#speaking of! i found the first plush i ever made and guess what. its a rabbit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mypersonmyg · 4 years ago

Text

Tebori Tapioca | JJK

**beautiful banner made by @monvante <3

pairing: Jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, love at first sight, tattoo au, tea shop au

wc: 15k

warnings: language, slow burn???

summary: a shining beacon in a sea of monotony OR you just might believe in love at first sight

a/n: hi friends, umm so yea this is a fic i’ve been cooking up for a while and as seems to happen with most of my fics there’s definitely room for more but i didn’t wanna go overboard because the last time i did no one read womp womp...

ANYWHO there’s still very much room for this universe to grow whether it be drabbles, smaller oneshots or whatever so if you have requests pls send them !! for this au or any others

honorary tag: @gukssunshine

masterlist

Sunlight filters through an open storefront, natural light shading the room in incandescent glow, the honk of horns just overstating the chirp of the birds perched in overarching trees that line the street. Lights are still lit, strung throughout branches despite the hour slowly inching toward noon.

Your pencil taps a worn pad, the hundredth rotation of the dormant rectangle of sheets providing no more inspiration than ninety-nine and below. You shove the contents along a desk littered in your crumpled defeat, legs kicking to the wooden surface with comforting intent.

It’s not unusual, the stray of your eyes to the shop just a few buildings from the florist decorating the opposing side of the street. A work in progress, a work almost in completion. It’s become a game, the guessing of its contents, the colorful display before it’s displayed intriguing to many passersby. You’re close to pondering a new theory when Jimin interrupts with his entrance from the back, reciting safety to Namjoon’s latest masterpiece.

He whistles an impressive tune following the departure of a satisfied client, rounding his occupied desk and knocking your feet from his cluttered surface. You don’t have time for the countered glare of offense before his words are zeroed in as if he’s been waiting to direct them long before now when your guard is readily disarmed. “You have an office for a reason, why do you always have to sit at my desk.”

“It’s a nice view.”

“I’ll admit that my delicate features leave nothing to the imagination, but I’m tired of cleaning up after you.” His words are emphasized by his hand’s routine swipe, piles of paper tumbling to the can beside him in rapid succession. Your eyes roll, Jimin’s fingers already beginning to type away on his desktop while your pupils track the delicate arch of his digits and your ears listen to the satisfying click of keys. The consideration of locking yourself away in your office trapezes along the wide expanse of your mind, but before it’s made up Jimin is speaking again, this time with an air of factual superiority. “A tea shop.”

“Hmm?”

“The shop down the street, it’s a tea shop.”

“You sound pretty confident,” You hum, eyes darting to the window, turquoise staring back in the fashion of awnings and fresh paint bordering a wooden frame. The sleeves of your sweater bite at your wrist in comforting fuzz, a slight itch along the skin to pull you from quaint interest. “What makes you so sure?”

“Just a feeling, it’s got that certain ambiance, you know?” Jimin’s hands wave with the impression of the ambiance so to speak, his eyes squinted in that way you so adore. The thought crosses your mind on many occasions, to compliment his subtle beauty, but the knowledge of his playfully arrogant counter always draws you from speech.

“Or because we ran into the owner on our way in this morning,” Namjoon chirps in kind, strolling to the lobby, his own pad in hand. He neatly tosses it to the desk, fingers skimming through unkempt hair. “Nice guy, said he might drop in for a consultation sometime.”

“Consultation? Sounds big,” You muse, hand finding your abandoned pencil to drag faint strokes along your page, though even the slight draw brings grimace to your features, dulled in the shadow of your palm pressed to your forehead, easily nudging wisps of loose hair. Namjoon shrugs, a non-committal range of motion, his neck craning over your shoulder to sneak a peek at your lack of a work of art.

He doesn’t speak on it, simply taking in the unfinished strokes, presumably in an attempt to reassure you in the midst of inspiration long lost. You're prepared to assure him that there’s no need for forced encouragement, but he moves on, collapsing onto near plush without a word.

“Says he’s been thinking about it for a while so I told him we could help him out. He also invited us to his opening, said he'd save some tea for us if we’re busy.” Lips pull back, dimples accenting Namjoon’s heavy cheeks.

You’re unsurprised by his amicable tale, recalling your fresh steps into this very shop just a few years prior. Your body was bare of ink and your arms bore only a flimsy book with hopeful sketches. He’d taken in your wide eyed glance and the disappearance of your bottom lip to the gnawing confines of your teeth. His towering height and newly trimmed hair taunting you within the daunting shadow that filled your frame through the doorway.

You chuckle at past memories, wondering how you could ever fear the gentle giant, his lips pulling into ready grin as he showed you to the very desk before you now.

“What’s so funny?” Namjoon calls to you, Jimin halting in his current endeavor to glance the smirk stretching your cheek.

“Nothing, just thinking. Was that your last client for the day?” You grab for the sign-in ledger, finger trailing the thick page, pinky tugging at the pulled edge of a worn corner. Your smirk flips to a frown poorly withheld, the page filled with Namjoon only reminding you that your own supplies need only be sanitized to prevent the collection of dust.

“Yeah, I figured we’d just close shop early today.” Jimin swipes the ledger with a tisk in your direction, not blind to silent thoughts.

“It’s noon, what if someone wants a walk-in?” Your gaze slides to the clock, hands ticking slowly along the round wall piece. It’s not unreasonable to assume someone will come in seeking art of the bodily variety, and your hands itch to prove your worth, even if it lies within an album long binded.

“Then I’m sure they’ll still want it tomorrow.” Namjoon shrugs, his hands folding over his chest forcing the bulge of recently buffed arms. You almost make a joke about the possible tear of the t-shirt hugging his frame, but refrain out of refusal to partake in the pursuance of sure to follow antics. “Besides, it’ll give you more time to work on that.”

You follow the tilt of Namjoon’s hair, long grown out from his routine refusal to take time from his day to get a trim. You often joke that he’ll be gallivanting with a tail soon enough, his thick locks nearly shoulder length as it stands. He often finds himself shaking it from his peripheral with the wrong angling of his head. He motions to your barely done sketch, the page glaring at you with a mocking disgust.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.” You drip sarcasm, pad tossed to your bag and jacket jerked to waiting arms.

~*~

Off-white trim borders the wall of a shop nearly complete, Jeongguk checks and double checks a list stored in the confines of his mental. Aside from constant fear of the opening of doors without the steady flood of patrons he’s eager for business, hard work finally paying its due.

He’s only in for the morning, the steady tick of his wrist a reminder to snap from his obsessive habit, sure that he’ll receive word from Taehyung that he's on his way to drag him from the building. His grin rivals the glare of the sun as his eyes travel a building come together. His hand falls to his arm in dramatic pinch to ensure that his eyes aren’t filled with hopeful deceit.

It fits, he thinks, stepping out onto the walk, key slotting into the door to ensure security. His shop melds perfectly with the heavily lined street, animated tapioca unfinished in the window somehow making sense with the neighboring extravagance of bloom at the near florist and the samples of ink from the tattoo shop across the way. Even the simple thrift shop with it’s objects of interest decorating the window compliments his simple display.

Opportunity hasn’t struck to visit his new neighbors, though he did stumble into a chunk of the owners of one of the shops. He found surprise in the ease with which conversation flowed, his mouth like the babble of a brooke despite the nerves that skipped like pebbles in his stomach and his heart that beat a million miles a minute following their friendly departure.

In his stupor he nearly misses the float of voices a ways down the quietly milling street, but the recognition of a melodic tone draws his gaze.

“I’ll take you for ice cream.” Jeongguk recognizes the voice that seeks to entice as Jimin, though he doesn’t recognize you.

“I’m not a child you know.” Your statement is grumbled, the words echoing that of a childlike pout. Jeongguk can see the movement of your arms as they reach to a playful shove, the rhythmic shift of Jimin’s feet looking routine even from a distance. You choose not to acknowledge Jimin’s coo, his fingers poking at your protruding cheek as if to say Oh but aren’t you?

Jeongguk watches with interest and the initiative to work up the courage to bring acknowledgement to his presence and perhaps introduction to who he expects is the other third of the tattoo shop. You and Jimin are too caught in bickering to notice the figure just feet away, your fingers pinching Jimin’s nose with a countering taunt.

“Can’t I just treat you to a nice frozen treat? I don’t recall that being a crime, but please enlighten me.” You pinch the bridge of your own nose, the scent of freshly packed soil wafting from neatly situated pots.

You spot the poke of pink from one of the tall and timid plants, though you imagine the fragile nature is only by way of visual, Yoongi always diligent with his seedling evolved friends. You make note to beg him to allow the purchase of a precarious plant, an act of teasing to stem from your track record, the memory of shriveled begonias bringing even your shoulders to lift in cringe.

“Are you still talking?” Your gaze shifts back to Jimin, his flow not conscious to your unconscious senses.

“So rude, you should be thanking me for the extra time off.”

“As if I need more time off, but fine, I suppose I can let you treat me as an apology for your ratty transgressions.” You tut. Were your ears peaked and footing less strayed you would’ve noted the distant chuckle of Jeongguk, still standing dormant outside of a dimmed shop.

His thoughts of hurried introduction came to halt with his notice of you. Your voice held a playful jab when you spoke, Jimin’s reactions only animated enough to draw slight attention from your raised tone. Despite your fussing dialogue, your posture was slouched just a tad and your hands fisted into snug jacket sleeves to mimic paws. Jeongguk decides he’d be hard pressed not to be endeared by you in the slightest.

“Wow, I thought I was gonna have to come here and drag you out by the ears.” Hands clap Jeongguk’s shoulders, Taehyung rounding his frame, grin gentle as he regards with relief. “I swear you’d probably live here if I didn’t keep you at bay. What are you--oh she’s pretty.”

The two watch your retreat, your hand easily clasping Jimin's, the swing of connected wrists appearing natural with your stride through the afternoon chill. Jeongguk ignores the flare of his cheeks at the notion of exposure, thankful that Taehyung doesn’t make a show of his ogling.

“Yeah, looks like she’s taken though...you wanna get ice cream?” Taehyung scrunches his nose, wind kissed cheeks held between gloved palms. His scoff is inward, Jeongguk’s suggestion appearing nothing short of ridiculous as the two are swept by a wind that’s particularly biting. While Taehyung shivers, Jeongguk doesn’t appear to mind, hands shoved in his pockets, heels rocking along cracked concrete.

“Do I look like I want to get ice cream? It’s freezing out here and not everyone radiates the warmth of a furnace.”

“Well unlike you, not everyone is so dramatic.”

“Whatever, just get some when we get home.” Taehyung lightly shoves, legs turning in the direction of his car, parked on asphalt, freshly coated by summer’s end.

Jeongguk stares after the winded trail of a billowing pea, your bobbing figure rounding a corner and straying from widened eyes. He sucks through clenched teeth, opportunities knock having been missed at the hands of Taehyung. The clench of fists in pockets goes unnoticed as he rounds on planted heels and makes his way to the car, Taehyung happily staring from the passenger seat waiting with a grin dripping sincerity.

“You definitely owe me for this.”

~*~

You twitch along with the consistent drip of a leaky faucet, the tap of digits on worn ceramic offering a release to limbs without proper use. The biting chill in your toes is only minutely cured by the pilling of four blankets, barely thick enough to rival the wool knit socks Hoseok gifted you last christmas.

You find pause in the sun setting from the window, dim lighting pouring through weak curtains. Your tongue prods at the confines of your mouth, frosted by forced treat and abandoned with the recommendation of a mug of hot cocoa which now rests lukewarm in your clenching palms.

You force your mind to yield, racing in a direction opposite the self destructive course that usually remains dormant until you lay to rest for the evening. Hands numbed by the interference of a numbing chill met with the warmth of a mostly empty mug nearly spilling when your right palm jumps in the direction of your phone, perched on an end table composed of chipping wood and stains too set to resemble anything but a dark pool, a picture puddle fit for galoshes in adolescence.

You wonder if Yoongi’s taken his plants in, the set of cold not nearly the condition for any pending life surely. Though you quickly pull back, recalling a conversation following another mishap, your plant lying limp before the attentive florist, his cheeks rosy from the heat lamps and the temperature set to ensure maximum growth year round. It was with passion that he waxed about the difference between certain plants and the amazing circumstances of their survival.

It was with half amused grin, your head lopsided along the freshly painted door frame that he assured you that if a plant can survive the harsh conditions of the season of cool there was surely one meant to survive you.

You glance to the succulent placed on the sill overlooking your sink. You had been indignant at Yoongi’s insistence that you take it, almost begging that he give you one of the smiling pink numbers reflecting in the window rather than the less impressive green poking from the dirt of a tiny hand painted pot. Yoongi’s reaction was much the same, innocence painting his rose blushed cheeks as he explained the beauty of every plant, sure to continue on until you gently removed the pot from his fingers.

Now the once shy note of green was large enough to cover your palm, a bright spot in the dark of your apartment, falling apart at the hands of purposeful ignorance from an absent landlord.

A sharp tap against your front door draws your gaze, pointed as if to break the barrier of solid wood. You don’t notice the spill of your drink until warmth slips through your sweater, arm jerk sending the mug careening to shatter. The pieces decorate the floor with a colorful tap to pair with the running of dark liquid along the hardwood.

“Shit.” Words muttered in haste, one of many blankets piled in swaddle is heaved to the floor, your legs lifting you from the chair and gently to clothed knees. Cocooning the glass in the thick material you stand to full height when another tap draws you. Your hands tug at your sweater, the seep of the liquid already beginning to set in and your skin grows irritated from the unwanted intrusion. “Coming!”

You glance to the spot where chocolate dances along the edges of your braided rug, the centerpiece itching to soak up what it can manage of the chocolatey drink, already dreading the work of scrubbing to prevent permanent damage. Making your way to the door your feet stride in a half walk half slide along hardwood, tripping up due to the soiled bits of fabric sticking to your feet and resisting a usually easy trek along the hardwood. The pull of the door is a surprise, an unfamiliar face staring back at you with a geometrically flattering smile.

“Hello…” Your words are drawn and rasped, a mixture of the lack of dialogue and settling curiosity.

“Hi, I’m Taehyung.” There’s no deterrence from Taehyung at your lack of reciprocated enthusiasm, just the shake of locks, shaggy and shielding his eyes that appear to glisten in the flicker of the hall lights. His eyes brighten in recognition, though you can’t seem to separate his stare from the reflection of his shocking irises and simply accept his hand as it slowly extends.

“Y/n. Is there something I can help you with?” You attempt a glance around his ever present frame in hope for an explanation, but the notion is non-existent so you wait as he gathers his own. You don’t miss the wandering of his eyes to the open of your apartment but don’t call him on it, an entrance composed of nothing more than a table and a crooked portrait gifted by Jin. You can hear his distant cackles as he positioned it just perfectly before the door.

“Actually I was gonna ask you how to work the heat in this place, but you look about as warm as me so…” He shifts on his heels unsure, taking in your heavily bundled appearance.

You tug once more at your stained sweater, your face heating with recollection of the soiled garment still clinging to you, now with more fervor from the added moisture. Your thick socks are layered over a pair only slightly less so and your legs appear heavily padded under two pairs of dense sweats. “You must be new here.”

Taehyung shrugs, half a step taken in retreat. He tilts his head just so, gesturing to the vacant hall, a door half ajar allowing the flood of light to illuminate the peel of ancient wallpaper. Not for the first time you wish you’d taken Jimin up on his spare room. “Yeah, just officially moved in today. We’re down the hall, heard the apartment’s been vacant for a while and it seemed nice enough.”

“But no one told you that the heat only works correctly on a good day, sounds about right.”

“And our shower--”

“Leaks?” You finish, the distant drip from your kitchen just audible over your speech. Your thumb pushes against the bow of your pursed lips, teeth grabbing hold of roughened skin whilst you watch the turn of cogs tumbling before you.

“Yeah...should I call the landlord?” His brows knit at your nonchalance, thumb jerking to his apartment. You almost chuckle, covering your outburst with a quick tilt of your head. The simplicity of the suggestion seems only to add to the hilarity of the situation.

“Sure, but I’d recommend investing in a space heater and keeping a couple of tools handy. I’m not wearing four layers to make a fashion statement.” Your fingers drum along the frame of your door, the gentle tap carrying between you in soft silence. “Well...welcome to the building and sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“Guess someone had to be,” His throat clears in chuckle, hand tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie, the strings hanging lopsided where his hood lay half scrunched at the base of his neck. His thumb lifts to trace the corner of his mouth, shifted in that same grin that greeted you minutes prior, though this time your return is swift and without the same haze that accompanied his unfamiliar presence. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

Taehyung turns on his heel at the pace of the gears turning in his brain, swift stride carrying him back to his door, yours clicking shut along the shells of his ears. He pushes into his residence, door squeaking on hinges as it closes in his wake. Straight for the living room he makes haste with lengthy stride, spotting Jeongguk who swallows the couch with his body, spread as much as the lengthened cushion will allow. He peeks from his curtain of hair, dangling at the angle of his head, blinking with the poke of a follicle gently prodding his pupil.

“So?” He pushes up to a sit, nearly knocking his phone from the arm where it’s perched without care. His shoulders shake from the mix of cold and anticipation, mistaking the grin that Taehyung sports as a triumphant mission.

“Oh this place is spectacularly shitty, my friend. Looks like we’ll be snuggling like penguins if we wanna get warm tonight.” As if to punctuate his vivid explanation, Taehyung slides dangerously close to where Jeongguk remains sitting, legs brushing as he sinks into the already heated seat.

Jeongguk nudges to the sharp of Taehyung’s shoulder, encouraging him further inward with a defeated groan. He’s sure he catches the scent of something similar to carpet that’s been left to mildew, but he attributes it to imagination. Somehow this very apartment seemed a saving grace just a month ago. “I knew we should’ve splurged on that loft. Why are you smiling?”

“Hm, so that girl that you were staring at earlier, you know her?” Taehyung doesn’t shy from his urge to throw himself over Jeongguk’s lap, ignoring the squint scrutiny from above. He pokes at the underside of Jeongguk’s chin, teasing a reaction from him, grimace evident from the suction of his cheeks.

“Not exactly, I know the guy she was with though. They own the tattoo shop, why?” Taehyung braces his head with one hand, the other grabbing hold of the string dangling from his clothes, rolling the aglet between agile fingers. He ponders the thought of revealing that just beyond moth eaten wallpaper and the cracks of a concrete hall you await just a few doors down.

“Just a question. You didn’t think I would just leave it, did you?” Jeongguk’s nose scrunches because he did in fact find that avenue favorable among the chosen. Taehyung pats his muscled thigh with a patronizing shake of the head, hair already tangling with the push of his heavy skull to Jeongguk’s tough jeans.

“So what, she’s cute, not like I know anything about her. I’m more concerned with making it through the night without contracting pneumonia or risking the complete freeze of my limbs.”

The two seem to scoot closer at the thought, Taehyung now pushed against Jeongguk’s abdomen. They paint quite a picture on their second hand furniture, couch in need of stitching at the seams and the questionable stain that inhabited it upon arrival nipping at the press of Taehyung’s socked feet into the cushion.

Fatigue abandoned the task of unloading boxes that litter the expanse of open flooring and leftover furniture. Their energy fueled endeavor long forgotten along with the memory of comforting warmth. They both ponder the idea of retreating to respective rooms, but find it would be a miracle if they could manage to pull themselves from half comfort, abandoning the hope of body heat against the chill of the shared space.

Audible groan travels the four walls when a gentle fist beats against the door. Taehyung shoves at Jeongguk’s shoulder, a silent appeal to the younger to make sacrifice and leave their cocooned warmth. Jeongguk won’t be swayed, his arms easily finding the weight of Taehyung’s side and nudging enough to send him careening to the floor with a resounding thud.

Grumbles and groans of the incoherent leave Taehyung’s mouth, amused giggles falling from Jeongguk whose legs are now pulled to drink in the heat left behind. Taehyung stops for a moment, thinking that his timely trek was wasted, opposing party’s fist meeting wood no more. He gently opens the door, head ducking around the corner, foot stepping out only to stub into something surely placed for such an occasion as his physical reckoning.

He foregoes subtly, mouth unhinging and curses falling akin to rocks from a cliff side, the echo bouncing against concrete and soaking into the slips and edges of the silent walls. Jeongguk ambles around the corner with concern etched features, the draw of his eyes landing on his roommate, leg at an angle and clutched whilst he leans against the doorframe.

Jeongguk squeezes past, kneeling to pluck the sticky posted from the top of what appears to be a space heater. His eyes scan the crisp note, glancing down the hall with the knowledge that the perpetrator is surely long gone. “Dude, you good?”

“Stubbed my fucking toe,” Taehyung strains. Jeongguk let’s him sulk, hiding a purposeful grin from the dramatist leaning over him. “What is that anyways.”

“Space heater.” He passes the note, Taehyung scans it quickly with a hum. He doesn’t miss the look he’s receiving from Jeongguk, aware of the name scribbled along the tiny parchment. “Was nice of them. What did you say anyways?”

“Nothing really, guess I’m just a natural charmer.”

~*~

“Will you tell her that she should just move in with me like I suggested in the first place?” Jimin snags on the thick of Namjoon’s t-shirt, pulling him from his task, resituating his glasses along his face rather than the slide to the tip of his nose that seemed a regular occurance. You choose to ignore the commotion, back to sweeping dust and scattered leaves from the entrance of the shop.

Your living situation, less than ideal, often leads you to Jimin’s door, his spare room rather drenched in your deposited belongings. It’s his futile mission to persuade you to trade up from your desolate one bedroom with it’s desperate calling for tlc and take permanent residence in his humble abode just uptown.

It’s foolish not to consider, but you always find the scrape of your teeth roughening the budded surface of your tongue when he turns to you with his grin of sweet saccharine nearly once a week. You don’t know what it is about the cracks that seem to shimmy further up the walls with each passing minute or the breaks in the tile that beg an earthquake decades off, but you aren’t quite ready to part with it.

“If you want me to stop coming over just say so,” You huff, fully aware that’s not the case but sure it’ll throw Jimin for a curve with enough distance to keep him at bay.

He sputters, releasing Namjoon with a gentle shove, “That’s not it and you know it! I just don’t see why you stay there, it’s so...broken.”

“I’ll have you know that I-”

“Have lived there since you came here blah blah blah, we know. Oh hey, a customer! Would you look at that,” Jimin’s over enthused response following a set of feet flooding through draws your next words to thin air, replaced with a well meaning grin. His perked posture slumps when he realizes that it is not in fact a patron looking to empty their wallet. “Oh, it’s just Hobi-hyung.”

“Thanks for the sunshine,” Hoseok counters, elbows covered with a patched overcoat resting along the edge of Jimin’s desk. Though his words hold a tinge of sarcasm, he’s all smiles as he regards you. Much like Namjoon he sports his frames today, wide and rectangular perched along the bridge of his nose. From the opening of his coat you smirk at the peak of a bright yellow sweater, an animation practically dancing along the expanse of his chest.

“Guess it’s a good thing that’s your job,” Namjoon pats him on his way to his office, returning with a box overflowing with garments and books. It’s not unusual that the two of them exchange goods, Hoseok’s thrift always looking for ways to fill the shelf.

It surprised you in the beginning, the flow of people who seemed to always leave his shop holding something to their chest like it was the world stuffed into a novelty bag. That was before Hoseok insisted that you visit yourself, sure you’d find something of interest. He wasn’t perturbed by skepticism, it only seemed to fuel the glint of a thousand galaxies that flared in his concentrated stare.

You’d ambled the lot for a good thirty minutes, fingers gliding along shelves so sturdy it came as a shock that he installed them himself, the wiggle of his elongated fingers when you recited the thought still fresh. It was the belief of Hoseok, in his own words, that there was a magic in places like his. A magnetic pull that would lead you to just the thing you need, often times things he himself didn’t even know he possessed.

“The rest is all in good fun,” He’d finished with that smile that rivaled the shine of the largest star glistening from above.

Your magic was nestled in the thick of it all, buried beneath someone else’s waiting fortune. It was the far corner that drew you, something about it just a shade darker than the rest of the large room. You’re unsure what possessed you, ignoring the insistence of magic cycling through the heavy air conditioning as you pillage through a pile of neatly folded quilts and the random placement of a busted stereo.

“Find something?” Hoseok appeared, head resting just over your shoulder. Your crouch betrayed you and were it not for quick reflexes and a helping hand the bust of your ass was sure to find the floor. Hoseok stood with a pool of change shaking in his palm and his neat smile waiting for you to putter around with your find.

“It’s just a necklace, nothing special.”

“Still, take it, you never know.” He was insistent that you leave with the silver chain, an onyx pendant dangling from the end and even more so that, rather than pay him, you admit that there’s something in the air. You agreed, but your reluctance was only truly squashed when you found yourself adorning the necklace more than your usual jewelry reserved for occasion.

“Hey, did you guys hear about the tea shop opening up?” Hoseok plants himself on Jimin’s desk, ignoring the playful glare burning a hole in his side. Namjoon rests the box on the ground next to him with a grunt, clear on Hoseok’s intention to linger as long as time will allow rather than collecting his treasure and hurrying back to his own place of work.

“Jimin and I met the owner yesterday, he seems like a really nice guy.” Namjoon fills before Jimin has the chance to allow his jaw to unhinge, no doubt planning to flaunt his basic knowledge like privileged information.

“That’s nice. Rumor has it he specializes in boba.” You would chuckle were it not for the wild look in Hoseok’s eyes, his hands painting imaginary rainbow before slotting through the pockets of his coat. His feet steadily tap tap against the tile, the gentle nod of his head not at all unusual but nonetheless intriguing. “It’ll be so nice not having to drive a town over just to have a nice tapioca pearl.”

“You know they sell those, you could make your own.” Your words are all but lost on the eccentric businessman, his tactic to avoid information displeasing to his interests taking full effect. His body angles, half hiding a chuckling Jimin from your view. Sliding the broom to the near closet, not unaware of leaves sadly crumpled against the tile from Hoseok’s timely entrance, but not bothered enough to scoop them into the waiting bin, you make haste to your office slipping between the door slightly ajar. “Right. Well I’m gonna go try to get some work done.”

You release a stuttered breath upon the gentle click of your door, mumbled dialogue just barely pushing through the thick wood. Air puffs your cheeks in half contemplation, silence stealing the inspiration that seemed to dance before you, brain now only half awake as time seems to dwindle at the speed of sound. Instead of the reach for a waiting pad and the scatter of ballpoint colors staring from your desk unused and impatient, you grab for a volume that seems to scream from the near bookshelf.

It begs the recollection of time well spent, a pang in your chest follows a rushing to the surface as if air tearing from lungs lacking capacity. Your full weight collapses to your chair, recently upgraded at Namjoon’s insistence that nursing the squeaky four wheeler that threatened to collapse with the wrong release of breath violated his own moral codes before the hushed mumble about legal repercussions. You aren’t complaining, the upgrade makes you feel like a permanent staple, especially when your mind is convinced that layoff is imminent.

Your fingers trace the smooth cover of hardback, reckoning with the ache to feel the crisp of unturned pages and avoid the buildup that follows suit. It’s the not knowing that tugs at the precipice of your flowing mind, wishing for diagnosis from a stagnant flow of a previous gold mine.

Your ears peak at the surge of voices layering the lobby, though your mind squashes the urge for a slip back into the throw of pleasant chatter. You draw a drawer, fishing for half tangled buds, slipping them into your heightened canals to drown with the sounds of your latest fix.

~*~

The lift of Jeongguk’s gaze as heavy feet carry him past the fluorescent sign of Uhgood Tattoo and through the ringing entrance is subtle enough as doe eyes scan the lengthy space for a feminine form. He’s met with null, but the snag of his pupils on a wall of intricacy almost distracts from the loiter of men staring straight for him and Taehyung who is decidedly less preoccupied.

“Jeongguk, nice to see you again!” Namjoon booms over every voice in the room. His arms are half open in eager acceptance and Jeongguk leads Taehyung to the settled group, one last sweep still leaving him wanting for an introduction or a glimpse at best. “We were actually just talking about you.”

“About me?” His tone toes between surprise and unease, lips puckering in the shape of ‘oh’ and steps stuttering against the crunch of leaves slipping along linoleum.

“Yeah, Hoseok here was just saying how excited he is that you moved in. He owns the thrift shop just across from you.”

Hoseok doesn’t need much introduction before he’s centered in front of Jeongguk, smile glinting and hands reaching for the younger man with much fervor. Jeongguk would find the proximity daunting were it not for the friendly face reflecting in his widened irises. His chest rumbles, glad to place a face to bright signs and eccentric displays.

“Nice to meet you, we’re all glad to have a new face on our little strip. I’m especially glad to have an excuse to save myself from Jin’s questionable experiments in the kitchen.” Hoseok’s hand has yet to stop its steady shake of Jeongguk’s, too caught in words, leaving his mind’s body on its own. “Feel free to drop by my shop anytime, I love seeing new faces. Plus-”

“Here we go…” Jimin cuts, feigned exasperation coating his pitched tone before he excuses himself to the back of the shop. His exit isn’t swift enough to hide the exasperation of the puff of air that gaps his lips.

“There’s a special kind of magic in a shop like mine and because you just moved in the first trinket is on the house!”

“Oh magic? Taehyung’s really into that stuff, we’ll stop in sometime.” He gestures to his friend whose hands are shoved to the thick of his sweatshirt, lips pushed inward with the suck of his cheeks. “This is him by the way, Taehyung, he’s my partner of sorts at the cafe and my roommate.”

“Yeah, though the last one is questionable at the moment. Nice to meet you guys, this place is sweet! Do you do piercings by any chance?” As if by pure luck Jimin’s stepping back into the room, his eyes set ablaze with passion by the innocent inquiry.

“Piercings are my specialty actually, I can pierce any and everything!” His hands clasp to Taehyung’s shoulder, glad for excitement out of the realm of files and spreadsheets. Taehyung, surprised by the eager response, can only seem to nod along to the spew that falls from Jimin’s lips that near miles per minute. “Are you interested? I’d be happy to show you our collection.”

“This could take a while,” Jeongguk is startled by the presence of Namjoon somehow closer than before. Jimin is still spouting about his work to his potential client, Jeongguk takes in Taehyung’s features in search of a signal for help, but only finds him painted with interest and intrigue at the bundle of knowledge that is Park Jimin. Namjoon gestures to a hall along the far wall, a couple of paintings half crooked beckoning them forth. “We can talk about those tattoos if you’re interested?”

The buzz that surges in the cavity of his chest is answer enough, companied with the vigorous nod of his head, curls bouncing against the frame of his cheeks. “That would be great!”

Namjoon easily falls into the roll of guide, leading the two down the hall and past a couple of doors tightly sealed. The walls are a dark shade, set aglow by the heat of fixtures hanging overhead. Even in the dim setting, Jeongguk finds his head swiveling in every direction, thirsting to take in every inch of the place. In his haste he nearly trips over a section of flooring slightly raised, likely the result of settled foundation over many years. He decides rather quickly in favor of the building, the character of the interior clashing rather nicely with the updated signage on the outside.

‘We’ve got a few different stations for working,” Namjoon speaks up, drawing Jeongguk’s attention back. “We do them in the section off the side of the lobby if the customer is comfortable and it’s nothing major, but we also have private rooms that we as the artists like to use depending on the project.”

“That’s what these rooms are?” Jeongguk reaches with a pointed finger, tracing the expanse of the wooden frame, chipped and roughened, to a closed door. Rather than plaquing to decipher between the various enclosures there are framed sketches posted outside of each, nothing a newcomer like himself could pick up on, clearly contributed by the owners.

“For the most part, there’s my office and Y/n’s, and a storage closet but this is where the magic happens.” Namjoon allows Jeongguk a path to his office, door shutting in their wake with a dull thud.

It’s less decorated than Jeongguk was expecting, the barely bare walls outside of the office building up the anticipation of the canvas that must be spread within. Instead there’s nothing put bright white, almost blinding compared to what he’s seen so far. There are a few framed photos of Jimin, himself, and you; all smiling in various scenarios of glee. Other than the placement of a decently sized shelf in the corner and the desk perched along the adjacent wall this office gives no indication of Namjoon’ s labyrinthine line of work.

Even so, Namjoon appears highly intimidating as he takes a seat at his desk, gesturing Jeongguk to the comfortable chair across. Jeongguk is well aware that he doesn’t mean to give the impression of a boss, straight backed and fingers laced over mahogany, but that doesn’t make it any less so.

“So!” Namjoon speaks with triumph, his gauntlet the toss of the pen that had previously dangled from the fold of pierced ears. “You have any idea what you’re looking for in the ink department? I figure we can start with graphics and then discuss placement to see who the best fit would be for you.”

“Best fit?” Jeongguk leans forward, boots squeaking obscenely on the tile beneath. His cheeks flush at lack of knowledge, feeling as if the words spewed were foreign when in reality it was a jolt sent to the creases of his spine and straight to the red soaked appendage in his upper chest. While he’s entered this room with the assumption that Namjoon would be his sole artist, there lay a chance that the two of you will come face to face.

“Yeah, Y/n and I are both good at what we do but of course we both have our specialties. So we like to decide our clients that way sometimes.” Namjoon’s explanation leaves him none the wiser to hidden meanings and the hopeful perk of Jeongguk’s shoulders.

“Oh. I haven’t met Y/n yet,” He wonders if you rest behind one of the many doors leading to this one, sketching away on what he’s sure can only be a masterpiece. “Is she around?”

“Yeah...I don’t wanna disturb her though. Maybe she’ll be in the lobby when we’re finished here.” Namjoon’s words are sincere though his eyes seem to drift far off, their target the window over Jeongguk’s shoulder, shadowed by the growth of a large tree, branches dwarfing the ground outside. His trance is but a moment, focusing once more on the man before him. “What did you have in mind for your tattoo?”

“Well, actually, I was wondering if you guys use the tebori method here? I know it’s more widely used in japan, but I don’t really see myself heading over there anytime soon.” This shop isn’t the first that Jeongguk has scoped in hope of an artist with an extra element of technique, the buildup for disappointment resting in a rehearsed expression. He watches the myriad of expressions that Namjoon cycles through, almost as if the answer rests against the tip of his tongue, but he’s unsure if it’s the correct one. “It’s totally fine if—”

“We do.” He speaks without much expression save for the way his spine seems to cave inward as he continues to think. Jeongguk isn’t sure whether he should continue speaking, choosing instead to study the tilt of a pen on the desk, threatening to roll to the floor if it dances any longer at the edge of the surface. His nerves itch to grab for the object for some form of reprieve, afraid that the pending clatter will disturb Namjoon’s steady concentration and perhaps the calm mask that he appears to be sporting.

His head tilts a tad, curls falling over one pupil, the other spying Namjoon as if zeroing in on a target, nearly scrutinizing the pensive thinking with his galaxy gaze. He can see that just past the roof of Namjoon’s head there lies a single divot in the wall, nearly tricking the bump of accidental furniture, but Jeongguk’s own fist clenches in recognition, thumb tracing the jag of his knuckles.

“Y/n is the only person here that can tattoo with that particular technique, she’s amazing at it really, I’m just not sure if she’ll be up for it right now.” Namjoon’s words seem to pain him to utter, a strained longing in his voice that’s indecipherable without context. Jeongguk only nods along, curiosity curbed by his unyielding sense of etiquette in a situation that doesn’t wholly concern him. His feet are already pressing against the flooring, prepared to push to his feet and exchange pleasantries and assurance of no hard feelings, but Namjoon doesn’t seem quite through, leaving Jeongguk’s position to an awkward one hanging from the edge of his seat. “I don’t wanna speak for her though, so maybe you two can talk.”

“Okay, should I set up an appointment?”

“No, I think I heard her leave her office, she’ll probably be in the lobby. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you now.” Namjoon’s mouth is once again split in dimpled grin, leaving Jeongguk’s head to a spinning akin to a child’s top. He’s led from the room, paying extra attention to the hall, ears itching to pick up a tone much higher than those in the lobby he left only a short time ago.

Contrary to Namjoon’s inference, the lobby is emptier than when they left, Jimin and Taehyung the only ones left milling about. Their speech mimics old friends, Jimin poking at Taehyung with the smile of someone who knows something that no one else does, Taehyung simply replying in kind with half grin.

“I thought I heard, Y/n.” Namjoon directs his voice at Jimin, fingers tapping the surface of his desk whilst his eyes take inventory of the shop. Jeongguk wonders if he thinks you’re hiding behind one of the plants situated in the corner, waiting for the perfect moment to catch them off guard.

“Mm, she left. But not before this one got his flirt on,” Jimin’s elbow catches Taehyung’s rib with a sharp jab coloring his words. Taehyung doesn’t allow this to phase him, standing to his feet with a shrug of nonchalance.

“Not flirting, we just happen to know each other. You done here?” He aims at Jeongguk stepping with purpose toward the door. Neither makes eye contact, the subject of interest not particularly left to the category of unmentionable, but leaving them both awkward and stiff.

“Uh, I think so.” Jeongguk slants so that Namjoon is well in his sights, already typing vigorously on his phone screen. “Should I schedule something or…?”

“Don’t worry about it, I have your number so I’ll just have Y/n give you a call to see when you guys meet.”

Jeongguk stands a moment longer, his toes tapping to the leather roof of boots so chunky they seem to swallow him from toe to ankle, the footwear attempting to take from his lengthy form and failing miserably. He turns mid-step when Taehyung slaps lightly at the sleeve of his jacket, urging him to step beyond the threshold. He lifts his arm to half wave, mumbling pleasantries, barely audible of the steps that echo in his ears with each pace onto the desolate sidewalk.

Jeongguk heads toward his own shop, missing the realization of the lack of paired steps with his own. Several paces behind him, a subtle guilt dressing the plains of his cheeks, Taehyung tugs at the wear of half chapped lips, wondering if the broach of a hazy subject is necessary. He catches Jeongguk easily with a jog, nearly stilling him mid-stride but saved from the extra physicality by the passing of a car.

“You know...Jimin was just joking.” Jeongguk’s brows lift, clearly only just catching sight of his constant companion, his own thoughts carrying him along the street without a wayward glance. His eyes widen, unsure of Taehyung’s intentions or the direction of the current topic. “About Y/n, I mean. I don’t really know her and we don’t flirt.”

“Wouldn’t matter if you did.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s just—look I know you saw her the other day and I’m willing to bet the only reason you haven’t mentioned that you’re intrigued is because you thought she was dating Jimin.” Taehyung treads, careful to avoid the gaze of reddened cheeks, Jeongguk’s hand raising to a nudge at his soft lobe, the other clenching and unclenching in denim blue, nails scratching the rough of fabric with each clasp. “Well clearly they’re not dating, so it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you did like her is all I’m saying.”

“Like I said, I don’t really know her. I think she’s cute, from a distance anyways, but I don’t think that’s any reason for a declaration.” The gentle tick of the crosswalk draws Jeongguk's attention on the present path to the opposing side of the street, ignoring the gentle tick of his chest.

A shining beacon in a sea of monotony. The words that filtered like a mantra, dressing the walls of his clogged brain, overflowing from files and dancing with the fires in tipped bins. Taehyung’s words extinguish the licking flames, if only momentarily, with meticulous reassurance.

A pocket of vibration, dark and clinging to his chilled skin, is notification for incoming correspondence. His steps skip, tripping along asphalt, saved only by the subtle grasp of a steady hand. His thanks are dropped without hesitation, hand slipping from fabric confines with the heavily encased lifeline pulsing with power.

From: Unknown [ 2:25pm]~is this jeongguk? namjoon gave me your number, said you need a consult?

From: Me[ 2:26pm]~yea...this is y/n im guessing?

His eyes pierce the screen, undressing the words with precision, ensuring he doesn’t make a fool in reply. He wasn’t prepared for the quick interception of the conversation he’s still processing, inner workings too focused on what’s straight ahead, not minutely prepared for Namjoon's speedy deliverance.

From: Unknown [ 2:30pm]~ding ding ding. im pretty much free whenever, so let me know what works with you and we can meet to discuss what you need and whether im the person for the job

From: Me[ 2:33pm]~ how about tomorrow around this time?

From: Unknown [ 2:34pm]~ cool. let’s meet at the park around the corner

And now, he waits.

~*~

The first thing you noticed was his approach, a confidence in his stride yet eyes that tried and failed to hide the glisten of steady orbs and the kiss of wind landing atop the surprising density of his cheeks like the piling of new snow. Your legs were crossed at the ankle, bare skin grazed by the cool of grass half dried by the desert chill, hands gripping the accumulation of sleeve inched to the open of your palm whilst your lips curved in mimic at the pout of his own, unintentional but perfectly protruding with the tracking of your steady tilt.

If one were to ask about the slight tremor in your hand or the subtle inch across inches between, you would fail to mention the metaphorical personality of your pulsing appendage and the ooz of liquid red abandoning the organ overflowed to trace the expanse of veins humming with the melodic string of laughter yet to abandon the space since he first spoke. You were immediately taken with soft speech and stolen glances, the professional tossed aside when you asked him to meet you, altogether forgotten when he said hello.

The pulsing was stunned only momentarily when he withdrew, hand disappearing into deep pockets to pose leather-bound pages and the hesitant stretch of muscles, the quick twitch of his neck the line of a rod, drawing you forward with each gentle reel of innocence. Now you sit, tangled in silent adoration, dripping admiration for the collaged pages, soaked in brilliance.

“These are yours?” You stroke the page with the ease of your pointer, his head tilting, hair framing, whilst he nods in a lopsided grin. You don’t notice the glue to your cheek, his eyes steady studying you while you study the glide of his hand with jet black against the white page.

He wonders if you catch the nerves, the steady vibration of his unsteady palms, gentle leap of muscled thigh and the brush of your leg with each accidental inch closer. The proximity did him in, your face from a distance only a picture on a page, face to face giving him the overwhelming sensation of the walk through a gallery filled with seven wonders, their spectacle meaningless without the promise of you.

He pretended for a moment, between laughter and brushes of innocence that he’s known you a lifetime, the thought only pulling at his metaphorical strings because he wishes he had. Your voices echo is sure to leave him wide eyed and ceiling bound for nights to come, imagining the galaxy as you, white expanse the only thing keeping from the grip he so wishes he could establish on the slip of your time here.

He knows it’s insanity, thoughts that won’t leave him be, the closeness driving him further to the edge. It’s the reason for his transition to the journal, the reason you’re perched in the grass with the whipping wind and dead leaves skirting around you.

“It’s just some ideas I have, I jot them down so I don’t forget. I was hoping we could work on them, flesh them a bit more…” Your gaze leaves the page, magic dwindling a sum, aghast at the audacity in his words. You withdraw, clenching fists to rationalize the wait for rejection on your behalf.

“Why me? I mean, you’ve seen Namjoon’s work, he’s great.”

“He said that you’re skilled in the tebori method. I’d like them to be done in that style and not many people can. Plus, I’ve seen your work too, it’s just as amazing.” Jeongguk notes the deflation, not unaware of Namjoon’s warning. He’s tempted to pry, but reverses hoping to stumble upon neutral territory, already missing the strain of your muscles in smile. “But obviously it’s only if you’re comfortable. I don’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“You’re not, I just...can I think about it? I know that’s so incredibly unprofessional of me but—”

“Take as long as you need.” Jeongguk decides immediately he doesn’t need an explanation, that your rumination is the promise of another rendezvous, high hopes lifting him over the horizon of the midday sun, skin aching for the glow of golden hour.

You already know you’ll say yes, outright rejection never an option, the flicker of expression alight in your left receptacle more than reason to feel him once more. The physical is through the page, but the metaphorical is the connection of souls, the cliché of one person and the hope of renewed ardor.

“I promise I won’t be long…” The words hang, heavy in the air between and with more meaning than your intent. You’re led away by the weight of obligation, required assistance from Jimin to cover the desk, legs like infant limbs after an hour unmoving.

Jeongguk follows suit, still chewing the words before spewing his own right back. The same weight and familiarity in his soft deliverance.

“I’ll be waiting.”

And now, you climb.

~*~

“How was your date?” Jimin is already setting up his station, eyes not sparing a glance, concentration wholly reserved. His vibration is palpable, though you don’t immediately notice, the feeling still finding stringed limbs when you reach your seat behind the desk.

“I was meeting a client,” You speak hollow and unconvincing, the magic coursing through your veins begging to differ. Wonder is silent, eyes latching to the single eye muraled to the wall, imagining it to glisten like Sirius reflecting in the night sky, musing how one day could build a coherency of such magnetism yet still be held at arm’s length.

“Oh really? It’s just that, I never meet my clients at the park...” His voice is a hum, settling an array of options for the post pierce browse. “—it’s certainly a bonus that said client is very handsome and already seems pretty interested.”

“You’ve never even seen us in the same room, I just met him today.”

“Whatever. I assume he’ll be coming around a lot more.”

Your fingers grasp the nearest instrument, ballpoint clicking in time with the tap of your toe against the leg of the chair. “I don’t know if I’m gonna agree. I don’t want him to be disappointed in the result.”

“I know you think you’re old news, but the fact that you didn’t say no is reason enough. There’s clearly a part of you that wants to, so why not take the plunge?”

“I can’t say yes just because I feel some strange attraction to him. That would be inappropriate,” Your mind barely registers the entrance of figure three, a client you presume, the sign-in ledger already halfway across the desk when Jimin speaks again.

“So you are attracted to him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes you did,” Your pen clatters, nimble fingers swooping it in your absence, Taehyung’s smirk a playful gleam to counter your startled posture. He greets Jimin as an old friend, the two waiting for you to catch up, the slouch of your spine and the configuration of the scene pulling you back into the current take.

“You’re the one getting a piercing?” Wheels push the foundation, abandoning the desk in favor of the plush leather Taehyung has already sunken into. You believe he feels at home, the decorative jewelry already hanging from his lobes the badge of a pierced veteran.

“Yeah, I figure it’s time to expand my collection.” His hand brushes the lengthy edges of his dark locks, leaving ample space for Jimin to reach his target, the depth of his gaze landing on your arch over the chair’s arm. “I’m assuming your meeting went well?”

“What do you know about my meeting?”

“Why do you think I was here yesterday? The piercing was just a bonus,” He pokes at the tray beside him, the light smack of Jimin’s hand drawing him back to the confines of his lounge. You try to connect dots lost in the fray of day to day. Taehyung is not entirely new to you though still unfamiliar, but you don’t recall the mention of Jeongguk during his earlier visits.

“So you guys know each other then?” Your disbelief finds Jimin, his hand’s busied with extra sanitation and his lips focusing hard to keep his face straight. “I’m assuming I’m simply the last to know, okay then.”

“It’s just circumstance really, I’m the one who came to your door, you were in your office when we came here yesterday and he was in Namjoon’s office when you came out. I promise he wasn’t avoiding you, quite the opposite actually.” You’re too intrigued for embarrassment, your attention handed tenfold to Taehyung, his head slightly tilted while Jimin readies to pierce him.

As of late the stench of disinfectant would trigger a memory you were fighting hard to shield from the surface, but the idea of not knowing more of Taehyung drives it from your mind, currently on one track and unwavered by anything that’s not Jeongguk. Even so, there’s a haze, or perhaps the attempt of common sense forcing you to look past the filter of brights to truly grasp reality.

“We’d never met before today, how could he possibly be looking for me?”

“We actually saw you a few days ago, before you and I officially met. You and Jimin were leaving the shop and he seemed pretty distracted by you, but he thought you two were dating.” Your laughter emits in breathy sighs, muddled by the fluttering in your abdomen, Jimin’s lips smug, shoulders rounded.

“Easy mistake, we’d make a cute couple.” It would be a fib to deny that it’s the first time it’s been thought that you and Jimin were more than friends. His neighbors foolishly believe your late nights are spent anywhere save for the couch, silver screen glaring back at your glued lids.

You watch Jimin work, ignoring the bore of Taehyung’s eyes, his focal point to ignore the sharp sting of the needle. He barely flinches, your own body lurching in slight when the needle meets puffed skin. His hand clasps your wrist, pulling you closer, examining the bare skin in earnest.

“You don’t have any tattoos...none that I can see at least.” He notices, jumping to your eyes and back to your arm. He leans forward when Jimin steps away, gathering his studded collection of earrings, reflecting with golds and silver. “That’s pretty interesting considering you give them to other people for a living.”

“Astute observation. I do not have any tattoos visible or otherwise.” Taehyung kisses his teeth, easily opting for a pair reminiscent of chains. You look for judgement, but there’s none in his study of the colorful space, just a curiosity he’s not sure he should breach. “I’ve always wanted one, but I was too scared. Ridiculous but true.”

“Scared of needles?”

“At first maybe. Scared of the permanence of it all. It feels like such a big responsibility, to me at least, to decide what to get tattooed and I’ve never gotten to a point where I could just do it.” You think back to pages bound by leather with frightening immediacy, the conviction with which the they screamed at you almost haunting if not for the beauty of it. Chilling in the details of sketches, moments in time grasped so eloquently. A part of you is certainly jealous, but the other part is so irrevocably drawn to depth and desire. “Hey, Taehyung, is Jeongguk still at his shop by chance?”

“Actually I’m supposed to be meeting him for ice cream after this so he might already be there.” He pulls his device from his jacket, squinting at the screen, thumb gliding in swiftness. “You guys should come!”

“Oh we don’t wanna—”

“I’m in, I’ve been craving a good scoop,” Jimin leaves no room for disagreement, his limbs already at full speed to hurry cleaning his station. “We don’t have any clients and Namjoon is out of town for the day, so I think we’re good to close up. Plus, you can tell Jeongguk you’ll take him on.”

“I never said I would,” You slide back into your jacket, tucking your limbs into the sleeves. The sky has darkened significantly since the dusting of rays that splashed your skin as you sprawled the grass barely an hour earlier.

“You never said you wouldn’t.” The two are like stooges, already mastering the collaborative effort to challenge you.

“Have fun with your ice cream, I’m, hopefully, going home to a heated apartment.”

~*~

Jin has been talking to Jeongguk since he entered, the recognition of the new young entrepreneur on the strip catching his attention without pause. He’s a nice guy, his energy something Jeongguk would appreciate on any given day, but he was hoping for a moment of collection before Taehyung arrived.

He’s stuck on a blur, the low heat of his skin and the canals of his ears, yearning for the vibration of laughter and soft words spoken beneath the breeze. It was easy and good, an hour lost, an hour found. He would’ve laid there in the grass for hours after your departure were in not for the chill that crept in so easily without you beside him.

He wonders if it was a mutual feeling or if your reaction was just polite, a business tactic. No. Not you, you’re not the type to pretend, he knows even if he doesn’t know. Your sincerity was like a sickness, spilling from your every crevice, pouring out with your every phrase. He’s sure even you don’t notice the significant way you carry yourself, impossible to turn away from.

“Hey, Jin, talking Jeongguk’s ear off I see.” Jeongguk breaks his stare from where it concentrated on the ink already eating his skin, Jimin standing over the booth with Taehyung chuckling beside him. “Maybe give him a break and take out order?”

“There’s a counter, Park Jimin, and—” Jin squints in the direction of the counter, a small line waiting for their treats of the frozen variety, though not many people are keen for the cold in the midst of winter. “—yup there’s definitely someone up there waiting just for you.”

“Ha ha, leave him alone, Jin, his mind is already occupied plenty.” Jin slides from the booth, Jimin immediately taking his place, Taehyung sliding in after him.

Jin feigns reluctance when Jimin recites his order, all around friendlier when Jeongguk and Taehyung do the same. Jimin turns his attention to the other side of the booth when Jin sidles off, already choosing his next target. “Where’s your head at?”

“Hm?”

“We just talked to Y/n, I hear your meeting went well, prospects are high. She seems interested,” Taehyung’s speech is backed with encouragement, Jeongguk’s lip quivering, but winning the fight against his impending smile, intent on not giving himself away too quickly.

“She said she’d think about it and I’m perfectly okay with that.” He thinks of your promise, the thoughts skirting past the surface for a sign, a signal that the more he feels is exactly the meaning behind your words. His rang true, he would wait and be content. He would be prepared to have you work as his artist and end things there, but the weight in his pocket and the recollection of your eyes doubled in size leaves room for the want of more.

“She seemed impressed with you,” Jimin adds, chin rested in his palm, reading for reaction. “The fact that she’s considering is a really good sign. For her and for you.”

“It all just felt really natural,” The two watch as Jeongguk’s eyes glaze over just thinking about the exchange. “Almost like we…”

He trails, face heating, his thoughts almost betraying him. He’s relieved when a server comes bearing dishes, thanking them aloud with pleasantry and inwardly for saving him from himself. The relief is short lived when two sets of eyes beam at him like he’s an amusement, waiting for him to continue.

“Almost like you…”

“Nothing, it’s really stupid. She’s really great, I’ll be lucky if she decides that I’m worth it.” He covers lamely, shoving his spoon past his lips, letting creamy vanilla coat his tongue and ease his mind.

“Trust me,” Jimin mumbles, swallowing his own hefty scoop. “She decided that the moment you sat down.”

~*~

It’s unclear what brought you to this stool some nights later, half buzzed and wondering if you’ll have to call Jimin to drag you home. Your mind hasn’t completely fogged, liquor light with mercy, heavy consequences no doubt pending for the morning to come. A break, you’d decided, hands and knees stained with product, trying in vain to work the stain from your carpet, the smudge faint but not enough to miss your eye.

The crowd is surprising, though you wouldn’t know as you don’t often go to the place with the metaphorical bad stuff, your own brand of lunacy dancing in boxes lacing your cabinetry. You recall the draw of drinks from mugs and Jimin off-key when you’re sliding more bills than you prefer across the counter. Moving is without appeal, head to the counter the way to go.

“Hey, you okay?” The voice is familiar, worth the work to lift your head. Jeongguk looks down at you, his hand placed to the bar, eyes wide with concern.

His own stumbling through the door of the room with the dim lighting and the absurd amount of sports playing in every corner was boredom. Taehyung had plans and he was left alone to the drone of the television, the shop in need of a break from him. The dishes already glistening from his tenth wash despite the lack of use. A spot of dust enough to send him into a frenzy. From Jimin the name of the dive was briefly mentioned, in relation to what he couldn’t say, the topic never picking his brain from the moment it was first spoken.

Now he’s glad he wasn’t a horrible companion, the sight of you hunched over reason enough for his half listen. He notes your solitude immediately, drawn to the side of the bar rather than the thick of it all, two glasses empty before you.

“Jeongguk!” Your tone is uneven, eyes looking watered under the lights, your smile brightening in his eyes. He can’t help but to return, lowering into the stool so your faces are level. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I just got here actually and I saw you so…”

“You came for me?” If you were less influenced the words would have remained nothing more than a thought, passing in a sea of others you could never muster courage to speak. Though you’re not sure that a post buzz reflection will make you wish they were any less materialized, the way his features soften like a fertilization for the growth of your thudding heart.

“I—yeah, I came for you. Are you ready to head home?”

“You don’t know where I live,” You say the words, knowing you’ll go anywhere with him even if he doesn’t. You let him guide you from your stool, his touch soft, never too much.

“You know, I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

~*~

He lingers outside of your door, adoring the small struggle you have with lock and key, about to lend a hand when your triumph catches him, arms lifting over your head, turning to him with a smile. “Come on!”

“You want me to come in?” Taehyung will be home soon and he has no way of explaining that he’s at your place that doesn’t involve some teasing on his best friend’s end of it, though it doesn’t matter when you latch on to the sleeve of his jacket and pull him past the threshold.

The biggest difference between your place and theirs is the lived-in aspect. He would say that it’s cute, but it’s too simple a word. It seems you prefer mood lighting, the flip of a switch igniting fairies strung to the base of the ceiling. It suits you, who’s already stumbling toward the kitchen expecting that Jeongguk is hot on your trail. The décor is simple, a few paintings on the wall, rugs and cozy furniture.

“I’m sorry if it’s cold in here, it’s always kind of cold in here,” You mutter, grabbing two mugs and giving life to your kettle. Jeongguk recalls that you were no longer in possession of your space heater, taken by Taehyung and himself and still unreturned. He debates running over to grab it, but your hand once more on his wrist, drags him to the sofa erasing the thought of walking out of that door. “Thanks for bringing me home, I promise I’m not that wasted. You don’t have to be so nervous.”

“No, I’m not nervous! Not because you were drinking anyways…”

“So you are nervous...why?”

“You make me nervous...in a good way!” He’s quick to regroup, noting the fall of your features, hating that it’s because of him. “It’s completely insane, but from the moment I saw you I…”

“Me too.” Jeongguk’s previously averted gaze rushes to meet you, already staring back. He doesn’t need to ask what you mean, confident that what you feel is what he feels. Confident that it doesn’t matter how insane it may sound. “It’s so crazy, but when I saw you yesterday something just clicked and I thought maybe it’s because you’re ridiculously attractive but then we talked and it was so natural.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t just me,” He takes a chance, hand sliding to yours, resting against your thigh. Your fingers tangle without stutter, the position meant to be, so full of warmth and understanding. “I saw you with Jimin a few days ago, I couldn't stop staring."

So long is spent staring, enjoying each other and the mutual affection that's like an aura engulfing you.

"Where exactly do we go from here?” Jeongguk tugs at his bottom lip, another quality that fills you with warmth.

“Why are you opening a tea shop?”

“What?”

“We’re practically strangers, I don’t even know your last name actually. So, if there’s some weird predestined love at first sight phenomenon going on here, I’d like to know everything about you before we proceed.” You click, smile a contagious thing, one that Jeongguk would be remiss not to embrace wholeheartedly. “So why a tea shop?”

“Well first, my last name is Jeon—”

“Jeon Jeongguk…” He watches you test the words against your tongue. “Cute. You’re cute.”

“Anyways,” He blushes. “I’ve always loved making tea. I learned it at a young age and then I started experimenting and decided that this is what I wanna do. I figured focusing on boba would draw more people in, but I also wanna expand on what I already know.”

“Well if anything, Hoseok will be there at least twice a day.”

“What about you?”

“I think I can make time, though you are really out of the way I might not be able to swing it.”

“I’ll pick you up, or better yet I can just bring it right to you,” He offers, amused but truthful. “No, but I mean how did you get into tattooing, and how did you learn tebori?”

“Ah…” Your eyes find one of the frames hanging nearest the window, a landscape that Jeongguk can barely make out aside from the distance of neon. “Well, I was studying abroad actually, in Japan. I was an art history major and I didn’t really know what I wanted to do so I thought getting away would help me figure it out.”

You think often about the day when your current occupation seemed so foreign, your adolescence always filled with imaginings of galleries under curation, days filled with frames and packed schedules.

“One of my classmates convinced me to go out with her one night because she wanted a tattoo and I wanted one too, so I didn’t really see why I shouldn’t go. She got hers first, a flower I think, and while I was watching the artist I was just blown away by the technique.”

“Tebori?”

“Mmhm, of course I’d seen the regular ink and needle, but this just seemed to me something on a deeper level and I fell in love with it. It’s probably the most insane thing I’ve done to date, but I finished my degree abroad and stayed in Japan to learn and now I’m here.”

“Why’d you come back?”

“It just felt like it was time...sometimes I wish I hadn’t or that I could go back to visit. Like it’ll remind me what it felt like in the beginning, make me feel like less of a failure. I'd actually get my tattoo.”

“You’re not a failure, we just have patches sometimes. You’ll figure it out, we’ll figure it out.” The steam of the kettle startles from the moment you're quick to exit to the stove, mulling words and recovering from the embarrassment of exposure over the steaming water. “You know, I don’t have tea so I hope hot chocolate is okay?”

“It’s perfect,” Jeongguk accepts his mug and the packet of mix, stirring it in time with his breathing. He’s left to the obvious blushing of his cheeks, musing his circumstance, sharing a drink with the perfect anomaly. He’s ignored the constant stream of vibration from his pocket, no interest in removing himself from the cozy bubble. “So this place is pretty shitty, I would know and I’ve only lived here about a week. Why do you stay here?”

“You live here? Wait...you and Taehyung are roommates, duh sorry. I’m still trying to catch up.”

“Yeah, thanks for the space heater by the way. I’m pretty sure I would’ve given in the first night if I had to sleep in the cold.”

“Ha! No worries, sometimes I do give in and I stay over at Jimin’s place. But I’m just not ready to let this place go yet, I guess. It’s not great, but change is hard and I’ve been here for so long.”

You're close along the counter, space invaded without invitation, gravitation controlling your every step. The rest of the night follows suit, closeness and appeal. You enjoy words and laughter, ignoring the possibility of the responsibility the next day alludes.

Somehow you find yourselves in your bed, faces close and bodies tucked beneath the thick duvet. You're glad the heat isn’t working tonight, Jeongguk wrapped around you like a boa, slowly falling into the depths of unconsciousness, the conversation lulling with each random topic. Your throat is strained from laughter and your brain is filled with more than it thought possible.

Inches are now centimeters and you’re snails inching toward the finish, certain but uncertain if the light of day will change the result of your exchange.

The morning following you wake much the same as you slept, tangled, breaths mingling between. Jeongguk is still snoring, blissfully unaware of the authoritative knock echoing from your front door. Hands pushing at your eyes, feet tingling against the cold flooring, you swing the door with an annoyance you’re prepared to unleash before you’re met with Taehyung.

His eyes are half frantic, neck craning to see around you.

“Taehyung?”

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but have you seen Jeongguk? I’ve been trying to reach him since last night and he’s not answering.”

“O-oh...um he’s here, let me get him,” You mumble, allowing Taehyung, his eyes softening and features squinted, to step inside. You leave him standing in the living room, ignoring the knowing smirk, head bowed as you step into your bedroom.

You regret the gentle shove of his shoulders, and the hushed “wake up” that slowly but surely draws Jeongguk from his sleep. He looked peaceful, full of youth with his eyes stapled and breath steady rising and falling. His eyes are puffy when he raises, confusion laced features recalling that he wasn’t in his own home.

His arm extends, patting your side of the bed, unaware that you were the reason for premature awakening. “Hey sleepy head.”

“What are you doing up?” He finds your hand, grabbing hold in an attempt to pull you back to bed. Though you would be more than willing, Taehyung is sure to have heaps to say already, no reason to add fuel to the fire already blazing in his pupils.

“Taehyung is here,” That catches his attention, eyes darting to the door half open. “He said he’s been trying to reach you. He’s waiting in the living room, I’m sorry if you didn’t want him to know you’re here, I panicked.”

“No it’s fine,” He assures, sliding from the bed, the same chill that ate you catching him with bare feet. You follow him back out to Taehyung, who’s taken it upon himself to peruse the space, currently examining the coffee table with it’s day old mugs. “Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you.”

Looking between the two of you, your hand finding habit at Jeongguk’s shoulder, he shrugs. “No biggie, just thought you might be in a ditch or something. Turns out I was very wrong, so I’ll leave you to it.”

“I’ll just come with you, I should probably shower and change. I’ve got some stuff to take care of before the opening. I can’t believe it’s only a couple months away.” You drop your hand, leaving him to it, an awkward and unsure feeling settling in your stomach. It’s clear that Jeongguk is a bit embarrassed, not that you’re own emotions haven’t caused the sting of a heat in your cheeks. You wait for him to follow Taehyung, who’s already waved goodbye, hands in his pockets as he stalks away.

Jeongguk isn’t so quick, turning to your ground bound pupils, fingers drifting to the trace of your jaw and nudging you to greet him. You’re taken by the lack of hesitation when his lips meet yours in kiss, short and sweet, altogether unexpected. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” You coo, fingers brushing his cheek gingerly, rewarded with one more peck before Taehyung is groaning in the hallway, effectively tearing Jeongguk from you to catch up.

~*~

You’re warm, for the first time in a long time you’re warm, from your chest to your veins, head and toes, and it’s all because of Jeon Jeongguk. His departure wasn’t the last of him, the next few months full of meetings planned and spontaneous, your phone alight with too many notifications, every one taken in with the same adoring smile and your own obsessed response.

You would stop by Hoseok’s blessing him with a coffee, happily listening to his rambling about the horrendous new flavor Jin had him and Yoongi test the other night. Across the street you could just see Jeongguk through the window, lips pulled in concentration, pen scribbling on the pad in front of him. Though it was cute, you couldn’t help but to attempt to cheer him up, his eyes immediately finding you after he’s read the little note sent to his phone.

You would be sick with yourself if you were the one to witness the affection radiating from your expanse, but you couldn’t care less how many times Jimin fake gags or the small lecture you endure when Yoongi delivers flowers later in the day. You hold on to the feeling and you hope that it feels like this all the time.

“What are you working on?” Namjoon steps into your office, no other reason than his own boredom swallowing him whole, much like the cushions when he collapses into your sofa.

“Just some of Jeongguk’s sketches…” You noticed rather quickly the familiar book resting on your bedside table after your first night together, no doubt placed by Jeongguk before sleep could find him. You spent the morning getting to know his art better, so you could try to make it exactly what he wanted. You only just got around to transferring the sketches to your own notebook, hoping to have something to show him at his opening.

“He’s really good for you. I haven’t seen you this eager about sketching in a while.”

“You think so?”

“What, you don’t?”

“No, I just...I don’t want you to think I’m completely insane for jumping into this so suddenly. I mean, I think it’s insane that I could be so completely sure about someone so quickly and I think the world of you, so I don’t want you to be disappointed…”

He laughs, whole hearted laughter fills your office and you’re not positive how you should respond. Your hands are unsteady on your pen, ready for him to completely crush your soul, back to the same girl standing in his doorway all those years ago.

“Honestly, you give me way too much credit.”

“What do you mean?”

“The night that you showed up, I was wondering how I was even gonna keep this place open. The building wasn’t the most friendly looking, most people walked right past, the outside giving them the impression that the inside was just as decrepit,” He sighs, head supported by the arm of the chair, eyes holding the ceiling in place. “When you showed up I was seconds away from telling you to get lost, then you handed me your sketches and you looked so hopeful. You were my last chance, so really I should be thanking you for being so spontaneous, especially if it means you’re happy.”

“Wow, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I didn’t want to put more pressure than you already put on yourself. Plus, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? We’re doing pretty good, and that’s what’s important.”

The revelation is a motivation, your grip on the pencil tightening, strokes light and even on the page. Namjoon doesn’t say much more, silent inspiration while he falls into slumber, the only reason he ever finds himself meandering into your space.

“Knock knock,” Jeongguk peers around the corner, your finer flying to your lips, the other gesturing toward Namjoon, dozing peacefully. “Sorry, does he do that a lot?”

“Oh yeah, he pretends he wants to know what I’m up to then he’s out like a light before I’ve finished speaking.”

“I’ll have to try it sometime—”

“Watch it,” You warn playfully, sneakily closing your notebook so he can’t see. “What’s up? I figured you would be too busy filling orders for little ole me.”

“Never, and I want you to try this! I was thinking I could add it to the special menu. I know everyone is into the whole lemonade with boba thing which we do offer but I was trying to make a tea that’s more on the fruity side than the tea side because I know some people are put off by the tea taste, ya know?” He watches you uncomfortably closely, your face trained to be as neutral as possible while flavors explode, traveling to opposing ends of your mouth, battling it out, but ultimately left with no winner.

“You know, I appreciate the thought and I’m sure if you work on it some more it’ll be perfect but…”

“It’s disgusting.” He finishes for you sighing in defeat, collapsing in the chair across from you.

“No!” You round the desk, his arms ready to accept your slide into his lap. “It’s not disgusting, it’s just...not quite blended yet.”

He takes the to-go cup, sipping his own concoction. You wonder if he tried it at all before running over here, his habit of trusting your initial judgement extremely endearing, but unnecessary. It stems only from your admittance that you weren’t the biggest tea drinker and that you’re one of those lemonade with the boba people. His mission became clear, he couldn’t stand to see you walk into his shop knowing that you’ll be leaving with sugared lemons squeezed into juice. He has to make you the perfect tea if it’s the last thing he does.

He was set on making it for the opening, but to no avail, the sign flipped, his employees brewing away, his drop here only partially out of the necessity for his favorite taste tester. “It’s disgusting,” He decides immediately, fighting the urge to spit it back into the cup. “You have to stop being so nice to me, it’s cute, but I want you to yell at me like you yell at Jimin.”

“I don’t yell at Jimin!”

“You yell at Jimin all the time, lovingly, but there are voices raised.” Namjoon rubs at his eyes, tugging at the shirt riding at his abdomen. “We goin for tea or what? I swear people are gonna think we’re out of business with how often we close early.”

"Yeah, can you just give us a minute?" You try your best to be discrete, nodding toward the notebook on your desk.

"Yeah...Jimin and I will just meet you there." He leaves you, door clicking in his wake and you turn to Jeongguk with a ready grin, eyes wide with excitement.

"Is this one of those things where I should knock everything off of your desk? If so I'm down, but this is a weird time…"

"No! I have a surprise for you." You pull his journal from it's position beneath the stacks of paper on your desk. "You left this at my place your first night over."

"I've been looking for this! I was embarrassed to tell you I lost it, but it turns out you're a klepto." He teases, taking hold of the pages. "So you decided to hold it hostage?"

"I wasn't holding it hostage, I was working on…" You lift your sketchbook, flipping to the appropriate page. "These."

They aren't complete, but you want his first impression and suddenly you understand the tea thing. It's a radically different medium, your shared art actually pending ink on his body, but you don't want to go too far only to disappoint. He leans against the desk, not speaking, just staring, expressionless.

"If you don't like them we can talk about what you want changed, I just tried to make something I thought would fit what you've already got going."

He finally looks up, eyes glistening, your stomach doing flips. You're too afraid to ask what he's thinking, so you continue to wait, hoping he'll speak up soon and that you didn't insult him with your vision.

"I love them."

"Really? You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings, it's your body you know."

"Really, you're amazing. This is better than I could've hoped and I can't wait until it's permanent." His words are firm with sincerity, notebook laid to the side in favor of pulling you into his arms. "How am I supposed to compete? I can't even make tea for you."

"Relax, your tea is perfectly fine! I just enjoy the occasional lemonade. Come on, we'll go to the shop, you can make me whatever you want and I'll love it."

"Deal, but...I-we have a surprise for you as well."

"For me?"

"Yeah, I was talking with the guys the other day, we were talking about you..."

"You and the guys? This should be good."

"It is, I promise." He produces an envelope from his pocket, no scrawl on the outside, more mystery than you're ready for. “I was thinking about what you said that first night, about wanting to remember what it was like in the beginning.”

“What did you do?” You tear into the envelope, fingers moving so slowly you fear the skin will catch in the thin edges. What you pull is far from what you imagined, a ticket printed blue for a week’s time. Jeongguk stares at you expectantly, waiting for some form of reaction, but you’re not sure what to say. “This is a plane ticket…”

“Yeah, to Japan. We want you to go back and we knew you wouldn’t do it unless we planned it for you.”

“You guys didn’t have to.”

“We wanted to, I wanted to. The way your eyes lit up talking about that time in your life, I would do anything to give that to you again. So we want you to go to Japan, do something for you.” His lips land on your forehead, breathing you in while you process the unexpected gift. It’s more than you could ever imagine, but there’s a single string, dangling with uncertainty. You figure the only way to eliminate it is to pull full force, risk sounding ridiculous.

“What about you?” Jeongguk’s face scrunches in confusion, the inquiry the last thing he expected. His thoughts were far from himself, not naive enough to think his mind would be focused anywhere but you while you’re gone, but never thinking it would be a reason you’re unsure about going. “I don’t mean to sound stupid, but I’d miss you too much.”

“You can call me everyday, any time of day. I’ll be there, you don’t have to worry about me not being here waiting for you.”

“Or...you could come?”

“Oh, you want me to? I figured you’d want to do your own thing, not have me weighing you down.” Your arms find his waist, head resting against his chest, giggling at the prospect of Jeongguk being anything more than a comforting presence.

“Of course I want you to, I wanna show you everything.”

“I’ll have to figure things out with the shop, but—”

“Oh, wow I’m so selfish. Of course you can’t just drop everything to come with me, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” You shake your head, silently scolding your inconsideration. Jeongguk grabs hold of your shoulders, stopping you mid step, hand halfway to smack your forehead.

“I would love to come, I just have to talk to Taehyung about it. I’m sure he wouldn't mind taking on a little more responsibility. Actually he’ll probably pack my bags for me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll probably have to catch a later flight, just to get things taken care of.” He thinks aloud.

“I think I can manage a few days on my own.”

“I promise I won’t be long.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

And now, we smile.

#bangtanuniversity #bangtanidx #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fluff #jjk fluff #bts au #jungkook au #bts s2l #jungkook s2l

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 2- Together We Stay

Bucky Barnes x (f)reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary: After learning that you’re on a national watchlist from the exposure of Hydra, and seeking the only other person who’s lived a life like you have. Now you and Bucky adjust to being around one another in Romania.

Warning: big fluff, SMUT, more fluff i promised

Masterlist

5 weeks.

That’s how long it’s been since you’ve been allowed to stay with Bucky in his little one bedroom apartment in Bucharest, Romania. Fortunately for you, he’s kind enough to let you take the shit excuse for a bed while he claims the hardwood floor on the opposite side of the room, just about every single night. That’s just how its been, through true at it is, either one of you could handle sleeping on stone, but this bed is admittedly nicer, and you’ve got someplace to stay for the time being.

And Bucky.

He’s a quiet type for sure, keeps to himself, only really speaks when spoken to or when asking if you want something from the marketplace. But you’ve begun to witness first hand how he’s kind, funny in his own right, and respectful of your space and body within the time that you’ve had the chance to really know him. Which is more then most could say while you’ve been on the run in the past, from authorities and the Winter Soldier alike.

Most days the two of you wander the various streets of this large pleasant bustling city, watching for any signs of danger or an odd person out of place as you go about your day. Other times the two of you would go hiking to the outskirts of Bucharest where no one could be of a bother, there, the two of you would spar each other for hours. Gotta keep alert, he’d always say.

When he did speak.

But the nights when the city was sleepy with brightly beaming stars blanketing overhead, now those became your absolute favorite. You and your new found companion would spend those hours playing cards against one another, lasting deep into the wee hours of the morning when the sun was just barely rising into the sky.

Although as of late, Bucky has begun to speak more and more to you, even just yesterday when you shit talked some cheap vendor who was being very persistent as he wanted you to buy his ugly scarves, Bucky cracked a smile. Maybe even stifled a laugh. If you weren’t so invested in messing with the annoying little man, you would have seen the way Bucky’s eyes trailed adoringly over your mischievous face.

Maybe you would have seen how the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement as you flipped the guy off and practically swaggered away like the coolest person he’s ever met. Too bad you didn’t, but you would have loved to have seen it. Even for just a moment.

That’s what it’s been like recently between the two of you, small fleeting glances here and there, friendly nudges when you’re walking out in the park, and more time spent laying side by side with one another after an excessively intense workout session. Granted you’re sprawled out in the dirt and grass, sweaty and appearing like you just ran through a dust storm, but next to Bucky, things feel pleasantly different.

It’s strange, you can’t remember the last time you’ve actually felt comfortable around anyone since your mother, but that was a very long time ago. And she’s dead, and you’re not.

Unlocking the apartment door, you quickly turn the faded golden knob and walk into the dull sunlit room. The windows are covered in thin faded newspapers for the dying sunlight to struggle through, as this appears to be the only real source of efficient lightning since all lights are currently turned off. Though you can see well enough due to your body’s enhanced vision, small perks of the serums mutation that made you.

It’s almost 7pm on this cool breezy evening as you walk into Bucky’s apartment, shutting the door just as swiftly; letting your black cotton trench coat slip gracefully from off of your shoulders, you kick your boots off next before walking over to the kitchen and setting the coat on the back of the old wooden chair.

A tired sigh escapes from your parted lips as a sudden smirk begins to break out upon your sleepy face, “James.” You muse with a genuine smile as you turn to face your mattress for a bed, and the man sitting on it, “Nice to be greeted when I come back.”

He hands you an apologetic look before swiftly rising to his feet, “Just making sure you’re paying attention.” He quips with the flash of a grin, “You passed.”

“Alright smartass I brought you a sub from that little coffee place.” His cheeks dust pink as you hand him the sandwich from out of your bag, God he loves your accent, Bucky hands you a pursed lipped grin as you wink, “Just how you like it, old wet lettuce, a chunk of rat, and a moldy bun. Your favorite.”

He lets out a breathy snort as you practically swagger over to the fridge, opening it up to grab two beers before finding yourself a chair right across from him. “Here.” He quickly accepts your thoughtfully brewed offer of friendship, “Drink up Barnes it’s a new day tomorrow and we’re still kicking.”

He watches as you laugh before popping open the glass and taking a hearty chug, a small yet joyous grin pulling at the corner of your lips after you set it down again.

“To another day.” States Bucky before doing just the same.

Soon enough the two of you find yourselves seated comfortably on opposite sides of the old mattress with cards in each of your hands. A solid look of determination and fake suspicion on either of your faces as you stare each other down.

“Got any fives?” Asks Bucky with a raised brow as you simply roll your eyes, then biting your lip while you watch as he tucks a stray tuff of dark hair behind his ear.

“Fuck you.” Slips from your mouth as he bursts with the sweet sounds of laughter, his cards fall from his hands as you throw yours at his stupidly attractive yet winning face. Dammit you could have won.

“I can’t help that you’re a sore loser Y/N, I’m just that good.” Brags Bucky as you throw him a deadly glare.

“Whatever. It’s nearly 4am I’m off my game tonight.” You retort, shrugging as a yawn approaches right on cue.

Bucky glances at the wall clock before looking back at you, an tinge of disappointment lacing his soft voice, “Right. I’ll just head over to my spot then...”

Rolling your eyes yet again, you gently slap his folded thigh before he can attempt at leaving, “Awh come on Buck, you’re back has got to be shit by now. Let me sleep there tonight okay, it’s only fair.”

“Y/N I’m fine, seriously.” Admits Bucky kindly as he shows the flash of a smile, “Don’t worry about me. I’m good.”

Your teeth press firmly against your bottom lip as you think of how to thwart his stubborn mind, soon you look down to pick up some cards, “No, we gotta take turns. And don’t say “I’m good” because if you go over there I will have no choice but to fight you.” Words wrapped in sarcasm, you lay it on him, yet your face appears to flash with something different.

“Fight me? You’d fight me for the shitty hard wooden floor?” Asks Bucky in bewilderment as you simply nod, agreeing to your last stated truth.

“See! You even admit it’s shitty.” You exclaim with a humored laugh while shaking the cards in his beautiful face. Y/N don’t you dare think about it, stop flirting idiot.

“Well...yeah.” Mutters Bucky as you both suddenly sit in an awkward silence, nothing heard except for the wind as it rattles against the old windowpane. You both are breathing a tad more heavily from the teasing argument a couple seconds ago, but now, some unseen yet intrusively felt emotion shifts the air. Is this what you think it is, or does your underlying feelings for him just like fucking with your better intuition.

Something is afoot, however your mind still doubts it. God he can be so hard to read sometimes.

Bucky’s blue irises flicker from you, to the floor-like-bed across the room and then back to you again, conflict clear in the way that his face shifts apprehensively, suddenly he moves to stand, “Wait.” You command with urgency, causing the man to stop dead in his tracks, curious eyes on you in a second.

Letting out a nervous breath, you decide to make sure he gets some proper rest for once, “Just sleep on the goddamn bed.” You deadpan as his face keeps unusually stoic, his body as still as a statue before without so much as a warning does he swiftly lean over and immediately crash his lips to yours.

Within seconds the cards are left for tomorrows cleanup as they flutter to the hard ground, completely forgotten as he presses a metal hand onto the bed for some stability while his lips move sweetly against your own, his flesh one positioned comfortably against your left jaw and partial cheek.

The shock you feel quickly gets shoved to the back of your mind as your hands immediately begin there exploration as they sift through his long dark hair. He tastes impeccably more delicious then you could have ever even imagined, not that you fantasized about tasting the Winter Soldier or anything, though maybe it popped into your mind as a harmless curiosity. Now however, you’re pleasantly satisfied to find out by the way his soft plush lips dance across your own; it’s enough to send your heart fluttering into a thousand excited butterflies, more like an avalanche for Bucky.

All too soon does be abruptly pull away to seat himself next to you while you begrudgingly retract your hands from exploring him further. His eyes quickly find the floor in embarrassment as you smile adoringly at him, “Sorry that was...”

“Fucking hot?” You muse as his flustered face immediately snaps over to yours, hope clear in his shimmering gaze and a tad bit of puzzlement. Guess he didn’t expect his little move of bravery to produce such an apparent positive reaction.

“Uh, well...that’s uh, good..” He mumbles while rubbing the back of his neck, eyeing shifting across the bare mattress before they slowly glance up to find yours once more. This time he hands you a shy nervous smile,”...can I kiss you again?” Wonders Bucky with the sweetest puppy dog eyes you have ever seen in your entire life.

Smirking mischievously, you gently caress the side of his cheek while he happily leans into it, “Bucky Barnes....you can do a lot more then just kiss me.” And with that said does your sweet man press his lips against yours, admittedly more hungry then the first.

He kisses you with such vigor and passion this time, becoming more bolder by the second as he gently tugs at the bottom of your shirt. Smiling against him, you quickly break from his charm to give him your approval, “Shirt comes off if yours does first.” You tease as he plants a chaste kiss to your cheek, then jaw.

Rolling his eyes while continuing to plant love marks around your neck, you take that as a positive sign to reach over and hastily remove his top, he then wastes no time in carefully slipping yours off as well, taking a second longer to unclasp your bra and fling it to the side. Problems for finding later. After the introductions are had, you both immediately take a long heavy moment to trail your eyes over every curve and blemish of each other’s body. You’ve never done this with him before, never even witnessed him without a shirt on, God is he ever more divine then you could have ever even imagined.

Trailing your eyes over ever muscle and crevice in the dull shadowed lighting of the room, your heart begins to sink with sadness and anger while you study the scarring on his left shoulder, the area between where metal meets flesh. Bucky watches as you frown before he takes your left hand in his, eyes softening while he holds it gently, “They hurt you like they hurt me.” He whispers.

Your eyes quickly flicker over to see his shadowed face, and the dark hair that frames it so perfectly, “They hurt everyone.” You whisper back as he brings your wrist up to his mouth, a second later be places the softest of kisses against your weathered skin, right where your tattoo is. The one you’ve had since you were eleven, the one Hydra gave you.

“Did they do this too?” He wonders, already knowing your answer as you slowly nod in silent reply; the black inked marking shows 00X13 as it sits horizontally against your wrist from where those bastards essentially branded you.

Frowning deeply at the black ink on your wrist, you take a slow breath as Bucky watches your every move, “I’ve tried to cut it off of me a couple times long ago.....but they did this to me before the second serum altered my body so that I could heal faster. I guess my body registers it as part of the skin now, but I’ve grown to live with it. It’s a reminder of my past and survival, I cannot stay angry with the dead forever.” You mutter thoughtfully, referencing to the former doctors and scientists who did this to you, understanding that those people are all dead now or incredibly old.

Bucky bows his head, dark hair tickling your hand and wrist as he holds it close to his stubbled face, brows furrowing you wonder what internal turmoil he may be processing, soon he rises his stormy ocean of blue to find your gaze, “I hate them. All of them.” He grumbles lowly, the icy dark storm clouding over in hidden rage that flashes within his eyes.

Not wanting to darken the blessed moment a second more, you push a piece of hair out of his eyes before placing a gentle kiss against his lips, pulling away he slightly follows, “It doesn’t matter now. We’re two lonely souls together in this fucked up world and I want you to make love to me.” A small grin replaces the once bitter frown as he leans in closer.

“Then I will.” Answers Bucky, his voice as soft and velvety as the most precious flowers, he soon moves forward to gently push you on to your back, stealing another kiss along the way while he hovers over your heated body.

His form is much broader then your own as he pins your vessel to the bed, hands drag lazily through his increasingly messy hair as you slowly part your legs for him to rest his clothed nether regions against your own equally as kept queen jewels. Now he lays flush against your clothed bodies, fitting perfectly like two golden pieces of a Kings prized puzzle.

The growing friction of his hardening member against your sensitive nerves is enough to make you growl in frustration from lack of satisfying contact. Tugging his head back from your lips, you smirk as he pouts, “I’m enjoying this Buck, I really am, but our pants gotta go.” He promptly breaks out into a knowing grin.

“I was thinking the exact same thing.” Muses Bucky in agreement as he leans back to give you some space for safely kicking off your pants and undies as he fumbles with his own from the spot next to your left. Naked and shining in all your magnificent glory, you watch in amusement as he struggles to shove down his jeans before a small giggle escapes your lips when he frustratingly throws them across the floor.

Knees guarding your hidden treasure below, you smirk while resting your arms against the bed, eyes flashing in entertained contentment as they glance up at him, “I’m not going anywhere, Buck.” You quip as he shakes his head in embarrassment.

“Yeah. Well...” He’s quickly interrupted as you pull him back down against your naked form, “oh, hi.” Whispers Bucky as his face keeps mere inches from your own, pieces of black hair tickling the sides of your face.

“Hi.” You mutter back with a shy smile before raising a brow and glancing downward for a brief moment, “Care to take those off?” You ask in referral to his underwear that’s still keeping it all in, his poor manhood that looks just about ready to rip through his boxers any second now.

Glancing down as well, he quickly smiles as a dust of pink coats his stubbled cheeks, “oh, right......just a moment.” His body leaves yours once again to kneel on the mattress as he almost trips out of them, you stare on in anticipated excitement as he swiftly pulls down his undies to reveal a very hard member indeed. He was packing this whole time!

Cheeks flushing pink once more, he gives you a shy nervous grin before placing his hands on either side of your closed legs. With pleading eyes of dashing cobalt, they flash a stormy sky of hunger and lust. Bucky draws his lips closer to your knee before suddenly placing a gentle kiss against your naked skin. “Is this okay?” He asks cautiously incase you might have changed your mind about everything, still completely uncertain if this is all some cruel dream and he’s about to wake up at any moment.

Parting your legs on your own accord, you smile fondly at him, “Of course. Now come here.” You beckon with a confident nod of your head, openly inviting him to join you now in the most intimate of ways.

Heeding to your pleasing command, the super soldier hovers over your naked body once again as you part your legs even wider for his wanting hardness that just barley brushes past your inner upper thigh, so close to your entrance. You could just about melt into a puddle of goo.

Your breaths are more heavy now as you both anticipate the sweet moment to come; both flesh and metal arm fall to either side of your face as his lips ghost over yours, breath hot against your smiling face, “I haven’t done this in awhile, I’ll admit. Sorry if I don’t do grea...”

Kissing him roughly, you shut him up real quick, “It’s fine. No judgment here, I promise.” You add honestly with another sweet kiss as you feel downward for his hardened cock, finding it rather quickly he hums in surprised delight as you grasp it before leading him to your slick entrance.

Once close enough to get there on his own will, do you smirk up at him with a face more valuable then all the diamonds in the whole entire world; your hands grasp either side of his biceps, as he studies your nodding face, “I’m ready.” And with that does his tip touch your fiery skin, slowly he pushes into you with a pleasurable groan escaping from his parted lips.

Immediately do you gasp in surprise at his fullness graciously stretching your walls, “Did I hurt you?!” Worries your new lover as you wrap your legs around his hips before sending him a confident wink and a kiss for good measure.

“Nothing can hurt me.” You confirm with another heated kiss to his lips, soon you begin grinding into him the best you can manage as he starts moving pleasantly against your core. His strong hips pushing you back into the mattress in the absolutely best way possible.

Bucky soon finds an effective pace and with that begins thrusting into you harder now as he gains more and more confidence with your wanting body of pure flame and desire; only the delicious sounds of skin on skin contact making itself present in the tiny apartment, besides your labored breaths of intense love making.

Your mind is nothing but foggy mush as he pushes himself deeper and deeper into your slick entrance with each beautifully graceful stroke of his godlike hips. Soft moans and muffled grunts continue to leave his throat as he pumps in and out of you over and over again. Ugh, you could just about die happy.

Causing you to whimper in pleasure as the tiny growing coil inside you gets tighter and tighter with every new thrust to your center walls. His hard cock twitches against your sensitive nerves as his own orgasm begins reaching its inevitable climax, he’s so fucking close.

With a couple more powerful thrusts does he finally succumb to your glorious body and cum hard inside you, his voice gravely and deeply enthralling as he moans in pleasure of the golden release. Feeling his member twitch angrily from within is enough to send you over the edge with ecstasy, causing your walls to clench instinctively against his dexterously slick cock. Fuck he feels good.

More whimpers and moans fall helplessly off of your tongue as your fingers trail pink fiery lines across his glowing skin, he’s without a doubt just as sweaty as you are by this point, and all the more beautiful.

Kissing your lips hungrily, Bucky pounds relentlessly harder into you now as the two of you silently decide to continue on for a swiftly approaching round two. In no time he has the both of you cumming even harder and messier then the first, with moans and groans of plenty reverberating off the aged old walls of his tiny apartment.

Leaving your body a shaking and sweaty mess as he thrusts a couple last pumps into you for good measure, pink swollen lips not once leaving yours until at long last does he gently pull out for the first time in what seems like hours. Though you definitely weren’t complaining, both of you have a plethora of stamina to spare, though you did wear him out.

Falling into an exhausted heap of Bucky next to you on the messy bed, his chest quickly rises and falls with heavy breaths as your does the same. For a few long moments do the two of you keep silent, just the sounds of your heavy breathing the only thing of any significance in the darkly room lit room.

After giving yourself a couple minutes to cool down, Bucky blissfully chuckles, causing you to turn your head towards his beaming face as he stares up at the ceiling, “Something funny Barnes?” You muse in that gloriously prominent accent of yours that drives him wild. He turns his sweat covered head over to you, pieces of long hair sticking to the sides of his handsomely beaming face.

“Are we dead? This feels like a dream and I’m going to wake up alone any second now.” Mutters Bucky, eyes blinking in hopes this is real and true as life itself.

Laughing, you move from your back to lay flush against his left side while watching your every move, kissing his chest you hum, “Well, you’d have a real mess in the morning.”

Bucky immediately scrunches his nose up in slight disgust as you sling an arm over his bare chest, “Thank you for that image Y/N.” He retorts with a short burst of air leaving from his nostrils, indicating he did indeed find it rather amusing.

Kissing his cheek you shrug, “It’s not like your load isn’t still....in places, it’s sex Buck. It’s messy and beautiful and I’m glad I could do this with you. Seriously, I thought we’d never get here.”

Bucky’s face appears rather thoughtful for a long moment before he finally speaks, “I didn’t think you liked me like that.”

“What!?” You exclaim in bewilderment, causing him to snicker as you continue with your explanation, “Was I not obvious enough with the stolen glances and whatever else I could get away with? I was trying actually if you wanted to know....in my own way, but still.”

“I did try to kill you once.” Confirms Bucky as you lay comfortably against his metal arm, head resting on his upper chest while his eyes flicker back up to the ceiling.

Scoffing, you flick a piece of his hair, “I didn’t take it personally.”

Thinking for a moment, he finally looks down at you, “I’m glad you didn’t. And I’m glad that you found me.” Whispers your lover as he reveals the most dashing smile you’ve ever seen, while his flesh arm gently caresses down your shoulder in a blissfully comforting manner.

“Me too.” You add, pressing another soft kiss to his lips as you trail a finger down his side, “Now let’s take a shower......and probably change the sheets.”

“We don’t have sheets.”

——

An annoying ray of golden sunlight shines brightly in your closed eyelids from a small tear in the middle of the window newspaper, as your senses slowly come back to the world. You squint before taking a deep breath and shifting your gaze to make a full circle of the room, since you do happen to be facing away from the wall.

Your eyes trail over to Bucky’s usual spot only to reveal absolutely nothing, your heart suddenly jumps in your chest as the pleasurable memories of last night come flooding into your head once again, and some of the leftover smells, you can thank those fucking scientist for that.

That’s right, you think, you slept with Bucky, and he’s literally snoozing away right behind you.

Smiling into the morning sun, you quietly sit up before turning your head to look down at Bucky, his hair is an absolute adorable mess as it lays across his face in various dark strands. He’s currently shirtless with the exception of some sweatpants and the thin blanket he owns that’s positioned across his torso.

You’re clothed as well, deciding it best to be dressed and comfy after the heated shower session you two shared; oh to be back in that moment for another minute longer, how nice that would be.

Slipping away from your daydreaming of Bucky, your heart skips a beat as he stirs, soon enough does his beautiful blues open up to the world. Finding your adoring gaze, he rests a hand on your folded leg, “Mornin’ Y/N.” Mutters Bucky in that raspy early morning voice of his, the actual greeting sounding more like a toddler learning to speak for the fist time then anything truly coherent. Or like a drunken man.

Rubbing a hand through his dark locks, you smile lovingly down at his stubbly morning face as he closes his eyes yet again, showing pure bliss while your fingers run through his scalp. “Touch starved much?” You quip as he opens his eyes and yawns like that of a sleepy old bear, metal arm flashing a quick stray beam of light when he shifts.

“Maybe.” Teases Bucky as he silently beckons for you to lay down with him, heeding to this hopeful inquisition, you scoot yourself onto your side and graciously welcome as his flesh arm reaches over your torso to pull you in closer.

Noses mere inches from one another, you raise a brow as he stares lovingly into your eyes, “Cozy?”

Gently kissing your lips in reply, he pulls back to reveal a positive lazy grin, “I think so.” Jests Bucky as he pushes you onto your back so that he can sling an arm over your rib cage, essentially pinning you to the bed with no real intention of letting you go any time soon.

The both of you stay like that for a good couple of minutes, just enjoying each other’s company in the late morning sun before he finally decides to speak, “Was last night....uh, good?” Wonders Bucky in nervous apprehension as his head rests comfortably against yours.

Giving him a light peck, you grin, “The best I’ve ever had.” And you mean every single word.

He gently squeezes your side in reply before muttering, “You were great too.”

Lightly chuckling, your eyes squint as you smile brightly at him, “Well that’s good to know. Glad I hadn’t lost my incredible seduction skills.”

“Yeah, I was thoroughly seduced.” Quips Bucky as you snicker.

Tagged: @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @diegos-butt

#bucky barnes series #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier #Bucky Barnes #tfatws x reader #Bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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daydreaming-in-letters · 3 years ago

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School Prize Night

(A Good night, Mr Cavill Sequel)

Part 1 - Through my eyes

07/07/2021

Pairing: teacher!Henry Cavill x plus-size teacher!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 2,531

Warnings: rpf, body issues, self-loathing, angst, sexual innuendos, comforting, fluff, Henry being the sweetest boyfriend a (plus-size) girl could ask for

Summary: It's School Prize Night at Miss Y/L/N and Mr Cavill's school. But as she is getting ready for the event, she finds it impossible to accept her reflection in the mirror.

A/N: As I already feared, this dream of a man simply refuses to leave my thoughts. And so I used the first day of the summer holidays to come up with a four part sequel to Good night, Mr Cavill. So here is the first part. I'm afraid it has become a little angsty, but I promise to make it up to you with a lot of teasing and passion in the other parts.

Picture found on Pinterest

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

For a long time she had been wondering what to say whenever someone asked her what her special talent was. Now she knew, pinching her paunch harshly between her fingers until it formed a prominent, round bulge. Self-loathing. That’s what she was good at. A profession she had perfected over the last years.

And as if to prove her point, half the contents of her wardrobe lay scattered around her feet, mocking her with all their colourful beauty that magically turned into hideous abominations as soon as they covered her form. If she didn’t know any better, she would let herself believe that she was somehow cursed—a gorgeous princess trapped inside the body of a manatee. But sadly it wasn’t that simple and instead of an evil witch she could only blame herself for the reflection she saw in the mirror.

Giving herself another once over, she actually considered covering her eyes to spare herself the view, when thankfully her eyes seemed to have mercy on her tortured soul and salty tears began to blur her vision. Too late, as she noticed. The gears of self-hate had already started to turn and once they were in motion, nothing could stop them, pulling her deeper and deeper into the darkness.

She hardly realised that her whole body was trembling by now, her knees finally giving out underneath the weight of the world that pressed down upon her shoulders, making her sink onto the plush carpet with a heartbroken sob while the world around her fell away.

“Darling?” The familiar voice came from somewhere down the hallway, but she couldn’t hear it in the state she was in. “Do you have any idea how to tie a decent Windsor knot? I’ve watched this stupid video about a million times by now and I just can’t seem to—“

His heart almost stopped beating as he stepped into the bedroom, his eyes immediately falling onto the pitiful picture of misery that used to be his girlfriend, crumbled into a tight package in front of the mirror.

“Y/N?” But instead of an answer there just came another soul shaking sob from the huddled creature and he didn’t waste another second to get over to her. “Whatever is the matter, love?” His voice was warm and soothing as he squatted down beside her, but it was still not enough to break through to her. Desperate to find a clue as to what might have caused her distress, he took in the setting and when his eyes finally landed on the pile of clothes that surrounded her devastated form, he suddenly understood.

With a sigh he sat down beside her, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug before he pulled her onto his lap. “Sh, darling. Don’t cry,” he cooed, rocking her in his arms like a child. Slowly his hand drifted across her hair, as if his touch could just stroke her pain away, his lips tenderly pressing down on the crown of her head, before his cheek finally came to rest there.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do,” she croaked hoarsely, and the only thing that pained him more than the agony in her voice were her next words, “considering that you will leave me someday soon.”

He knew that it was only her insecurity speaking and yet he felt a bit slighted that she still couldn’t fully believe his feelings for her were nothing but true.

“Now why would I do that?” he muttered into her hair as calmly as he could, “I love you, Y/N, and as long as you don’t want me to, I’m not going anywhere.”

Something about his words must have finally gotten through to her as he could feel the sobs die away bit by bit and he was almost positive that he would find a small smile on her face when she wriggled out of his embrace, but to his surprise he was met with a pair of defiant eyes.

“How can you be so sure of that? It’s only been three months, Hen. That’s probably just the hormones talking, and once they’re back to their normal levels, you’ll finally see the real me. And I can’t blame you if you want to run as soon as you realise what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Hey!” he barked, his hands clutching her face in a firm grip to make her look at him. “You know how much I hate when you talk about yourself like that.”

“Yeah, well, I guess it’s easier to love yourself when one looks like you,” she spat and he regretted his harsh words instantly as he saw the tears that were threatening to fall again.

“Oh, no, darling. No, no, no. This is not about me and my body image, it’s about you.” He sighed again, his jaw clenching dangerously and he needed to close his eyes for a second to force his anger back down to its source. “I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to see yourself the way I do, maybe not, but that doesn’t give you the right to question the way I feel for you. You see, just because it’s hard for you to love yourself, doesn’t mean it’s hard for me as well.”

And there they were, the tears that had been threatening to fall again, streaming down her cheeks freely now. “I’m so sorry, Hen. I should never have—“

“You bloody well shouldn’t have,” he said sternly, but then his eyes softened like they always did whenever he looked at her and he pulled her closer to press his lips to her forehead in a symbol of forgiveness.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, her head fell down onto his shoulder and she nuzzled his warm skin affectionately. “Ugh, I’m such a mess,” she mumbled, and he could feel her lips move against his skin.

“No, you’re not, darling. Like so many, you’ve been traumatised by an ideal created by the media and greedy companies, telling you to constantly chase after their standard of beauty instead of focusing on those things that truly matter.”

For a moment, a deafening silence settled between them, but he knew she simply needed a while to think about his words. And just when he could feel the uneasiness of doubt crawl from the pit of his stomach, she sighed, a deep sound of realisation that soothed his worry.

“I guess you’re right,” her muffled voice came to his ears from the crook of his neck. “You always are. Perfect idiot.”

Her little remark coaxed an amused chuckle from his chest and he could feel her body tremble in his arms from the vibration. But when his face fell upon their reflection in the mirror, the short moment of lightness suddenly died away and he wished with all his heart that just once he could give her his eyes before he would lift her around her body so she could feel what he felt whenever he looked at her. Grasp the reason why he loved her so much and why he never wanted to look at anyone else for the rest of his days. If only—

Silently he signalled it was time for them to get up and as soon as he stood, he offered her his hand and pulled her up against his chest. Colliding softly with his firm pecs, she could feel his lips brush against her ear, his deep voice causing a shiver to run across her skin.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered, his hands drifting over the small of her back and down to her full cheeks, squeezing them reassuringly.

“Of course I do.”

“Then close your eyes.”

And so she did, without hesitation. Slowly she could feel his hands glide up her body again, stopping at her waist when he ordered, “Now turn around.”

His strong hands guided her as she carefully obeyed his wish again and she could feel his hot palms come to rest on her stomach, her back securely leant against his chest.

“Hold out your hands, sweetheart, palms facing upwards,” he demanded, and she wasn’t sure what exactly caused the heat to pulse through her nether regions, his hot breath that fanned across her shoulder, the authority in his voice, or the enticing combination of both. She had no idea what he was up to, but she couldn’t help the slight pang she felt when his hands suddenly left her body. He must have picked up on the little twitch of her lips before she could stop herself from pouting, judging from the triumphant chuckle that made his chest quake. Cocksure bastard.

But then she could feel his touch again, his fingers gently gliding along her forearm until his hands pushed underneath hers.

“Let me show you something, darling.” And as if the dark timbre of his voice would actually leave her a choice but to let him take over from here, his lips ghosted across the sensitive spot of her neck to ensure her compliance.

She was still trying to concentrate again when she felt something squishy and warm underneath her fingertips and it actually took her a second to realise that he had brought their joined hands to her belly. On reflex, she tried to pull away, but his grip on her tightened to hold her back.

“No,” he growled, his lips close to her ear again. “I want you to feel yourself, to try and see yourself through my eyes. Just a few minutes, that’s all I ask.” But still he didn’t proceed until he could feel her resistance melt away. “Can you feel how soft your belly is? So velvety smooth, it’s practically inviting you to touch it, to caress it, to relish in its malleability. Mmmh, so wonderfully soft,” he moaned his appreciation, making her insides tingle pleasantly.

“And here, can you feel this?” He guided her hands towards her hips, pressing her fingertips into the supple flesh. Slowly moving back and forth, she could make out the small ripples he had probably wanted her to notice. “I know you hate your stretch marks, but whoever decided to call them that probably had no idea what they truly are.” He made a short pause to emphasise his next words. “They’re tiger stripes. And you earned them all on your way to becoming the strong tigress you are. So be proud of them.”

She had wanted to protest when his lips pressed lovingly to her temple, a gesture that always made her soft for him, and her will to speak up against his sugarcoating of her flaws fizzled out.

“Mmmmmh,” he sighed again, as he lead her hands to her rear, “now let’s come to one of my favourites.” Slowly he made her hands move in circles across her behind, as if this was necessary to help her visualise the incredible magnitude of her butt. And to top it all off, the absence of her visual sense seemed to further enhance the depths of the dips and dents that coated its surface.

“It’s not only the luxurious lushness of your behind that compels me to run my hands along it as often as I can and squeeze it tightly. No.” He growled lowly again, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as he made her fingers dig into her cheeks and this time she found it impossible to hold back a moan. “I wish you could see the way it jiggles and quivers with every thrust of my hips when I take you from behind. It’s magnificent.”

“Oh God, Henry,” she mewled when she could feel the treacherous wetness pool between her legs, soaking her panties in an instant. She wanted to pull away again, but this time to spin around and press her body against his while her lips devoured his filthy mouth before it could drive her completely insane with need. And yet again, Henry was stronger, securing her in her current position for just a little longer.

“I see you’re starting to get the point of this whole exercise. Good for you, darling.”

“Henry, please,” his teasing made her whine, as it always did, and she almost missed how he hooked her fingers underneath the straps of her bra to peel away the obstructive lace.

“Sh, don’t fuss. This is the best part, I promise.”

And with that he closed her hands around her voluptuous breasts, massaging them tenderly. “Did I promise too much? This really is the good stuff, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve ever held anything as fluffy as these two delights in my hands. I still remember the way they moved to the rhythm of our lovemaking that first night. So enchanting. But you know what is even better?” he asked, his head dipping down to nuzzle her neck yearningly. “To rest my head upon your chest after we both came undone. I love to be embedded by this softness while I can listen to your heartbeat. There is something so utterly bewitching about witnessing how it slowly calms down after I made you touch the sky.”

Without thinking twice her eyes flew open, just in time to catch a glimpse of all the affection his heart held for her as it reflected so openly in his blue eyes.

“Oh Hen!” And finally he didn’t hold her back when she tried to spin around, cupping his stubbly cheeks gently in her hands. “I love you so much.”

And without giving him the chance to answer, her lips found his, moving with them until she didn’t know anymore where she ended and he began. Her head still spinning slightly, she broke away, their heavy pants the only noise that filled the silence for a while.

“And I love you.” A beaming smile curled his lips, passing on to hers while it slowly set her on fire. “Even the parts you despise. Maybe I love them the most. And I will not stop loving them for the both of us until you can love them too.”

She didn’t know what she could have possibly replied to that. He was right, it was still a long way to go. There would always be difficult times. After all, self-love wasn’t a permanent state she would be in for good once it was reached. She rather saw it as a concept, an idea she would possibly never reach in her life, but at least she could count on him to be there and help her see through his eyes whenever she was struggling.

“Now, can I make a suggestion regarding your outfit?” he derailed her train of thought. “Take the white summer dress with the pink peonies I love so much. You know how great your ass looks in that, don’t you?” He smirked while, once again, his fingers dug into her behind.

“So you keep telling me, Hen.”

“Because it’s true.” His lips briefly brushed over the tip of her nose. “And it will remind me all night long of all the things I’m going to do to you as soon as we get back here.”

Part 2

***

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#teacher!henry cavill x reader #teacher!henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #teacher au #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fic #henry cavill rpf #good night mr cavill

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flowesona · 4 years ago

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Visitation of a Lover - Yandere! Ghost Taehyung x reader

Happy Halloween! i hope everyone has a great evening and i hope you will enjoy this oneshot 🖤

Life never ceased to pass by. People were born and grew old, created their own families, earned themselves a legacy. Meanwhile, all that Kim Taehyung could do was watch. For hundreds of years he wandered around his estate, because he had nowhere else to go. No one that lived in his house even cared to acknowledge his life or history - he hadn’t heard his name leave the lips of his family in decades, and the portrait he’d commissioned of himself when the house was first built remained tucked away in the attic.

At the very least, he was thankful that he never had to see anything distasteful. The current occupant of his house - a very distant family member - was a mild mannered widower who only ever ventured into half of the rooms of the house, leaving plenty of space for Taehyung to live. The ghost had even been so bold as to start leaving a physical presence - in the dusty studio where he had spent many afternoons writing his diary when he was alive, he’d taken up painting landscape views. There was the slight risk that the old man could walk in and have a heart attack upon seeing a floating paintbrush but considering that he could barely make the trek to the kitchen for a cup of tea, Taehyung was more than happy to take that risk.

“Oh really? Good golly, you have to send me a picture?” Taehyung had been enjoying a light novel in the lounge when he heard the elderly man cheering loudly in his study. Curious, he folded the corner of the page and tucked the book away, phasing into the next room to see what was so exciting.

“A baby boy! Just like I wanted!”

He peered over the shoulder of his kin, seeing his open laptop on the polished maplewood desk. What the old man was so delighted by was an email showing a picture of a small newborn baby being cradled in a woman's arms. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was a new member of the family, but what piqued Taehyung’s interest more was the woman holding the child. Even with her forehead drenched in sweat and her body covered by a not-so-flattering hospital gown, there was something ethereal about her. For the first time in ages Taehyung felt some yearning in his heart.

He wanted… no, he needed to meet her. Maybe this angel could be the salvation he needed, the key to him escaping his mundane existence in purgatory.

It just so happened that through death that they would be brought together.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

The elderly resident passed away a week after his great-grandson was born. Unfortunate timing, as he never even got to see the infant. Taehyung, however, was more fortunate, as the wake was held at his manor as per family tradition.

It was at this somber occasion he was able to see the woman who had piqued his interest up close. Maternity had had its toll on her body with her breasts sagging slightly and her figure still slightly bloated but the black funeral dress still looked quite beautiful, Taehyung noted. Interesting, how she lacked the figure most men would desire yet her husband still looked at her as if she was Helen of Troy reincarnate.

He found himself tailing her for the most of the occasion, still keeping a safe distance out of fear one of his fingers could brush against hers and scare her away for good. It was through this stalking he learnt of the young woman’s name - (Y/N).

She was quiet and respectful - as to be expected at a wake - but a bright smile lit up her face when she showed pictures of her newborn child to anyone who asked. It was way more intriguing watching her interact with everyone at the wake than to read one of the romantic books he’d poured over so many times.

“We’ve been reading through the will. And it seems Grandpa Kim left you his estate, rather than the money.” (Y/N)’s father-in-law was speaking to the couple in a hushed voice, drawing the ghost’s attention instantly.

“Really?”

“Well, it was updated quite recently with the birth of your son. I guess he thought by giving it to you, it would make sure the property stays in the family.”

“How do you feel about moving here, darling?” (Y/N)’s partner Seokjin - Taehyung had also learned his name through eavesdropping - asked, cradling her hand within his own.

“I would love to. But what about the dust? Won’t that be bad for the baby?” On god, her voice was as sweet as a nightingale song. How Taehyung longed to hear it for hours on end.

“I’ll clean it for you, silly. But do you think we could live here for the rest of our lives?”

The nod of (Y/N)’s head sealed their fate.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

Initially the change in ownership had been a nightmare. Between the seemingly none-stop arrival of moving trucks, the buzz of people helping to put things away and the loud whining of the month-old baby, it was hard to relax. Taehyung felt almost as on edge as the new owners of the house, Yet after many arguments and sleepless nights the couple were settled in.

They seemed to have more appreciation for the house than it’s former occupant, with many of the dusty spaces becoming clean and decorated again. Even Taehyung’s writing room - he’d watched with apprehension at first when they entered the room, but a warm feeling bubbled in his non-existent stomach when he saw (Y/N) taking his paintings and hanging them on the wall. Did she appreciate art just as much as him?

Even if the couple had settled properly, the one person who was still restless was their infant. The baby boy would often wake up in the middle of the night and wail loudly, leading one of the parents to climb out of bed and hush him back to sleep. This routine nearly drove Taehyung up the wall, as his peaceful naps were often disturbed by the cry of a hungry infant. It had been a while since there had been an infant living at the manor and Taehyung still had yet to adjust to the noise level.

“There’s milk in the fridge if he wakes up, and nappies are in the second drawer down in the nursery. Feel free to help yourself to anything in there, except the Sauvignon of course. We’ll be back at about 11PM, thank you so much for helping us!”

Taehyung was too distracted by the sight of (Y/N) dressed up so elegantly in a sleek black dress to process what she was saying to the spotty-faced teenager standing before her as Seokjin slipped on his shoes.

“No worries Mrs Kim.” The teen responded. With one last fret about the child, the couple left to get in the taxi, and the house felt like it had lost all of its life.

Taehyung wished he could trail after (Y/N) as he usually did, but being confined to the manor meant he had to seek out the next best thing.

The nursery had been fully made over by (Y/N) and Seokjin within a week or so of moving in. Gone was the Georgian wallpaper, replaced by a coat of blue paint and decorated with twinkling moons and stars. Taehyung approached the coat, his fingers brushing the plush mobile over the cot and watching it spin.

He heard the gurgle of the baby below him, glancing down to see the blinking brown eyes gazing back up at him. Perhaps not directly at him, but it was enough to make Taehyung double back in shock. He reached down into the cot and placed one of his cold hands on the baby’s face. Its response was a delighted giggle, as if his touch was ticklish. Taehyung chuckled, poking at the child’s ribs to see him scrunch up his tiny legs. Suddenly, gazing into the little boy’s eyes Taehyung knew what he’d been missing in both his alive and undead life. A real family, someone he could speak to and someone he could love.

He wished he could pick up this child and coo over its chubby cheeks with his wife. He wanted to write poems about his love for life, he wanted to fall asleep holding someone at night.

But not just anyone would do. He knew, he just knew, it had to be (Y/N). She would be his, and he would be hers.

However, whilst Taehyung was pondering this, the child was growing uncomfortable and it startled the ghost back into reality with a loud cry for attention. He glanced down at the child, panicking at the sight of tears running down its cheeks. Luckily, it seemed that the young boy was only hungry, as the room still smelt like fresh linen.

‘It’s okay. The babysitter will sort him out.’ He told himself.

However, after several painful minutes of waiting there was no sight of the teenager leading Taehyung to search the house for him. He found the babysitter lying on the couch fast asleep, a movie playing on the TV and an abandoned bottle of beer on the coffee table.

‘Pathetic’. Taehyung scoffed to himself. ‘I’ll do it myself.’

He found the bottle filled with breast milk that (Y/N) had left in the fridge, the teat already attached. With one last glance at the passed out teenager, he picked up the bottle and made his way back to the nursery.

It must surely be a jarring sight to see a floating bottle of milk, and furthermore to be picked up and fed by an invisible person. However, the baby didn’t seem too disturbed, happily drinking the milk and burping without a care in the world.

After the infant was fed he started to nod off the sleep again, and Taehyung gently laid him down in the cot. He gently traced over the warm cheek of the child before leaving, the most happy he’d been in his life.

He spent the rest of the evening waiting on the sofa for (Y/N) to return. Whilst the TV was showing some action movie, Taehyung couldn’t find it in himself to become interested in it. Not when he had much more pressing issues on his mind. His mind was flurried with the realisation of how he felt. How could he love someone when he’s dead? How could he win the heart of (Y/N) when she couldn’t see him?

Luckily he wasn’t left to stew in his thoughts for too long - as the clock crept around to ten o’clock the front door opened and shut as (Y/N) and Seokjin returned home. Her face was creased with worry as she crept up to the nursery to check on her darling child, whilst Seokjin stayed to pay their now conscious babysitter who had hidden all traces of delinquency and was happily accepting his payment for doing nothing.

Taehyung, as always, chose to join (Y/N) in the nursery. He stood by the doorway, watching as (Y/N) bent down to press a kiss to her beautiful sleeping child. Then, unable to resist he approached her and rested his arms on her waist. He felt her shiver slightly at the cold touch of his hands and for a second the melancholy of his situation hit him like a truck. But Taehyung couldn’t let it haunt him, not when the warmth of her skin under his hands made him more at peace than he had been for years.

She stumbled slightly as she left the nursery, the evening’s drink hit her harder than it usually would, but Taehyung’s hands steadied her. Whilst he secretly savoured the feeling of her body in his hold, he was more concerned about how unstable she was - most likely due to having not drank alcohol in over a year.

Seokjin still hadn’t returned to his wife’s side, and for that Taehyung was both grateful and condemning of the man - he despised how the man could be married to such an ethereal woman and not spend every waking moment by her side, but he was grateful to be able to fill that role. He gently guided her towards her bed, scared that she could fall, and once she had flopped onto the bed lay down next to her, admiring every one of her features as she fell asleep still in her fancy clothes and makeup.

Taehyung had waited hundreds of years to find his purpose in life, and now that he’d found her he knew he would do anything to make her happy.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

(Y/N) had become increasingly stressed since she returned to doing work, Taehyung noticed. Sure, it was only part-time and luckily they were happy for her to work from home meaning she didn’t need to get a new job. However, the incessant demand for attention from the young infant meant she rarely had a moment to rest her feet.

Taehyung wasn’t going to stand for it. Occasionally on the nights that his loneliness got to him, he would press his hand to her forehead only to find it hot and drenched with sweat. She was working herself to death, no doubt about it. And whilst Taehyung secretly longed for her to join the land of the dead with him, it wasn’t her time.

Thus, to take some of the stress off her back, he started to help out around the house. At first, it was minor things that (Y/N) wouldn’t think twice about. Putting dirty laundry in the basket, washing the dirty breakfast bowls, retrieving the toys that precious little Si-woo had thrown across the room, turning off the stove when she accidentally left it on. Seeing the positive effect these had on (Y/N), he started to get bolder in his actions - making her lunches (and letting her assume that it was Seokjin making them in the morning), taking out the garbage, shushing Si-woo when he started crying. All things Seokjin couldn’t do, that Taehyung would do everyday for her if she could only love him.

Spending time with her son was a new favourite hobby of Taehyung. He could stare at those twinkling eyes that inherited from (Y/N)’s for hours. He found that as the son grew he became more playful, and Taehyung was more than happy to keep the little tyke entertained. It was a risky game - if (Y/N) walked in and saw her son’s toys moving by themselves she would no doubt call an exorcist but with the delighted giggles that Si-woo made it was more than worth it.

However, with the increasing time he spent with (Y/N) Taehyung had a first hand seat to watching her relationship with Seokjin deteriorate. At first, it was just the lack of intimacy - Seokjin would often get home late, and by that time both (Y/N) and the baby were asleep leaving him to heat up whatever (Y/N) had made for dinner. When Seokjin woke up in the morning, (Y/N) had already been awake for hours caring for Si-woo. Seokjin missed everything, from Si-woo’s first teetering steps to the adorable way that he had said his first word: ‘dada’.

Then there was the argument.

“Have you seen my copy of ‘Eileen’?” In fact, Taehyung had borrowed it. Not only did he find the modern fiction way more interesting than his old romantic novels, he found it comforting to thumb the pages where (Y/N), much like he did, would fold the corners to save her progress.

“No. Where was the last place you left it?” Seokjin replied, not seeming nearly as interested in the issue as (Y/N) wanted him to be.

“I swear I left it on the dresser. Can you help me look for it?” She sighed in reply. Seokjin didn’t move.

“Is it such a big deal?”

Taehyung decided to leave his cozy chair in the corner to join (Y/N)’s side. He wasn’t sure, but he hoped she could feel his presence, to know that he was there for her even when her husband wasn’t.

“I just wanted to read it today. I was at a really good point.” His lover’s voice had a defeated tone to it, as if the book was her last hope in life.

“I’ll get you another copy. Come back to bed, (Y/N).” Seokjin purred, but (Y/N) shook her head.

“Why are you so selfish?” She suddenly snapped. “I feel like I do everything around here. I do all of the housework, I look after Si-woo all day long and I still find time to do my job! When was the last time you let your precious hands touch something domestic?”

“You think that I want to be away from home so much? I wish I could spend more time with my family but in case you forgot being in charge of a firm is actually quite demanding!” Seokjin stood up, his tone matching her aggression in a second.

(Y/N) paused, her eyes scrunching up as if she was going to cry.

“What happened? What happened to us that has made us this way? Why… why don’t I feel like you love me anymore?”

The sadistic side of Taehyung wished he could frame the scene and hang it up on the wall forever. The look of horror on Seokjin's face was simply priceless.

“You don’t mean that.” He said, trying to be firm only to have his voice shake with every word. “(Y/N), you can’t doubt my love for one second. Please.”

His wife just breathed out, rubbing at her eyes.

“I need a break.” She finally said. “I need to leave for a few days. Please.”

Seokjin looked hurt, but he nodded nonetheless.

“Take as much time as you need. I’ll look after Si-woo. You just need to look after yourself.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

Taehyung was fuming. Half an hour after the Kims had argued (Y/N) had packed a small bag and left to stay with “some family”, allowing her husband to give her a small peck on the cheek before she left.

It was torturous for Taehyung, thinking of how much time he would have to spend away from his (Y/N). Although he was glad that she was going to have a break, the entire situation could have been entirely avoided if she had never married Kim Seokjin. If only she could have married Taehyung instead, he would’ve made sure she would never had to lift a finger and her every wish would be his command. Instead he could only have an invisible presence in her life, whilst she was stuck with a deadbeat husband who seemingly left all of the parenting to her.

Taehyung felt sick to his stomach seeing as he watched Seokjin act on his words, taking the next few days off work to look after his son. It just wasn’t fair, how he could talk to the toddler and get a babbled response or how he could hold out his arms and Si-woo would stumble towards him. Seokjin didn’t deserve fatherhood, Taehyung concluded. (Y/N) deserved a loving husband and father to her child and no matter how many hours Taehyung spent over the three days watching the broken family whilst (Y/N) was gone, nothing could convince him that Seokjin was the right match.

Seokjin had had a call from (Y/N), telling him that she was going to return home in a few hours. The giddy smile on Seokjin’s face as he told Si-woo that Mommy would be home today and they were going to help make her a special meal was just disgusting to Taehyung. No way did this pathetic excuse for a husband deserve to have (Y/N) back.

Taehyung sat at the table plotting what he should do as he watched Seokjin cook a meal to welcome (Y/N) back, as his adorable son sat on the counter and watched. He didn’t want to do anything in front of Si-woo, that would be too cruel. But he had to stop Seokjin in some way, and all his plans ended in the same result - killing him.

He could pour bleach down his throat. Or he could spill some oil onto him and set him alight. Or he could strange him with one of the curtain cords. All valid solutions to the problem.

“Daddy just has to go pee. Are you happy sitting in your playpen for a few minutes, hmm?” Taehyung’s murderous lines of thought were broken by the sound of Seokjin’s cheerful voice cooing to his son.

Finally, an opportunity. He could end Seokjin’s life in the bathroom, and Si-woo would be none the wiser as to where ‘Daddy’ was.

He waited until the scoundrel had placed his son in the playpen and left the kitchen before approaching the magnetic knife rail and plucking a decently sized blade from it. Taehyung then trailed a few metres behind Seokjin as he made a beeline for the bathroom - he couldn’t get too close, no doubt Seokjin would be immediately alarmed and his plan for subtly would be ruined.

When he finally reached the bathroom he cursed when it was closed (although luckily enough not locked) - whilst he could easily float through the door, his knife would not be able to and thus to enact the plan he swung open the door.

Seokjin turned around, slightly concerned at how the door was open when he was so sure that he’d closed it. Disregarding it as a draft he zipped up his trousers and was just checking his hair in the mirror when suddenly there was a force gripping his throat. His eyes darted side to side trying to find some answer but all he found was air. He wasn’t left in the dark for long, however - Taehyung would love to make the scumbag suffer but he didn’t want to risk (Y/N) walking in on the unfinished scene.

Thus, in one swift move he slit Seokjin’s throat and pushed him towards the bathtub, his victim’s body hitting the rim of the tub with a satisfying ‘thunk’. (Y/N)’s pathetic excuse for a husband’s last moments were agonising, his eyes wide with shock and confusion as he choked on his own blood. But before Taehyung had fully gotten to enjoy the pain of his rival’s death, life had drained from Seokjin’s eyes and his body slumped over. Taehyung drifted over to place the bloody blade in the corpse’s right hand, and as a final touch he wiped up the drops of blood that had fallen onto the ground just a little too far away to be believable.

Content with what he’d done, Taehyung left to visit Si-woo. The toddler seemed happy enough playing with his toy alpaca to even notice his biological father’s disappearance. Rather, he was delighted when he felt an invisible presence pinching at his cheek, letting out a hearty giggle. Taehyung managed to keep him occupied for the next hour, until (Y/N) returned.

Taehyung's non-existent heart thumped at a thousand beats a second when he heard a car drawing up on the gravel drive, and the car door slamming home announced that she was finally back.

“I’m home!” She called out, the only response she got being some babbled nonsense from Si-woo. She walked into the living room to see her son, smiling at first but the smile dropping off her face when she couldn’t see anyone else.

“Hey precious!” She cooed, scooping the toddler into her arms. “Where’s daddy?”

She didn’t hear the normal witty response from Seokjin nearby, leading her to click her tongue in annoyance.

“Did daddy really leave you all alone? That’s a bit strange, isn’t it?”

“Not at all.” Taehyung quirked back, scowling at how she seemed to have completely forgotten how neglectful of a father Seokjin really was compared to himself.

Evidently having not heard Taehyung’s comment, (Y/N) started to search for Seokjin, finding his abandoned cooking (although thankfully the bastard had turned off the stove). Taehyung just trailed behind her as usual, holding his breath as if she would be able to hear him.

After calling out for her ‘husband’ a few more times, (Y/N) gave up.

“I guess he got called into work. So much for spending time with his family.”

She made her way up to the nursery, placing Si-woo back down on the floor.

“Mommy just had a long journey, so she’s going to go to the toilet and then she’ll get you some dinner, okay?” (Y/N) said softly to the child, as if she expected a response. Si-woo just looked up at her innocently, completely oblivious to all that was going on except his own hunger.

Taehyung realised, as (Y/N) was walking away, that she was headed in the direction of the bathroom Seokjin had used and she was about to find his body. Upon that thought he followed her, hoping to support her when she found the grisly scene.

However, the shrill scream he heard when he was mere metres away from the room told him he was too late.

(Y/N) fell to her knees, tears rolling down her cheeks as she surveyed the situation. She was frozen still, unable to stop screaming until her voice was hoarse. Taehyung took the initiative to kneel beside her and rub his hand on her back. (Y/N) didn’t even seem to notice, not flinching from the cold as she usually did. All she could do was bury her face in her hands and weep at the sight before her eyes. And as much as it hurt Taehyung to see his (Y/N) in pain, his heart was telling him he’d done the right thing.

Now, (Y/N) needed him. She couldn’t survive as a single mother, not when she was struggling already when Seokjin was alive. But Taehyung believed with all his heart that he was more than fit to take on Seokjin’s role, as a father, as a husband, as the only one in the world who could truly love her.

#yandere kpop #yandere bts #yandere taehyung #yandere bts x reader #yandere taehyung x reader #kpop yandere #yandere au #yandere kim taehyung #yandere kim taehyung x reader #yandere v #yandere v x reader #bts v #taehyung x reader #v x reader #kim taehyung x reader #yandere oneshot #halloween special

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vminity21 · 4 years ago

Text

sweet on you | ksj

Pairing: baker!seokjin x female!reader

Word Count: 3,087

Genre: fluff, absolute fluff on the valentine’s day

Warning(s): other than i have the biggest sweet tooth whether it is for seokjin or a colossal of desserts but you have been warned otherwise none; Rated: pg

Summary: after every excuse you take to visit your favorite local bakery to see your favorite employee, in a sweet surprise, you learn that the baker happens to share an immense crush on you as you do him.

Credits to: @suhdays once again for creating the cover! Happy Valentines day!

Seokjin kneads at the dough of what is to become the toastiest of baguettes while flour paints his arms, and his gloved hands grow achy from the continuous batches. Special orders flow numerously as the holidays inch closer, and with Valentine’s day approaching its turn, it has been long hours of consistently baking and recreating desserts for the hopeless romantics. Inwardly he knows he is guilty of such fondness for a face haunts every crevice of his mind even in the odd hours of the evening when he tosses and turns in his sleep.

The ring of the door signals another customer prompting Seokjin to slip off his current gloves to exchange for new ones, lifting his head to see none other than who makes his heart leap every single time- you. Smiling brightly in his direction, he gulps before putting on his confident face. “Welcome back! I’m glad to see the macarons didn’t scare you away,” he chuckles while you press fingertips of pure chagrin to your forehead.

“I consumed all thirty of them and I’m not sure if I should be ashamed or proud, but I surprisingly survived,”

Quiet murmurs of customers are sporadic throughout the space, yet their wandering eyes remain on the décor of the bakery, hardly noticing the sparks glimmering between you and your favorite worker. “Whoa,” Seokjin bellows, “And, I’m not sure if I should applaud you or tell you to beware. Sugar can be brutal,”

“Well, with your recipes, I’d say it’s worth the risk.” It’s a subtle flirt, yet the flattery in Seokjin’s eyes melt your heart.

“What can I get for you today?” Seokjin’s covered palms press against the freshly sanitized glass as he stares at you contently. Every chance you get, you enter this very bakery in the hopes of seeing Kim Seokjin, and every chance you get, you take home another treat that you save for your cheat day after a long week of work. Out of every local bakery, you have yet to find one that tops the way Seokjin bakes. He has a knack for ingredients and everything you have tried has been sent straight from the pearly gates of Heaven. But you are also convinced that Seokjin was God sent too because when you first discovered this place, you did not expect the immediate spark when you locked with his kind, umber eyes.

Hearts must have danced in elegant spirals around your frame while you witnessed the light movement of his hair when he turned in what seemed in slow motion to face you- plump, pink lips spread into a warm smile, teeth whiter than the whites of your eyeballs, his skin was clearer than the windows, and the way your mouth watered at the sight of his broad shoulders- you are not sure if you even breathed for a straight minute. He welcomed you with kindness and surprisingly tolerated your indecisiveness on what to purchase, but inwardly you were trying all you could to remain in his presence because something about him reveled serenity. And you wanted every part of it.

Seeing Seokjin sparked slumbers of exuberant pink paths prodding beneath your dancing shoes that are clacking in the direction of the delightful smell of marshmellows where sky tower lollipops align the world with their colorful swirls glistening beneath the brightly lit sky without a sign of melting. Vines of licorice would twist along chocolate trunks with branches growing gummy-like leaves matching the scrumptious hues of your surroundings. Rainbows of hard candies trickled along the ground to decorate the view prompting the compulsion to sink your teeth into every delicacy especially when your eyes would cast upon the pastel colors of macarons- flavors of creams protruding between the slices. You would barely miss his silhouette exploring amongst a bed of gumdrops that sat a far distance from an enormous peppermint pinwheel breezing against stalks of blue and pink clouds of cotton candy.

Visions of prancing gummy bears decorate a mountain of frozen ice cream while gingerbread men scope the milky river to avoid being caught by the currents desperate to travel the terrain as you longed to with the man lost in this wonderland of a universe. Oreo crumbs trail on either side of the stream, the smell of chocolate wafts in your direction while you continue the journey. Humming to yourself, your adventure is to endeavor the red velvet island- cream cheese frosting fluffing in an appearance of frames of pictures of more delights as well as smeared professionally into an imagined ceiling. The deep red, walls caked firmly with countless desserts poised in different areas of the domain tempted tourists passing by into taking a bite of their delectable treats.

Nearing the entrance, you would pause, recognizing him pirouetting throughout the greenery resembling grass but is edible as everything made in this dream you are infatuated by. When the pang of something grasps your attention, you searched your eyes along the sky- not noticing anything right away and when you returned your glance to where you found him, he disappeared. Halted in curiosity, you gasp at the tap on your shoulder. Crescent eyes beaming while he brushes his fingers along your gleaming lips, and that’s when your fantasy would wonder the feel of his kiss. The taste of strawberries encompassed your tongue once you would lean into him, but when something else nickered your frame, you pulled away. In awe, you observe minuscule, circular sprinkles shower the two of you in surprise. They tangle within your hair while boisterous laughter escapes both of you simultaneously- palms rising above your head while you spin, attempting to catch them as they rain. Shuffling the sprinklings within your hands, you are in love with the resilient colors brightening the atmosphere as it heightened the happiness.

The dream that has become your most cherished- golden pinecones stick to floating silvery cotton where chocolate cupcakes with thick swirls of white icing blend with red, glistening ornaments- the aroma of fresh pastries with shiny, red jelly are enticed with powdered sugar; thistles of brush dangling above while you whirl around at the enchanting view. Polka dots beautify the walls imaging fondant icing while slithers of whipped cream dazzle the rest of the desserts present. It doesn’t take long before an existence melts behind you, wrapping his arms around your frame, plopping his chin onto your shoulder. It’s the sweetness of his countenance, the plush kiss he places on the corner of your jaw; the delicate aura you are scared can magically disappear; the delicious taste of his kiss when he twirls you to capture your lips, pinning you against another wall reflecting swirls of cinnamon, fingers pressing into your waist while your hands grip his plumy tufts in desperation for more. Sprinkles clang numerously within the walls miraculously not needing a sky to downpour; lips locked and lost in time, it finalizes the fantasy where you wake up with a dazed smile.

“Please tell me you’re not contemplating macarons again,” Seokjin’s voice breaks through the cloud of thoughts bringing you back to reality while you awkwardly suppress the burn of a blush flooding your chest. “I purposely withheld your favorite flavors in hopes of you trying something new.”

“Oh, you brute, I should have known!” You laugh, seeing his shoulders shake in response to his teasing toward you, “So new? Like, new new or never had before new? I um… You know, I was actually planning on trying something new today,” you do not mean to lie, but you kind of lie.

“You had every intention on getting your usuals, and I have bamboozled you.”

“Alright, sir, two can play at this game because I can always go to Hoseok’s bakery-”

“Okay now you’re just being cruel!” Seokjin’s laugh is your favorite sound as he chuckles. Hoseok is his competition but also his best friend, and he is aware that Hoseok has been gaining much success with the recent opening of his bakery, but of course your heart belongs with Seokjin and his glorious, scrumptious delicacies warm and inviting within the glass casings.

“It is called revenge, and I shall prevail.” You wink.

Shaking his head, he quiets but only enough before he lifts his gaze to yours once again, “Speaking of anything new, I think I may have something in mind that you might like actually. I’m preparing to add another dessert to the menu, but I need someone to taste test to make sure it’s good enough to sell to the general public. Would you like to be the judge?” Seokjin leans off the glass casing still smiling at you while your eyebrows shoot up in excitement.

“Hm,” you release a purposeful ponder, “When are you wanting to showcase?”

“How about on Valentine’s day itself? I will be closing the shop early and you can come by after hours. Besides, I don’t really have anything else to do, and when I get bored, I bake.”

Boldly, you tilt your head, a knowing smile budding on your lips, “Are you asking me on a date, Seokjin?”

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t.” Your heart flutters in reaction to his tender grin that follows his words. You have dreamed for countless months to win this man’s affections and here you are, about to experience your first date with him on Valentine’s day of all days.

“Well, I guess I will see you this weekend,” you muse, “I have high expectations for whatever you create, Seokjin.” Turning on a heel, you shift ever so slightly to throw him a chirpy shrug. Outwardly, it is all a show of composure though your inner self is screaming in joyous bursts mirroring the fireworks going off beneath his chest.

When Valentine’s day comes, Seokjin goes all out in early hours of the morning before the shop opens, red streams curl from the walls where he carefully tapes them- red, pink, and white balloons hover along the ceiling to bring more colors and the very second, he closes for the day, he will paint the floor with a myriad of rose petals while candles flicker upon the tables sporadically. He wants to prove to you that he has been waiting for this moment for a long time and he will celebrate you every day if you let him. A bundle of dark red roses lay hidden in his office as well as a heart shaped box of what one would assume is the typical fill of chocolates, but nay, it is holding the surprise of your favorite macaron flavors, just to add to the dessert that he is elated to make. He begins his swift trek to the kitchen, collecting all the ingredients and sprawling them along the counter in preparation before the crowd sets in. And when they do, he serves the happy couples with all smiles, looking forward to whenever he gets to see you.

When the hour comes for the bakery to close, he rushes to finish up the pastry, pouring melted chocolate as the completing touch. “Perfect,” he whispers, protecting the sweets with a lid to maintain the heat. A soft knock on the door makes his heart skip a beat as he briefly flings his apron on the counter, dusting off any crumb excess off his clothes and ruffling his hair before throwing a mint in his mouth. Releasing a slow exhale, he smiles, “Operation, win her heart.”

Sauntering to the entrance, he pauses in awe. Your hair is styled flawlessly while the red, shimmery dress clings to your figure complimenting a pair of high heels. Makeup covers your face in an exceptional amount where the color of your eyes shine, once you see him- mouth ajar, eyes widening in reaction, he robotically opens the door to invite you in. The smell of roses and small hints of lemon reach your nostrils calming the anxiety quivering within your fingertips. Seokjin looks so handsome as he always does, the black turtleneck hugging his torso while the tan slacks hang slightly loose against his long legs. “You look amazing,” you murmur, him shaking his head to bring himself back to the present.

“I can say the exact same to you. You look… God, you look-”

“Proper? Trim? Elegant? …Alluring-”

“All of the above,” he says breathlessly, “But you always look so beautiful,”

Blushing at his compliment, it is hard for you to stay serious sometimes especially when you are nervous, so your eyes scan the décor of the building, “I love what you’ve done with the place,” you step forward with the click of a heel, noticing the rose petals glinting upon the mahogany colored floor.

“I was hoping you would say that.” he clears his throat, “But here, have a seat, I have the dessert ready as well as a few other surprises,” he skids a chair out for you as you descend in shock. Other surprises? He disappears but only for a few minutes before he confidently returns with a lidded case covering whatever it is, he has made just for you. His other hand hides behind his back as he effortlessly places the tray upon the table. “And walla,” he smirks, lifting the lid as your eyes enlarge at the golden brown pastries pressing against a truffle of cream, some protruding delicately on the sides as melted chocolate trickles from the pastry and onto the plate. The sight is so tasty, and you can feel your mouth watering as the smell of the treat becomes prevalent.

“What is this?” You say in uttermost anticipation as he chuckles at your readiness.

“Profiteroles,” he replies, “They are one of my absolute favorites, and I have been wanting to make them for some time but haven’t until now.”

“Try one with me,” you break eye contact with the mesmerizing profiteroles to stare into the chocolate of Seokjin’s eyes, “But after you reveal what is behind your back.”

When a hearty laugh brushes past his widened smile, you are beyond yourself when he gradually brings into your line of vision, a bundle of roses and a heart shaped box, “You are not allowed to open the box until you eat a profiterole though,” Seokjin playfully demands, “So until then, I will protect this box at all costs.”

“I promise I will not touch until you say so. You have my word,” you raise your hands in defense to add to your statement. Seokjin sits across from you, settling the gifts next to the plate. Soft music reverberates suddenly to drown the silence as you feel your heart flying- you are certain that no one has ever done anything as sweet as this for you.

“Are you ready?” He says, scooting the plate closer to you.

“Very ready,” reaching carefully, you grab the treat, knowing very well that you want to devour it whole, and when you do, the cream mingled with the chocolate melts on your tongue deliciously as you close your eyes hazy. “Oh, my word,” you breathe, wanting another one immediately. “This is delicious! You have met every expectation! Jin, customers are going to love these!” The nickname flew from your mouth so naturally and instead of verbally responding, Seokjin chortling a high pitch laugh, leans forward, reaching his thumb to swipe a spot of chocolate from the corner of your mouth. The gesture is so sweet, you can’t help but gaze at him as he returns his hand back to lay on the table. “Have you tried one yet?” You speak softly. “You should. You’re phenomenal.”

He swats the air, “I’ll have one later. Your opinion matters to me the most anyways,”

“You?” Speechless, your eyes flit between his, nothing but admiration falls from his stare. “How do you do it? How do you make my mind drift to the happiest of places? I swear you just- I can’t- it doesn’t matter where I am, I am not happy until I see you.”

Reaching across the table, he leans forward, intertwining his fingers with yours as cliché as a movie, but this is the only movie you are willing to watch where the fairytale of him is connecting with you. “That’s why I always made sure your usuals were made as soon as I arrived. I didn’t want to disappoint nor have you betray me for Hoseok. Plus, he prefers coconut macaroons, not macarons.”

“The distinction between how they are actually pronounced. Thank you for clarifying,” there is nobody that has made you laugh as much as he has. “In all seriousness though, I don’t think I’ve ever had anything to look forward to until I found you.”

“And I couldn’t focus unless I knew who you were and if I was going to see you again. That’s why I always made conversation no matter how small until time gave me enough courage to finally ask you to be here.”

“Well, I am very glad that you asked.” Smiles linger while eyes remain connected. He has the most eloquent, gentle manly charm and you hope he will end up being your eventual forever one day.

“Come here,” In one flawless swoop, Seokjin reaches for the arm of your chair, sliding it closer to where your legs touch. Surprised laughter serenades his ears once the chair is paused, but the nearness of him sends tingles along your skin. A faint scent of cologne grips to his clothes igniting the further desire building from the crave on your lips. He leans in, you meeting halfway to close the gap in the softest brush of his kiss. Sunlight exposes through the windows to illuminate in response to the magic happening right now in this moment. Linking your arms behind his neck, he wraps his around you, tugging you closer, deepening the kiss- getting so lost in you that nothing else outside of this bakery matters- only you matter.

Feeling his smile within his kiss, you pull away but still close enough to feel his breath swiping your chin, you giggle, “So what’s in the box?”

“I guess you’ll have to see,” he presses a quick, giddy kiss. You squeezing him once ecstatically.

“Okay, but first, let me get some more sugar.” You move your palms to squish his cheeks to where his lips pucker. “I don’t know about you, but I like it brutal.” And with that, you kiss him again, letting destiny complete its story on a day you never dreamed would mean so much.

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creativelyderangedme · 5 years ago

Text

Last Night

It's been a year since the defeat of Hawkmoth and Adrien and Nino are going out for one last hoorah before Adrien embarks on the next chapter of his life.

But, when Adrien wakes up the next day, with the worst hangover of his life, no memory of the night before, and a series of pictures suggesting he's just had the best night of his life - He has 24 hours to figure out what happened before he leaves Paris for good.

The first thing Adrien Agreste is aware of when consciousness hits him is the pounding headache.

It’s what he assumes it must feel like to be hit by a truck. Several times. In very quick succession.

And he's been pretty close to experiencing that in the past so he would know.

The second is the spinning. The sense of the world twirling around him like an out of control top despite the fact that he's positive he's stationary.

The third was how difficult it was to open his eyes - and not because he was still dead tired (which he was), but because the damned things were so damn heavy and the moment he did manage to pry one open, he had to shut it tight against the light.

Brightness like that should be illegal.

But despite the desire to curl back up and avoid the reality that was day time, Adrien’s body was awake. Or at least, it was trying to be. Which is more than he could say for his brain, which refused to supply him with a viable explanation for why the fuck he felt as ludicrously awful as he does?

Fine, brain. Be that way.

The blonde huffed out a mix between a sigh and a groan, fighting a sudden spike in dizziness, bringing his hands up to rub his face like the act could alleviate some of the awful in some way.

Only to pause when he found something covering what should have been his skin.

Unsure fingers find and trace the edges, quickly establishing that the obstruction is covering just around his eyes, and tying around the back of his head with silk ribbons.

A mask? Why was he wearing a mask?

Carefully, he untied the mask from his head, grimacing as he lifted it from the pillow for the few moments it took, pulling it off to blink at it blearily; twisting it around in his hands. It was black and mostly plain, but well made - a sturdy material, not cheap plastic.

He sat there staring at it for a long while, brow pulling together more and more as his eyes finally adjusted to the light.

What he hadn't adjusted to, though, was the complete lack of recognition. The utter void of ‘Ah-ha’s, that should have hit him as his brain finally seemed to catch up with the rest of his body in the waking world.

Alarmingly, still, it didn't matter how hard he forced his brain to ponder the mystery. There was nothing. No flashes of memories. No hints to why he had the accessory. Just more confusion.

Alright. So whatever he’d gotten up to the night before must have gotten stupid crazy.

He didn’t have long to ponder that particular train of thought before a sudden buzz made Adrien jump, dropping the mask to the bed - oh, so he was in bed at least, interesting - in the process.

A quick glance over to the nightstand revealed his phone dancing across the surface as it vibrated with an incoming call.

Who in the world would be calling this early?

And by early, he apparently meant not early at all, because it was already well after 11 am according to the unfamiliar alarm clock on the nightstand.

He didn’t even remember the last time he’d slept in this late.

Or why there was a nightstand that looked nothing like his -

Oh.

Right. He'd rented a room with Nino. They'd planned on going out. There was supposed to be a party or something. They'd decided to split a room.

A room that was currently only occupied by him, he realized as he peered around, taking in his surroundings for the first time.

Where the hell was Nino?

The buzzing of his phone reminded Adrien that someone was still trying to get a hold of him, and he should probably answer.

And stop staring at it like it was a foreign concept.

God, how much did I drink last night?

With more effort than should have been necessary, Adrien sat up, grabbing his phone and feeling the now-familiar sense of confusion wash over him as he stared at Nino's caller ID.

Speak of the devil.

Without much thought, Adrien hit the video function and waited for the call to connect, showing his best friend staring at the phone like years of tension and fear were being washed away.

And quickly being replaced by anger.

"DUDE! FUCKING FINALLY!! WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?"

In his need to escape the headache that his friend's tone assaulted, he nearly dropped his phone, thrusting it as far away from himself (without actually throwing it) as he could.

God love the guy for being one of the best people the blonde had ever met, loving with every fiber of his being and putting as much of that emotion into everything he said - but damn he could be as loud as his girlfriend sometimes.

And the last thing Adrien needed right now was an Alya level of volume.

"Dude...Stop yelling at me." The blonde groaned, dropping his own voice as if showing the DJ how inside voices were supposed to work.

Nino narrowed his eyes on him in a glare that didn't have quite the heat he probably meant it to have, "Oh excuse me for being a little freaked out that my best friend is missing!"

"Missing? What are you talking about? And where are you? I thought we were rooming together?"

"We were rooming together. And I'm exactly where I was supposed to be. In OUR hotel room. Where the hell are you, cause it's definitely not here."

Ignoring the returning Alya levels of volume to Nino’s tone, because frankly, the blonde could only really focus on one problem at a time, he gave Nino his best impression of a fish as his mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried to register what the man was saying to him.

He wasn’t in the room they’d reserved?

"What? But…" he looked around, vision still swimming slightly around the edges but able to focus a bit more on the room itself. It looked just like the room he and Nino had checked into, swanky but modern, every bachelor's idea of clean-lined luxury as it was accented in woodsy browns and velvety navy blues, but, you know, minus the best friend roommate. "Are you sure?"

He turned back to the phone when he was met by silence only to find his friend's unamused expression, "Yes, Adrien. I'm sure."

"So where the hell am I?"

Adrien had never seen Nino facepalm so hard in the entirety of their friendship, "You don’t know?"

He probably should have been annoyed at the sarcasm, but it was hard to feel anything past the still lingering pulsing pain in his temples, "No, I… I have no idea what happened last night." Adrien frowned as another wave of pain flashed over his brain at the attempt to remember, and a bout of nausea made him take a few deep breaths.

"Wait… like at all?"

Instead of replying, uncertain if he'd be able to keep the contents of his stomach from resurfacing, Adrien shook his head, his eyes landing back on the bedside table in the process.

Leaning over, the blonde opened the table's drawer, pulling a pad of stationary and a pamphlet from its contents, giving it a quick once over for the address.

An address that matched that of the hotel he and Nino had booked their room at - The Hoxton Paris. He was in the hotel after all.

"I'm in the same hotel." He leaned over again, ignoring the churning of his stomach as he checked the phone next to the bed, "room 414."

"Why the hell are you two floors up?"

Adrien shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine at this point."

Nino sighed loudly giving him a hard look over the line before resigning, "Alright man, get dressed. I'll come to you."

Thanking his best friend, Adrien tossed the phone on to the plush mattress behind him before falling back on it himself to stare up at the ceiling.

Somewhere along the night, he’d gone missing and ended up in a completely different hotel room. Scratch stupid crazy - this was some next-level ridiculous.

Get dressed, I’ll come to you.

In the time since waking up, it never once occurred to Adrien to take in his state of dress - or, as he quickly realized as he glanced down with a frown blown into wide eyes, lack thereof.

He wasn’t naked, but he wasn’t in his Sunday best, either. His boxer briefs still covered the necessities, but he was free of anything else.

Which reminded him again that he needed to make himself decent before his best friend came storming in. Which, Nino was bound to do any moment now.

Finding his clothes was a snap as they were draped carefully over the folding luggage rack on the other side of the room, though, just like with the mask, he didn’t remember this particular ensemble. Well, he remembered packing it. But he didn’t remember putting it on.

In fact, the last memory he had was of the more professional sports jacket and lighter collared shirt and tie he’d worn to the last meeting he was going to have in the Gabriel Paris headquarters for the foreseeable future.

Ever - if he had his way.

With a sigh, Adrien pulled the long-sleeved maroon under-shirt on first, pausing briefly as a strange smell washed over him - like bleach. No, that couldn’t be right. There were no obvious bleach stains on the shirt, and a quick wafting sample of the rest of his clothes only found that his fitted black slacks were the only other thing that smelled the same.

So not bleach… but something close to it?

Whatever. Too many mysteries, not enough brainpower to piece them together.

Pulling the rest of his clothes on, he had to appreciate Drunk Adrien’s sense of style. It was a clean look, but roguish and darkly sensual too with the mix of maroon under dark grey collared button-up and black jeans that he knew fit him in all the right ways.

Though, his favorite piece was the leather jacket still draped over the chair.

It had been something of an impulse buy, not that he didn’t have the money to spare.

But the way it zipped up, pockets and zippers symmetrical on either side of the lapels, and the attached belt that buckled around the stomach… It reminded him so much of his suit as Chat Noir that he couldn’t not have it.

On the days when he needed the most confidence was when he pulled out the jacket. Just to remind him of where he’d come from. What he’d accomplished. Who he could be.

He’d worn the jacket a lot after Plagg had to leave.

A swift tapping at the door to the suite shook the blonde from his memories and he quickly went to unlock the door, to note a little curiously that the additional swinging latch was left undone - not that he could speak much for Drunk Adrien, but Sober Adrien always flipped the swinging latch.

With another quick shake of his head, he unlocked the door to find Nino waiting outside, hands shoved in his pockets, nodding to him in greeting before brushing past him to enter the room.

“So that’s what you ended up in,” Nino muttered as he passed, giving the ensemble a strange look as he did. A look Adrien really wasn’t in the right mind to decipher at the moment.

“I think so? They’re the only clothes I had in the room.” He affirmed before trudging into the bathroom and flicking on the lights to take in the damage.

All-in-all, he didn’t look half bad for the hangover he was experiencing. He could have done without the blood-shot rimmed eyes, but frankly, he’d had worse mornings in high school after a night chasing after a wayward Akuma, then having to get up only a few hours later for class.

Funny that it felt so long ago that that was a regular occurrence when in reality it was only a short year ago since the defeat of the greatest enemy to Paris.

He shifted his face around under the bright bathroom fluorescents to get a good look at his complexion, noting with a frown how he also could have done without the sickly pale lack of color to his skin. It made the areas where his skin was agitated stand out in blotchy red -

Adrien paused as one patch of red on his throat caught his eye and he ran his fingers over the mark.

That was definitely not irritation. Or at least, not the kind from not getting enough sleep or washing his face before bed.

And it’s placement over his pulse point sent something electrifying racing up his spine. Sending heat and pleasant shivers from his toes all the way up to his scalp, soothing the angry headache for the briefest of moments.

Something that felt like a memory. But one only his body could process; leaving his mind with broken fuzzy images - split seconds of movement across his skin that suddenly felt so vibrant that he couldn’t be sure he hadn’t crawled back into bed.

Adrien closed his eyes and willed those flashes back, clinging desperately to anything that would give him a clue. But the harder he pushed, the harder those memories avoided him.

“Uhhhh… Nino? What the hell did we do last night?”

At the sound of his panic, Nino came to the bathroom door with a raised brow before his eyes zeroed in on the same thing Adrien had.

The very clear and very permanent lipstick print that stained his skin over what was clearly a hickey.

“You’re asking me?” His best friend’s brows shot up incredulously, with an expression somewhere between wanting to murder him, and wanting to high-five him?

Emerald gaze met honey in the mirror, “Yes. Because we were together?”

That seemed to stun his best friend into silence for a few long torturous moments as the DJ searched his face for something he wasn’t finding. “You… you really don’t remember anything do you?”

“No. Why?”

The silence stretched once more, and Adrien was starting to hate the tension building as Nino tried to find the right words to say, “Dude, you never showed.”

What?

“That can’t be right.”

Broad shoulders shrugged as Nino shook his head at the mystery shared between the two, “It can. And it is. Trust - there are a few people a little perturbed with you for ditching your own sending-off party. Myself included. But most of us were just worried that you’d been kidnapped by a rabid fan or something.”

Never showed.

He’d never showed up to the party?

That explained so much and so very little at the same time.

Why would he ditch his friends? Why would he choose not to show up when they were throwing a party for him?

That just wasn’t something he would do.

And neither was hooking up with some random stranger.

But, it was starting to look like that’s exactly what he’d done.

“Alright back it up for me. Start from the beginning. Maybe that will help jog my memory.”

"Yeah, alright.” He shrugged, motioning him to follow before plopping himself down in the armchair in the corner of the room, leaving Adrien to sit on the bed, “You and I left here together around -”

“But I thought you said I never showed?”

Nino gave him a pointed look at the interruption, “You asked me to start from the beginning. Let me talk, wouldja?”

Feeling adequately chastised, the blonde nodded, “Right. Sorry. Continue.”

“After checking in, you and I left together around six to go grab a bite to eat at a place on the way to the club. We had some food, a couple of drinks, and then left to go to meet up with everyone else at Chez Moune.”

Adrien nodded along as little bits and pieces of the story flashed in his mind. He remembered checking in at the hotel - how relieved he was to just be done with the meetings for a while. He remembered thinking compared to Nino, he felt a little overdressed since he was still wearing his nicer work clothes when they’d left.

“We weren’t even ten minutes from the club when I told you where we were headed and you told me you wanted to come back and change.”

Given his last train of thought, he figured he knew the answer already, but he asked anyway, “Why?”

Nino shrugged again, a roll of his eyes accompanying the sarcastic grin over his face, “You said something about not wanting to be ‘that asshole who shows up in the designer get-up’. But the others were going to start showing up soon, so you told me to head on over and that you’d make it a quick back and forth. You were so adamant about it. Even making a big deal about the mask.”

“Mask?”

“Yeah. For the club. It was a masquerade theme last night at Chez Moune and most of us were playing along. You were super into it. Are you serious, you don't even remember that?”

It was coming back to him now, he remembered learning about the theme (despite Nino wanting to keep the venue a secret) and wanting to join in the fun. Not to mention, the idea of being able to go out and not be recognized for a night was more than a little appealing. He'd purchased the mask almost two weeks ago.

And from the sounds of it, he must have made it back to the hotel and changed given the outfit he was wearing currently and the mask he’d found still tied to his face when he woke up.

“Alright, then what?”

“You messaged me that you were on your way back, and then, nothing. That was it. You never showed up.”

“So… between me coming back here to change, and trying to make my way back to the club, I went missing?”

"I guess, man. I've been looking for you all night."

He certainly looked like he’d been running himself ragged all night - something that was beginning to settle on the blonde with heavy guilt for making his friend worry the way he had.

But he still couldn’t figure out why he would in the first place. It just wasn’t something he did.

"I'm surprised you didn't call the police." Adrien chuckled with a shake of his head, trying to keep the conversation light, trying to avoid the guilt until he could piece together the mystery before them.

He was met with Nino's deadpanned expression and tight lined lips.

"Oh my god, you didn't."

"Oh no, I totally did." The wide-eyed expression would have been comical, if the DJ didn’t immediately follow the comment up with, "But they wouldn't do anything because you're an adult. Told me that if you were still missing by tonight, that I could file a missing person's report, but given everything, they told me it was likely you just wanted to disappear, fucking assholes." The DJ added that last bit under his breath, but years of magically enhanced senses in a super-suit left Adrien with better than average hearing.

And he couldn't exactly fault the officers for their assumptions.

Gabriel Agreste's very public reveal as the identity behind Paris's longest-standing terrorist Hawkmoth had been a major blow. To their family, to their name, to him. He couldn't go anywhere these days without someone recognizing him, and not the same way they used to when his face was plastered on every billboard in the city. Most people didn't say anything, but he knew what they were thinking.

How could he live in the same house with that monster and not know?

It was a question he asked himself every single day since.

There were more than a few people who actually thought he was working with his father. But through tireless efforts and a raving defense from the heroes of Paris, his own name had been cleared.

That didn't keep people from speculating though.

Couldn’t blame them either - if the roles were reversed, he’d probably speculate too.

“Hey - I - I’m sorry man. I didn’t mean-”

Adrien blinked quickly, bringing himself back around and giving his friend a reassuring grin, “No - no, it’s fine. Really.”

And it was. They were. There was no reason for Nino to apologize. He was just worried about him. Like any good best friend would be.

Truthfully, it warmed Adrien’s heart to have someone so concerned about how people treated him.

Even a year later, Nino was still the rock and pillar of strength he had been the day Hawkmoth - Gabriel Agreste had been revealed and subsequently arrested.

And for the second time, the blonde was having to fight back the guilt for having worried his friend unnecessarily after he’d done so much for him over the last year. Not to mention setting up the party they’d been on their way to in order to celebrate before he left town.

How the hell was he going to make that up to him?

What kind of friend did that make him to begin with?

Nino sighed loudly, “Don’t start with that look. I know what you’re thinking and you need to cut that shit out.”

“I don’t -”

The DJ leaned forward so that Adrien had no choice but to look him in the eye, “You’re over there freaking out about the party and trying to make it up to me.”

Okay, either Nino was a mind reader now or -

“How could you possibly-?”

“I’ve gotten really good at reading you.”

Oh, okay. Cool. Now he was an open book.

“I’m not going to pretend like I’m not pissed, but it’s pretty clear something happened and I’m saving judgment until we figure out what got it?”

It took a moment, but Adrien nodded, knowing that his friend wasn’t nearly as angry as he was pretending to be.

“Cool. I’m going to let Alya know that I found you safe and-” he glanced up from having pulled his phone from his pants pocket, eyeing the hickey with a shake of his head and barely contained smirk, “mostly sound.”

Oh, that was going to be a fun conversation, Adrien just knew it.

If Nino was the rock, Alya was his protective sister/mom, and he was going to get hell from her. First in the form of yelling for making her worry, then in the form of teasing for being a ‘ladies man’ (her hypothetical words, not his).

It was the least he deserved for disappearing though.

Which brought him back to the mystery at hand.

Why?

Where did he go?

“By the way, you may want to ignore your phone for a bit. You’re about to get an influx of messages from god knows how many people. I just messaged the whole class - sorry.” The DJ chuckled, looking not at all sorry.

Adrien pulled his phone back out and sure enough, there were notifications a mile long, and only a small handful of them from the last handful of minutes. Which meant that everything else was from the night before. People calling him like he'd been gone for days. Nearly 500 text messages. His social apps were lit up with notifications he was no longer receiving pings for.

How had he not noticed last night?

How was he going to go through everything now?

The answer was simple, actually - that was a problem for future Adrien (which was probably what he’d likely thought to himself last night that even led to this mess in the first place).

Right now, though, he was suddenly aware of something he hadn’t considered before - he had his phone when he woke up.

So it had been in his possession through the night.

Surely there’d be something to point him to what he’d been up to in the hours he’d been missing.

Hopefully, past Adrien hadn’t thought it would be a good idea to clear his app history.

A quick swipe revealed that, no he didn’t, and present Adrien breathed a sigh of relief.

There were a number of apps still open in the background, listing from newest to oldest, and he swiped quickly through them - a Google search window, his email, the camera, maps, all of which seemed promising, but only one seemed out of place.

Quickly finding the gallery app, Adrien immediately found that past Adrien - whatever he’d been up to - was terrible with a camera. The first dozen or so (which would have been the last dozen pictures he would have taken last night) were either too dark or too blurry or just the palm of his hand.

The blonde was just about to give up on the pictures when he’d scrolled a little further down and found another dozen pictures that weren’t terrible.

And he almost didn’t register what he was looking at.

Because he didn’t immediately recognize that this was his phone and there were a dozen or so pictures of a man who looked just like him but not like him at all.

Because the guy in these pictures looked like the happiest man on earth.

“Nino…”

He hummed, barely looking up from his own phone. Completely unaware of the frantic uptick of Adrien’s heart rate as the blonde stared, open-mouthed at the device in his hands.

“I-I think I just figured out why I ditched the party.”

That had the darker man settling his gaze on him with a raised brow, waiting for him to continue.

“And how I got the lipstick on my neck. Or… at least, I really hope so.”

Oh god did he hope so.

“Are you going to just keep being cryptic over there or are you going to share with the rest of the class?”

Despite everything, Adrien couldn’t help the grin growing over his lips that split into a full-blown manically hopeful smile as he flipped the phone around to show his best friend.

How could he not?

How could anyone blame him for looking like lady luck had personally graced him with her presence.

Because if pictures were to be believed - she had.

Nino’s mouth fell open at the picture, one depicting the one and only Ladybug with her arm around Adrien (Chat Noir)’s shoulder, leaning in to place the softest of kisses on the masked hero’s cheek.

“I don’t know how, but I think I spent the night with Ladybug.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous fandom #LadyNoir #Lady Noir #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette

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sweetdreamhellofanight · 3 years ago

Text

Effort

Marcel Barthel x Reader Warnings: None, all fluff (with the tiniest bit of angst!) Word Count: 1,925 Summary: Marcel’s usual flirting doesn’t work anymore (requested)

It started out the same, staring at you in the gym, smirking when you made eye contact, and rolling your eyes at him while he walked up to you.

Six months ago, perhaps you thought he was all talk and no game. Six months ago, you would’ve humored his cheesy pick up lines and enjoyed the way he looked at you, the way his eyes lingered over you even after you’d walked away. Six months ago, you gave him your number and winked and started something that shouldn’t have lasted this long.

But six months later, you were getting bored.

In the six months you two had taken up with each other, Marcel hadn’t moved past his usual flirting and, while on most days it was enough for you, you were starting to miss something from him.

Something...fun.

So you tried to have your own fun with it.

Now, with him standing beside you, watching as you completed your set, biting his lip.

You paid him no mind, instead focusing on your music and the way your arms strained to finish the very last rep.

“Good form,” he teased, looking you up and down.

You sighed, turning to him, taking one ear bud out. You looked him up and down, now, expressionless.

“Try harder,” you said, finally, grabbing the towel from beside you.

His smile faded, turning into confusion as you walked away.

“Wait-” he started, following after you.

“Not gonna work this time, Barthel,” you said, over your shoulder, making him stop in his tracks.

***

You hadn’t seen him for a couple of days after that, and you wondered if he’d taken it the wrong way, and thought you meant you didn’t want to see him anymore.

But tonight he found you between matches, catching your breath, trying to clear your mind.

“Good match,” he said, standing awkwardly in front of you, hands fidgeting at his side. You smirked at him over your water bottle, but took your time.

Still, he stood there and waited for you to respond,

“Thank you,” you said.

He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. You arched an eyebrow, waiting,

“You looked good out there,” he said.

You nodded, and when he didn’t say anything else you stood to leave.

“Wait,” he said, quietly, grabbing your arm to stop you.

You looked at him,

“Can I see you? Tonight?”

You smiled,

“Nope,” you said, smiling as you watched his expression fall.

“Why not? Did I do something wrong?” he asked, more concern in his voice than you’d heard from him before.

You shook your head,

“No, but…I dunno, I’m bored.”

“Of me?” he asked.

You shrugged,

“I mean, you’re getting kinda predictable,” you said, watching as his expression changed into something unreadable. “There’s nothing fun, you just slap my ass and then tell me you’re coming over and that’s it. Where’s the charm? Where’s the romance, you know?”

“I can’t come over...because I’m not romantic enough?” he asked, speaking slowly, eyes narrowed.

You nodded,

“Yeah, pretty much,” you said. Still, he looked confused, so you brought a gentle hand up to his cheek, “I want you to woo me,” you said with a wink.

***

And he did try, you couldn’t fault him there, because for the next few days he would go out of his way to find you, trying some new pick up line that you hadn’t heard before,

“Nothing here looks as delicious as you,” he whispered to you as he took a seat next to you while you ate your lunch.

You nearly choked on your food, trying not to laugh.

He smiled nervously,

“Good?” he asked.

You shook your head, still smiling,

“It’s….”

“Bad, it’s bad, I know,” he said, looking away.

“Just needs some work,” you said.

He nodded, getting up to leave,

“You’re not staying?” you called out.

“I’ve got work to do!” he shouted back, smiling at you.

***

You regretted it, now, asking Marcel to woo you.

Or rather, you regretted not being clear with him.

Because now you stood in front of your locker, a giant teddy bear blocking it, with a plush heart between its hands, staring down at you while you tried to figure out how he could’ve gotten it in here in the first place.

“He’s got it bad for you,” Indi teased as she passed.

You shook your head as the others offered similar comments.

Today, the giant teddy bear. Last night you got the bouquet of flowers with chocolates almost as soon as you’d arrived home.

But you didn’t have time to deal with this, so you carefully moved the teddy bear away and got ready for your match tonight.

You would just have to talk to Marcel later.

***

He found you first, after your match. Coming up from behind, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you back,

“How about tonight?” he whispered, kissing your neck.

You sighed, prying his tight grip off you, and turning to face him,

“How did you get a giant teddy bear into the locker room?” you asked. He grinned wide,

“I asked Dakota to help,” he said. You rolled your eyes, but smiled. You should’ve known.

“Was the teddy bear her idea, too?” you asked.

His smile fell, slightly, into a more embarrassed one,

“I needed some help,” he said, quietly. “Did you like it?”

You nodded,

“Yes, but that’s not what I meant when I said woo me,” you said.

He stopped, brows furrowed,

“You didn’t like it,” he said.

“No, I liked it, Marcel, but that’s not what I meant,” you said, starting to get frustrated.

“Then what did you mean?” he asked, annoyed, taking a step back from you.

You looked around, still standing in the middle of the hall, steps away from the locker rooms, and pulled him aside.

“I just meant, do something...else? I didn’t mean do something huge and grand to show off, I meant...woo me. Tell me how much you want me, or want to be with me just...put in the effort, Marcel.”

“The teddy bear? The flowers and chocolates? That wasn’t effort?”

“I don’t know how I’m going to get that thing home in my car, first of all,” you said. “The flowers were nice but...I’m not good with flowers. I can’t keep plants alive longer than a day! And the chocolates had nuts in them and I’m allergic, but you would’ve known that if you’d just taken the time to think it through!” you said, getting louder.

“Then I guess I don’t know you,” he huffed, moving back from you.

“I guess not!” you replied, turning and walking away, leaving him there.

You hadn’t meant to yell or to make it a fight, but you were growing tired of Marcel thinking with everything but his own brain.

And until he could get a grip on that you figured you were better off giving him space.

***

For another week you didn’t see him. He avoided you, making sure your paths didn’t cross, not at the gym, not at work, not anywhere.

You had all but given up on it. You stopped looking at your phone, hoping to see a text from him, you had tried to change your own gym time to see if you could run into him.

You just wanted to see him, just explain that it didn’t matter anymore and you just wanted to be with him.

But he seemed more evasive than ever.

So you gave up, and accepted that you had ruined something before it even had the chance to begin.

But a knock on the door stopped you.

On a Friday night at nearly midnight, while you watched TV, trying to take your mind off everything.

But your mind wandered, and though you tried as hard as you could to distract yourself, nothing seemed to work.

All you could think of was pressing send on the message you’d typed and retyped for the last hour to Marcel.

You had started with a paragraph.

But that felt like too much.

So a paragraph became a few sentences.

But the sentences were too direct, too blunt.

So the sentences became questions.

But the questions made you sound desperate.

So the questions became just one, simple request.

Come over?

But still, you couldn’t hit send. You couldn’t bear that message left unanswered from him.

So you tried to focus on the TV and the reruns of shows you had never heard of, and hoped you would fall asleep soon and forget about the text.

Until the knock on your door made your heart race.

Made you wonder, made you hope, that maybe...it would be him.

You tried to push that thought away, tried not to get your hopes up, even though something told you it was him on the other side of that door.

You opened the door slowly, peeking out of it, and only when you saw the frayed edges of his hoodie, did you relax, knowing it really was him on the other side.

Marcel smiled softly at you,

“Hey,” you said, quietly.

“Hi.”

You both stood there, watching each other for a moment, not sure what to say.

“Were you busy?” he asked.

You shook your head,

“Come in,” you offered, stepping aside. He paused, but nodded, walking in with his hands folded behind his back, hiding something from you.

You shut the door and leaned against it, watching him, nervous and shifting in his spot.

“What’s up?” you asked, trying to prod him on.

“I,” he started, watching you. “I got you this.”

From behind his back, he pulled out a single fake flower.

A daisy.

“And this.”

In his other hand, a small, white bakery box.

You stared at the two things, but didn’t move.

“I’m sorry.”

Now you looked back up at him,

“You were...right. I didn’t think it through. You said you wanted effort and I gave you what I thought you wanted. But it wasn’t. You...want different stuff, and it took me a while to figure it out but…” he trailed off.

“But?” you asked.

“A fake flower, since you said you’re not good with plants,” he said, holding the daisy up, “and it’s a daisy because you have that necklace you always wear with a daisy on it.”

Your hand went to your neck where the small silver necklace sat, the one he always played with just before he kissed you. You smiled.

“And this...it’s a slice of pie. The one you told me about. I know you like the strawberry one.”

His cheeks grew bright red, eyes cast down as he spoke, his voice getting softer as he finished.

And you smiled wide, moving closer to him, taking the box from him first, setting it aside. Then, taking the flower from him, you brushed the top of it against his nose, making his face scrunch into a small smile.

You brought a hand up to his cheek, making him look at you,

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” you said, quietly, “I just wanted you to show me that you really wanted me. That...this was more than just...a fling.”

Now you couldn’t look at him,

“I really want to be with you,” he said, softly, stepping closer to you. “I should’ve told you sooner and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

He lifted your head up, slightly, and smiled at you,

“But you said it now. That’s all that matters,” you whispered, reaching up to kiss him.

#nxt fanfiction #marcel barthel #marcel barthel x reader #my writing #requested #sorry it took so long but here it is!!#i just wanted to make this boy be a lil introspective for a minute #this whole fic can be described as: he a lil confused but he got the spirit #***

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glitterygayvodka · 4 years ago

Text

Yellow

Note: Omg hiii everyone!! I know that it’s literally been a billion years since I’ve written anything and I’m so sorry for that. Over quarantine I got inspired though so this piece is going to be the first installment of my color series! For every color red through purple I’ll have a story involving Harry and Y/n’s relationship. Thank y’all for being so kind and patient with me. I love you all and I hope you enjoy! My requests are open as well as my inbox in general if you have any questions/comments/concerns. Thank you!! Kissy - 🧡✨Kylei

Warnings: None!! This is all fluff but there’s a wholeeee lot of softness so gear your heart up :))

Yellow is the color of warmth and harmony. Yellow feels like the soft caress of sunshine on your skin, the taste of fresh mango on your tongue, the pleasant aroma of steaming chamomile fluttering against your nose, and the cheerful song of canaries in the early hours of spring.

For Y/n, yellow is a feeling that is almost incapable of being put into words. She feels yellow most often on nights like these, while tangled up with Harry as the sun begins to retire. Yellow is the gentle whisper of his fingers against her back, almost as if he’s writing poetry against her skin. She feels tranquility wash over her as she gazes up at him through relaxed lids, basking in the peaceful sound of his voice as he narrates the newest book they’ve been reading together.

Y/n grins happily as Harry uses different accents for each character, slowly sliding her arms around him and further entangling their legs under the cool and crisp sheets. Yellow feels like plopping onto your bed after a long time away from home, and not to be cliche, but Harry had started to feel like home for Y/n. She found refuge in his ability to be his authentic self with ease, and with him there’s never any pressure for her to be something that she isn’t. Their relationship is a safe haven; one where they can express themselves freely and openly. Their differences and similarities alike connect them in ways neither of them ever imagined.

Y/n finds herself studying him as he reads, admiring him in the same way an art historian admires a Monet. His lashes flutter gently against his tan skin as he blinks, his eyes the color of fresh sage in the hazy lighting of their shared bedroom. Her eyes follow the curve of his nose, down to the beautiful outline of his plush lips. Y/n has always been entranced by Harry’s lips. Their soft pink color conjures the image of delicate cherry blossoms to mind, and the way they wrap around syllables as he speaks mesmerizes her. She can’t help but to stare as he continues to read in his slow, deep, drawl. Eventually, Harry feels her gaze on him as he breaks his focus to look down at her with a puzzled yet knowing smile, his lips sandwiched between two endearing dimples.

“S’there something on my face Princess?” he inquires with humor in his voice, placing a bookmark between the pages and slowly closing the book. Y/n blinks as she emerges from her trance, her gaze moving reluctantly from his lips to his equally enticing eyes. She holds his gaze, bringing a hand up to brush a stray curl away from his face. “Nooo,” she laughs with a shake of her head, “I’m just admiring you.” Harry can’t help the flutter in his stomach at her words. Her laugh a melody that he was sure he could listen to for the rest of his life. He pulls her up his body with a giggle of his own after gently placing their book on the nightstand, her thighs falling on either side of him with her bum resting comfortably in his lap.

They sit in a peaceful silence for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes. Eye contact has always been something that both of them cherish. It never felt uncomfortable or forced between them, even in the very beginning. The feeling that runs through them while looking into each other’s eyes is hard to label. It’s almost as if their souls are communicating anything that’s ever been left unsaid. The intensity of their connection never fails to send a shiver up Y/n’s spine, or to cause a rosy blush to warm up Harry’s cheeks. She wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers gently intertwining with his soft curls. Harry lets out a peaceful sigh as Y/n runs her fingers through his hair, taking the time to scratch his scalp occasionally. He lets his eyelids droop in pure bliss, relishing in the aura of the beautiful woman in his lap, who chooses to be with him over anyone else. He can’t say that he’s surprised however, because it often feels like the two of them were made for each other. Two pieces of the same puzzle that make a perfect fit. Harry wasn’t someone who usually believed in fate or destiny, but after meeting Y/n, it didn’t seem so unlikely that certain events were just meant to be, or as Y/n would say, written in the stars.

“What’s on your mind lovely?” she inquires softly, her fingers leisurely making their way up and down his arms and shoulders, stopping every once in a while to trace his tattoos, paying extra attention to one of her favorites; the butterfly. A murmur of contentment slips past his lips, his hands caressing the familiar silhouette of her waist, giving her hips a tender squeeze as he languidly opens his eyes once more. Harry stares at her for a moment before speaking, his eyes committing the blueprint of her face to memory. “M’just thinking about how much love you brought into my life,” He sighs with a gentle shrug of his shoulders.

Y/n can almost feel the sincerity of his words within her bones, his loving tone sending shivers throughout her body despite the warmth of the room. She’s quiet for a while, allowing her thoughts to marinate. Her fingers glide over the delicate string of pearls he had yet to take off, before her gaze slowly returns to his. “Hear my soul speak. At the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service.” She quotes with a coy smile, her fingers continuing their path along his body.

Harry’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, a perplexed look overtaking his features as he studies her goofy expression. He begins to replay her words in his mind, when suddenly, the realization hits him and he lets out a loud chuckle with a shake of his head. “Did you just quote Shakespeare to me?” He inquires, his tone a mixture of playful annoyance and genuine humor. Y/n lets out a chorus of her own laughter before nodding, a beautiful smile adorning her lips. “Did you expect anything less of me?” She questions, her eyes glinting playfully in the soft lighting. Harry shakes his head yet again, moving his hands from the comfortable position on her waist to intertwine their fingers. “Well, I was actually expecting a kiss,” he grins cheekily, “but the surprise visit from Shakespeare was very enlightening.” He finishes, his thumb caressing the back of her hand lovingly.

Y/n’s body shakes with laughter at his words, and Harry can’t help the huge smile that plasters itself on his face. He could live in this moment, with this beautiful soul, for the rest of his life. He had never felt more genuinely warm, seen, and loved in his entire existence than he did while with Y/n. The love constantly radiates off of the both of them in waves, reaching anyone and everyone who is open to experiencing their magic. As Y/n’s laughter finally begins to subside and he helps her wipe away any happy tears that happened to betray her, Harry’s heart feels beyond full. “Okay I have no idea what came over me!” She breathes, slightly out of breath in the way that only a good laugh can induce. “I guess you’re a comedian and I’m a nerd, so where does that leave us?” Y/n giggles, bringing her gaze back to him with laughter glossed eyes.

“Hmmm,” Harry ponders, slowly intertwining their hands yet again. “I guess that means you’ll always have someone t’quote literature to, and I’ll always have someone t’laugh really hard at my bad jokes.” Yet another smile makes its way to his lips, and Y/n giggles again with a squeeze of his hand. “Well then!” She sings, releasing one of her hands from his to cup his cheek, bringing her face closer to his. “Aren’t we just the perfect pair?” Her question has a playful tone and he can feel the warmth of her breath against him, her eyes moving between his gaze and his lips.

“We sure are...” he murmurs, his hands following her lead, one moving forward cradle her face with the other gently resting against her throat. Harry can feel her pulse quicken with his actions, and it makes him smile to know that she still has this reaction to his touch. Their eyes flutter closed as they move even closer, their lips finally brushing against each other as delicately as if it were the first time. Harry deepens the kiss, the faint taste of mint and honey lingering on her tongue from their nightly bedtime tea, and Y/n relishes in the intoxicating feeling of his soft lips against hers. A long time ago, Y/n realized that soulmates are yellow.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #one direction imagines #harry smut

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ka-za-ri · 4 years ago

Text

Descent Pt. 1

I told myself I was gonna take a break. I lied. I wanted to write a whole bin of Sin for Simeon. I’m sorry, not sorry at all. Let me know if you want to be a part of the tag list: Chapter Masterlist: Here Crossposted on Ao3: here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

Paring: Simeon x Reader Wordcount: 4,900 ish Genre: Smut Tags: Masturbation, Voyeurism, hints of dirty talk? Summary: Sent from the Celestial realm to observe and study humans; Simeon made a name for himself as the illustrious author of The Tales of the Seven Lords. After reaching acclaim for his first series, he's having trouble writing his next great hit. Good thing you're there for him as his manager and editor to help him work out the... kinks in writing.

Trip

The most dangerous aspect of humans was their innate ability to tempt even the most stalwart and steadfast of angels into a world of sin. Simeon was not immune to their ways, no matter how reclusive he became. It was easy to study them from afar, learning about them through numbers and sales numbers. The masses were easy to sway with a few pretty words. Blending in with humans was a trivial task for him. All he had to do was make a few public appearances for book signings and some launch parties for a new series; otherwise he was free to observe and study from afar.

After the international success of The Tale of The Seven Lords, Simeon found himself feeling rather empty. He needed a new project to keep him entertained in the human realm. However, no matter what he started to work on, it didn’t inspire the same sort of passion he had for his older series. He needed a new genre, a new style of writing to refresh his passion for words. If he was going to make it in an ever changing market, he would need to adapt as well. Yet, no matter what genre he tried, every draft he came up with seemed too mundane and overdone.

Everything except, for the temptation of writing something much more salacious than his last work.

Just entertaining the thought had him on a slippery slope of falling from the grace of the Celestial realm. Sure, the strict protocols of olde had been loosened over the centuries. Many angels realized that enforcing perfect adherence to the standards of purity set so long ago no longer applied to modern times. Rules had been loosened and enforcement had relaxed to the point where Simeon was almost positive if he wrote an absolutely obscene novel, he didn’t risk losing his Celestial powers.

The only problem was that he had no experience in the genre at all. He threw together a vague plot and outline, thinking it would be all he needed to inspire him. Surprisingly enough, the publishing house allowed for the drastic change in genre, confident that he would be able to create another best seller. Just having that much trust put in him made him want to succeed even more with the haphazard novel idea.

But, despite his determination to make his new manuscripts lewd, he was at a complete loss as to what, and how to write them properly. The outline he presented to you seemed excellent on paper. Even if it had a few plot holes, you knew he could patch them up with a little work. So, it was natural that you would push the approval and leave him to his own devices to work on the manuscript. You were sure that an author of his caliber would be able to break into a new branch of the literary market without any issues.

But, after several months of waiting, you had no contact at all from him regarding the progress of his new book. The industry needed proof of his work in order to justify their investment in him. Being so renowned, the pressure was on him to create something magnificent. You could only imagine the kind of stress he was going through and as his manager and editor, you were responsible for making sure he met deadlines. You hated to rush his process, but there was no way he could meet the dates set by the publisher if he didn’t give you something to work with soon.

After trying to reach out to him several times by phone and email with little to no response, the only option left was to go to his abode and see just what he was hiding from. No other outline he submitted had passed so this was his one and only chance to continue his writing career. You patiently waited after knocking on his door, hoping he would answer and wasn’t going to ignore you any further. You knew how serious writer’s block could be; but you hoped he wouldn’t let that get in the way of being a professional.

Luckily, the door opened soon enough and you were ushered in by an extremely tired and frazzled looking Simeon. He lead you to his office after you had taken off your shoes and changed into the guest slippers he offered. Simeon didn’t speak to you during the whole exchange, a shell of the soft spoken and attentive author you had come to know after so many years of working with him. He shuffled into his office, an obvious slouch in his posture and slumped behind his desk before gesturing at the empty chair across from him.

“I’m guessing you know why I’m here.” You said and he sighed in resignation, burrowing his head in his hands and running them through his hair. You felt terrible adding stress onto him, he looked ragged, like he hadn’t slept in days. The bags under his eyes were so dark, they almost looked like deep bruises.

“Yes… You want a manuscript…” his normally soft voice sounded hoarse and you wondered if he had eaten or drunken anything at all that day. “I’m almost done with the first draft… would you like to come and see?” He turned his laptop towards you and you started reading what he had so far.

All seemed well and good at first. The characters were believable and the premise, though a bit cheesy, was definitely acceptable for the genre. The further you read, the more you noticed large gaps in his writing. Whole paragraphs seemed to be missing and sentences ended midway. Dialog was left unfinished and by the time you reached the end of the first chapter, it was a mess. You could already feel the inevitable headache you were going to get from editing for him.

“Uhm…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s not my best work.”

He tried to smile, but the emotion didn’t reach his eyes. You reached out to him and held his hand, rubbing your thumb in reassuring circles on his palm. “You’ve worked hard on it, still. What’s got you so hung up though?”

He got a little flustered at your question, nervously running his hand through his hair and looking to the side. Writing such a topic with no experience in it was proving to be difficult for him. He could research all he wanted and consume all the media he could to aid him, but there was just something missing. His lack of knowledge was showing and he wasn’t sure how he could keep being composed about his failure so far. He gestured at the screen and shrugged, trying to get his message across without using words; but, when he saw your confused expression, he had to speak. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” he finally admitted. “I want to write this so badly, but I don’t know how to… describe the scenes the way I want to.”

You sat back in the chair, crossing your arms over your chest and nodding. You could only imagine the difficulty he was having in producing the quality content you were sure he was used to coming up with. With deadlines looming above your head, you needed at least a chapter to submit to the publishing house so they knew actual work was being done. You sighed, trying to think of ways to jump start his creativity. The gloomy atmosphere of his office didn’t seem help. The lights were dim and the curtains were all drawn. It didn’t feel like a place that could invoke the imagery he was going for. “Let’s move somewhere.” you suggested finally. “Do you have a room with lots of sunlight? Maybe a change of mood will help.”

“Ah… there’s the sunroom..” he said. “But I don’t know if just changing where I am writing will help the situation. If it hasn’t gotten done here, I doubt it will anywhere else.”

“Just try it.” you encouraged, already unplugging his laptop and taking it with you. “It’s so gloomy in here, even I’m getting depressed just sitting around. Come on, which way is it?”

“Ah… this way.” He said, shamefully shuffling out from behind his desk and showing you the way to the sunroom which overlooked a rather well manicured garden with a variety of flowers in full bloom. You marveled at the bright, airy feel of the room and took a second to really appreciate his choice in decor.

“Wow, would have never pegged you as the kind of guy who gardens.” You teased, flopping onto the couch he had in there and lounged in its plush confines. Looking through the glass ceiling, you watched a few clouds drift by while Simeon got comfortable in a recliner in the corner of the room. You could tell he was still a bit frustrated, but you knew getting him some sun would do him good.

“Well, when I don’t have any pressing deadlines, being with the plants helps relieve stress. It’s unfortunate that I cannot give you a tour this time.”

“There’s plenty of opportunities in the future. They’re not going anywhere, and neither am I. You know I’m going to keep hounding you until your manuscript is finished.”

He chuckled, nodding and opening up his laptop. You let silence pass between the two of you, going back to watching the clouds while the sound of his fingers flying across the keyboard lulled you into a daydream like state. You grabbed onto one of the large, decorative pillows he had on the couch, clutching it against your chest while you made up stories in your head about the clouds above. If you weren’t so stressed about turning something into the publishing house so soon; it would have been a perfect, calming afternoon.

The clack of the keyboard stopped after a little bit. Whatever inspiration Simeon had when he entered the room seemed to have fizzled out and he was stuck in yet another rut, writing one word and deleting it over and over again. You sighed, turning to watch him as he gnawed on his thumb, mumbling to himself.

“What’s not working?” You asked, your curiosity piqued.

“Just… this scene… it’s not working. I can’t envision it.” He grumbled. Looking up at where you were laying on his couch, clutching onto the pillow, he was suddenly struck by a brilliant plan. The worry lines on his forehead disappeared and he broke out into a slight smile when he realized how he could get his creative juices flowing. “Help me… I need inspiration.”

You sat up straight, ready to assist in any way you could. “Okay, what do you want me to do?” You asked.

Simeon squinted, in the right light, you looked similar to the main character he had written. His plan could work if you reenacted the scene he had in mind. The issue was actually explaining the scene to you in a way that didn’t make his body feel overheated. He was already playing with fire by writing such a lewd book, pushing his limits further felt like he was sliding right down a slope heading towards a great fall. There was no other way, he reasoned. As long as I do not defile her, it’ll be fine. Taking a deep breath, he got up from where he was and walked over to you.

“I need you to…. Uhm… Well.. how do I say this… I’m having trouble writing a love making scene and I need some… visual aids.” You blinked, processing his request and then looked him up and down, feeling your whole body heat up at once. You were sure you had kept your crush on him a secret. To have him ask you so suddenly to provide visual aid for an explicit novel felt like too big of a jump for you to comprehend. “Oh… Oh no, no, no. You don’t have to do anything with me.” He said, gesturing wildly when he saw you pointedly stare at his crotch. “You can just pretend that this is the ‘lover.’” He took the pillow from your arms and laid it on the couch.

You didn’t know if you should have felt relived or disappointed that he wanted you to reenact a sex scene with a pillow and not him. It was all quite a bit to take in, but the desperate pout on his face was something you couldn’t ignore. And both your jobs were on the line. You sighed in resignation. “Okay, okay… But only because we have deadlines coming up.” You said. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.”

Simeon smiled for the first time that day, hurriedly moving back to his computer and preparing to take notes on what you were doing. “I’m ready when you are.” he announced once he opened up a separate document.

“You sure you don’t want me to just, you know… do you?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow as you started to undress. It was embarrassing for sure; but part of you relished in seeing Simeon so flustered when it came to the nature of lewd things. You wondered why he had bothered submitting such an outline at all when he wasn’t familiar with how to write erotica; but his determination to branch out to other genres had won you over in the end. It just fell upon your shoulders to show this man how it was done.

“I… No… I can’t. I need to write.” He stuttered. Do not defile her, do not defile her. Her womb is sacred and not something you can toy with… Even if he wanted the first hand experience, he still had rules to abide by.

“Alright, whatever you say. You’re the boss.” You shrugged, unbuttoning your blouse. “Don’t forget, part of the sexiness is in the tease.” You explained, taking your time to sway your hips side to side as each button came undone. Trying to seduce a pillow was so much more boring than trying to seduce Simeon. The things I do for this job…

You made sure to waggle your ass as you peeled off your pants, tossing them to the side along with your blouse. There was something thrilling about being in a room made of glass. Any woodland creature that decided to come visit his garden at that moment would also get an eyeful of your progressively bare body. The rush of having Simeon watch you as you stripped had your heart racing.

At the very least, you knew your efforts weren’t in vain. You could hear the furious clacking of the keyboard as you gave the pillow in front of you a sultry look. As lame as it all was, it was still rather arousing to know you were being watched by the man who you had crushed on for so long now. “Alright… sir. I’m going to need you to lay down. You have a problem that only I can take care of.” You said to the pillow. You tried hard not to laugh at how ridiculous the scenario was. It wouldn’t do to break the mood, especially when you could tell Simeon was definitely getting some writing done.

You got back onto the couch, straddling the pillow between your legs once you were in nothing but your underthings. Licking your lips, you pretended that Simeon was under you and not the decorative cushion. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel his lean body under your own, squirming in discomfort as you took control of the scenario. There was just something about how gentle and soft spoken he was that made your heart flutter with the need to dominate him until he was a flushed, moaning mess.

Using that fantasy in your mind, you slowly started to gyrate your hips onto the pillow, throwing your head back and moaning. “Oh yes…” You breathed, pleasantly surprised at the stimulation you got from the friction of your panties rubbing against your spread core. You hummed, content with the thought of Simeon holding onto your hips to keep your steady. If he wanted to watch, then you were going to give him the best show available.

You grasped at your breasts, teasing your nipples through the fabric of your bra until they were sensitive little buds that made you gasp. As you continued to grind against the pillow, you could feel your essence starting to flow, no doubt you were going to leave quite a substantial wet mark on the pillow if you continued. You wanted to pause and warn Simeon of what was about to happen; but when you turned and saw the look of concentration on his face, you didn’t dare break his focus.

He’ll just have to deal with it later… You figured going back to that happy place in your mind where the writer in front of you was actually under you. Closing your eyes, you imagined what it would be like to hear him moan as you pressed your heat against his cock. Surely he must sound absolutely angelic when he cums. Pushing slipping your hands under your bra, you pushed the fabric away, peeled it off your skin and threw it into a random corner to pick up later. “You have no idea how hot you look right now.” You purred, looking down at the cushions below you, wishing you had something sexier to talk dirty to; but you would have to make do with what you had.

Leaning down, you grabbed a pillow to act as your ‘lovers’ head and started to kiss it. It was so hard to ignore just how disappointing it was to make out with a lump of fabric and not the beautiful man in the corner who was so engrossed with his writing, you might as well have been invisible to him. You could only use your imagination to fantasize about how soft Simeon’s lips must be. He always took such good care of his skin and he had an ethereal glow about him, as if he was blessed by the sun itself. You moaned into the pillow, hating the rough canvas you were pressed up against, but at least your pussy was getting something out of how much you were humping the pillow.

You came up, gasping for air after having half smothered yourself with a pillow and glanced over at Simeon again. Even as he was furiously typing, you could see that he was at least a little affected by the show you were putting on. Good, I would have hated myself if he’s not even a smidgen turned on by this. You smirked, looking down at your ‘lover’ and pretended to whisper sweet nothings to them before getting off the couch.

Simeon made a small sound of protest when he saw that you were no longer straddling the pillow, but he quickly shut up when he saw that you were divesting yourself of your panties. “Oh… carry on.” He mumbled, going back to his document, though his eyes continuously flicked up towards you to make sure he was capturing the moment properly.

Feeling your bare pussy rub against the rough fabric of the pillow sent shivers of pleasure up and down your body and you moaned, riding it harder than before. The stimulation was great, but it wasn’t enough. Really, you wanted to have Simeon buried balls deep in you and not at his computer. However, your priority was your job and that meant sticking to what you had to work with. “Fuck…” You groaned, clenching your inner walls around nothing and wishing that you had at least a toy to fill you up and give you something to ride.

You ground against the pillow, your essence soaking the fabric and leaving a sizable wet mark, but you didn’t care. It was all the stimulation you could get and you were going to work it for all it was worth. One hand went back up to your breast, rolling your pert nipple between your thumb and forefinger, whining at the mixture of pain and pleasure you were giving yourself. “Yeah… you like watching me touch myself, babe?” You asked no one in particular; but truthfully, you hoped Simeon was really enjoying what he saw and heard..

His fingers on the keyboard never ceased moving as he vividly described the scene before him. He was so wrapped up in his work, he didn’t even notice himself getting hard. There was too much to write and no time to think about the attention the rest of his body was asking for. He licked his lips, his gaze constantly going back and forth from the document to your body. You were acting out the scene so well, he couldn’t stop writing; he needed to record every detail. You were everything he had imagined his main character to be; effortlessly confident, commanding in the bedroom and dripping with sex appeal. Even if it was a spur of the moment suggestion, he had no regrets considering he was getting so much more writing done in the last half hour than he had in the past two months.

Your breathing came out in short little pants as you tried to chase a release that just wouldn’t come with so little to work with. You reached between your legs to fondle your sensitive clit, groaning loudly as you made love to yourself. You didn’t know how long the scene was supposed to be, but your thighs were getting tired of riding an inanimate object and you just wanted to get off now.

“Mm fuck.. You feel so good…” You breathed, closing your eyes and imagining Simeon sliding inside of you. The first pass must feel so good. You fantasized about lowering yourself onto his cock slowly letting him savor every inch that entered you. In your head, his bright blue eyes glittered in lust, watching his dick disappear into you until your hips met and he would moan at the feeling of being completely buried in you. “Yeah… just like that…” You moaned, rubbing circles at your clit while your inner walls clenched rhythmically at air.

You went back to dragging your pussy across the fabric of the pillow smearing your essence all over to get as much out of the scenario as you could. Your fingers rubbed your clit harder, pushing you ever closer and closer to release. “Oh… Oh… I’m so close…” You whined, announcing your climax mere seconds before it happened. The last push you needed was looking over at Simeon and seeing him completely engrossed in what you were doing. His fingers frozen on the keyboard and his comfortable pants with a rather impressive tent in them.

“Fuck. Simeon.” you cursed, cumming all over the pillow. Your fingers slowed their pace around your clit, rubbing your labia back and forth as you rode out the orgasm. You fell forward onto the pillows beneath you, still slowly humping them while you let the initial high pass and the afterglow set in. It wasn’t until the haze of pleasure passed that you realized you had called his name while getting off on his couch in front of him.

Simeon swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way you called his name. Everything had gone smoothly until you had cried out for him while in the throes of your climax. He had stopped everything he was doing just mere moments before you did that; and now, he didn’t know if he had the mental capacity to continue with what he was writing.

For once, he was tempted to throw away whatever celestial blessings he had to take you and be the real reason why you screamed his name.

Shoving the indecent thoughts to the back of his head, he turned back to his document, writing a sentence and erasing it, repeating the action over and over again while his brain looped the beautiful image of you as you came on his couch. Now, he noticed the tightness in his pants, the obvious boner he sported as a result of such an experiment. But, he couldn’t be mad at it. He had achieved a groove in writing and he was sure he could finish the draft you needed in time.

Simeon let you rest a bit and gather yourself together on the couch. No doubt both of you were aware of the slip, but he could pretend it didn’t affect him as much as it did. Eventually, you had the courage to look back up at him, only to find him busily typing away at his computer. Sighing, and running your hand through your hair amused that he could stay so calm, you got up and started to get dressed. “So, I’m guessing moving somewhere else worked?” you asked, keeping your tone light.

“Hmm… yes.” He agreed, half paying attention to what you were doing. He couldn’t bear to look at you while you were exposed and waited patiently until you were fully clothed until he made eye contact and spoke to you again. “I definitely got some good notes in. I’ll just need a little more time to flesh out some of the filler scenes and I’ll email you the draft in a couple of days.”

You let out a laugh, surprised that he was able to focus on work still after what he had just witnessed. He truly was as innocent as he presented himself to be sometimes. “Alright, well. I’ll look forward to reading it.”

“Will you be back?” he asked, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “You were so helpful, I think I might need more help for the rest of the book.” Not, like I want to see something like that again… No, I just need it for research purposes…

“You know I’ll be back.” You laughed heartily, ruffling his hair. “I have to bother you at least once a month to make sure you’re on schedule to finish.”

Simeon slouched into his chair and let out a soft laugh in relief. “Of course, how could I forget.” In his mind, he was already planning new scenarios for you to play out. There would be much more research to be done, and supplies to be obtained before your next visit. But, all those things could wait. For now, he closed his laptop, noticing how low on battery it had gotten.Time had slipped by him, the sun already well on its way past the horizon. “It’s getting late…” He commented, trying to change the subject to something a little safer than the masturbation session you just had in front of him.

“Yeah… I’ll get going and let you work in peace.” In a moment of bold recklessness, you stepped forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “See you next time, babe. Can’t wait to see what you’re gonna make me do for you.” you teased, giving him a coy wink before showing yourself out.

As soon as the door was firmly shut, Simeon let out a deep sigh, laughing out loud at the predicament he had put himself into. He wanted to quit everything and dissolve into the ground. He wanted to continue writing and see your body writhe in pleasure. He wanted to also defile you and sate himself inside of you. Most of all though, there was a growing darkness within him, one he didn’t even notice just yet; and that part of him craved to see you put in your place to beg for him like the god he knew he was.

Pushing all his desires down and curbing his lust for the time being, he moved his computer back to his office and let it charge for the rest of the evening. His mind still swirled with the image of your exposed body riding that pillow in the sunroom. The early evening sunset made your body glow with an almost angelic light; and for once, he felt jealous of an inanimate object.

Quietly padding back into the sunroom, he looked at the soiled cushion; feeling a surge of heat rush through him when he saw the wet spot you had left behind. Licking his lips, he approached it like it was a wild animal, tentatively poking at it. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend to still feel your warmth lingering on the fabric. He could feel shame rising up in him as he laid down on the couch, rested his head on the pillow and took a deep breath, memorizing the scent of your arousal.

His hand reached down between his legs, slipping past his pants and to his hard length that needed his attention. Turning his head to smother his moans and to surround himself with your unique smell, he teased and pleased himself, putting himself in the scenario you had played out just mere moments ago.

“Oh… oh fuck…” He groaned surprised at how little effort it took to make him cum and ruin his pants to the thought of you bouncing on his cock and calling his name. He was quickly falling down the deep end of temptation and he could feel the darkness of sin encroaching.

The scariest part was the fact that he didn’t care at all.

#Obey me #obey me smut #Simeon x Reader #Obey me fanfiction #Obey Me!#I just want to give this angel all the love and sex he deserves #11 planned chapters so far #Please enjoy the sin #my writing #obey me simeon

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rainecreatesstuff · 3 years ago

Text

escaping is not the same as running away- chapter 1: goodbyes are not for good

DISCLAIMER: ALL names in this story are in reference to the CHARACTERS of the Dream SMP, NOT the CCs. Please be respectful in the replies.

Characters: Tubbo, Ranboo, Philza, Technoblade, Mentioned TommyInnit, Mentioned Michael_Beloved

Relationships: Tubbo & Ranboo (Platonic), Philza & Technoblade (Platonic), Philza & Ranboo (Platonic), Technoblade & Ranboo (Platonic)

Warnings: Swearing

Ranboo climbed the stairs of the factory, reaching the top and letting his shoulders fall as he spotted Tubbo sitting on the edge of the roof. He carefully made his way over, sitting down beside Tubbo, who had one of his legs held to his chest, his chin sitting on it, staring at the sunset.

“Thought I might find you here.” Ranboo swung his legs back and forth a bit.

Tubbo hummed.

“Is Michael in bed?”

“Mhm,” Ranboo leaned back, “Luckily his chicken plush was dry, so he went to bed easy tonight.”

Tubbo smiled, but it was tight, and fell away easily after a moment.

As much as he wanted to ask Tubbo what was wrong, he knew it was probably a bad decision. Tubbo was a man of secrets. He kept everything on the inside, and trying to pry just made him upset, so Ranboo sat patiently as they watched the sunset.

Snowchester really was beautiful at this time. The golden hues of the sun reflected off the snow and water, creating a warm tint over the town. Tubbo really was an amazing builder. The cute, cottage-esque homes somehow became even more cozy-looking in the setting sun. A distant part of Ranboo hoped they would make it inside before the moon rose, and the cold of the night truly settled into the village.

“You ever think about leaving?”

Ranboo was broken out of his thoughts by Tubbo’s question.

“Huh?”

Tubbo shifted, turning his head to face Ranboo.

“You know, just packing up, getting in a boat, and disappearing. Finding somewhere far, far away where you wouldn’t have to worry about governments or terrorists or wars. Somewhere safe.” Tubbo’s eyes didn’t meet Ranboo’s, instead seeming to trace the lines of his face.

Ranboo frowned.

“I mean, not, not really? I… if I’m being honest, I like it here.” He paused for a moment, “well, not like, here, but… Snowchester. I like being here with you and Michael, and whoever else happens to be around. It’s… calm, I guess.” Ranboo swung his legs idly as he spoke.

Tubbo hummed, glancing back towards the sunset.

“Do you?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think about running away?”

Tubbo’s brow creased.

“I mean, sometimes. Feel like it’d be easier. Just disappear into the night, before anyone could stop me. Maybe I’d finally get to have that apiary. Like the one we built in L’Manburg, but bigger, with machines and’ stuff.”

Ranboo smiled softly.

“You could make a villager trading ring, like you always wanted. Get all the best enchantments and all the best loot.”

Tubbo laughed quietly.

“And we could build a house, a nice one, in a flower field, with a big backyard for Michael to play in. And we could get a dog.”

“And a cat.”

“And we could learn how to cook properly.”

Ranboo laughed, airy and loudly. Tubbo grinned, leaning against Ranboo. Ranboo stiffened for a moment, and Tubbo began to pull away, before Ranboo carefully wrapped an arm around Tubbo, holding him by his waist.

“Imagine it, just us and Michael, and Tommy, just living super far away from all this bullshit. Maybe sending the occasional letter back. Just. Living. Actually living, without constantly worrying about everything.” Tubbo’s voice went soft, like he was sharing a secret.

Ranboo hummed, before going silent and still.

Realistically… what was stopping them? They could pack everything they needed in like, an hour tops, and tell Tommy to do the same. They could sail north, and keep going until they were safe. Until they found that perfect little flower field. They could bring Michael. They… they could leave.

Tubbo clicked his tongue, bringing Ranboo back to reality.

“You alright boss man?”

Ranboo bit his lip gently, considering for a moment, then…

“What’s stopping us?”

Tubbo tensed up beside him, pulling away to stare at him.

“What?”

“What’s stopping us from packing up and leaving?”

Tubbo blinked, staring at Ranboo incredulously.

“You. You’re serious?” Tubbo’s voice shook a bit.

“I mean, yeah. Like, I don’t know about you, but, I don’t really have anything holding me here other than you and Michael. I’d… I’d miss Phil, and Techno, but they’d understand. God, they of all people would totally understand.”

Tubbo brushed the hair away from his eyes, and Ranboo had to glance away.

“I… Like, you actually want to? You’re not just saying that?” Tubbo looked away slightly as well, focusing his eyes on Ranboo’s hair instead.

“I mean, yeah. I, I um, I think it’d be good. For all of us, especially Michael. He should, uh, he should get to grow up safe n’ stuff, you know?”

A smile slipped onto Tubbo’s face, becoming a grin, and then a laugh. He hugged Ranboo lightly around the waist, and Ranboo gently squeezed back. A sharp pain erupted from his shoulder and a low hiss escaped from his mouth, and Tubbo quietly gasped and pulled away.

“Fuck- sorry Boo, I wasn’t even thinking-“

“You’re crying?” Ranboo held Tubbo’s face in his hands, carelessly wiping away tears even as they burnt his thumbs.

Tubbo batted away his hands gently.

“Stop it, you’re not burning your hands just because I got all sappy n shit.” Tubbo laughed gently, rubbing at his eyes with his sleeve.

“You’re okay?” Ranboo half-reached out to Tubbo, as if to dry his tears again, but pulled back.

“Fuck, Boo, I am so okay. I am very okay.” He laughed as he spoke, bringing his hands up and flapping them back and forth as he spoke.

Ranboo giggled, leaning back on his hands.

“Okay, okay, sorry about that, I just- I’ve been wanting to just leave for so long but I didn’t want to leave you or Tommy or Michael so I just- Assumed I wouldn’t ever be able to, and-“ Tubbo shakily drew a breath in, running a hand through his hair, “You’re sure? Like, 100%, no going back, sure?”

Ranboo let himself think it over for another moment, just in case, but he still couldn’t find any reason to stay. As long as he had Tubbo, Michael, and Tommy with him, he could care less what happened on SMP soil. He’d miss Niki, Techno, and Phil, and it hurt him to know he’d probably never speak to Fundy or Quackity again, but part of him was inclined to believe he wouldn’t have in the first place. So, drawing in a breath, he nodded.

“Yeah. Whenever you’re ready, I am.”

Tubbo rammed his forehead into Ranboo’s chest, making a small “oof” escape him, hugging him tightly. Ranboo wrapped his arms around Tubbo, smiling softly.

“Okay, okay, um, tonight? Do you wanna go tonight? We can carry Michael, and he can sleep on the way, and we can sleep once we’ve gotten a ways out.” Tubbo sprang back, then jumped up, pacing back and forth on the edge of the roof, nearly giving Ranboo a heart attack.

Ranboo stood as well, grabbing Tubbo’s hood and pulling him away from the edge.

“As long as you don’t wander off any roofs, yeah, sure.”

Tubbo just huffed, but his smile didn’t waiver. He passed Ranboo, headed towards the stairs, gently hitting his arm on the way by. Ranboo followed him down.

“Alright, so I can pack up my stuff, and I’ll go convince Tommy to come, and then you can go get your stuff and come back and help me pack for Michael?” Tubbo asked, fidgeting excitedly with the drawstrings on his coat.

Ranboo nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, sounds good, I’ll be done in like- an hour probably? And then I’ll just come back to your house.”

Tubbo nodded, and ran up the steps to his cabin. Swinging the door open, he turned around once more, flashing Ranboo a grin.

“See you in a bit!”

“See ya.” Ranboo replied, smiling as the door slammed behind Tubbo.

Ranboo made his way to the community portal, careful to avoid Tommy’s property. He was pretty sure there was a reason Tubbo had wanted to tell Tommy, and not just for convenience. The blond probably wouldn’t be super on board with their plan right away, and he’d probably need Tubbo to convince him. Either with their super long friendship, or his puppy eyes. Ranboo was sure even Tommy couldn’t be invulnerable against that.

He reached the portal, and stood in it, the familiar nausea hitting him as he entered the Nether. He leaned against the portal’s frame for a moment, and the nausea dissipated as it always did. He walked along the messy cobblestone path that lead to the Arctic, nearly falling off a couple times due to ghasts, and eventually reached the Arctic.

He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the whiplash that was leaving the Nether and entering a tundra.

He reached his house just as the sun fully set, sending the sky into its beautiful twilight palette. He made his way around his basement, arranging as many of his riches as he could fit in his enderchest, and stuffing the rest, as well as survival supplies, into his inventory and a bag. He looked around his basement one last time, and his Enderman… “roommate,” we’ll call it, croaked something that sounded familiar in the same way all Ender did.

Ranboo bit his lip. He didn’t want to just leave the poor guy here, confused… Maybe a note could work? Surely Endermen had translators. He wrote his roommate a note explaining that he was leaving, and handed it to them. The Enderman looked down at the note, and seemed like he might actually have understood it, at least to some degree.

He made a sad croaking noise, and gently pat Ranboo’s head. Ranboo laughed a bit awkwardly, but smiled at the Enderman, who gave him one last look, then teleported away. Ranboo sighed heavily, biting his lip.

All his pets would need someone to look after them, then. He brought them all upstairs, then sat and gave them pets for a little bit. He could probably sneak Dogboo into Techno’s dog house. He was pretty sure the hound army had been decommissioned, and Techno definitely wouldn’t notice the extra dog until he read the name tag, if he ever did.

He was sure Phil wouldn’t mind one more addition to his flock- crow or not, the man was good with birds, and Ranbird would be well taken care of.

That just left him with his cats. Enderpearl, and Enderchest. The thought of leaving them behind put a sharp ache in his heart, but not more so than the thought of seeing Tubbo passed out at his desk after working himself to exhaustion did. Okay. Maybe Niki could take care of them. He knew she’d had foxes before, and cats were similar, if not a bit more independent. He could drop them off at her place on his way out, then.

He took a deep breath, giving one more round of cuddles and pets, then moved to action. He led Dogboo into the doghouse, where the pack immediately started trying to play with Dogboo. Ranboo let him off the lead, and knelt down, hugging him one more time, then leaving and closing the gate tightly behind him.

This next part would be more difficult, but he was sure he could do it without being confronted. Phil was still in Techno’s house, he could hear them talking from here. He brought Ranbird into Phil’s house on his forearm, leaving the bird on the counter in an area where he couldn’t get into too much trouble.

A crow flew down from one of the rosters, poking at Ranbird. Ranboo wondered for a moment if this was a bad idea, but then a few more crows flocked down and cawed curiously at Ranbird before flying back up, with Ranbird joining them. Ranboo let out a sigh of relief, then reached into his pocket, where he’d written Phil a note.

He walked out of the small house, pinning the note to Phil’s front door. If all went accordingly, Ranboo would be gone by the time Phil saw it.

He went back to his house, scooping up his cats and gently placing them in the duffel bag he’d slung over his shoulder. They seemed displeased at being jostled around, but after a moment, they curled around each other and laid down. Ranboo closed the bag as much as he could, still giving the cats room to move around and breathe.

He glanced around his home one more time, then took a deep breath, and stepped outside.

He glanced at Skellyboo for a moment, pondering if he should bring the undead horse, but no, he did not want to have to ride a skeletal horse for as long as he would need to. He could borrow a horse from someone else if he needed to. Tubbo probably had some in Snowchester.

He made his way to the gate that led out of Techno and Phil’s property, and stepped out, closing it behind him. He took another deep breath, and looked up at the sky. He was really doing this. They were really leaving. He suddenly felt giddy in a way he hadn’t in a while. He could picture it now, his and Tubbo’s little cottage, far, far away from here, where they could raise Michael in peace, and-

“What are you doing?”

Ranboo whipped around, suddenly faced with a very concerned Phil, Technoblade standing a few feet away with an expression that implied he was ready to kill someone.

Ranboo hoped it wasn’t him.

“Phil.” Ranboo’s voice turned shaky.

Phil made his way out the gate, his eyes not leaving Ranboo for a second. When he finally stood before him, he wrapped Ranboo in his arms, and Ranboo nearly began crying, though he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was that he couldn’t remember being held like this by his real parents. Perhaps it was because Phil was hugging him like he was already forgiving Ranboo for something he hadn’t even done yet.

“Come back inside, mate.”

Ranboo glanced over to Techno, whose eyes held a bitterness in them that he’d only seen a few times before. Ranboo bit his lip. He was supposed to get back to Tubbo soon, but…

Phil and Techno had been so kind to him for so long. They at least deserved a goodbye, an explanation.

“… Okay.”

Phil sighed a breath of relief, and led the other two back into Techno’s house. They each kicked off their shoes at the door before stepping further in. Ranboo gently placed his bag on the floor, glancing up at Phil when Enderpearl made a “mrrrrp” sound, announcing his awakening.

“You can let them roam for a bit, mate. Seems like they’re gonna be holed up for a while.” Phil sat down on one of the chairs around the fireplace, gesturing for Ranboo to do the same.

Ranboo leaned down, unzipping his bag a bit, then nervously made his way to the couch, sitting on the side closest to Phil’s chair with his legs curled up, knees to his chest, leaning against the couch’s armrest. Techno sat behind them at the table.

“Alright, why don’t you start off with explaining why you’re all packed up?” Phil took his hat off, placing it on the armrest beside him.

Ranboo drew in a breath.

“I’m leaving. Not just, not just here, I’m leaving the SMP lands.” He carefully kept his eyes focused on the fire, nervous that if he looked at Phil, he’d find disappointment in his gaze.

“All by yourself? That can’t be good for you, mate. It’d be dangerous, even.”

Ranboo tilted his head, biting his lip.

“I’m, um, I’m not. Going alone, that is. I, uh, I have people I’m travelling with.” Ranboo’s tone hushed on reflex, and he heard Techno chuff behind him.

Phil looked slightly taken aback for a moment, then his face took on a look of consideration.

“Ahh. I see.” His voice held a hint of amusement.

Ranboo blushed lightly, coughing gently.

“It’s not like, um, what you’re thinking, we just- we just want to get away. From everything. From the prison, and the egg, and the wars, just- everything.”

Phil hummed, then sighed. Ranboo risked a glance up, and Phil was looking over at him with a sort of sadness held over him, but still smiling.

“That’s fair. You guys shouldn’t have to deal with all this at your age. I hope you find somewhere safe to grow up. And for that kid of yours to grow up.” Phil spoke gently, like he was scared he might make Ranboo scatter if he was too harsh.

“Your what?”

Ranboo flinched as Techno’s rough voice filled the room.

Phil looked straight at the ground, the look on his face equivalent to him outright saying “I fucked up.” Ranboo turned around, facing Techno, who was staring at him like he’d grown a third eye.

“So, um, I’m kind of, I kind of got married? And we adopted a kid.”

Techno’s staring didn’t stop.

“Aren’t you, like, 16 or something?”

Ranboo swallowed.

“Or something, yeah.”

“And you have a spouse, and a kid?”

“Um. Yes?”

Techno rubbed his eyes tiredly, his elbows leaning on the table.

“Why is that not the weirdest thing about you? That should be it by a landslide. And yet it’s not.”

Ranboo shrank in on himself sheepishly.

“Sorry.”

Phil laughed gently.

“Don’t apologize for it mate. You’re fine, right, Techno?” Phil turned a pointed gaze to Techno, who was looking between the two of them with tired eyes, like they’d lost their minds.

To be fair, they probably had.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re fine kid, just, jeez. Maybe tell me before you run off into the night next time, alright?”

“I, um. Yeah, that’s, that makes sense, yeah.”

Phil chuckled at the interaction.

“Can I ask who it is?” Techno said with a sigh.

“Hm?”

“Who’re you married to?”

Ranboo’s tail whipped across the couch nervously.

“Oh. Um. You, uh, you know Tubbo?”

Techno sighed.

“That checks out. Makes our visit there make a lot more sense.”

Ranboo furrowed his brow.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you two kept, like, jumping away from each other whenever Niki or I got close by. You’re not very good at keeping secrets, either of you.”

Ranboo held an ‘if only you knew’ on his tongue, humming instead.

“And your kid?”

“Oh, um, he’s a little zombie piglin named Michael. We found him in the Nether a few months back, and it didn’t seem like anyone was coming back for him, so we brought him back to Snowchester and we’ve been raising him there.” Ranboo’s voice took on a tint of warmth as he spoke about his son, and a soft smile resided on his face.

Techno hummed again, nodding.

“You’ve been keeping him warm, yeah? He hasn’t gone into hibernation?”

Ranboo shook his head vehemently.

“God, no, we’ve got a fireplace in his room and he only goes outside with like, three layers on. We, um, we didn’t know much about piglins? But, but I knew you hibernated because of the cold, and I wasn’t sure how that would affect a kid, so…”

Techno grunted.

“Sounds like you’re doing alright then. The kid’s happy?”

Ranboo turned away slightly, smiling warmly.

“I think so. He, um, he doesn’t know much common yet, ‘cause it’s kinda hard for his vocal chords to replicate the sounds, but, um, we’ve taught him sign, and he seems happy, so, yeah.” Ranboo fidgeted with the fabric on the couch as he spoke.

“Good.” Techno said before standing up.

Phil looked over to Ranboo and raised an eyebrow.

“Tech, where’re you going?”

Techno began making his way down the ladder.

“‘M grabbing some stuff.”

Ranboo checked the time again, biting his lip anxiously. He should really be getting back to Tubbo.

Techno emerged from the basement with a bundle in his arms, and placed it on the table he’d sat at before. Ranboo peered over the couch, spotting an assortment of items, four of which looked suspiciously netherite-like.

Phil whistled.

“‘S that a whole other set of armour?”

Techno grunted.

“You said you have travel companions, and one of ‘em’s Tubbo, and he doesn’t go anywhere without that stealing gremlin, so.” He gestured to the armour, frowning.

Ranboo sprang up from the couch, making his way over to the table. He admired the netherite, and as he touched it he could feel enchantments rippling across it.

“I- thank you, so much, Tommy lost his armour a while ago and I haven’t had a chance to make more yet-“

“Don’t. Don’t thank me or anything, it’s just paying you back for the axe and everything else that’s suspiciously shown up in our chests.” Techno grumbled.

“Of- of course.” Ranboo smiled, beginning to gather it into his inventory.

He was short on space, but he could make do. Once the armour was in its place, he noticed some books and parchment.

Phil strode up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder as he read the paper.

“It’s a recipe for a special type of mushroom stew. Uses mushrooms from the nether, used to make it for Techno when he was younger. Didn’t know he still had the recipe I gave him.” Phil glanced back up to Techno, who looked to become more and more embarrassed by the second.

“Yeah, well, I’ve already got it memorized, and your kid’ll probably like it, so.”

Phil laughed.

“And the books?” He jabbed Techno in the side gently.

“They’re doubles, I’ve been meaning to get rid of them anyways.”

Ranboo slid his hands over the books, which seemed to be centuries old, their spines and pages worn. On the covers were embroidered lettering, spelling out several classics and myths.

“You’re giving him your myth compilations? The first editions at that. Damn Techno.” Phil’s tone remained teasing, but another layer of softness piled onto it.

Techno grumbled something Ranboo couldn’t pick out. Ranboo stared at the books in awe for another moment, then looked back up to Techno.

“Thank you. Seriously. I’ll take care of them.” Ranboo carefully slid them into place in his inventory, then folded the parchment up and did the same to it.

Phil pulled him into another hug, and Ranboo leaned over and hid his face in the older man’s shoulder. Phil patted his back twice, then gently pulled away.

“I’m proud of you mate. You’ve gotten a lot stronger since I met you. Lot more wise too.”

Ranboo chirped out a nervous “thank you,” to which Phil laughed.

“We’ll miss you kid.”

Techno reached over and ruffled his hair.

“Don’t do anything Phil wouldn’t do. Remember our sparring lessons. And tell those brats that we hope your trip goes well.”

“Thanks Techno.” Ranboo smiled up at him, and the piglin let out a soft chuff.

“You’d better get going. Tubbo’s probably waiting for you, right?” Phil patted him on the back, and Ranboo made his way over to his duffel bag.

“Yeah, we’re leaving tonight. I’m supposed to meet him at his house in a bit.” He kneeled down beside his bag and realized Enderpearl had indeed gotten out and was now nowhere to be found.

“Don’t worry about the cat. A couple more animals aren’t gonna break us.” Phil smiled, nodding over to where Enderpearl was sleeping by the fireplace.

Ranboo carefully zipped up the duffel bag most of the way, still leaving room for Enderchest to move around a bit. He stood, then made his way over to the door and slipped on his shoes, heaving the bag over his shoulder.

“Thank you both so much. For everything.”

“Anytime. And don’t forget to write us. Or I’ll have my flock come find you.” Phil grinned.

Ranboo laughed, and nodded.

“I will. I’m guessing just give my letters to the nearest crow?”

Phil made a clicking noise with his tongue, then pointed to Ranboo.

“You got it.” He walked over, giving Ranboo one last hug, then opened the door for him.

“Bye. I’ll write soon.” Ranboo promised, making his way down the steps.

“Stay safe kid.” Techno leaned against the doorway as he spoke.

Ranboo nodded with a soft smile, and began making his way back to the gate. He turned and waved one final time, and then he was off, back to his husband and best friend.

God.

He couldn’t wait to get there.

#escaping is not the same as running away #raine writes #raine creates #tubbo #ranboo #tubbo dsmp #ranboo dsmp #tubbo fanfic #ranboo fanfic #bee duo #dream smp #dsmp #dream smp fanfic #dsmp fanfic #runaways au

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yourfaceislikeabluemoon · 4 years ago

Text

His Little Imp

Words: 4.5k

Warning: Finger sucking, blowjob, face-fucking, cum play/cum eating, handjob, slight exhibitionism (if you squint), usual dirty talk, and language.

A/N: soooo I haven’t posted something like this in ages 👀 like I haven’t done a member x member fic in a really long time. but this idea barged into my head while I was trying to fall asleep one night and it wouldn’t go away. plus, this is a favorite trope of mine heh heh. also, it is conveniently Felix’s birthday as I’m posting this (I swear that wasn’t actually intentional, it just worked out that way lol). this isn’t edited bc I kinda forgot and also I’m lazy 😂 anywho, I hope you enjoy - I sure enjoyed writing it hehe ❤

The whipped cream was distracting. Tasty, sure, but it was the tiny glob on the side of Felix's mouth that he had somehow missed when he licked his lips that kept grabbing Seungmin's attention. After a few moments of actively trying, and failing, to ignore it, Seungmin sighed exasperatedly and reached to thumb it away. "Lix, you have whipped cream on your face," he alerted the older boy before he swiped the offending substance off his skin.

Felix made a noise of recognition and leaned forward to give Seungmin better access. The younger gently scooped the cream off with his thumb but wasn't fast enough in retracting his hand; without warning, Felix sucked the whipped cream off and giggled as his cheeks tinged slightly pink. Seungmin stilled, lips parted and eyes wide, and he could only imagine how red his own face was. Felix shrugged and looked away as Seungmin finally let his hand drop to his own lap, "Couldn't let it go to waste."

Seungmin awkwardly cleared his throat and nodded stiffly, "Uh, yeah, of course."

And that was that. They both went back to what they were doing before the 'incident', Felix acting like nothing had happened. But Seungmin was still distracted, just not by the whipped cream anymore. He couldn't get the image of his thumb in Felix's mouth out of his head; those pillowy, raspberry-colored lips, how warm and wet his mouth was, the juxtaposition of innocence and mischief that glinted in the older boy's eyes when Seungmin finally tore his gaze away from Felix's mouth and made brief eye contact, and the faint blush that dusted over those freckled cheeks.

That moment replayed in Seungmin's head way more times than he would ever admit. Not that he would admit to thinking about Felix's mouth in the first place, absolutely not. Seungmin definitely didn't think about Felix's mouth when he was tucked away in bed that night, staring at the inside of his eyelids and willing himself to just go to sleep.

Days later, Seungmin was cooking something in the kitchen of the dorm, it being his idea instead of Felix's for once. He regretted that idea fairly quickly when he gracelessly elbowed a full bowl off the countertop and reflexively tried to catch it, making an even bigger mess in the process. Seungmin swore and threw his head back dramatically, groaning in frustration.

"Lix, I made a mess again."

Felix shuffled into the kitchen already laughing even before he saw the state the younger boy was in, "How many times are you gonna tell me that exact thing in our lifetimes?"

Seungmin shrugged his shoulders and held up both hands, one of which was dripping with the sauce from the bowl, and stared down, past his sauce-streaked apron, at the liquid covering the floor surrounding and all over his feet. Felix tip-toed closer, avoiding the splatters and various sized puddles, and grabbed Seungmin's wrist which startled him. He looked over just in time to see Felix's plump lips closing around two fingers. The texture of Felix's tongue sliding against the pads of his fingertips, ridding them of the sauce, also rid his brain of anything and everything; his mind was just static. His entire body felt like static, too. The only place that had any feeling left was the hand in Felix's grasp and mouth. Jolts of electricity transferred from Felix's taste buds down Seungmin's wrist into the numbness of his arm while Seungmin stood motionless, mouth agape and something akin to disbelief etched into his expression.

Felix dragged the fingers from his mouth and looked off into the distance as he licked his lips, "Needs more salt."

Apparently, even when his entire body is in some weird form of hibernation, Seungmin's knack for sarcasm is completely unharmed, working as usual despite the lack of function everywhere else. So he said the first thing that barged into his empty brain, "Oh, well, hand me the salt shaker. I'll just sprinkle some on the floor here."

Felix snorted and doubled over with laughter, his tiny hands clutching his knees, "Sorry. Sorry, that, yeah, never mind." He wiped at his eyes and straightened up, "Let's clean up."

Seungmin nodded in agreement and looked disdainfully at his feet, "I really need to change my socks." Felix followed his gaze and cringed before busting out laughing again.

And just like that, they acted like nothing happened. Again. Only this time, Seungmin had a new image brandished into the back of his eyelids when he struggled to sleep that night. And this time when Seungmin replayed the moment in his mind, there was definitely no trace of innocence in Felix's eyes.

Now that his brain had so thoughtfully provided him with a new fixation, all Seungmin could think about was Felix's plush lips and warm, wet mouth. His eyes found Felix's face far too often and lingered on his lips for far too long. It was getting bad and he really hoped that no one noticed, especially Felix. But, alas, luck was not on his side -- it never was when it came to this 'situation'.

"Minnie, you're staring again," Felix pointed out from his spot on the couch, legs draped over the back and his head dangling with his attention fixed on his phone.

Seungmin grunted in acknowledgement and blinked rapidly. In his defense, he admittedly had been staring at Felix's mouth but sometime before his brain alerted him to look away after an unsuspicious amount of time, his thoughts wandered and he ended up staring off into space, deep in contemplation. "Sorry," he apologized and squirmed in his seat across from Felix, "Just thinking, didn't even know I was staring."

Felix hummed and spun himself around so he was sitting like a normal human being before patting the place next to him for Seungmin to come sit. "But, unconsciously or not, you've been staring at me a lot." Felix watched the younger make his way over, frowning when he sat down on the opposite end of the couch. He quickly crawled over to Seungmin and sat back on his heels, tilting his head like a confused puppy. "Is something wrong, Minnie? Did I do something wrong?" The pout was evident both in his tone and on those lips of his that Seungmin caught himself gawking at yet again.

Seungmin vehemently shook his head and tried to back away but was blocked by the armrest, "No! No, not at all! Everything's fine!"

Felix hummed again, squinting suspiciously as he eyed the younger boy before his expression morphed into one of smugness and teasing. "Like what you see?"

Snapping his eyes up from where they had been watching Felix speak, Seungmin swallowed thickly, "Uh, is that a trick question?"

Felix shook his head slowly and bit at his bottom lip. "Oh, come on. There must be something keeping your attention or else you wouldn't be staring at me every waking moment!"

Seungmin floundered, unable to come up with an answer. What was he supposed to do? Tell him the truth? Oh, yeah. Sorry, Felix. I just have this super weird fascination with your mouth and it's all I can think about. Not just during the day, I can't even sleep at night because I keep imagining your mouth. I want you to suck on my fingers again just to feel you, nothing major. Yeah, like that was gonna happen. That would go over so well.

"Am I really that pretty you can't keep your eyes off me?"

Seungmin was abruptly wrenched from his thoughts by the boy that was still kneeling on the couch next to him. He was all too aware of the fact that they were sitting too close to each other, so much so that Felix's bare knees were pressed up against Seungmin's thigh. Seungmin's brain finally processed the question he had just been asked but before he could stop himself, he breathed out his answer.

"Yes."

Felix's eyes became hooded and dark and he leaned in closer, a smirk curving his lips. "Tell me, what's your favorite feature of mine?" It should have sounded extremely narcissistic but something in the tone of Felix's voice, a bit contemptuous with just a hint of genuine curiosity, made Seungmin heat up, surely blushing a brilliant shade of red under Felix's enticing gaze.

Seungmin's mouth went dry and he found himself swallowing again as he fumbled for another answer, but Felix held up a finger to halt him. "Wait, let me guess! Could it be my tiny hands?" He wiggled his fingers and scrunched up his nose cutely.

"Oh, maybe it's my eyes," Felix tilted forward again, batting his lashes seductively and looked up at Seungmin through them.

The older suddenly sat up on his knees and lifted his shirt, causing panic to rise in Seungmin and something else. "Probably my itty-bitty waist, right? Wanna grab at it with your big, strong hands?" Felix teased as Seungmin's eyes wandered over the expanse of skin directly in front of him, defined abs, deep v-lines, and that tiny waist.

Seungmin was sweating. Or maybe that was drool. Probably both. And he wanted to touch. Bad.

He instantly glanced up when Felix started talking again, "But that wouldn't make any sense." He dropped his shirt and plopped back down, pouting because he hadn't guessed correctly yet. "You've been staring at my face this whole time." Realization washed over Felix's face and the smirk made its way back onto his plush, tempting lips.

And it was in that moment that Seungmin knew he was fucked.

Felix had known the whole time. He was just having fun riling Seungmin up, making him sweat, making him want him even more, the little devil. "I know," Felix licked his lips, seemingly in slow motion, "It's my mouth you like, isn't it, Minnie?"

Seungmin's sharp intake of air was answer enough. Felix nodded once, "You can touch if you want."

The younger gulped and hesitantly lifted his hand to the other boy's face. When he got within an inch, Felix snarled and snapped his teeth. Seungmin practically jumped out of his skin, eyes like saucers and his breathing labored and panting.

Felix giggled. He giggled. "I'm just kidding, Minnie! I won't bite. Unless you want me to." Felix winked and sucked in his bottom lip to bite down on it. When it popped free from his mouth, the wet flesh glistened in the light and Seungmin threw all fear out the window, grasping the side of the older boy's face before slowly sliding his thumb over Felix's bottom lip and lightly tugging it down. Felix poked his tongue out impishly and hummed, giving Seungmin permission for whatever he wanted to do next.

The younger boy's stare flicked from Felix's mouth, up to his eyes, and back down again. Seungmin retracted his hand only slightly to rest two of his fingertips against the pillowiness of Felix's lips. Tongue peeking out again, Felix gently licked at Seungmin's fingers, watching him intently and gauging his reaction, and when the younger gasped and his eyes fluttered but stayed open, Felix took both fingers into his mouth and sucked.

The faintest moan slipped from Seungmin and he breathed heavily, "Lix."

Felix hummed and smiled around the digits in his mouth, laving his tongue against the fingertips and sucking diligently. He found himself leaning in even further, hands resting on the couch in front of him and his ass perked out, an elegant curve to his spine.

Felix could feel his sense of control slipping and he almost lost it completely when Seungmin pushed his fingers in further and pressed down on the back of his tongue, causing him to gag a bit. Seungmin groaned in response, free hand snaking up to rest at the nape of Felix's neck as he slid down further into the couch.

Felix took the opportunity to move his hands from the sofa seat to rest one hand on each of the younger boy's thighs. Seungmin jolted minutely at the contact but smiled weakly as he pulled his fingers from the older's mouth, a single strand of saliva connecting them like spider silk sparkling in the light. Felix pouted at the emptiness and started to lean backwards but Seungmin stopped him with both hands on his waist. Quirking an eyebrow, Felix leaned back in as Seungmin tugged him forward.

"C'mere," he slurred and pulled the older into his lap. Felix fell against him from the force and chuckled as he situated himself in Seungmin's lap, thighs resting on either side and his arms draped over the younger boy's shoulders. Seungmin stared up at him, completely entranced, eyes wandering over every facial feature, stopping at every freckle and marveling at the beauty in front of him.

Felix giggled, "Minnie?"

"Huh?" Seungmin grunted, immediately making eye contact, pupils already blown.

A coy little grin playing over Felix's face, he leaned in a trifle closer and whispered, "Aren't you gonna kiss me?"

Seungmin was well and truly fucked.

He gulped and wet his lips, steeling himself in preparation. Not that he didn't want to kiss Felix -- boy did he ever! But this was something that had only played out in fantasies behind his eyelids when he let his mind spin things just enough while he was in that space between awake and unconsciousness when he laid in bed at night. This wasn't something he ever expected to happen outside of his daydreams, so to say Felix's question caught him off guard was the understatement of the century.

Felix saw the brief flicker of panic in Seungmin's eyes and he couldn't help but frown, fearing that he had somehow made the younger uncomfortable. "Minnie, if you don't want to kiss me-"

"No! It's not that at all, believe me!" Seungmin reassured as he soothed his hands up and down Felix's sides. He chuckled despite himself, "I just- I've thought about this so much but I guess I never really thought it would happen in real life?" He winced slightly at how lame he sounded but Felix was beaming and Seungmin could see the older boy's desire to tease sparkling in his dark eyes.

"I'm curious," Felix paused to bite at his lip playfully, "How did it go in your daydreams -- us kissing?"

Seungmin yet again explored his deserted brain for an answer and came up empty handed. The twinkle in Felix's eyes somehow became even more mischievous and he scrunched his nose a little before laughing breathily, "Why don't you just show me?"

The younger nodded dumbly, a hesitant palm resting on Felix's hip while the other shakily reached for the side of his face, thumbing at his bottom lip once again. Seungmin delicately guided Felix forward, noses brushing and fingers trembling.

The closer they got, the more Felix could feel his own nervousness thrumming in his chest and he wondered if Seungmin could hear how fast his heart was racing. But, he assumed, Seungmin's heart was most likely beating wildly, too. Their breaths mingled and jolts of electricity went through them both when their lips barely grazed each other's. Felix was yearning to just dive in and kiss him hard, no second thoughts, but he wanted Seungmin to take the lead and do whatever he was comfortable with.

After what felt like ages, Seungmin softly pressed his lips against Felix's and quickly pulled back a little bit. The older couldn't help the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. Seemingly just testing the waters with that initial peck, Seungmin searched Felix's eyes for any sort of hesitation or discomfort and when he found nothing but ardor and rascality, he leaned back in. So gently, so carefully, so sweetly, Seungmin kissed Felix and drew him in closer, chests pressed together.

Seungmin was in heaven -- Felix's lips were somehow even softer than they looked or how he'd imagined, the feeling of holding him was the definition of blissful, and he couldn't get enough.

Felix was going insane -- he felt like a madman and he felt bad about it because all he wanted to do was kiss Seungmin senseless but darling, charming Seungmin was kissing him so innocently.

A few cautious pecks later, Felix calmly pulled away and smiled warmly. "I know I'm small but you don't have to be so careful with me, Minnie. I won't break. And I don't mind if you're a little rougher with me." The older couldn't help the blush that crept onto his cheeks, "I actually kinda like it. A lot."

That was all Seungmin needed; his gaze immediately darkened and his chest rumbled in a sort of growl before pulling Felix back in. His kiss had gone from gentle and pure to searing and sinful at the drop of a hat. He was stealing Felix's breath and the older found himself gripping onto Seungmin's shirt to stabilize himself to some extent.

Seungmin bit and nipped at Felix's pillowy lips, occasionally sucking the lower into his own mouth. He licked at the seam, silently asking for permission, which Felix unabashedly gave instantly.

Felix's jaw went slack and his eyes practically rolled to the back of his head when Seungmin's tongue finally tangled with his own. He whined lewdly when Seungmin sucked in his tongue and, at the same time, squeezed his ass firmly, yanking him in even closer. Felix couldn't help but roll his hips, grinding down in Seungmin's lap and relishing in the low moan the younger let out when their clothed erections brushed against each other.

"Want you in my mouth. Wanna taste you," Felix whimpered against Seungmin's lips when they paused to breathe.

Seungmin chuckled, "Isn't that what we're doing?"

Panting, Felix shook his head and pouted, "Wanna suck you off. Please?"

Breath caught in his throat, Seungmin stared at the boy in his lap. "Any of the guys could come out or come home and see us, we're on the communal couch," he hissed, panicking.

Felix pouted more and punctuated his begging by grinding down again, "Please, want you in my mouth. Please?"

Throwing caution to the wind, Seungmin groaned and tossed his head back before nodding, "Fuck. Yeah, OK. Fuck yes."

Eagerly clambering out of Seungmin's lap and onto the floor in front of him between his legs, Felix clutched at the strong thighs next to him in anticipation. He nosed at Seungmin's clothed length, humming contentedly while the younger squirmed under him.

Seungmin's hips canted and he couldn't help but moan deeply as Felix palmed him and mumbled into his thigh, "You want my mouth just as much as I want your cock, don't you?"

"Ngh, yes. Please, Lix," he groaned at the ceiling. Felix toyed with his zipper, still keen to tease despite being desperate himself. "Please," another whispered imploration. The eldest smiled softly and obliged him, undoing his jeans and tugged them down with bated breath. Seungmin lifted his hips to make it easier, resting back into the couch when Felix had pulled them partway down his legs.

The younger was straining against his briefs, his cock having already leaked enough pre-cum for it to leave a dark spot on the front. Felix whined when he noticed it and pressed gentle kisses along the still covered shaft before sucking at the head through the material, tiny hands kneading at the meat of his thighs, fingertips occasionally slipping under the hem to rile the younger up even more. Seungmin was gripping onto the couch like his life depended on it, drunk off the pleasure regardless of the fact that he was still in his briefs.

Felix quickly solved that problem, fingers dipping under the waistband to slide down the offending item of clothing. His breath hitched when Seungmin's hard cock slapped against his lower stomach and his eyes flicked up to the younger's, mouth agape and watering. Seungmin chuckled huskily and took the perfect opportunity to throw Felix's words back in his face, "Like what you see?"

Felix blinked torpidly and nodded, unable to hide the blush that dusted his cheeks when he registered the question. Without preamble, he leaned in to suck at Seungmin's balls. "Oh!" Seungmin shuddered, gasping at the sudden contact. Felix hummed and lapped at the supple flesh before licking up to the head of his cock. There he suckled tenderly, the tip of his tongue sporadically dipping into the slit, and made eye contact with Seungmin who looked close to passing out.

Panting and squirming, it was Seungmin's turn to whimper, "Shit, Lix! You look so fucking pretty! God!"

Felix fluttered his lashes in response and sunk down on Seungmin's dick, lips stretching obscenely around his girth. He moaned at the feeling of the younger boy hot and heavy on his tongue; his eyes rolled back and drool dripped from the corners of his mouth. Seungmin moaned right along with him, throwing his head back and anchored himself so as not to thrust wildly into Felix's tight, wet throat.

"Lixie, so pretty for me," he brushed strands of hair from Felix's eyes as the older looked up at him again and rested his hand against one freckled cheek, feeling it bulge and hollow as Felix fervently sucked. "Fuck, your pretty mouth was made for my cock, wasn't it?"

Felix whined and nodded in agreement, easing more of Seungmin down with each bob of his head. When he reached the base, he swallowed tightly, tears pooling in his eyes from the discomfort. Seungmin whimpered above him, getting lost in the pleasure. "How can someone be that pretty even when they cry?" he whispered, not really intending for Felix to hear, but the older heard and preened nonetheless.

With one last lave of his tongue over the bulging veins in the underside of Seungmin's cock, Felix pulled up slowly, the head falling from his lips with a filthy pop. He pumped the length with his hand, all the saliva making the slide slippery and smooth. "I know you're close, Minnie," Felix arched an eyebrow, "Are you holding out on me?"

Seungmin's hips pitched forward ever so slightly, dick twitching in the older's grasp, "Ngh, you feel too good. Wanna feel you for as long as I can. Don't wanna stop."

"Oh, baby! I'm not going anywhere! You can have my mouth again whenever you want, don't you worry about that!" Felix placed a single kiss on the head of his cock, seemingly sealing his promise, before smiling up at Seungmin, a dash of feigned pity behind his eyes. "Besides, it must hurt to hold it in so long like this." He tutted and shook his head, "No, that won't do. I know what'll make you cum, baby." Seungmin's hips shot forward at the pet name and Felix snickered meanly, "Here, fuck my mouth. I know you want to."

Seungmin whined and whimpered and writhed. He did want to. So badly. But he didn't want to hurt Felix. The eldest noticed the hesitation and smiled genuinely, "It's ok! I like it rough, remember?" Seungmin nodded tentatively and Felix took him back into his mouth, bracing himself against the strong thighs at his sides. The younger shyly thrusted once, again testing the waters, but when Felix's throat accommodated him so well, he sighed and reached to tangle his fingers in the older's hair before beginning to shallowly thrust. Felix moaned around the cock in his mouth, loving the feeling of his throat being abused as Seungmin's pace quickened and his strokes strengthened.

The older was a whimpering mess being used for Seungmin's pleasure and that got Felix more turned on than he's possibly ever been in his life. He reached down with one hand to grip at his dick over his shorts, trying to relieve some of the pressure, but he ended up pulling out his cock to thrust into his own hand, chasing the blinding satisfaction that he was on the very cusp of.

Seungmin was scorching hot, belly burning with his release so close, "Lix, I'm- I can't last anymore." Felix hummed in encouragement, quickening his own pace on his leaking length. "Lix, can I- I wanna cum on your face. You'd look so fucking pretty with my cum on your face. Can I, please?" Felix was eagerly nodding the entire time Seungmin was begging, or nodding as best he could while choking on his cock.

The younger whispered 'thank you's over and over again as he tugged Felix off by his hair and started to jerk at his sensitive dick. Felix obediently held his mouth open, tongue lolling out in wait, and seconds later, streaks of white painted his lips. A few shot up to land across his freckled cheeks and nose, narrowly missing his eyes, which he was thankful for because he could fully see Seungmin's reaction to his face covered in his cum. And god it was beautiful. So was Felix in Seungmin's eyes. And he told him so.

"Gorgeous," Seungmin breathed, smearing his cockhead in the cum covering Felix's bottom lip. The eldest moaned and smiled, lashes fluttering closed before he suckled any leftover drops of cum from Seungmin's cock and licked his lips. He dragged his fingertips across his face, scooping up all the cum, and sucked it from his fingers, making sure to look Seungmin in the eye as he did.

"Fuck, you're filthy," Seungmin smirked and tugged him back up into his lap, "C'mere." Felix clumsily scampered up, still hard cock bouncing against his own stomach when he sat down. Seungmin glanced down, smirk widening, and took Felix into his hand. "Good. Wanted to see you cum all over yourself anyway."

Felix whined, "And you said I was the dirty one."

Seungmin smiled naughtily before leaning in closer and started to tug at Felix's cute, pink cock. "Gonna make you even dirtier." The older keened and surged forward to kiss Seungmin again. Seungmin groaned when he tasted himself on Felix's tongue but made no effort to move away which made Felix twitch in his grasp. The younger twisted his hand and thumbed at his frenulum, making Felix gasp into his mouth. He swallowed his moans and jerked him to completion, cum spilling over his hand and shooting up the front of Felix's shirt. "Looks like you made the mess this time, Lix," Seungmin whispered against his mouth. Felix punched him in the arm and giggled as he came down from his high.

The two heard a noise and Felix turned around just in time to see Hyunjin, jaw on the floor, slap a hand over his eyes, immediately do a 180, and made a beeline out of the room, presumably in the direction from which he came. Felix giggled while Seungmin groaned, "I knew we'd get caught! You're gonna pay for this, you little incubus!"

Later that night, far past midnight, there was a soft knock on Seungmin's bedroom door. He opened it to find his little imp smiling sweetly, already batting his lashes.

"Can I help you, demon?" Seungmin asked with a raised eyebrow.

Felix clasped his hands in front of himself and cutely twisted in place, his big t-shirt billowing out around him made him look even tinier than usual. "I believe you promised me a punishment."

Seungmin scoffed before glancing the older up and down and growled, "This time, I'm shoving my fingers down your throat while I suck you off."

Felix feigned shock as he closed the door behind himself, "Minnie, how scandalous!"

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