fathers simultaneously, from an ocean away? In the hands of lesser storytellers, it would feel too perfect a mirroring, but here it feels heartbreakingly imperfect. All the things they still don’t know. All the questions they try to ask each other. All the things they don’t dare ask yet. And then the storytellers are holding a candle up to all of it and letting the audience bask in the glow of this connection even if Ted and Rebecca can’t fully understand it yet.

I am so proud that Rebecca and Deborah were able to embark on the beginnings of a conversation about the ways Deborah and Paul’s relationship might have resembled or not resembled Rebecca and Rupert’s. It feels possible that they could get to a point where Rebecca truly internalizes her mother’s pride that she broke a cycle by leaving Rupert, and could maybe even understand why her mother made the choices she made. I love that in the final scene, they’re still relying on their old mother-daughter conversational patterns—the frustrations, the snippy shorthand, the passive-aggression. Mothers and daughters!

I am also proud that Ted—albeit via a joke about Sharon charging him for the house call—indicates that he understands the value of Sharon’s work. He’s changed a lot, all in realistic ways for someone who loves learning and really does want to meet people where they are and appreciate them. I’m very moved that instead of putting himself in a real harmful situation by showing up to the funeral on time at any cost, he did what he needed to do to take care of himself and accept care from someone else. And then Sharon’s suggestion that he think about things he loved about his father? And the way he’s able to share a positive memory of Rebecca’s own father at a time when she really needed it? Gosh.

Awkward, undecorous transition from 1991 to present-day incoming...but SASSY! She’s just, like, a whirling dervish of loyal friendship and not giving a fuck and penis size discussions and being casually, delightfully cruel to Rupert, who so deserves it. Rebecca was going on a real face journey when Sassy goes off with Ted at the end, and I’m sort of *eyes emoji* about all of that, but I continue to feel like Sassy is the most imperfectly wonderful friend-from-the-past kind of person and I love everything she and Nora get to do in this episode.

Keeley saying “That baby is whack” might be my favorite line in the episode? Maybe the whole show? Not really but really.

FUCK YOU, RUPERT. Bex and Diane, y’all are fine. And I truly feel for Nate...whatever scheme he’s getting suckered into. Whatever insecurity Rupert is preying on. I want Nate to go to therapy, too.

I feel like it was an unpopular opinion at the time, but I loved Rebecca’s 2x1 revelation about vulnerability and fear of getting hurt and needing to let someone love her. Sassy doesn’t always word things in the most nuanced way, but I think there’s a real possibility that she did ask Rebecca to really consider what it means to feel either safe or unsafe with a person but to know that in either circumstance, that person could end up causing her pain. Standing in that closet with Sam, managing to make it clear that she’s not asking for a break because she knows he will hurt her but because she has to figure out how to be with a wonderful person who could cause her pain...the growth, man. Makes me emotional.

I emerged from this episode feeling, of course, stunned by all the amazing parallels and revelations and beautiful acting and Rick Rolls and just, everything. I also emerged feeling sad/raw/tender because messiness and decorum and growth and coping mechanisms and death and dramatic irony and not knowing things about people and not knowing what you don’t know...it’s a sad, raw, tender place to be.

To quote a guy who got a whole sitcom (lol) named after him, life is real hard.

[yeojaa]

feed me, fight me.

pairing.  boxer!jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  relationship issues, baby angst, comfort, unprotected sex (please be responsible!).  wc. 3.5k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif​, always.  💖  author note.  i’m really into comfort fics rn so... 

What do you get when you mix a pissed off girlfriend with a neglectful boyfriend?  (Aside from trouble, that is.)

The answer is you - throwing punches far harder than you should be, completely disregarding the fact that you’re meant to be playing the part of perfect partner, meeting pads in the sequence he’s laid out.  It’s you throwing a hook when you should be swinging an uppercut.  It’s you, snapping your leg out with a satisfying thunk! of your shin when you should only be thip kicking.  It’s you, not giving a single damn as you take out all your frustrations on someone who’s growing increasingly more irritated by your childishness.  It’s you, blatantly disrespecting him in his ring - sending a reminder that there’s more to life than the four corners of this space. 

How can he blame you though, when he’s the reason?  When you’ve voiced your annoyance more than once - more than twice, more times than you care to count - and each time it’s met with a half-hearted apology (if you could even call it that)?  How can he hold it against you when you’ve asked, demanded, pleaded for more? 

“Cut it out,”  he seethes, quiet, under his breath, irritation igniting his expression, something hot and angry burning in the dark of his stare.  A withering wildfire in an empty field, smoldering coals flickering bright.  It presents itself in how his mouth curls, the hard line of his jaw as bone threatens to snap in half from the tension. 

“Cut what out?”  Your retort is punctuated by the smack of leather on leather, the worn edge of your boxing glove meeting the pad that Jungkook raises just in time to avoid a black eye. 

“What’s your problem?”  How he manages to snipe back - somehow sounding disgruntled by your behaviour - you’re not sure.  All you know is it boils your blood, searing heat within your veins when he effortlessly blocks your next jab.  He knows you well and knows the sport better, predicting each movement as if you’re telegraphing it all with a giant neon sign on your forehead. 

(You probably are.  You’ve never been good at hiding your emotions, pinning your heart on your sleeve, your sadness heavy in your mouth.  They wear you, rather than you it.  A weakness of yours.)

“You’re my problem.” 

“Shut up.”  It’s not the usual exasperated annoyance he levels you with, meaner and paired with a swat of your gloved hand.  He’s not supposed to be countering you, instead only blocking the punches you throw his way. 

(But then again - when did he ever listen to you?  When did he ever do what he was supposed to?)

(It’s not a fair assertion.  You’re just mad.  Livid beyond belief, standing atop this hill that you’ll happily die on.)

“Fuck you,”  you snap, offering the petulant comeback in the same instance you surge forward.  He blocks your jab - sees it coming from a mile away - and goes to block your hook. 

Except it never comes, your knee straightening out instead, hard edge of your shin slamming right into the side of his leg. 

He crumples more out of surprise than anything, eyes wide, all the anger swept away by something closer to astonishment.  It shines impossibly bright in his eyes, turning his entire expression upside down when his knee hits the ground.  By how he falls, you’re sure you’ve hit just the right spot, left his nerve endings buzzing uncomfortably as the feeling leaves the limb. 

“Are you serious?”  You know he’s genuinely baffled then, voice slipping, cracking in a way you’d normally find adorable.  (It goes to show how upset you are, the awkward split of his words doing nothing to soothe your temper.)  “What’s your issue?”  He’s still seated on the floor, rocking back on his heels, brow knit in consternation.  It’d take him seconds to jump up - to put you on your ass - but he chooses to remain where he is, staring up at you with that look on his face.

(That look you love.  That you hate.  That makes your insides turn to goo on his best days and misery on your worst.  That you’ve seen every single day for the last three years, as the first thing upon waking up and the last thing before passing out.  That makes you hesitate now, peering down into it.)

(Were you being unnecessary?  Unbearable?  Was this on you?)

“I’m going home.”  It’d be nice to tear your gloves off, throw them in his face and storm off in a huff.  It’d cause the scene you’re hoping for, push him to where you need.  (Because that’s the thing about Jungkook - he doesn’t react otherwise and you’re sick of it.)  Instead, you turn on your heel and slink away, silent as a mouse.  

You’re tired.  Too tired.  Why had you started something you couldn’t finish?

It shouldn’t surprise you that you’re home alone for hours that night, curled up in bed and half-asleep when light from the hallway spills into your bedroom.  It comes with hardly any noise, a tell-tale sign he’s trying not to wake you (or disturb you or get caught).  You almost let it slide when his figure appears in the doorway, broad frame swallowed up by the oversized sweater he wears.

He’s moving near silently, having already deposited his gym bag in the laundry room.  He doesn’t even switch the light on, moving around in the muted glow of the hallway, fumbling as he strips his clothes off and tosses them into the hamper against the wall. 

You expect him to head directly into the en suite, wash away whatever grime he’s accumulated throughout the day.  He’s always been this way, far too concerned with dragging in odour and dirt into your bed to do otherwise.

Except tonight, he doesn’t follow his usual routine.  Tonight, he makes a detour.

The bed dips before you realise what’s happening, grip on the pillow under your head tightening.  Words fit between your teeth, ready to spill out, lash out, tear out like a bullet deadset on landing a bullseye. 

“I’m sorry.”  Two words you’ve been waiting to hear, that startle you enough to throw your anger out the window, tossing them out with the wash.  “I don’t know why you’re upset but I’m sorry for whatever it is.”  He’s speaking into the quiet of your bedroom.  You can feel his hand settled on the bed, wrist somewhere over the line of your spine.  

Oh - he thinks you’re asleep.

“Things have been crazy.  I’ve been stressed.”  Here, under cover of night, he’s vulnerable, explanation tumbling forth uncertainly.  You can hear it in the way the words form, syllables slipping into each other - a sure sign of his exhaustion.  “I know that’s not an excuse, so I’ll be better.”  Though he readjusts, weight distributing differently over the bed, he isn’t touching you.  You can only imagine how he looks, the posture he’s taken on, arms leant over knees, hands twisting together in that way of his that begs a silent help me.  A version of him you’ve seen only a handful of times.  

(Jeon Jungkook does not let things get to him.  Never has, likely never will.  He’s immaculately put together, strung tight by years of growing up too fast, wanting too much and fearing it’ll slip away.  He goes and goes until he can’t any more and only then does he still, crashing headlong over a cliff of his own creation.)

It’s then that you realise while you’ve grown irritated with his preoccupation, coming second to the man you’ve only ever put first, he’s been suffering right alongside you.  Differently, certainly, but suffering nonetheless.  Holding his cards close as he’s always done, shouldering all the things on his own and hoping for the best.

Irritation flares first.  Anger at the fact that he hadn’t confided in you.  It burns bright, erodes everything else in its path.

And then it dims almost immediately, overshadowed by a tenderness that blooms in the small of your chest.  Rosebuds that fill the cavity and swath affection in broad strokes, colouring everything purple - a pretty mosaic made up of equal parts love and sadness.

“You should’ve said something.”  

Bambi-eyed baby is your nickname for your boyfriend - one he reluctantly wears, scowls at when you use it in public - and yet you’re still blown away by the glossiness of his stare, how wide it goes when you roll to face him, simultaneously flicking your bedside light on.  There’s embarrassment crowding his expression, lighting up every handsome facet of his features in technicolour.  He works to hide it almost immediately, moves back on the bed as if he might find himself a home in the shadows.

“I thought you were sleeping,”  he mumbles, not quite looking at you, stare focused on your pillow case, the white linen that you’d bought when you’d moved in together.  “Did I wake you up?”

Though his concern is real, you know it’s a distraction too.  His way of deflecting, shifting the focus back to you.  

(Jeon Jungkook doesn’t live in the spotlight.  Hates it, in fact.  It’s a curious combination - wanting to be praised, to show off, and yet fearing failure so strongly.  A worrying mix when he’s down and an endearing one when he’s up.)

You’re still cocooned, still held far enough away that he hasn’t run for the hills, locking himself in the bathroom to put a further physical barrier between you.  Should you move too fast, you know he’ll spook.  Push too hard, he’ll leave.  

“Couldn’t sleep without you.”  It’s true enough.  Dreams had evaded you for the better part of the evening, held somewhere by hands inked like his, blemished by scars and calluses like his. They’d been kept in his coat pocket, tucked behind his ear.  (So maybe it’d been anger, too, that’d kept you up.  That doesn’t matter now.)

The disbelief is evident, both in his words and the quirk of his mouth, bathed in dim light.  “Really?”

(You sometimes wonder how different the two of you see things.  What a day looks like from his point of view - whether he reads all of your interactions in the same way.  You’ve always been terribly incompatible in that way, opposites in so many respects that it’d frankly baffled your friends when you’d started dating.

You were intent - sometimes too intent - on resolving problems, never letting up.  Forcing conversations you felt you needed to have, demanding answers even before there was one.  He, on the other hand, was uncomfortable with conflict, choosing to ignore the things that bothered him until they went away.  It’d driven you absolutely insane at first, made you worry that it was you that was the issue, simply being too much.  

But over time - three long years, to be exact - you’d found a common ground.  Or so you’d thought.)

“Why are you so surprised?”  

“You were pissed earlier.”  There’s a lightness to his tone, careful consideration poured into each word he offers, as if he’s navigating a minefield.  You’ve had these kinds of disagreements too many times for him to believe otherwise, as if his caution is a part of him, stitched lovingly - forcefully - by your hand.  “Thought you wouldn’t wait up for me.”  

“I shouldn’t have,”  you retort before you can help it, still just a little childish, a little hurt.  “But you know I hate going to bed angry.”  Of course he knows.  He’s lost hours of sleep due to your insistence that everything be talked out. 

He hums a noncommittal sound - more of a grunt - and you know your window is closing.  Now that you’re not out for blood, he’s retreating as he always does.  Readying himself to rise from the bed, close this half-read chapter and move onto the next. 

You beat him before he can, curling your fingers around his wrist, over the dangling silver chain.  (His birthday gift this year, heavy metal that’s cold under your touch.)  

“Don’t.”

One blink.  Another.  Slow and confused - deliberately so.  Then he’s looking away, staring down at the ground as if you haven’t just read his next move.  The ring might be his domain but home is yours;  it’s the one place you hold the upper hand.  “What?”  

“Don’t leave.”  It’s easy to read the meaning in between your words, the unspoken request that might as well be brilliant red ink.  It’s far kinder than your usual demands, more pleading than begrudging, more need than want.  

“I need to shower.”  

It’s not a no - which you suppose is a win. 

“Just wait.”  Your request comes with an adjustment, whole tired frame rising from the bed only to sink back down - this time against your partner, your other half, your infuriating love.  He accepts you readily, dropping his ink-strewn hand over your covered thigh.  The weight is comforting over the warmth of the duvet, grounding you in the quiet of your home.

“I’m gross,”  he complains, though he doesn’t make to move away.  Stays right by your side when you drop your head against his bare shoulder.  “Now you’re gross.”

“We can be gross together.”  Because you’re not ready for him to leave you, to close the door as he so often does.  (And, for once, you’re not quite as angry, not seeking an argument that’ll give you the resolution you hope for.  You want communication, open and honest.  You want him, vulnerable and soft.)

A little sigh comes, a puff of breath that expands his doughy cheeks and sends wayward strands fluttering.  It’s less resigned and more endeared - you know how much it means when his acquiesces like this.  

Maybe he wants those same things, you think.  

“Do you wanna shower?”  You ask in perfect tandem, words folding together.  You nod in the same way.

Encased in the small space - it’s different.  He’s preoccupied, back turned to you, shielding you from the slow-heating stream.  It’s as if his mind is a thousand lightyears away, trapped somewhere with the stars as the water rains down around the two of you, fogging the glass and wetting his hair. 

“Babe?”  

There’s a delay before he reacts, peering over his shoulder at you, a faraway look in his eyes.  You wonder what he’d been thinking of, whether he’s still on the same page as you or if he’s skipped ahead as he tends to do.  When he speaks, you have your answer, his words flicking through paper to bring you two where you need to be.  

“Can you wash my hair?”  An indulgent treat he rarely requests, one he seldom allows.  He’s far too on the go, jumping from this to that to spend much time like this with you. 

It’s a sign if there ever was one. 

You reach for your shampoo bottle wordlessly, popping the cap and depositing sweet peach-scented liquid into your hands.  They fold into his strands carefully, tips of your fingers pressing into his scalp, delightful bubbles accumulating between your digits.  He doesn’t make a sound but you feel the way he relaxes, practically melting into your touch as you work the cleanser through his roots, careful to keep the suds from descending into his eyes. 

When was the last time you’d done this?  Weeks ago?  Months, maybe?  You honestly can’t recall.  (Not that it matters now.  You’ve found yourselves back here, terribly tender and intimate in the dead of night.  Almost as if no time has passed at all.)

Silence stretches between the two of you.  You don’t even need to instruct him to rinse, running seamlessly through the routine without hesitation. 

Conditioner replaces shampoo, deft fingers combing through the few knots in his feather soft strands.  Though there are hardly any, you know he loves when you take extra care, treating him in ways he’d never ask for otherwise.  He savours these quiet moments of almost-solitude, spoiled rotten by your familiar touch and comforting affection.  

You’d give it every single day if you could.  Had, in fact. 

That’s what’d brought you here, after all. 

“‘m sorry,”  he says - mumbles really - surprising you as you’re working your fingers into the nape of his neck, concentrating on the tension that’s carved out a home beneath muscle and sinew, turned bone iron-clad. 

“For what?” 

Any other time, it might’ve come across demanding, needing an answer that would soothe whatever inadequacy he’d somehow strung your heart up with.  Now, it’s genuine, asked more for him than you.  

You want to be let in.  Need it. 

“Being out of it, I guess.”  It’s a lot for him - admitting this.  “I’ve just been busy and I guess I kind of just—“  The imposing line of his shoulders rise and fall, a mountain range disturbed by the uncertainty in his voice.  

“Forgot about me?”  You don’t mean it meanly.  It’s a simple statement of fact, one the both of you have to face. 

“Yeah.  Something like that.”

You deliberate accepting the apology and moving on, sweeping it under the rug because he’s already come so much further than you’d thought he would.  But that’s not the kind of person you are, so you press just a little more, stand just a little taller. 

“I don’t think I ask for the world, Kook.”  Maybe more than some people.  Maybe less than others.  “If I’m being too much, I’d rather you let me know than shut me out.”

A sigh comes, so heavy you wonder whether he might be Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.  

“No, I know.”  

“Do you?”

(At some point you’d stopped massaging the conditioner in, opting to crowd your hands over his back, working into the knots that run beneath his skin.  He hadn’t been lying - he’s stiff as a board, entire broad form twitching any time you press the pads of your thumbs into a particularly sensitive spot.)

“I thought I’d figure it out myself,”  he reasons, in that oh-so impossible Jeon Jungkook way of his.  “Didn't realise it was taking a toll on you.” 

“On us,”  you correct, not at all tactful.  

“On us,”  he agrees with another sigh, smaller this time, tinged blue with something that feels like guilt and fills up the glass space. 

“We’re a team, you know.” 

(You know he knows.  You just have to remind him sometimes, anchor him with the knowledge that it’s not him against the world.  That you’re in his corner - always.)

“I know.” 

When he turns to look at you - doesn’t even flinch when the sudden movement has you wobbling on your feet, catches you when you stumble - you don’t doubt that.  He loves you just as much as you love him, sees the whole world in the small of your stare.  

“I’m sorry,”  he says again, two hands coming to cradle your face, palms warm over each cheek.  “Just give me some time.”  For what, you’re not sure.  You don’t mind waiting to find out though - willing to weather the storm just to see him happy.  

Jungkook holds you close, threads his fingers through yours and peppers love into the silk of your hair.  Dresses your skin in the heat of his affection and sears his signature into the velvet of your skin, teeth dragging, tongue gliding.  

“Is this better?”  He means how he holds you, how he treats you like porcelain as he fucks you slow and tender, keeps one leg hooked back over his own. 

It’s not that this is the kind of lovemaking you prefer but rather the one you need, with him consuming you wholly, sweetly, filling you with each fluid roll of his hips and nothing else.  No elaborate dirty talk, no overzealous bouncing, just the two of you together, curled against each other like you might not survive otherwise.  

He’s not pushing you to your finish with deft fingers over your clit, not taking his fill with greedy hands.  He’s simply there, with you, feeling every curve of your body as he sinks into your aching cunt and sighs as if he’s in heaven.  (And maybe he is - because where he is could only ever be where you are and you feel like you’re floating, weightless and lovestruck, anchored only to your bed by the hand that squeezes yours and the mouth that purrs your name.) 

“Yes,”  you breathe, exhale in a breath that seems to take all of your effort.  It’s hard to focus when he splits you open so well, fills your pussy and your heart and makes your chest erupt with a kaleidoscope of butterflies. 

“I love you, sweetheart.”

When he says it like that - folds it like a promise and tucks it into the spot behind your ear - you know it’s true.  Even if you don’t always feel it, even if he doesn’t always show it, there’s not a doubt in your mind. 

In all the ways he can, he loves you.  And whether that means enough from one day to the next, you don’t mind sticking around to find out.  Not if it means more of this. 

(Of him, of you, of your life together.)

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle

[belit0]

Hey, can you write Indra + size kink + cockworship + nasty cum stuff ?? Sorry, i'm hungry for that man

Sorry this took me SO FUCKING LONG omfg

No need to be sorry, I’m as hungry as you. I haven’t written smut in a while, so bear with me, I’m getting back at it:,(

Tw: Indra knows nothing about communication

When Indra enters the house, the sun has already set. He looks drained, tired. It’s been days since he started wearing his hair loose, devoid of his usual ponytail, and it only helps to make him look more massive than he is.

His steps are heavy as he heads to the bedroom, and when he looks at you with those expressionless serious eyes, you know he won’t be eating dinner today either. That’s okay, you’re not used to spending time together as a normal couple anyway, and you know you’d feel weird if he actually sat down with you and joined you for a meal.

His form disappears down the corridor and you know he has found the way to bed, seeking comfort from the adversities of the day. His shadow is dragged across the walls by the candlelight, and for a moment, it looks like the demon everyone says he is.

But of course, you know better than to believe those ridiculous tales.

It’s been months since this man appeared in your village, a place led by a poor wretch who was trying his best to get his people ahead. Only a few enjoyed good fortune, privilege, and wealth, and you were not one of them. Life before Indra, here, was based on working hard for pennies, finding food wherever possible, wearing the same clothes repeatedly for lack of more garments. Poverty was rampant among almost the entire village population, and despite the leader’s best efforts, nothing seemed to work for the betterment of the situation.

But a mysterious man with long hair and thick shoulders, tattooed eyes, impressive physique compared to the famine-stricken people... left everyone captivated. With just a couple of suggestions and commands, things turned around, and the outlook brightened for everybody. This mysterious man quickly rose in the hierarchical power of the village, and the current leader ended up giving up his place.

Indra became their ruler overnight, and hopes for the future of the town seemed to grow stronger and stronger again.

Town expansion was inevitable, welcoming visitors and travelers intrigued by the legends of this man who brought fortune to a doomed place. Enemies were also unavoidable. The Otsutsuki defended and used all his power to prevent the destruction of the foundations he had built with so much effort, leaving everyone terrified in his steps.

His red eyes became stories used by mothers to frighten disobedient children, his violet beast traveled on the tongues of all the merchants and their incessant rumors.

Respect mingled with fear, yet Indra never wavered.

He looked imposing as he walked the streets of the town, staring at nothing in particular, an expression forged by iron and ice. His towering figure seemed to cast a gigantic shadow over every other man nearby, and all the women were dying to take the vacant place at his side.

Everyone thought as he became leader he would choose one of the few wealthy ladies of the village as his wife, but he did not.

It was months after his ascension to power before he communicated with a woman. And that turned out to be you.

Although the village prospered and grew bigger every day, your life remained the same, complicated. Money was scarce as well as food, and working hard every morning was necessary if you wanted to get a crumb of bread.

You tended the garden of a prosperous family, kneeling in the morning dew, your clothes covered in dirt from the work you had started just a few minutes ago.

Footsteps in front of you broke your concentration, and when you looked up, a tall figure was staring down at you. A flowing robe floated in the wind, and that frown was visible even from the floor. Indra was intimidating without uttering a word.

“You look thoroughly filthy.” He had said. “I’m sorry, my lord.” You had replied, bowing your head in respect.

You did not finish that day’s work, for offering you a wide hand, Indra Otsutsuki himself lifted you from the dirt and escorted you to get a fresh change of clothes. Not one of the worn-out ones you used to wear, but an expensive one, of excellent quality, full of exquisite details. A garment of high society, one of the kind he himself usually wore.

From that moment on, he did not leave your side. It was only a matter of time before you moved into his residence, an immense house in the middle of town. You became the envy of all women, no one being able to understand how their leader could choose a servant girl as his partner.

And despite the fear you felt towards him at first, although his haughty looks seemed to be empty initially, you eventually grew to understand him. Dread turned into respect, affection, love.

After all, he saved you from that life of misery to give you one of luxury and privilege, asking for nothing in return. Even though you slept in the same bed every night, he never touched a single hair on your head, never came near you, never took the initiative you feared he may take.

“Why me?” you asked once, the blush on your face shielded by nighttime darkness inside the room. A large space lay between you both on the bed, and Indra, while you couldn’t see him, probably had his back to you. “You are the prettiest.” He replied simply, and you caught a note of amusement in his voice.

During the day it was rare for you to see him, but at sunset, you would both be in the bedroom. No lustful touches in the middle were necessary to make the night complete, for the silences which at first were awkward eventually were filled with chatter.

That intimidating look, that wide-backed warrior with blood-colored eyes, became a companion, a pleasant person to spend time with. Never smiled, never laughed, but you know he is calm, that he enjoys the moment as much as you do. You’ve seen him interact with other people, how his muscles tense when someone is way too close for his comfort, how his brow furrows when anyone speaks to him. You know you’re the only person he tolerates, appreciates, and loves around him.

That’s why seeing him arrive like this is something uncomfortable in your chest. Slowly following in his footsteps, you find his clothes lost all the way back to the room. You pick up garment by garment, and there is a certain satisfaction as you smell his clothes and feel his perfume. As you reach the doorway, he is already tucked into bed, buried under sheets. One of his arms supports his head and acts as a pillow while his other hand scratches his chest, which is slightly uncovered. One of his legs is bent, and covers slip off his skin, revealing a thigh and worked muscles. His eyes are closed, but he knows you are there.

Leaving his clothing on a chair, you approach him and sit on the edge of the bed, hands clasped in your lap. Rarely have you seen this scene, where he relaxes with all his rights in his own bed. Sex has never been addressed between the two of you, and it’s something you’re grateful for. Rumors travel faster than the wind, and many a woman has walked around claiming to have spent time in the bed of the mighty Indra. Whether that’s true, you don’t know, and you’ve never asked either.

If true, your experience is undoubtedly unparalleled.

Still, seeing him like this, becoming one with the bed and stretching out, getting a taste of his toned chest and his thick thigh... Curiosity suddenly demands more.

“You’re staring.” His eyes are still closed, but to be put on display is still just as humiliating. “I’m sorry...” You’re not sure if get up and leave at that moment, but it’s his voice that clears the uncertainty. “Why? I’m your partner, naturally.”

It feels like confirmation of your actions, and you become brave all at once.

“Can I help you... To feel better?....” Your voice is full of hesitation, yet one end of his lips lifts, revealing a wickedly tinged smirk.

“Be my guest.”

Climbing on top of him, your hands tremble with anxiety and anticipation. His eyes flutter open and he watches you intently, analyzing where your actions lead. The man really is huge, and being partially on top of him, the size difference is even greater. Indra seems to rejoice in your stupor, picking up on your intentions and stirring the sheets covering him as you settle between his legs.

Whatever nervousness you felt about what was to come only grows worse at the sight of his size, as even half-hard, his cock’s intimidatingly enormous length.

“Already frightened?” The teasing tone sliding across his tongue fills you with new determination, and with both hands, you hold his shaft. One at the base and one at the head. Your tongue timidly explores that unfamiliar surface, feeling in your grip how hardness invades his dick second after second.

Your lips wrap carefully around it, and pushing gently, inch by inch, his length finds its way into the pleasantly warm depths of your mouth. One of your hands slowly slides down, dragging skin in its wake.

Fixing your eyes on Indra while trying to deal with the raw, inexperienced situation and size, you notice impatience and need, lust swimming in red eyes dominates his expression.

From an instant to the next, your shoulders are enveloped by two gigantic hands, and position is turned around, a vast body hovering over you and trapping you underneath it.

“You teasing little fucker...”

Being handled like that awakens something on the inside that you rarely felt before, some sort of tingling urgently needing to be soothed. A broad palm grasps your chin, which moves your face in the direction Indra desires as he suddenly engulfed your lips.

You have never kissed this man before, and to be making out with him for the first time in these circumstances should feel wrong... but it only builds up more sensations in your lower belly, a treacherous emptiness, and an almost unfamiliar fire.

Your hands awkwardly find his back, and the need to press him against your face, to demand more, to extract more from those luscious lips is interesting. There is no more distance to close between the two of you, but you want to crush yourself against his labored chest until becoming one.

The moment ends quickly as you gasp for air, and trying to recover, a sultry Indra, who grins viciously seductive overpowers your gaze.

“I’ll introduce you to a thing or two...”

Before you comprehend what his words mean, the position changes again, and his two knees are one on either side of your head. He looks even more terrifying from this angle than in everyday life, and you don’t venture to peek at his dick. Two of his fingers slide across your lower lip, caressing your cheek, and suddenly squeeze your face harshly. Your mouth is forced open, but when his cock slides over your tongue and you understand the functionality of the pose, you ease back.

Your lack of experience was driving him crazy, and rather than loosening him up, you were upsetting him further. Managing the matter with his own hands, or rather with his own hips, Indra finds peace again.

Rising to height, one of his palms cradles your face, while the other supports himself against the wall. You try to find stability by holding onto his thighs, and as he buries himself lower in your mouth, sensations in your body become almost unbearable, coupled with his movements.

Indra is kind at first, gradually pushing into your inexperienced cavity slowly, closing his eyes tightly and fighting the urge to destroy your mouth.

Yet when your jaw relaxes completely, grasping the rhythm and feel of the situation, he lets go. The beast is finally released, and the Otsutsuki fucks your lips with abandon, hitting the end of your throat with each thrust. His hips move with agility, and imagining him between your legs with the same surrender and strength makes you hold on.

Tears decorate your cheeks and eyelashes, blending with the saliva dripping from your mouth every time that cock lunges at your face. Indra becomes completely abstracted, tilting his head back as deep growls rise from deep within his chest.

When air is inevitably needed and you can no longer avoid gagging, you repeatedly slap his thighs, drawing his attention. He leans his forehead against the wall and holds your face with both hands, withdrawing his dick from your throat and catching his breath with difficulty. His gaze is fixed on you, and although you could probably look better, you feel really appreciated under those red eyes.

The fluids from your mouth completely soaked your chest and cheeks, your clothes are soaked, and at the sight, the Otsutsuki slides his fingers across your wet skin, then strokes his shaft twice.

When you catch your breath, you place a kiss on the head which has been hitting the back of your throat for minutes, showing he may continue.

Without a second thought, he burrows deeply into your mouth, reaching a depth he hadn’t hit before. The grunt he exhales makes your skin crawl, and you really want to see him enjoy you like this for the rest of your life.

He gives you time to breathe again, and his thrusts become more shallow, seeking more contact with the softness of your tongue and the warmth of your cheeks. It isn’t long before his length is completely out of your cavity and he works it rapidly, seeking the longed-for finish. You’re not sure what you should do, so you simply watch him, amazed at the size of his hands.

After a few seconds, several white shots paint your face, staining your hair and chest, leaving practically nowhere without even a drop. It’s unexpected, but satisfying.

[yunhostinyuyu]

marks

pairing: bad boy!san x fem reader

genre: college au, suggestive, almost smut

wc: 3.1k

synopsis: Y/N swore herself to never get involved with people like Choi San: the typical fuckboy. She hated him (or she at least made herself believe she did) but thats the exact reason that drew him towards her...

warnings: teasing, making out, mentions of sex, alcohol and drugs

—

„look at who we have here? Y/N doing her dirty laundry, never thought I’d witness that.“

you were hunched on your floor with baskets of freshly washed clothes all around the floor. Whipping your head to the door of your dorm‘s bathroom, and you immediately regret it. The cheeky comment came from no other than Choi San - Resident fuck boy and unfortunately, your roommates best friend. He is the type of guy your parents would warn you from. The type to play with a girl until he’s satisfied and dips right after.

The type of you you would never want to get involved with in any sort of way.

But, since he hangs around your dorm frequently and you share a few classes and lectures, that was not easy. Crashing on the couch you bought with your roommate bought together when you moved in, more often than you’d like. Throwing certain looks at you when you entered the lecture halls or passed by him when he was chatting and smoking with his friends off campus. Never letting you breathe for a single moment, he enjoyed teasing you. Needless to say you hated his guts for many things, and he just added more reasons to your imaginary list with every passing day you saw him around campus.

Meanwhile, you’re lifestyle was the complete opposite of his, being the well mannered and friendly classmate, the typical nice girl everyone thought you were - and what your parents wanted you to be. Of course, you were not always like that, especially around your friends. With them you could act the way you truly are, and that was anything but the front you put on most of the time. But San made you drop any sort of friendliness to curse at him every chance you got. And right now was no different:

“Fuck off Choi. Wooyoung isn’t here, so leave.” you spat while not paying anymore attention to him, instead going back to the task at hand.

Taking a few steps towards you, inspecting the room as if he had seen it for the first time, and paying close attention of you putting clothes out of the washing machine. His eyes paying close attention to your hands that move in fluid motions.

“I know, but he’ll be here any second.” Trailing off, and you decided to not even answer him - he isn’t worth your time or nerves right now, after all he just wanted to get under your skin and rile you up. And the less you talk, the better.

He hums to himself, as he bends down to pick up one black, lacy pair of undergarments, inspecting them closely. His thumbs grazing over the neat material, fingertips holding them up in the air. You don’t realize he took something from the basket to your left until he comments on them.

“Are these new? Must be, huh... your little ass would look sooo cute in them. Are you gonna wear them for me one day, Y/N?” his low voice echoed through the tiled room, and you are fast to react: snatching the pair of panties back, out of his grip and throwing it back into the basket. Scoffing, showing your stride at him without any hesitation. “In your dreams. Now, leave me alone. I’m not gonna repeat myself, Choi.” Your features twist as you grow more and more annoyed with him.

“Oh don’t worry,” he backed up a few steps, but the cocky grin stayed on his lips, “with that attitude I’ll most certainly dream of it.”

You heard the door twist, which could only mean that Wooyoung was finally here to save you from any further suggestive comments. Considering you couldn’t stand anything more that was about to leave his mouth.

Admittedly, San has his reputation for a reason: him being one of the most handsome guys you have ever laid your eyes on. And if he wasn’t such an asshole, there would be a possibility you’d be interested in him. And yes, if the stigma that your parents had embroidered into your brain, that ‘sex is bad’ and to stay ‘pure’ until you’re married. If you could push that out of your mind for good, you would be maybe like San. Maybe, you’d even be with him... but god forbid he would ever find out you thought of him like that, especially when you had one of your moments, late at night. If he would know about your honest thoughts, he would use it to his advantage. He wouldn’t give in until he got his way with you - in his very own way.

“San-ah! Come on, we gotta go!” your roommate screams and prompts the visitor to get going quick.

“Too bad, guess I’ll see you around, Y/N. Maybe one day my dreams will become reality nonetheless.” He turns on his heels and dashes towards his friend. The repeating sound of the lock falling into place made you sigh out loudly, pressing your forehead against the cold material of the washing machine you’re still sitting in front of.

Incidents like these are not new and you have already gotten used to San having zero shame when it came to anything even remotely personal or sexual. He knew how he comes across, which only scores him more and more girls to take home and to make his body count grow rapidly. But until now, it hasn’t worked with you, and he’s trying time and time again to wrap you around his finger. Without success.

And you planned to keep it this way.

–

“I hate you for dragging me here.” you groaned after you kept chewing on the rim of your red cup. The girl on your right ignored your comment and kept scanning the crowd.

It was unbelievable, but yes: you were stuck on a frat party... again. Your cousin Mijung needed to meet a guy she was planning on hooking up with, and you lost a bet, so you had to go with her. In secret, she was still scared to go by herself and you wanted to help her - regardless of that you hated parties like this. Obviously, you hoped that she wouldn’t leave your side too soon, but at the same time it only meant you could get home earlier, which was a win in your books.

„Sure you do. But I don’t care right now, because you owe it to me. You could let loose for once and also get some good di-“

„No, I’m not, and you know I can’t!“ you cut Mijung off and she lifts her hands up in defeat.

She just scoffs while scanning the place for faces she might recognize. “Yes, yes I know. God forbid your parents ever find out your at a party like this, or even have sex. But they have nothing to worry about.” Thinking to yourself that they really do not need to worry, but deep inside you wanted to do all these things that you got restricted from. Forcefully restricted yourself from, and the longer you thought about it, you wanted to go against it. Date and sleep with guys as you please, live a little. But still, something unknown was holding you back from it.

“You know it’s not just that but also-“ you started explaining yourself for the nth time in your life, but now she cut you off and hopped off her barstool. The man she was waiting for finally appeared and she left with him after they exchanged a quick peck as a greeting. Being uncomfortable with the scene, you fumbled with your phone in order not to look awkward or out of place - but that’s exactly what you were. And on top of that, you were alone.

You held your phone tightly in your grip, watching over the intense crowd, people on people and the sight made you nauseous, especially when you locked eyes with someone that was kissing or grinding on each other. You wanted to be able to do those sorts of things, but at the same time it scared you, almost disgusted you. But the sting of alcohol in your cup that you barely drank made everything worse. The situation altogether was just too much for you.

“Now look at that, am I high or is the notorious Y/N at our place?”

You cursed to yourself when you recognized his voice.

“Fuck off, Choi.” was the first and only thing that you could think of while still scrolling mindlessly through your apps to appear busy.

He slides into the seat Mijung left empty just a few minutes ago. “Now, you know that doesn’t affect me. I just wanna talk a bit. I’m not feeling getting hammered tonight if I’m being honest.” He started a conversation and you forced yourself to look at him. He looked too good to be true with his messy hair and black shirt and jeans. But you ignored his visuals in order to give him a strict look.

“And what do you wanna talk about? We never talk. And I’m not gonna be here for much longer anyways.” You explained and San rose and eyebrow at your comment. “Oh? So we’re do you plan on going?”

You didn’t know, since Mijung was left so early, you haven’t given it any thought other than going back home, even if it was too early to leave, but yet dark outside.

“Home. To my dorm. I hate places like this.” You looked away, and he noticed your discomfort. The atmosphere was really awkward between the two of you. As a result you turned slightly away from him.

He sighs, “You know, we can go somewhere quiet.” You adamantly shake your head at his suggestion, “no, I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re aware of your reputation and so am I. I’m not doing that.” you spat disheartinly, assuming it was another one of his attempts to get into your pants. But surprisingly, it wasn’t.

“No, you listen now,” he took hold of your arm and twisted you back to face him. “You’re uncomfortable here, I can see that. I’m taking you to my room. And not to get with you, but because I promised Wooyoung to take him home when he’s completely wasted tonight. I can take you home then alongside him.” he says and his brows furred a little.

Wooyoung was someone you trusted, so if he trusted San to take him home when he’s completely shitfaced, then maybe you could also trust him? All alarms went off in your head telling you he was anything but trustworthy. But as you looked into his eyes, there was something genuine about his offer. But after a few moments of thinking, you gave him the benefit of the doubt: you complied and nodded, “okay, but just because Woo trusts you.” But that was enough for him.

He got up and urged you to come after him, walking up the stairs until the loud noises from the other people steadily died down. After the two of you entered his room, your nervousness und sense of awkwardness disappeared again. Even if it was San, you were used to him, to his presence. And it was better then to be lost and alone downstairs.

“Make yourself feel at home.” He introduces you when he plops down at his bed, while you took a closer look around his personal space. There were plenty of books on his shelf, a flag hung up on the wall, and the desk was messy in books and other stuff he used frequently. To be honest, you imagined his room to be more messy, but it was just a kind of creative chaos.

The silence in his room was thick. He watched your movements closely for a while, but you tried to give him not much attention, even if you felt his stares linger on you. Minutes passed until he started to speak up again:

“Do you mind if I ask you something? I’m kinda curious, y’know.”

You turned around and look into his eyes, that are loosely hidden behind his dark strains of hair over his forehead. Arms pushed behind him on the bed to support his upper body, leaning back. You walk back a little until you sit down in a giant bean bag that was in the center of the small room. While you adjust yourself you look over to him once again, signaling him to continue talking. He sits up a little, leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs.

“You know, any other girl would beg me to fuck them if they were in your spot. Why are you so determined to do anything but that?”

Taken aback, you knew San was bold, but you didn’t expect him to go there, especially not at this time, when he offered a hide out for you so considerably. Shrugging your shoulders you dip your chip to your chest and try to figure out a way to answer his question.

“I’m, uhm, I’m... it’s just not my thing.” You stutter out, and you are pretty sure you have an aura of uncertainty surrounding you. Of course, San picks up on it:

“Wait, not your thing? What kinda guy did you sleep with that make you think that way about sex? Or girl?” His facial expressions clearly confused, not yet understanding your reasoning.

You stayed silent. Because you couldn’t muster to say the truth: you haven’t. Yes, you were a still a virgin, in college. Nobody knew other than Mijung, not even any of your closest friends. And the fact that San was this close to discovering your secret, or probably already did, made you anxious.

“Mmh, I get it now. You never got laid. Not even once in your life. Am I Right?” He assumed and hit the nail right on the head. You wanted to cuss him out, hit and slap him, but that would only prove him right. The blush that crept on your face was answer enough for him. He stood up from his place on the bed to sit back down next to you on the floor. You couldn’t look at him, because of the pure humiliation he’s putting you through, trying to get swallowed by the fuzzy material of your seat.

“So that’s the reason you’re acting like this most of the time: you have never gotten any action together than with yourself. How am I only just now figuring this out?” He chuckles, having you in a spot were you couldn’t get out as easy as you’d like. Still not opting to speak, gnawing at the inside of your cheek instead, but you don’t need to anyway, because he continues to piece the evidence together.

“Wooyoung once mentioned you had strict parents, you know. Judging by how you act around your friends, I didn’t think you’d care about what they thought, no? You’re well past the age of being ‘daddy’s good girl’. And also by the way you throw shallow insults at me every time we are in the same room, I can tell you that you’re anything but the nice girl your parents want you to be. That’s not the real you. But Y/N, you know it’s your life? You can do whatever you want? If you want to take drugs, take them. If you want to smoke, smoke. If you want to get dicked down, then for fucks sake get some! You’re old enough to make your own decisions.”

Stunned by his rant, you scanned his face for any signs of emotions, but it was really hard to tell what was going on in his head. He sighs and dips his chin to the side, before finding your eyes again, taking your hand into his rough ones. The physical touch had a certain effect on you, and you wanted to be closer to him. Your future self your probably slap yourself in the face for this, but right now you got lost in his dark eyes and deep stare. Feeling vulnerable under the intensity of his gaze, not knowing what to do or say. Taking a quick breath, you uttered under your breath “where is this going, San?” Against all expectations, he smiles.

“Anything that happens here, between you and I, nobody else is gonna know about it. Not a single soul.” His hand slowly start to wander up your arm, touching the skin of your neck and threads his fingers through the strains of hair that rest on your shoulder. You don’t feel anything other than the alarms in the back of your mind slowly subside and be replaced by other thoughts.

“Just tell me no and I’ll stop.” His voice comes out raspy and seductive, and it sends waves of arousal down your core, even if the only physical contact you two had was from his wandering hands. The thought excited you, and he had a point: you could do whatever you wanted, and up until now, the consequences would keep you from giving into him. But there are no worries of the sort holding you back anymore, and if it was only for tonight, so be it. He was to strong, his effect was too strong.

His eyes never leave yours, until you give him an answer.

“Yes, okay. Yes I want it. I want you to show me what I’m missing out on.” You brace yourself for whats coming next, but nothing could prepare you for what he had in mind. He grabs your hips to lift you up, and in shock your arms fly to grab his shoulders. He settles you down in his lap, hands immediately find your ass and grips the flesh through your jeans. You both lean forward, hot breath mixing and hitting your faces. That was until San looses his patience just a few seconds later and presses his lips onto yours. And it wasn’t like anything you have ever felt before.

The two of you move in sync for what feels like ages, his tongue entering your mouth and taking the lead as he continues to grip your waist and butt to draw a few whimpers out of you. Your fingers found their place in his nape and gripped his hair as you busied your mouth with his. He breaks the kiss and moves down towards your neck and starts to suck on your skin, making marks blossom in shades of red and purple.

“If you want this to be a secret, you should make sure to cover up your marks later, because I’m not letting you go without adding my mark to your beautiful, beautiful body.”

Eyes blown out in lust, and you died in anticipation. He sucked more and more hickeys until he was satisfied with the finished product. He lifted his head up again and you wanted to kiss him again.

But then, you heard something hit the door from the outside, followed by a thud and a load groan. “San-ah! Let me in, I need to -“

—

[paradoxolotl]

what’s it like navigating a relationship as an asexual person? i’m on the ace spec and i’m worried that people might not want to be with me bc of it

I can only speak from my own experience. Everyone is unique and therefore deal with relationships differently. I’m going to be talking a lot about my own experiences with relationships and sex below, so fair warning.

I currently identify as ace. My partner is allo and we’ve been together for around eight years now.

Earlier this year, I didn’t know what asexuality was. I knew sex wasn’t that important to me, and I thought it was because something was wrong with me. I have a few medical “issues” (I don’t really like calling them that but not sure of what else I can use) that can make sex uncomfortable or painful if not taken into account. I thought I was just fucked up and would never enjoy relationships like everyone else.

It is incredibly rare that I’ll feel the need to get off. When I do, it’s more of scratching an itch than anything else. Like eating or sleeping, sometimes it’s just something that I need to do. Sex with another person is complicated and messy, and usually I can’t be bothered.

Generally, there needs to be some sort of trigger to even get my brain to think about getting off. Maybe it’s a sex scene in a book or movie, but most of the time it’s my partner asking “do you want to have sex”. I just don’t think about it otherwise.

I have experienced attention to a wide range of people, drawn to the aesthetic or energy of them more than anything else. I will say that the thought of actually having sex with anyone who isn’t my partner makes my skin crawl. My partner is someone I trust completely. They are my home, my support, and keep me afloat even on my darkest days. I would not be here today without them.

Now, I personally do enjoy sex when I have it. I’ve had absolutely amazing mind blowing sex before. But if I had to choose between never having sex again or never eating lasagna again? I’m keeping the lasagna. I would be completely content simply making out and cuddling my partner for the rest of our days.

So it’s not a matter of “just haven’t had good sex” or “met the right person”. I have both, and sex still isn’t important to me.

Now let’s talk about what my relationship looked like.

When we first started dating, we were teenagers. I had been fed my whole life that sex is vital to any relationship, so when my partner asked, I said yes. I trusted them and was excited to try sex, but it was not this great magical thing. It was awkward, a little uncomfortable, but overall not terrible. I enjoyed it enough to keep experimenting with it.

Then, I just stopped caring at all. I felt bad, I didn’t understand why suddenly the thought of sex made me uncomfortable. My partner never pushed, but I felt guilty. We started having sex less and less until it was common to go months without it. We still kissed, cuddled, went on dates, slept in the same bed, but sex was no longer common.

When I finally found out about asexuality, I was thrilled. It was confirmation I wasn’t broken. That my experience was completely normal and human. When I told my partner, they were unsure. They were worried all of my past ‘yeses’ were actually ‘nos’. They thought I was no longer attracted to them, no longer wanted to be with them.

Never once did they try to tell me I wasn’t ace. Not once did they try to brush it off or tell me I was mistaken. They still don’t fully understand, but I don’t fully understand what it is to be allo. They ask me questions, and I try to answer it the best I can.

So, with being on the asexual spectrum and relationships.

What’s important to any sexual relationship is also what’s important to any romantic relationship.

Open communication, trust, and respect.

I know I can ask my partner anything, and they’ll give me an honest answer. When we have a concern or problem, we talk about it. We fight, bicker, step on each other’s toes, but we also know when to listen and offer advice. We know how to work together to find solutions. We make sure we’re both happy.

Off of that we trust the answers we’re given. We trust what we tell each other. We trust that the other is doing their best for them and the both of us. I always tell my partner, take care of yourself first, and us second. Because our relationship suffers when they are spread to thin. I trust that they’ll tell me what they need, what they want, and I trust them enough to tell them what I need and want.

Finally, it’s respecting each other. It’s not trampling over boundaries and ignoring answers. It’s taking each “yes” and “no” as they come without question. It’s asking and receiving. It’s me telling them “I can’t be touched right now” and them settling down on the other side of the couch, there with me but not touching. It’s them saying “I need comfort” and me laying their head in my lap and letting them let go.

If ANY relationship doesn’t have these, leave. I PROMISE you that you will feel worse compromising yourself to be with someone than you would feel without that relationship.

Around 1% of the population is ace. 1% of 7 billion is a lot of people. People don’t need to be ace to respect you and your experiences, but maybe knowing how many of us there are can sooth some worries.

If someone doesn’t want to be with you because you’re ace? You don’t want to be with them. They’re not worth the time or energy it takes to be upset over.

The world is a big place, but it doesn’t have to be so scary. Join ace friendly communities and exchange stories. Build a support network. Set your boundaries and enforce them. You are bloody magnificent, and people will see that. But remember, romantic relationships are not something to build your life around. You build your life around you.

Explore, experiment, do what makes you happy. You’re allowed to change you mind, feel differently, grow and stumble and fall and evolve. You are an incredible and unique universe all in your own. Never forget that.

[babymetaldoll]

Danger Days - Chapter eight: "You don't own me"

Word count: 8,6K

Summary:  Joey is back and finally reunited with Matthew. Gubler is, by the way, crazy jealous about Mikey.

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, penetrative sex, cursing, jealousy.

A/N: Is Matthew right to be so jealous? ... I'm guessing the answer is yes.

Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen | Chapter sixteen | Chapter seventeen | Chapter eighteen | Chapter nineteen | Chapter twenty | Chapter twenty one | Chapter twenty-two | Chapter twenty-three | Chapter twenty-four |

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::: November 6th, 2010:::

The show was over, sweat dripping down Gerard’s face. He could still listen to the crowd yelling as he walked out of the stage and over the dressing room. He was tired, it was the last date of the leg of the tour, and he felt ready for a good break from being on the road.

Frank grabbed a bottle of water and drank almost half of it. Joey looked at him with a funny stare.

- “Shit! You were fucking dehydrated!”

- “And you failed in your crusade to keep me moisturized”- the drummer burst out laughing and hugged him friendly

- “I can’t believe you remember that!!”

- “You never forget a girl who promised to moisturize you”- the guitarist kissed her cheek, both of them were pretty sweated, but neither of them seemed to care.

- “Fuck Jersey, I’m gonna miss you. I’m not gonna listen to your weird, kinky jokes in a whole month.”

- “Bug, you are so gonna get my calls, so many calls!!”- Joey laughed and let him go.

She was honestly gonna miss him. Though she had managed to stop flirting and staring at him like she knew she had done, their friendship continued to grow, and they were closer than ever. Gerard hated it, but there was nothing he could do about it.

- "Come on!"- Ray argued, overhearing the conversation- "It’s just one month! And you better enjoy it, ‘cos starting February, you are not getting rid of us."

- "And you are not getting rid of me these days either"- Mikey quickly added, and Joey stuck her tongue out to him.

- "That I already knew, bróðir!"

- "It was a good show"- Gerard said out of the blue, and everybody looked at him.

- "Yeah"- they all answered and sat for a while. Ray took off his shirt and looked for a clean one in his bag. Joey quickly ran over and tapped on his pectorals.

- "I’ve seen these a hundred times already, and I still can’t get over the fact you’ve got better tits than I do!"- Ray burst out laughing as Gerard turned around not to see that scene.

In the latest days, he had had to swallow all his jealousy in a slightly successful attempt to stay a little further away from Joey. But staring at her being so close and friendly with everybody was making shit harder for Way. It was a good thing they had a month’s break. Maybe that would help to cool off his head from that crush.

- "So, dinner?"- Frank asked as he took off his shirt too to change into a dry one.

- "First a shower, then dinner and then… to the airport?"- Joey looked at her wristwatch- "Why are we flying at three in the morning?"

- "‘Cos it was the only flight available"- Ray quickly answered and cut the girl a smile- "But it gives us time to shower, eat dinner and get chocolates in the duty-free."

- "You had me at “shower,” then you said chocolates, and you made it perfect"- she answered and grabbed a shirt from her bag. It was the same every time. Gerard would get all excited about the possibility of her taking off her shirt right there with them, but she would always lock in the bathroom for a quick change.

- "Bummer!!"- Frank yelled as soon as Joey closed the bathroom door behind her back- "One day, we are gonna get a shitty venue without a bathroom or whatever, and you are gonna have to show us your bra!!"

- "Never!!"- Joey yelled, laughing from the bathroom. Frank laughed too and sighed. He made it sound like a joke, but he was dead serious about it. He still had a crush on the girl, though he had managed to keep it under control.

Dinner was nice. The band ate at the hotel and left for the airport. Gerard was excited to think maybe if he had a seat with Joey again, but no, he didn’t. Instead, she was alone with a stranger the whole flight to Munich. She didn’t really mind though, she would enjoy the little time alone she got after being most of her time locked in a bus with the band. It was fun, but it could get to be a little too much. And though she wasn’t really a woman with many female friends, she needed a more women-friendly environment for a while. Maybe not having Mikey farting most of the day was going to be nice. Or Frank burping. Or Gerard staring at her. Shit, Gerard staring at her was the worst, ‘cos it made her feel awkward. She needed to get away from him for a while.

The flight from Munich to New York was too long to be true. Luckily, the whole band was too tired to be awake most of the time. They got into the plane and fell asleep right away. Frank looked at Ray sitting next to him and punched his shoulder, forcing him to take out his headphones, pause his movie, and looked at his friend.

- "What?"

- "What are you doing?"- Iero asked and grinned.

- "Fuck you, Frank"- and the boy just laughed.

- "I wanted to know if Christa is picking you up or if you need a ride home. Jamia is coming with the girls to the airport."

- "Thanks, but Christa is coming for me, and my plan is to stay awake to get this jetlag straight."

- "Yeah"- Frank smiled and elbowed his friend- "Sure thing, the jetlag... "- Ray blushed and smacked his friend’s head.

- "I don’t appreciate you talking about me and my wife private life."

- "I didn’t say a thing."

- "Shut up!"- Joey and Mikey said at the same time, sitting right behind the other guys.

- "Stop speaking at the same time. It’s disturbing"- Frank agued and turned around to look at them.

- "Be glad you only have a half-hour left with us then"- Mikey quickly answered and wrapped an arm around Joey’s neck.

- "I’m so sorry for Gerard. He is stuck with you for another six hours."

- "He has been stuck with me his whole life. He is going to have to bear with it"- Mikey said, chuckling.

Needless to say, Gerard didn’t really have a problem with being with Joey for another couple of hours.

The goodbye was slightly sad. And a little awkward. Frank and Ray insisted on introducing Joey to their wives. And considering they had a whole hour to kill before boarding their next flight, the drummer agreed.

It was so weird meeting Jamia, but it also helped her kill the little crush she had on Frank.

Jamia was gorgeous, and the babies - Cherry and Lily- were the cutest. Frank changed completely as soon as he was with them. He turned into a dad and stopped being the annoying teenager Joey had spent two weeks with.

- "It’s so great to finally meet you"- Jamia said as she shook the drummer’s hand with a huge smile.

- "Me too! Frank has talked so much about you I feel like I’ve known you for years now"- which was totally the truth. In the last days, Frank had gotten so excited to go home, he wouldn’t stop talking about his life in Jersey.

- "I am so sorry"- Jamia said as they all sat down in a Starbuck.

- "What for?"

- "Anything my husband has done to make you uncomfortable, like farting, and burping, and being gross"- Joey burst out laughing and turned to her friend.

- "Jersey, your wife is an angel. She is a keeper"- and the guitarist smiled, proud.

- "I know, I don’t know how she can bear with me."

- "Probably ‘cos she had your babies"- Joey grinned, and Frank stuck out her tongue to her. Gerard and Mikey sipped their coffee in silence- "Too bad dad had to go so quickly. I wanted to meet Christa better."

- "You’ll have another chance, Bug"- Mikey smiled at her and sighed. He didn’t really want to go back home. It meant facing the inevitable: his divorce.

Joey and Jamia chatted for a long while. Mrs. Iero needed to know what she was dealing with. And mostly if she was going to get a chance to meet Matthew. By the end of their coffee, Jamia felt much more calmed to know the drummer, and Joey felt so much better to feel Mrs. Iero didn’t hate her. It really scared her to think any of the wives of her colleagues could think something wrong about her, except for Lynz. She didn’t scare her… it panicked her. If she only knew what she wanted to do to her husband.

Frank hugged Joey tight, keeping a safe emotional distance thanks to the proximity of his wife and his real-life in Jersey. He also hugged Mikey and Gerard and promised to call soon. Then, the Way brothers and Joey walked to the domestic terminal and looked for their gate. They got there just when they had started boarding.

- "Seems like we are all sitting together"- Gerard said, taking a look at their boarding passes.

- "Awww, my last six hours with you"- Joey quickly answered and smiled.

- "Stop saying that. You really aren’t getting rid of me these days"- the youngest Way said with a funny smile.

- "Next week I’m flying to Seattle for a few days, you are gonna have to learn to live without me, Mikey Way"- Joey quickly answered and kept walking with him to the gate.

- "Damn it! What am I supposed to do those days?"

- "Go torture Gerard for a change"- she replied and looked at Gee, who was staring back at her. But instead of saying anything about his brother, the singer asked.

- "Are you going to see your parents?"

- "Yes! Mom is forcing me to go and pretty much making me feel guilty for “abandon them” for my job."

- "Wow, that sounds harsh"- Mikey raised an eyebrow- "Can I go with you?"

- "No, Mikey. Matthew is coming along, and he is actually going to meet my parents, which is a huge deal for me."

- "Why?"

- "My parents have never met one of my boyfriends"- Joey confessed and passed her boarding pass to the crew by the gate of their flight.

- "Never?"- Gerard was surprised- "Why?"

-"I’ve never had a serious boyfriend."

- "Again, never?"- Gerard was surprised, and so was Mikey.

- "Yeah. I’m not really a people person, and I don’t usually date a lot, so… that’s it"- Joey cut them a fake smile and started walking to the plane, followed by her friends.

- "I can’t believe you are not a people person. That’s really bullshit"- Mikey argued but met Joey’s serious face.

- "I am, and that’s it."

By the tone of her voice, the two guys knew she wasn’t joking about it. So neither of them kept asking questions and remained quiet until they all sat down. The girl was sitting in the middle of the two guys, which made the three of them very happy. At least she knew she could talk to Gerard not feeling awkward ‘cos Mikey was right there to join the conversation too. Well, that if she made it to speak to Gerard, considering they both had been ignoring each other basically the whole week.

But it was a good flight. The three of them kept sleeping most of the time, watched a movie. Joey kept reading her book, Gerard borrowed it for a while, and Mikey kept reading the comics he had gotten in the airport. A typical trip for the three of them.

Matthew was waiting for Joey outside her gate. And as soon as she saw him, she ran to him and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around him and feeling his hands holding her tight.

- "Akumu"- she managed to whisper, rubbing her lips against him, refusing to stop the kiss.

- "My Yami"- he said and smiled, to keep on kissing her- "I missed you so much!"

- "I missed you more."

- "Please, never leave again."

- "I’m here now, and I love you so."

- "I love you so much."

Joey couldn’t stop kissing her boyfriend, and he refused to let her go, though people kept staring at them. One of which was Gerard Way.

- "Come on, kids! get a room"- Mikey said and tapped on Matthew’s back- "And be respectful of my sister in public places. Come on! she is a lady!"

- "Go away, bróðir"- Joey managed to say, still rubbing her lips against Matthew’s

- "You little rebel, hey man"- all the interruption forced the couple to stop their lovely reunion.

- "Hey"- Matthew shook Mikey’s and Gerard’s hands. The youngest Way smiled friendly, but his older brother couldn’t even fake it. He really hated Gubler.

- "Hello"- was the only thing he managed to say.

- "How was your trip?"- Gubler asked and smiled at the guys, now wrapping an arm around Joey and kissing her temple several times.

Gerard hated Matthew more and more with every second that passed. The singer had only managed to kiss her once on the forehead. This guy could kiss her whole body and probably have already. And most probably, he was going to do it again in the following hours. The whole idea made him jealous as hell.

- "Wait, how did you get here?"- Joey asked him and looked around- "You are not boarding a plane now, are you?"

- "No, Yami. I just… managed to ask for permission to get here for you and only for you"- Gerard wanted to smash Gubler’s head against the nearest wall. Joey pouted and kissed her boyfriend for what seemed to be a thousand times.

- "I love you"- she whispered and smiled.

- "Somebody’s gonna get laid!!"- Mikey joked as the couple kept on making out- "Ok, ok, come on, let’s go get our bags so you little love birds can… stop doing this in front of me!"

Mikey said and started walking. Gerard couldn’t agree with his brother more.

Lynz greeted her husband at the front door with the biggest kiss and the warmest hug. He kissed her back and smiled, feeling home. It felt good to have her in his arms. To have someone he loved wrapping her arms around him for a change. It had been too long since he felt that. And he didn’t want to let her go.

Mikey walked into an empty house. Alicia had taken pretty much everything. His house was filled with eco and desolation. Tears started falling down his cheeks. Tears soon became a waterfall. He sat on the floor, resting his back against the wall, howling. He hadn’t cried like that in years.

He took a look around at the empty walls. The empty room. His empty life, and realized how lonely he felt. He could fill the time on tour with his friends, with booze, with the shows. But in real life, on his daily basis, Mikey Way was ultimately and unquestionably alone. And that day, there was nothing he could do about it to face it.

Matthew could barely open the door as he refused to stop kissing his girlfriend. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, and her lips traveled from his mouth to his neck nonstop.

- "Yami... the..."

- "Fuck me right here against the door, I don’t care"- she whispered, and he groaned.

- "Don’t test me!"

The actor somehow managed to open the door, kicked the bags inside, and found the nearest couch.

- "I missed you so fucking much"- she whispered and pulled up his shirt.

- "Me most! And I needed to fuck you so badly. I hadn’t jerked off this much since I was in high school."

- "Then fuck me, Matthew Gray."

- "My plan exactly."

Joey didn’t care about the jetlag; she didn’t care about how tired she felt. She just wanted to feel her boyfriend inside of her as fast as possible 'cos fuck, she had missed him. And seeing him on top of her half-naked already made her feel as ready as she could be.

His lips played on her skin, making her shiver, as he licked and nibbled every inch of her that was possible. Joey’s hands kept moving on his skin as her eyes kept staring at him on top of her. It seemed he was hungry for her, and she wanted to be devoured.

- "Yami"- he whispered and kissed her neck as he finished taking all of her clothing off- "How much did you miss me?"

- "So much"- she moaned as his hardon rubbed her clit.

- "Show me how much you missed me"- she blushed as the two of them stayed still for a second, staring at each other. Joey slowly opened her legs and let Matthew in. Both of them groaned at the very same time as he filled her up completely.

- "Shit"- Joey bit his arm and scratched her nails on his skin.

- "So tight..."- he managed to say as he started thrusting slowly.

- "Just for you"- the girl sighed and kissed his neck

- "You feel so good, Yami."

Joey’s legs were wrapped firmly around his torso as his hand grabbed on hers, intertwining their fingers against one of the cushions of the couch. Their lips were sealed together, only parting for air every once in a while. And when they did, their eyes crushed, staring in complete silence, just moaning, just kissing, just enjoying the fact they were finally together again.

And they had never wanted each other more. It was sweet. It was passionate. It was love.

- "Please, make me cum"- Joey whispered and watched him smile.

- "Your wishes are my commands"- with those words, Matthew fastened his peace and looked at her. He propped up on his elbows, thrusting into her and hitting her g-spot with every single stroke. He wanted to kiss her, but he couldn’t stop staring at her with her eyes closed, whimpering and whispering his name.

- "You look so hot"- Gubler murmured, but she wasn’t able to answer. Instead, her moaning increased and turned into a yell filled with pleasure as she came, which was surely heard by the whole building.

- "Matthew..."- she managed to say as she caught her breath for a second.

- "I’m gonna... "- he whimpered against the skin he bit raw. His thrusts turned messier as he started losing into her, releasing himself and groaning deep into her shoulder as she kept her arms and legs around him.

- "Sorry"- he whispered and chuckled- "That was too fast."

- "I don’t care, we have time to do it again"- she answered and kissed him with a big smile.

- "I just missed you so fucking much."

- "I know, I missed you too... wanna shower with me?"

- "I wanna do everything with you"- she smiled and felt his lips on hers for a sweet kiss. She loved him. She didn’t want to forget that.

::: November 18th, 2010 :::

Matthew frowned as he walked into Joey’s apartment and saw Mikey sitting on the floor, holding a joystick. During the whole time he had dated Joey, Gubler had never met one of her friends. She didn’t have many- or any actually- and he knew it. They mainly were work buddies, or like Tucker, they lived far away. The drummer really hadn’t made friends in Los Angeles. That’s why it was so weird for him to see Mikey Way at her house now pretty much every day. Or that’s how it felt.

- "Hey Gub! Nice to see you again"- the bassist said and smiled, returning his eyes to the screen and pausing the game one second later- "Joey is getting ready for your date."

- "Hey, great… how are you?"

- "Awesome, we literally smashed Assassins Creed today"- Mikey smiled and pointed at the Playstation.

- "Sounds fun."

- "I’m ready, Akumu"- Matthew smiled and looked at Joey walking out of her room.

- "Wow"- he whispered and wide opened his eyes- "You look amazing!"

- "Thank you"- the drummer’s cheeks blushed as her boyfriend walked over and landed his hands on her hips, moving her closer to her body and rubbing his lips against hers for a moment before saying

- "Are you sure you wanna go out? We could stay here and take that dress off slowly"- and she giggled nervously at his insinuations.

- "If we go out and you look at me in the dress for a long while, you might want to take it off even more eagerly, and it might feel even better when you do it"- she murmured, looking straight into his eyes and kissed his lips.

- "Let me see you"- Mikey said and walked over, ruining the sexy moment- "Damn! You never ever dressed like that when we were on the road"- Mikey said and looked at her up and down, something that bothered Matthew very much.

Gubler was a jealous boyfriend, and Joey didn’t like that, so he always hid it. But most of the time, when a guy was too close to her, it honestly bothered him. Needless to say, the fact she was working with a band and a crew of only men, her being the only woman, hunted him day and night. But he made his best and didn’t say a thing ‘cos he wanted to support her no matter what. But Mikey was making things hard for him.

- "Stop it, bróðir!!"- she punched his arm and smiled- "What are you doing tonight?"

- "I guess I’ll stop by Gerard’s and annoy the fuck out of him."

- "Sounds like fun, say hi from me"- Joey grabbed her bag and jacket- "See you tomorrow?"

- "Yeah! I need you to come with me to Fender"- Way announced.

- "Why?"

- "They are working on a custom mustang bass for me. I designed it, and we are going to check it out."

- "Wow!"- Matthew said, surprised- "Dude, that’s great!"- but Mikey just shrugged. He was so depressed he really didn’t care.

- "I guess… anyway, I have to be there at noon."

- "On a Saturday?"- Joey frowned.

- "Yeah… I told them I couldn’t do it any other day."

- "Aren’t you being a little bitch with people just ‘cos you can?"- Joey teased him, and he smiled

- "I actually couldn’t"- Joey raised an eye and turned to her boyfriend.

- "Shall we? Mikey, lock the door when you leave"- they high-fived, and the couple left.

- "Wait… did you give him a spare key?"- Matthew asked, frowning as he realized what his girlfriend had just said.

- "Yeah, why?"- Joey didn’t seem to notice her boyfriend was serious about it.

- "‘Cos you met him last month."

- "And I’ve lived half of that time with him. I think I can trust him. He is my friend"- Joey made lights off of the whole deal, but Matthew was honestly mad.

- "I don’t like this"- he simply said and started the car.

- "Why?"

- "‘Cos I feel he is taking all of your free time."

- "That’s not true! I spend 99% of my time with you! I even go to the set with you! And I spend most nights at your house! So what is wrong with me also spending some time with my friend? Who is, by the way, the only friend I’ve got here in L.A?"

- "But... "- Matthew didn’t seem to find an argument to win that battle, or at least that could make sense to Joey.

- "But what? You don’t want me to hang out with other people?"

- "It’s not that! I just… find it weird that you work with them and go out with him and…"

- "He is my friend, Matthew!"- Joey sighed and looked straight at the road as her boyfriend kept driving. So much for a date’s mood. Gubler took a deep breath and started talking very slowly to sound calm.

- "I know he is your friend, and that’s not what bothers me…"

- "Then?"- the girl turned to her boyfriend and raised an eyebrow- "Are you jealous of Mikey?"

- "No…"- he hesitated, ashamed and even a little scared of Joey’s reaction.

- "You can’t be jealous of Mikey. He just lost his marriage. I am his friend, and he is fucking alone."

- "He has his brother and probably other friends"- Joey made a pause before answering because she felt bad talking about Gerard in front of Gubler.

- "Yeah, but he has his marriage, and I think his wife is best friends with Mikey’s ex… if Mikey didn’t want to tell him, do you think he wants to share his darkest moment with him?"

- "No, but why you?"

- "So you think he has a crush on me! What are you? Fifteen?"

- "No! That’s not what I meant!"

- "Then?"

- "I don’t know!! We’ve never been through this before! I just find it weird!"

- "So you are jealous"

- "Yes! Of course, I am!"- Matthew finally exploded- "But I trust you, so I know nothing bad will happen!"

Joey didn’t answer. She just started outside the window and counted to ten.

- "Yami?"

- "I trust you too, Akumu. And believe me, nothing is gonna happen between Mikey and me"- she whispered and felt her cheeks burning- "But please, don’t get jealous of him. He is the closest thing I’ve ever have of a brother in my entire life, and I love him very much."

The girl made her best to be calmed, she didn’t want to ruin the moment, and she made her best to understand what her boyfriend was going through. Though she hated to face that he was jealous, she could get how her boyfriend felt. It would be too cynical to tell him he had no one to be jealous of because he had no idea how she felt about Gerard. But that was completely platonic and not a threat at all.

- "So… are we ok?"- Matthew asked with a soft tone of voice and held his girlfriend’s hand.

- "We are ok, Akumu"- Joey answered and cut him a warm smile- "Are you ok with me going to Fender tomorrow with Mikey?"

- "Yes..."- he answered without hesitations.

- "Awesome ‘cos I was going to do it anyway."

Mikey lit a cigarette and looked up to the stars in the sky. He was sitting in his older brother’s backyard, drinking a beer, and basically just being there, trying not to think. Gerard was smoking next to him in silence, drawing something to kill time and sipping a diet coke from time to time.

- "So how was your day?"- he finally asked his younger brother.

- "It was good. I was with Joey the whole day"- and Gerard nearly chook- "We played video games, ordered pizza, and basically just did my favorite thing, nothing."

- "How is she?"

- "Great, she had a date night today; otherwise, I would have stayed for a slumber party with her and Gubler."

- "With him too?"

- "Yeah, he is a nice guy. He is obviously jealous as fuck, but Joey doesn’t seem to care, and neither do I actually"- Gerard chuckled

- "So he is jealous of all of us or just you?"

- "Just me… I guess it’s because we hang out a lot."

- "You do? Really?"

- "Almost every time she is not with him. We are going out tomorrow."

- "Where are you going to?"- and that was really something that caught Gerard’s attention

- "To Fender to check how’s my bass going. Wanna come along?"- the temptation was too big for Gerard to avoid.

- "Yeah, it sounds fun"- and he made his best to sound as casual as possible.

- "Great…"- Mikey took a long drag of his cigarette and stayed quiet again. Lynz walked over and cut them a short smile. Gerard’s little brother nodded but didn’t say anything.

- "I’m going out, guys,"- she announced and looked at his husband- "I’m gonna hang out with the girls"- and the girls included Mikey’s ex-wife. Everybody knew they were best friends.

- "Have fun, honey"- Gerard kissed her and smiled. Mikey waved and sighed- "Are you ok?"

- "Yeah"- he quickly answered and finished his beer- "I’m gonna take a piss."

Mikey locked himself in the bathroom and burst out crying. He was a wreck, and he didn’t want to show it, not to his brother. He didn’t need his pity. That’s why he hadn’t hung out with him so much those days. That’s why he was stuck at Joey most of her free time.

Alicia had destroyed him. Each time they talked, he ended up even more broken-hearted, more miserable. More alone. Joey had insisted on taking him to see her therapist, but he kept refusing. Instead, he had beer, or vodka, or whatever there was around. And cigarettes and the tv to numb his brain.

- "Are you excited to meet my parents?"- Joey asked Matthew as they sat in front of each other, smiling. He had taken her to her favorite Thai restaurant for dinner, and she was in heaven.

- "Scared maybe"- he whispered and blushed.

- "Why?"

- "I can’t stop thinking your dad is gonna be this tall, brawny Icelandic guy that’s gonna break every bone in my body for dating his daughter"- Joey burst out laughing and nodded.

- "That might be true, but my mom is gonna love you. And she is gonna overfeed you, so tomorrow you should eat light"- Matthew chuckled and held Joey’s hand.

- "I love you so much, Yami"- and she blushed.

- "Akamu, I think I love you more"- they stared at each other for a moment with a goofy smile, until the moment was ruined by her cell phone- "I’m sorry."

The girl whispered and looked at the screen, laughing as Matthew looked at her, not getting what was going on?

- "What is it? What’s so funny?"

- "Frank just sent me a photo. He dressed his kids like pumpkins!! Look! They are so cute!!!"- the girl gave him her phone, and he smiled, faked a smile actually. And it was so obvious, Joey locked her phone and placed it in her pocket.

- "I just… can we have a minute without someone from the band taking your attention from me?"

- "You have my undivided attention! Can you stop being jealous?"

- "Yes… I can! but it’s hard!"- Gubler sighed and calmed himself down ‘cos he knew that was a lost battle.

- "You can take my phone if you want and keep it away"- she said and gave it to him, in one of the toughest decisions she had ever made. That meant Joey was actually doing what her boyfriend wanted her to do. She hated that.

But she loved Matthew and didn’t want to have another argument that night. Matthew took it, turned it off, and placed it in his pocket, enjoying for once a minute of power in that relationship. Joey wasn’t a girl easy to handle. He loved the challenge, but sometimes it felt she was too independent of him. For him.

The sun shining on his face woke Mikey up. And it was hell. Another day, another hungover. He had fallen asleep drunk in his brother’s spare room. Not that he wanted to go home anyway, he didn’t feel like being alone. He quickly rolled in bed and looked at the time. He was late. Groaning, he looked for his phone around the room, found it in his pants, and dialed. Joey’s phone was off.

- "Fuck!"

Joey rolled on her bed and smiled. Matthew was sound and asleep next to her. She cuddled closer to him and kissed his naked skin.

- "This is what I miss the most when you are not home"- he whispered, waking up.

- "The way I wake you up?"

- "No, my arm numbed underneath your neck"- Joey chuckled and moved to free Matthew’s arm- "Thank you."

- "Sorry"

- "Don’t be. I love snuggling with you. You can numb all my limbers"- the girl giggled and kissed her boyfriend’s lips sweetly.

- "All of them?"- Matthew smiled and wrapped both arms around her.

- "Every single one of them… but right now, I have to go to work"- the girl pouted and felt him kissing her lips over and over again.

- "Who schedules a Meet and Greet on a Saturday?"

- "People who work the rest of the week and only have time on Saturday."

- "Touché"- Matthew smiled at her and kissed her lips before getting out of bed- "Meets and greets are weird"- she said and wrapped her body on the sheet as she stared at her boyfriend walking around her room naked, preparing to take a shower- "You literally just meet and greet someone."

- "Yes, that’s why the name"- he answered, chuckling.

- "Sorry, I can’t be smart if you are walking naked in my room"- the girl whispered, blushing. Matthew looked at her and offered his hand.

- "Would you be smarter if you shower with me?"

- "Nop, but I can be totally naughty."

- "That’s my girl…"

Gerard was memorizing every single street as Mikey drove to Joey’s house. He had never been there; his brother seemed to be there always. It bothered him, of course, but today it seemed to be pretty helpful actually. It had been over a week since the last time he saw her, and there was a part of him that missed her deeply. The other part of him felt guilty for missing her so much.

Mikey grabbed his phone and dialed again. Still off. Her phone was never off. What if something bad had happened to her? He dialed again. Nothing. The bassist cursed himself for not having Matthew’s number.

- "Are we close?"- Gerard asked, not looking at his brother, and never noticed he was about to freak out.

- "Yeah"

- "And… does she live with her boyfriend?"

- "No, she has a little one-bedroom apartment, he has… I think an apartment too, but Joey doesn’t want to move in with him yet"- Mikey just said it and didn’t detect his brother’s brightening eyes.

- "Why?"

- "They haven’t dated that long. She feels they aren’t there yet… there it is!"- the youngest Way pointed at an apartment complex- "I don’t see Matthew’s car here, maybe they are at his house."

Gerard frowned at that idea, feeling selfish and stupid. He had sex with his wife that week. Why couldn’t Joey have sex with her boyfriend? Easy: ‘cos Gerard wanted her to be his and only his. But that thought was killing him slowly. He didn’t know how to turn it off.

The Way brothers took the elevator to the fifth floor, walked down the aisle, and knocked on Joey’s door. Neither of them said a thing. Mikey grabbed the keys from his pocket and hesitated. He decided to knock on the door again, in case the girl was with her boyfriend.

- "What’s that?"- Gerard quickly asked, confused- "Do you have a spare key to her house?"

- "Yeah"- he simply answered, not getting his brother’s frowned face- "We exchanged keys in case of an emergency, that’s what friends do"- and Mikey rang the bell again.

- "What’s the rush?!"- the girl opened the door and wide opened her eyes as she first noticed Gerard was there, looking at her. And she was only wearing a robe. Great.

- "I’ve been calling you all day, Bug!"- Mikey hugged her, honestly worried- "I thought something had happened to you!!"

- "Oh, come on! I just… don’t have my cellphone with me"- she whispered and felt her cheeks burning as Gerard looked at her up and down- "Hey"- that was all she could say and smiled at him- "Nice to see you."

- "Nice to see you too."

- "Come in. guys. There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen. I’m gonna finish getting dressed."

- "And Matthew?"- Mikey asked, already pouring a cup of coffee for him

- "He left five minutes ago. He and the crew have a meet and greet today."

- Awesome! That means I have extra time to annoy you today"- the girl heard her friend’s voice as she walked over to her closet to get dressed.

- "Yes, but I have to come back home early to pack my bags. We are leaving for Seattle tomorrow"- she yelled back and picked her outfit. Meanwhile, Gerard wandered around, checking every little detail of the house that could tell him a little more about her. There was a drum, an electric drum, and… Mikey’s old bass?

- "Why is that here?"- he asked his brother.

- "I left it here the other day. Bug and I were practicing some songs together."

Mikey simply answered and sat on the couch, grabbed the remote control, and turned on the tv. Gerard looked at him, feeling his brother felt really at home. What else could he find? A family picture of her and her parents, some pretty artworks on the walls, and a million Playstation games.

- "Are we too late??"- the girl showed up shoeless, with wet hair and no makeup on. Just like that, Gerard’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t stop staring, and Joey felt his eyes on her the whole time making her blush. Having him at her house was too overwhelming for her. She kept trying to make light off of the fact she was embarrassed and nervous. She hadn’t seen Gerard ever since that day at the airport, and there was a part of her that had tried unsuccessfully to forget how he made her feel. It was clear that Gerard Way’s effect on her was not something you could get rid of in a few days.

- "Yeah, but you still have… fifteen minutes to get ready"- Mikey said and grinned.

- "I can make it in ten"- and so, she disappeared back into her room, to emerge eight minutes later, fully dressed and ready to go.

- "Shit! That was fast!"- Mikey said and smiled- "And you are hot enough to be a trophy wife"- Joey frowned and punched his shoulder.

- "I am a woman, not a thing to show around."

- "I was just joking."

- "You know I hate those jokes"- she made a pause and raised an eyebrow to her friend.

- "Damn! that hurt"- he argued, still rubbing the spot she smacked and stared at his friend- "Come on, you know I was joking."

- "Yes, but part of being your little sister is teaching you not to be an asshole repeating sexist jokes."

- "Fine"- Mikey turned off the tv and looked at his brother, who hadn’t said a thing in a long while- "Are you ok?"

- "Yeah… ready?"- Gerard quickly answered and looked down at his shoes, like looking for something he hadn’t actually lost.

- "Yeah, did you turn off the coffee maker?"- the girl looked at Mikey, and he didn’t move- "I’ll do it."

- "I didn’t remember Bug! Sorry!"- Joey walked to the kitchen and turned the machine off.

- "It’s ok, I would have checked it anyway"- she smiled as she walked back and opened the door- "Shall we?"

Having his own signature bass was Mikey’s dream. And for someone who was fulfilling his goal, the bassist didn’t really look happy. He checked the details, talked with the luthiers, played a little, made corrections, and set a date to see the progress in a week. But he didn’t smile at all the whole time.

- "How are you?"- Gerard whispered as he stood next to Joey at one side of the room, both of them staring at a wall filled with basses and guitars.

- "Good, you? How’s the break?"- she could almost feel her voice shaking as she talked to him. That’s how nervous he made her feel. And after so many days apart, the effect seemed to be getting worse, like a concentrated dose.

- "Good… very pleasant."

- "Are you having a nice weekend?"

- "Yes…"- he whispered and looked at her for a second- "I kinda missed you, you know? “Kinda missed you??! What the fuck was that, Gerard??! What are you?? twelve??!!”

- "Really?"- she whispered, surprised.

- "Yeah… you get used to being around people when you are touring."

- "That’s true"- Joey turned to him and smiled- "I’ve missed you too"- she whispered and looked back at the musical instruments around him.

- "You have?"

- "Sure. I haven’t talked to you since we got here. At least the other guys and I keep texting or calling each other. You vanished."

Gerard faked a smile and looked away. So it wasn’t just Mikey? all the guys talked to her daily, and he had no idea about it? Did that include Frank too?

- "Well, you haven’t texted either"- he simply replied and looked at her with a small smile.

- "You know I don’t have your number, right?"

- "What?"- Gee frowned, confused.

- "You never gave it to me… well, I never asked for it."

They looked at each other in silence, something that happened so often between them; it could be their natural behavior.

- "Would you give it to me?"- Gerard whispered, and neither of them moved.

- “That’s what scares me the most. Under other circumstances, I would give it to you,”- Joey thought and smiled, as her cheeks blushed

- "Your number"- he added and chuckled- “... Although.”

- "I know, perv. Give me your phone."

- "Hey kids!"- Mikey appeared next to them and smiled- "What are you doing?"

- "Giving your brother my number, ‘cos apparently, we weren’t friends until now."

- "Wow, that’s harsh! You didn’t ask for mine either!"- Gerard argued but chuckled.

- "Yeah, you keep saying that, but you didn’t offer it either, and Gerard Way’s number has to be something too exclusive to own."

- "Ok, you are both assholes"- Mikey ignored the whole conversation and looked at his friend- "I need you to help me, Bug"

- "What is it?"

- "I want you to help me pick up a new bass"

- "Don’t you have a hundred already?"- Joey teased him and walked with him

- "It’s not for me, it’s for you"- Joey stopped walking and frowned- "What? You need one."

- "I don’t."

- "Yes, you do, I’m gonna teach you, and I am not gonna lend you mines. They are too special."

- "Mikey…"- but he didn’t let her finish.

- "Besides, we are going to be touring so much, you are going to have to find something useful to do when we are on the bus. You can teach me drums, I can teach you bass, we are gonna be better musicians, it’s a win, win situation."

Mikey looked so excited about his idea Joey didn’t want to break the dream. Besides, it felt like he was making a project out of his whole idea, something to keep his mind entertained. And that sounded like a nice plan. Better than drinking himself to sleep most of the nights.

- "I’m not gonna convince you to change your mind, am I?"- she asked and giggled, staring at her friend’s serious face.

- "Nop"- he quickly answered, making sure the last “p” sounded loud, as it would make a statement or whatever.

- "Fine… but I’ll pay you back."

- "Oh, you are paying for it"- he quickly replied- "But not with money, I really want those drums lessons."

Gerard stared at the scene and sighed. His brother wrapped an arm around Joey’s neck as they walked to pick up her bass. He was jealous and worried at the same time. He was jealous of how close he was with her and how much he trusted her. Gee felt left aside from his problems. Joey had spent more time with his brother than him in the latest weeks. Ever since they met, actually. Why didn’t he trust his older brother anymore?

The bass they picked was a tidepool Player Jaguar Fender. Mikey carried it to his car and smiled proudly. Gerard took a Fender Rumble 15, and Joey just smiled embarrassedly.

- "You didn’t have to buy the amp"- she whispered to Gerard.

- "You can’t play bass without an amp"- he simply replied and smiled- "Besides, you can always pay me back in drum lessons too"- the girl chuckled, blushed, and looked at her friends.

- "Ok, kids, lunch is on me. You two deserve Joey’s signature menu for being this nice to me"- she grinned and got into the car.

- "And where are we going?"- Mikey sat behind the wheel and turned to her, just as Gerard, from the passenger seat

- "To my house, I am cooking you mi especialidad: bandeja paisa"- the Way brothers frowned and looked at each other- "Just come and eat like porks with me, ok?"

- "Fine"- Mikey answered and chuckled- "Are you gonna go all Latina on us?"

- "You better be sure I am."

- "I’ve never seen you like that"- Gerard said and looked at her again. She blushed and closed her eyes, embarrassed.

- "Well, I have, and it’s fucking weird!"- Mikey answered to his brother- "And when she starts mixing English, Icelandic, and Spanish… damn it!"

- "Vinsamlegast þegiðu! (Please shut up!)"- the girl shouted and hit Mikey’s shoulder- "Odio Cuando dices eso! (I hate it when you do that)"

- "See?"- the bassist turned to his friend- "It’s fucking weird."

- "Let’s take a selfie and send it to Frank and dad"- Joey said and looked for her phone in her bag. But never found it- "Oh fuck! Matthew has it"- she whispered and sighed.

Suddenly she remembered she had given it to him, and it bothered her to know she had given away some power to please a guy. Fuck, she deeply regretted doing that.

- "Let’s use my phone"- Gerard said and pointed the camera at them- "Ok, smile!!"

- "Say cheese!!"- Joey grinned, and the Way brother smiled- "Dad is gonna love that! He said he missed us too, he actually invited me to stay with him in Jersey while we rehearsed for the concert"- the girl said and looked outside the window- "I think it would be nice, I’ve never been to Jersey"- she kept talking, more to herself than to her friends.

- "You can stay with me too if you want"- Mikey said, and Gerard turned to him, scowling- "I mean, I’m gonna be home with our parents…"

- "That sounds so fucking weird, Michael James"- and Joey burst out laughing- "But though I love the idea of having a sleepover at your parents, Matthew is coming with me that weekend"- Gerard’s frown grew bigger.

- "Bug, tell me the truth"- Mikey said after a while. The radio was on, and the three of them had been basically just humming a few songs as they made their way to Joey’s house.

- "Shoot"

- "Matthew hates me, right?"

- "Why would you say that?"

- "‘Cos he looks like he hates me"

- "Of course not!"- the girl lied right away and snorted- "He is just shocked we got along so quickly."

- "Oh"- Mikey made a pause and chuckled- "So he really hates me."

- "No! I mean it!"

- "I think that’s a yes"- Gerard said to his brother and nodded.

- "Well… I guess I won’t be watching Criminal Minds anymore."

Matthew could hear Joey laughing from the hallway. She wasn’t alone. There were other voices and some music too. What the fuck was going on? He wasn’t thrilled at all ‘cos he had been calling his girlfriend the whole day and her phone was off. But this was too much for him to handle with a cold head. But he had to breathe and trust her.

- "Hey! What are you doing?"- he opened the door and glared at the Way brothers. Mikey was sitting behind Joey’s electric drum while she held a bass. Gerard was sitting on her couch, laughing. Well, not anymore, at least.

- "Akumu!! How was your day? Did you have fun meeting and greeting people?"- she quickly stood up, almost jumping and running to him, wrapping her arms around him.

- "It was ok…"- she kissed him sweetly and kept smiling- "What are you guys doing?"

- "I invited the guys for lunch, and we just stayed here playing for a while"- she simply answered.

- "I’ve been calling you the whole day, but you didn’t pick up"- Joey raised an eyebrow and looked into her boyfriend’s eyes.

- "Akumu, you’ve got my phone, remember?"- and Matthew Gray Gubler wanted to slap himself. The only thing he could do was be the nicest and sweetest, not jealous boyfriend he could be.

- "Shit!"- and Joey just nodded- "I’m so sorry!"

- "I know, so, wanna join us?"

- "Actually, I think we should go"- Gerard said and stood up- "I’ve got to pick up my wife from an event, “liar, liar pants on fire,” and Mikey has to drive me over"

Gee turned to his brother, and he nodded.

- "Yeah, and we better hurry ‘cos we are late"- he added and grabbed all his things- "I’m taking this"- he said and grabbed the bass he had left in her house- "You better practice."

- "Guys, you don’t have to run out just ‘cos I got here"- Matthew smiled- "We could hang out for a while."

- "I saved you some bandeja paisa"- Joey whispered, and her boyfriend’s smile grew bigger.

- "I love you so much."

- "Yeah, I know, I’m awesome"

- "Thank you, Matthew, but we really have to go"- Gerard shook his hand and smiled- "But Joey said you would come with us to the show in New York."

- "Yeah! I am! I feel like shit, I still can’t get to see my girl in action"- he smiled and wrapped an arm around Joey’s shoulders. She hated when he called her “his girl.” She wasn’t his, or anyone’s, as a matter of fact. That was one of the reasons why she hadn’t have a serious relationship before.

- "We’ll see you there then"- Gerard assured- "We’ll show you Jersey, Joey said she was dying to see where we hid all the mafia corpses"- and the girl chuckled

- "You keep trying to sell it for me, but dude, I’m sold!!"- Gerard laughed at Joey’s words and stared at her in silence for a few seconds until he realized Matthew was there. He didn’t want him to know or even suspect how he felt about his girlfriend.

- "Thank you for everything, guys"- the girl walked them to the door with a warm smile on her face- "You are the best!"

- "Nah"- Mikey hugged her and messed her hair pretty much at the same time- "You’ve been a great little sister. Thank you for coming along!"

- "See you when I come back from Seattle."

- "Yeah, we have to practice!"- the youngest Way shook Matthew’s hand and said goodbye. Gerard did the same, wished them a safe trip, and walked out of the apartment. He and his brother walked in silence until they reached the car.

- "Dude!"- Mikey finally said when he started the car- "That guy hates the shit out of me!"

- "He was going to kill us when he walked in! What the fuck is his problem?"

- "I don’t know!! He has to death jealous"

- "Well, so would I"- Gerard thought out loud and noticed he had to add something in case his brother would think the wrong thing, which would be actually the right thing.

- "I mean, if my girl hung out with four dudes, I barely know and travel the world with them, I would be jealous too."

- "Maybe"- Mikey gave it a little thinking and nodded- "Maybe when they are back, we could invite them out for diner or something, that way he can know us and figure out we don’t wanna bang his girlfriend."

- "Yeah, sure, that would be helpful"- Gerard Way was full of shit.

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