#the class the charm he effortlessly radiates

[aeralux]

"Old Friend" - Aegon Targaryen

Summary: Out on the town on a summer evening, you run into your old friend. Old memories come crashing back, and you find yourself where you once were. In his arms. ModernAegon!au

Warnings: SMUT; slight breeding kink; Aegon is a sweetheart, actually?; oral (f! receiving); drinking and smoking; just intense sex (vulgar language is obviously used); they go for multiple rounds; Aegon is quite rough, but reader likes it; possible that I have some slight grammar mistakes

Words: 11.4k (they go for multiple rounds)

Notes: Aegon is the heir to the Targaryen family business empire. The reader is also from a powerful and rich house (old money ;D), but it isn't specified which one. No descriptive language of the reader is used.

-- aera xx

Aegon Targaryen, the heir of the Targaryen business empire, relaxes in the back of his sleek black Mercedes-Benz S-Class Coupe. The luxury interior features hand-stitched leather seats and shiny wood accents. Dressed in a tailored dark suit with a crisp white shirt, he exudes confidence. His silver-gold hair falls in loose waves around his shoulders as he leans against the rolled-down window, one arm on the doorframe. Holding a cigarette, he takes slow drags and exhales smoke into the warm evening air. At the same time, his captivating violet eyes scan the surroundings, reflecting a mix of interest and boredom.

Suddenly, Aegon's gaze is caught by a striking young woman strolling down the sidewalk. Instantly captivated, he sits up straighter and narrows his eyes to take her in. A slow, confident smile spreads across his face, highlighting his natural charm. "Hey there," he calls out, his voice smooth and inviting as he gestures to you without coming on too strong. His warm and rich tone reflects the charisma and allure he radiates effortlessly. "Yeah, you! Would you come over for a moment?"

Walking in the evening usually doesn't sound like a smart choice, but this was a good neighbourhood. Excellent even. And according to some, the best. So, walking around South Kensington in the evening hours didn't feel worrisome.

Until you heard a male voice call out to you. You flashed a look at the man. At least he wasn't a bum. He definitely had a nice car for your average cat-caller.

Usually, you wouldn't have considered him at all, but there was something familiar about him that caught your attention.Then it hit you. Aegon 'fucking' Targaryen. The young Targaryen heir. You shook your head as you looked at him, tongue poking in your cheek.

You knew Aegon and the Targaryen siblings since you were a babe. Your families did business together, and you often vacationed together during the summer. As a child, you had nothing against them, even including Aegon. They were all nice kids, and at one point, you were all really close friends. But as you all started to grow up, your encounters got less and less frequent, and you all drifted apart. The last time you talked to them was two and a half years ago at some boring gala.

In such an amount of time, a lot can change. Aegon had grown into a man, more or less, from what you could tell in the poor street lighting. You had become a woman, getting ready to start working full-time at your family's business, as was your older brother, who would eventually run the business.

"Aegon..." you started walking over to him, your heels making a sharp sound on the pavement. "Is that how you greet an old friend?" You couldn't stop the smirk from appearing on your face, teasing him.

Your sharp and teasing voice carries through the evening air, reaching Aegon's ears. He can't help but let out a low chuckle, the sound rich and amused. His dark eyes dance with mischief as he takes another drag from his cigarette, holding your gaze with a look that's both challenging and inviting.

"An old friend?" he says, his voice smooth and confident. "I don't recall ever being just friends." He pauses, letting the words sink in before continuing. "But I suppose time blurs the lines of memory and intent."

Aegon takes one last drag from his cigarette before flicking it out the window, the glowing ember arcing through the air before disappearing into the darkness. He leans forward, resting his forearms on the open window frame, his eyes never leaving your face.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" he says, his tone almost conversational, but with an underlying current of something else,something more intense and raw. "You look well." His gaze travels over your form, taking in the sight of you in a way that's both appreciative and calculating. "No, more than well. You look... breathtaking."

He lets the compliment hang in the air between you, his smile widening just a fraction. "What brings you to this part of London? Surely not just a stroll through the city on a summer's eve."

There's a challenge in his voice, a subtle encouragement for you to reveal more. He's always been drawn to you, even as children, and seeing you now, all grown up and even more captivating than he remembered, has only stoked that fire within him.

"Or perhaps," he continues, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone, "you were hoping to run into someone like me? Someone who knows how to show a lady a good time?"

He lets the words linger, his eyes locked with yours, waiting to see how you'll respond. There's a glint of excitement in his gaze, a hint of the wild, chaotic energy that lies just beneath his carefully composed exterior.

You hummed at his words, memories of your carefree days in the Hamptons flashing through your mind. The warmth of the sun, the coolness of the water, and the heat of your secret kisses. How you snuck out to skinny dip and make out in the cool clear waters. How long has it been since then?

"Thank you," you said with a genuine smile, accepting his compliment. And I actually live here, have for quite a while now." You pointed towards your penthouse, looking down at him sitting in his car.

"I should be the one to ask you this question," you continued, your tone playful as you returned his challenge. "Seeing as you lived in Notting Hill the last time we saw each other."

Your playful tone and the way your eyes sparkle in the dim light catch Aegon off guard for a moment. A flicker of genuine surprise crosses his features before his usual confident mask slides back into place. He leans back slightly, one hand moving to loosen his tie as if the mere mention of Notting Hill has suddenly made the air too close.

"Ah, yes," he says, his voice cool and nonchalant. "Notting Hill. A lifetime ago, it seems." His eyes narrow slightly, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his expression. "Things change. We all move on, don't we?"

But despite his words, there's a tension in his body, a coiled energy that belies his casual tone. He runs a hand through his hair, the silver strands catching the light and shimmering like liquid metal.

"You're living here now, you say?" he asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a sleek silver lighter shaped like a dragon, the symbol of his family crest. With a practised flick of his thumb, he ignites the flame, bringing it to the end of a fresh cigarette. He inhales deeply, the smoke curling around his face before he exhales it in a slow, measured stream.

"Tell me," he says, his voice low, "has it been as lonely for you as it has for me?"

The question hangs in the air between you, charged with meaning and implication. Aegon watches your face, searching for any sign of recognition, any hint that you feel the same pull, the same longing that he does.

His eyes lock onto yours, searching, yearning for something. Maybe it's a connection to the past or perhaps something new. Whatever it is, he can't seem to look away, his gaze intense and hungry.

You look at him with a sort of melancholy smile, sighing as you glance away for a moment. "I might need a cigarette if you want an answer to that," you tease, a smirk slowly spreading across your face.

He's still seated in his sleek car while you stand there, looking down at him. Your heels are slowly starting to kill you, but your pride won't let you ask him to let you into his car. No, you won't give him the satisfaction of seeing you struggle.

Instead, you shift your weight to one side, hoping to relieve some of the pressure on your aching feet. The action causes your skirt to ride up ever so slightly, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of smooth, soft thigh. It's a move you know will catch his eye, a teasing reminder of what he's been missing out on.

A snort of laughter escapes Aegon's lips at your teasing comment, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. He takes another drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly, his gaze never leaving your face.

"You never used to smoke," he remarks, his voice a low drawl. "I seem to remember you had a thing about the smell." His lips quirk into a small, knowing smile. "But then again, a lot has changed, hasn't it?"

His eyes follow the movement as you shift your weight, the subtle lift of your skirt catching his attention. He inhales sharply, his gaze lingering on the exposed flesh of your thigh for a moment too long before he forces himself to look away.

"Get in," he says suddenly, his voice taking on a commanding tone. "Your feet look like they're killing you, and we both know standing here isn't going to resolve anything."

He gestures to the passenger door of his sleek car, his expression unreadable. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer to continue this conversation on the sidewalk. I'm sure the neighbours would love the show."

There's a challenge in his voice, a subtle dare. He knows you won't ask him for help, knows that your pride won't allow it.But he also knows that your feet are hurting, that the concrete is unforgiving under the delicate soles of your heels.

The door unlocks with a soft click, the sound echoing in the quiet street. Aegon leans back in his seat, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel, waiting to see what you'll do.

His eyes never leave your face, watching for any sign of reluctance or hesitation. There's a tension in the air between you, a charged electricity that crackles like lightning on a summer's eve.

The ball, as they say, is in your court.

With a small sigh, you make your way around to the passenger side of the car, the soft leather seats beckoning you. You slide into the plush interior, the cool air conditioning kissing your heated skin.

Aegon holds out a cigarette, his long fingers brushing against yours as you take it from him. You bring it to your lips, waiting for him to light it, your eyes locking in the process.

"As you said," you murmur, repeating his words from moments ago. "Things change, we all move on."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning and unspoken history. A part of you wants to ask him what exactly he means by that, but another part, the part that's been hurt before, tells you to tread carefully.

You take a long drag from the cigarette, the nicotine hitting your bloodstream like a shot of liquid courage. "So," you say, turning to face him fully, "what have you been up to since we last saw each other? Still causing trouble for your father's company?"

You can't help but let a teasing smile play at the corners of your mouth. Aegon was always the outgoing one, the one who pushed boundaries and challenged the status quo. It's part of what drew you to him, even as a child and as a teenager.

Your eyes flicker down to his hands, noting how they rest on the steering wheel, strong and capable. You wonder, not for the first time, how those hands would feel on your skin, exploring, caressing, claiming...

But you push the thought away, focusing instead on the present moment. The car is cool, the engine purring softly, and beside you sits Aegon Targaryen, his dark eyes watching you with an intensity that makes your heart race.

A slow smile spreads across Aegon's face at your words, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something deeper, something more intense. He takes another drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly, letting it curl and twist in the air between you.

"Move on?" he says, his voice a low, velvety purr. "Oh, we both have moved on alright. But some things, some people, tend to linger in the mind, no matter how far you go or how much time passes."

He reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with a feather-light touch. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze almost palpable. His hand retracts quickly, the touch leaving almost an imprint on your soft cheek.

"As for causing trouble..." he trails off, his lips curving into a mischievous grin. "Let's just say I've found new ways to keep myself entertained."

He shifts slightly in his seat, his body turning towards you.

"But enough about me," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I want to hear about you. Tell me about your life here in London. What do you do when you're not strutting around in those sinfully high heels?"

"Have you found someone yet, someone to share your bed and your life with?" he asks, his voice tight with a hint of jealousy. "Or are you still playing the field, breaking hearts left and right?"

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, "Or maybe you're just waiting for the right person to come along, someone who knows how to make you feel things you've never felt before."

You scoff and shake your head, a small smile playing on your lips as you take a drag from the cigarette. The smoke spirals out of the open window, dissipating into the cool evening air. "No, not yet. I guess I was too focused on university, and now, well..." You turn to look at Aegon, your eyes locking in the dim light of the car. Suddenly, the air between you feels thick, heavy with a tension you can't quite name.

"No one has caught my eye so far," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. In the background, Chappell Roan's haunting melody fills the silence, and for a moment, you're transported back in time. You're that same sixteen-year-old girl, hopelessly in love with Aegon, dreaming of running away with him and leaving behind all the expectations and responsibilities.

But that was then, and this is now. You are not that naive little girl anymore, but as you sit there in the close confines of Aegon's car, you can't help but wonder what might have been. Would things have been different if you had followed your hearts all those years ago? Or were you simply too young, too unprepared for the kind of love you thought we had?

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the music wash over you, mingling with the scent of Aegon's cologne and the lingering traces of cigarette smoke. You take another drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs once more.

Aegon watches you closely, his eyes tracking every movement, every expression that flits across your face. The soft glow of the streetlights bathes the car's interior in a warm amber hue, casting shadows across his angular features. As you speak of no one having caught your eye, a flicker of something crosses his face—a mix of relief and disappointment that's gone as quickly as it appeared.

"Don't sell yourself short," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "You're a goddess among mortals. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. "But I have to admit," he says, his voice low and husky, "a part of me hopes that no one has caught your eye. A selfish part of me that wants you all to myself, even if only for a moment."

"Like before, when we were young..." he says, his voice barely audible over the music.

The music swells in the background, the haunting melody intertwining with the pounding of your heart.

Your heart races as you listen to Aegon's confession, your mind spinning with a whirlwind of emotions. You search his eyes, looking for any hint of deception or insincerity, but all you find is raw, unfiltered honesty.

"We were young," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not saying that I feel exactly like an adult right now either, but we were teenagers back then."

You take a drag from your cigarette, letting the smoke curl around your face as you contemplate his words.

Aegon nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. The soft glow of the streetlights casts a warm amber hue over his angular features, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw and the sharpness of his nose. The air in the car is thick with tension, the silence stretching between you like an endless void.

"You're right," he says, his voice low and smooth, like velvet over steel. "We were just kids back then, too young to know what we really wanted, too afraid to reach out and take it."

He takes a drag from his own cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly, watching as it curls and twists in the air between you.

"But sometimes," he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper, "sometimes I can't help but wonder..."

The music swells in the background, the song intertwining with the pounding of your heart. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the closeness of his presence almost overwhelming in the confined space of the car.

"Do you think about it?" he asks, his voice barely audible over the music. "Do you ever think about what could have been?"

You let out a breathy laugh, the sound a mix of nerves and amusement. "What I think right now," you say, flicking the ash from your cigarette out the open window, "is that I need a drink." You turn to Aegon, giving your best doe-eyed look. "Where can I put this out?" you ask, gesturing to the offending cigarette.

The air between you is thick with tension, the charged atmosphere of the car making your skin prickle with awareness. You know you should probably just put out the cigarette and make a polite exit, but something keeps you rooted in my seat.

The rational part of you knows that getting involved with Aegon could be a disaster, that your families' tangled histories could make any romantic entanglement full of complications. But the other part of you, the part that remembers the thrill of your secret kisses, whispers that perhaps this is a good idea after all.

You take a final drag from my cigarette, holding Aegon's gaze as you exhale the smoke slowly. The moment stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words and unacknowledged desires.

Aegon chuckles softly at your comment, his eyes sparkling with amusement in the dim light of the car. "A drink, huh?" he muses, his voice a low, velvety purr. "I suppose we could head to my place. I've got a fully stocked bar there, and we can continue this conversation in a more... comfortable setting."

"As for where you can put it out," he says, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper, "I think I can take care of that for you." He reaches out, taking the cigarette from your fingers, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch that sends a jolt of electricity through your body. He brings the cigarette to his lips, taking a deep drag before rolling down the window and flicking the cigarette out into the night.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, "Let me take care of everything."

With that, he starts the car, the engine roaring to life with a loud purr. He pulls away from the curb, the city lights blurring past the windows as he navigates the streets with practised ease.

The air between you is thick with tension, the charged atmosphere of the car making your skin prickle with awareness. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the closeness of his presence almost overwhelming in the confined space.

As you drive, the music fades into the background, replaced by your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You can't help but steal glances at Aegon as he drives, admiring the strong lines of his profile, and the way his silver hair gleams in the moonlight.

Suddenly, he reaches out, his hand finding yours on the centre console. His fingers lace with yours, squeezing as he guides your connected hand to rest on your bare thigh. The touch is electrifying, sending a shiver down your spine.

The car speeds through the night, carrying you closer and closer to Aegon's penthouse, and whatever awaits you there. The anticipation builds in your stomach, a heady mix of nerves and excitement.

Goosebumps prickle across your skin as Aegon's touch sears into your thigh, his fingers grazing your sensitive flesh through the thin fabric of your skirt. Your breath catches in your throat, and you pray he doesn't notice how his proximity affects you.

"Have you got wine?" You manage to ask, your usually confident voice wavering slightly. Get it together. You chastise yourself silently. Don't revert to that lovestruck teenager now.

Aegon's eyes flick to you, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he catches the slight tremor in your voice. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin.

"Of course," he purrs, his voice low and smooth. "I've got a lovely bottle of Bordeaux."

He guides the car into an underground parking garage, the concrete walls closing in around you like a cocoon. As the carcomes to a stop, he turns to you, his dark eyes intense in the dim light.

His breath is hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You can smell the heady mix of his cologne and cigarettes, the scent intoxicating in its proximity.

Slowly, he releases your hand, reaching for the door handle with a fluid grace. He steps out of the car, his tall frame filling the space as he rounds to your side. He opens your door for you, offering his hand to help you out.

"Shall we, m'lady?" he says, his voice a mixture of charm and challenge.

You take his hand, the warmth of his skin seeping into your own as you step out of the car. The cool air of the garage hits you, a stark contrast to the heated atmosphere of the vehicle.

He leads you through the maze of the garage, his footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. As you walk, you can't help but steal glances at him, admiring the way his suit clings to his athletic build, and the way his hair falls in tousled waves over his forehead.

Suddenly, you find yourself in front of an elevator, the doors sliding open silently. Aegon gestures for you to enter, his eyes never leaving yours. As you step inside, he follows, his body pressing against yours as he reaches past you to press the button for his floor.

Your heart races as Aegon presses flush against you in the confines of the elevator, his body warm and solid against yours. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, your gaze transfixed his fingers as he presses the button for his floor. A sudden flush of heat pools between your thighs, your body acutely aware of his closeness.

"How long have you lived here?" You ask, desperation colouring your attempt at casual conversation. Focus. Stop thinking about how much you want him. "I think I have a friend who lives here, Jace. Do you know him?"

You hold my breath, praying the change in the subject matter will calm the frantic pulsing of your heart. The last thing you need is for him to realize how easily he can still unravel you with a brush of his skin against yours.

Aegon's eyes darken with something unreadable as you mention Jace, a flicker of irritation crossing his handsome features before it's quickly masked. He straightens, putting a bit of distance between your bodies, though the small space of the elevator does little to ease the electric tension crackling in the air.

"Jace, yes, I know him," Aegon says curtly, his gaze sliding away from yours to stare at the slowly climbing numbers above the elevator doors. "Can't say I know him personally, but this place is full of young, wealthy types. Probably knows more people than I do."

His hand rests on the small of your back, the heat of his palm searing through the thin fabric of your dress.

The elevator dings, signalling your arrival at Aegon's floor. The doors slide open, revealing a sprawling penthouse suite that takes your breath away. The walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a stunning view of the city skyline. The space is sleek and modern, with clean lines and minimalist decor.

Aegon's hand remains on your back as he guides you out of the elevator, his touch lingering a moment longer than necessary. "Make yourself at home," he says, his voice a low purr. "I'll go grab that wine."

He saunters towards a sleek, modern kitchen, leaving you alone in the living room. You wander over to the windows, your fingers trailing along the cool glass as you take in the view. The city spreads out before you like a glittering jewel, the lights twinkling like stars in the night sky.

Suddenly, you hear the sound of a cork popping, followed by the gentle clink of glasses. You turn to see Aegon standing in the doorway, two glasses of wine in his hand. He removed his suit jacket, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle.

He hands you a glass, his fingers brushing against yours once more as he does. "To old times," he says, raising his glass in a toast. "And to new beginnings."

As you clink glasses, you can't help but watch the play of the city lights across his handsome face, the way his eyes sparkle.

"Cheers," you take a deep breath, savouring the rich flavours of the wine as they coat your tongue. "Mmm, this is delicious," you murmur, your eyes sparkling with genuine appreciation. "You really do have good taste. Even though I hate to admit it."

A soft giggle escapes your lips as you take another sip, the cool liquid a welcome relief against the heat building within you. You can feel Aegon's eyes on you, his gaze intense and all-consuming. It sends a shiver down your spine, a delicious thrill that settles low in your belly.

"How about you?" he asks, his voice low and smooth. "How long have you been in the city? I seem to remember you mentioning university earlier."

You meet his gaze, your own eyes wide and honest. "Yeah, I just finished my Bachelor's in Oxford, so now I'm back in London," you say in a low voice. "It's good to be back in the big city, but Oxford will always have a big piece of my heart."

Your eyes can't help but wander over his toned physique, the fabric of his shirt straining against his well-defined muscles. You bite your lip, suddenly feeling flustered under his scrutiny.

Aegon's eyes rake over your form, a predatory gleam shining in their depths. He steps towards you, his movements slow and deliberate, like a big cat stalking its prey. The air between you crackles with tension, the charge palpable.

"Oxford, huh?" he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "I bet you were quite the hit there. A gorgeous girl like you, all on her own..."

He takes another step, closing the distance between you. His presence envelops you, his scent filling your nostrils. It's a heady mixture of expensive cologne and something unique that makes your heart race and your skin shiver.

His hand reaches out, his fingers ghosting along your jawline. Your breath catches in your throat, your pulse pounding in your ears. He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"You know," he whispers, his lips a hairsbreadth from yours, "I always regretted letting you go. Letting you walk away from me."

His hand trails down to your waist, his grip firm as he holds you against him. You can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of your dress, the hard planes of his chest pressed against your soft curves.

"Not tonight," he breathes, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss. "Tonight, I'm not letting you get away. Not until I've had my fill."

His mouth claims yours in a searing kiss, his tongue delving past your lips to tangle with your own. He tastes like wine and desire, the flavour intoxicating. You moan into the kiss, your free hand fisting in his shirt as you pull him closer.

He breaks the kiss, leaving you panting and desperate. A smirk plays at the corners of his lips, his eyes dark with hunger.

You smirk in return, shivers going down your spine as you feel the cool glass pressed against your back. You carefully hold your wine glass and take another sip, the cold liquid helping you cool your body.

"So you've always regretted it, huh?" You hum, your eyes looking him up and down in a worked-up state. The hunger in his eyes sends a thrill through you, your heart pounding.

You arch an eyebrow, your voice low and teasing. "Too bad for you then, isn't it? Because I'm not the same naive girl I was back then."

He sets his wine glass down on a nearby table, his movements slow and deliberate.

A smile plays at Aegon's lips, equal parts charming and dangerous. He takes a step closer, his body pressing against yours, pinning you to the window. The cold glass against your back contrasts deliciously with the heat of his skin.

"Oh, I know you're not the same girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "That's what makes this so damn exciting." 

His hand slides up your side, his fingertips trailing fire in their wake. He cups your breast, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple through the thin fabric of your dress.

"I want to explore every inch of this new you," he growls, his hot breath fanning over your neck. "I want to taste you, touch you, make you scream my name until you forget about any other man who's ever touched you."

His other hand tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. He nips at your pulse point, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Tell me you want this," he demands, his voice rough with need. "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

His hips press against yours, the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your core. You gasp at the contact, your head falling back against the window. The wine glass slips from your fingers, shattering on the hardwood floor below. The sound seems to spur him on, his kisses becoming more desperate, more urgent.

You yelp in surprise as Aegon rips your dress open, exposing your breasts to the cool night air. Your nipples immediately harden, pebbling under his intense gaze. The sound of shattering glass below only heightens your senses, the wine pooling around your bare feet.

He tears at your dress, the fabric ripping under his hands as he exposes your breasts to the cool air. He takes one in his mouth, his tongue swirling around your nipple as his hand palms your other breast.

"Fuck," he groans, the sound muffled against your skin. "You feel even better than I remembered."

His hand trails down your stomach, slipping beneath the hem of your skirt. He cups your sex, his fingers pressing against your clothed slit.

"Fuck," you mewl, arching your back as he sucks on your sensitive nipples. Pleasure shoots straight to your core, making your toes curl against the hardwood floor. Your hands, now free from holding your glass, tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on.

Desperation consumes you, your body aching for more of his touch. You grind against him, the evidence of your arousal soaking through your thin panties.

Aegon groans against your breast, the sound primal and needy. His fingers dip beneath your panties, stroking through your slick folds. "Fuck, you're so wet for me already," he growls, his fingers circling your clit. "I've barely touched you, and you're ready to come undone."

He sinks to his knees, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushes your skirt up around your waist. His hot breath fans over your exposed sex, making you shiver with anticipation. "I'm going to taste every inch of you," he promises, his voice low and husky.

His tongue laps at your slit, the first brush of his mouth against your sensitive flesh drawing a sharp gasp from your lungs. He explores you with a thoroughness that borders on reverence, his tongue delving deep, tasting your essence.

"Gods, you taste divine," he moans, his words vibrating against your most intimate parts. "I could spend hours worshipping this pussy."

His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he feasts on you. He licks and sucks and nibbles until you're a writhing, desperate mess, your fingers tangled in his hair as you grind against his face.

"Gods," you whimper, your thighs trembling with the effort to hold yourself up. "You're doing so good," you praise him in a breathy tone, trembling.

Your head thrashes against the window, the cool glass a sharp contrast to the heat of his mouth. 

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. He teases you, his tongue flicking over your clit.

"Mmh, yeah?" You continue, letting out a pornographic moan as you grind your hips, dragging your wet heat against Aegon's eager tongue. You're thankful no one can see you through these floor-to-ceiling windows, high up in the sky as you are. The wet sounds of his licking fill the room, mingling with your pleasure-filled cries. "You're so good," you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. You're lost in the sensations, your mind hazing over with lust. You never want this moment to end.

Aegon growls against your sex, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. He doubles his efforts, his tongue delving deeper, exploring every fold and crevice.

"You taste even sweeter than I remembered," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "I could feast on this pretty pussy for hours."

He teases your entrance with the tip of his tongue before plunging inside, fucking you with deep, deliberate strokes. Your walls clench around him, desperate for more friction.

"That's it, baby," he coaxes, his voice muffled against your flesh. "Let go for me. Come on my tongue."

His fingers join in, two digits pumping in and out of your dripping channel. The dual stimulation is almost too much, pushing you to the brink of ecstasy.

Aegon moans against your heated flesh, the sound muffled but no less affecting. He laps at your slit like a man starved, his tongue delving deep, stroking along your inner walls. His nose nudges your clit, the sensation making you see stars.

Your thighs begin to shake, your body tensing as your climax approaches. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chant, your voice rising in pitch. "Don't stop, don't stop, I'm gonna... I'm gonna...!"

Aegon redoubles his efforts, sucking hard on your clit as he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your vision whiting out as pleasure consumes you.

You come hard against his mouth, your juices flooding his tongue and chin. He laps it up greedily, prolonging your pleasure until you're boneless and spent against the window.

He releases your thighs, letting you slide down the window to the floor.

You whimper as your body slumps against the floor, your thighs spread wide, juices trickling down your trembling legs. Chest heaving, you struggle to catch your breath, the cold wood a sharp contrast to the heat still simmering under your skin. You can feel Aegon's heated gaze on your exposed body, his dark eyes roaming over your flushed flesh.

You lift your head, meeting his intense stare. Your lips curve into a sultry smile, even as your heart races. "I'd almost forgotten just how good you were with your tongue." You purr, your voice husky with satisfaction.

You spread your legs wider, giving him an unobstructed view of your glistening sex.

Aegon's eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of your splayed form. His gaze is hungry, raking over every inch of your exposed flesh like he wants to devour you whole.

"Oh, I'm just getting started, baby," he promises, his voice low and rough. "That was just the appetizer."

He stands, towering over you. His pants tent obscenely, the outline of his thick cock clearly visible. Your eyes widen as you take in the sheer size of him.

"Like what you see?" he asks, a smirk on his lips. He palms himself through his pants.

"Bedroom. Now," he commands, voice rough with need.

He scoops you up into his arms, carrying you towards the bedroom. You wrap your legs around his waist, your dress hanging off your shoulders, your breasts bared to the cool air.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll forget your own name," he promises, his hand reaching for his belt. "I'm going to claim this sweet cunt, make it mine."

Your heart races at his words, your body already eager for more. Anticipation coils tight in your belly, your pussy clenching around nothing, aching to be filled.

You gasp as Aegon kicks open the bedroom door, throwing you onto the plush mattress. Your heart races, your pulse pounding in your ears as he looms over you, his eyes dark with hunger. His shirt is rumpled, his hair a tousled mess from my eager hands.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, your breasts heaving with each ragged breath. Anticipation courses through your veins, your thighs rubbing together in a desperate bid for friction.

Your eyes lock onto his tall, muscular form as he stalks towards the bed, each step deliberate and full of promise. "Gods," you whimper, your pussy clenching in anticipation. "Please, Aegon... I need you."

Your plea falls on eager ears. Aegon practically rips his shirt off over his head, his lean muscles flexing with the movement. His pants quickly follow, joining the growing pile of discarded clothing on the floor.

He stands before you, gloriously naked. His cock juts proudly from his body, thick and hard and ready. The bulbous head is already glistening with precum, pulsing with each heartbeat. He strokes himself slowly, his thumb swirling around the head, smearing the bead of precum that's gathered there.

"Fuck," you breathe, your tongue darting out to wet your suddenly dry lips. "You're huge."

Aegon smirks, clearly pleased by your reaction. He crawls onto the bed, his large frame blanketing your smaller one. You can feel the heat of his skin, the hard planes of his muscles pressing against you deliciously.

He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue plundering the warm cavern of your mouth. His hands roam your body, tweaking your nipples, stroking your sides, gripping your hips. He sets your nerve endings alight everywhere he touches.

"Fuck, you're so damn perfect," he growls, his voice rough with need. "I can't wait to be inside you again."

He notches the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts. You whimper at the contact, your hips bucking up to meet him.

"Please," you beg, your hips rocking shamelessly against his thick shaft. "I need you inside me. Now."

Aegon obliges, notching the thick head of his cock at your entrance. He teases you, rubbing your clit with the tip of his cock, making you delirious with need. He notches the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts. You whimper at the contact, your hips bucking up to meet him.

He pushes forward, the thick head of his cock popping past your entrance. You moan at the stretch, your pussy struggling to accommodate his girth. It's intense, bordering on uncomfortable, but the ache is quickly swallowed up by pleasure.

He sinks deeper, inch by inch until he's fully sheathed inside you. You feel impossibly full, stuffed to the brim with his hard cock. Your inner walls flutter around him, trying to adjust to the intrusion.

"Gods," you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "You're so deep in me."

Aegon grins down at you, looking immensely pleased with himself. He rolls his hips, grinding against your cervix. Sparks of pleasure shoot up your spine, making your toes curl against the sheets.

"Gods," he groans, his voice strained with pleasure. "You feel like heaven around my cock."

He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with abandon. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.

Screams of pleasure keep falling from your lips, your eyes rolled back and your back arching. You've never felt so stretched out and filled before. The pleasure clouds your mind as you mumble incoherent pleas and praises.

"Oh gods, Aegon, yes! Fuck, you're so deep! Harder, please!"

Your nails scratch his back, leaving red marks as evidence of your passionate encounter.

"Ungh, you're fucking wrecking me," you whimper, your pussy clenching around his pistoning cock.

Your thighs quiver, your toes curling as you lose yourself to the relentless pleasure. At that moment you knew, you weren't going to be able to walk tomorrow.

Aegon pounds into you relentlessly, the bed creaking beneath your joined bodies. His cock hits your cervix with each powerful thrust, sending lightning bolts of pleasure shooting up your spine.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunts, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

"Gods," you moan, your back arching off the bed. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Aegon complies, fucking into you with renewed vigour. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your cries of pleasure.

"Fuck, you take my cock so well," he praises, his voice strained with pleasure. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

Sweat beads on his brow, his muscles rippling with exertion. He leans down, capturing one of your bouncing nipples in his mouth. He suckles hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud, sending sparks of pleasure-pain shooting straight to your core.

Aegon's thick cock stretches you so deliciously, filling you in ways you've never experienced before. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as pleasure overwhelms you.

"Aegon, oh fuck!" You whimper, your voice is high and needy. "You feel so good, so deep inside me."

Your words tumble out in a desperate stream, barely coherent. Your mind is foggy, consumed by the relentless pleasure of his cock pounding into your wet heat.

You cling to him, your nails scoring red lines down his back as you hold on for dear life. "Harder," you beg, your voice strained. "Ruin me for any other man."

Aegon obliges with a smirk, fucking into you with a ferocity that steals your breath. The bed creaks in protest, the headboard slamming against the wall with each punishing thrust. But you don't care, lost in the haze of pleasure, your body a willing vessel for his desire.

Your legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back, urging him deeper. You can feel every thick inch of him stretching you, filling you, owning you. It's intense and overwhelming, but you never want it to stop.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chant, your head thrashing against the pillows. "Don't stop, please Aegon, don't ever stop fucking me like this." Your pussy clenches around him, greedy for more, desperate to milk his cock.

Your body writhes beneath Aegon's as he continues his relentless assault on your senses. His thick cock stretches you, fills you, reaches depths you didn't know existed.

"Gods, you're so fucking tight," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips. "I'm going to ruin this sweet cunt."

You're beyond words, lost to the sensation of him moving inside you. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, your toes curling.

"Ungh, so big," you mewl, your nails raking down his back.

Aegon smiles wickedly down at you, his eyes glazed with lust. He leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue plunders your mouth, mimicking the motions of his cock in your pussy.

He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down your jaw, your neck. He sucks hard at your pulse point, leaving a dark bruise in his wake. His teeth graze your skin, adding a delicious sting to the pleasure.

Aegon continues to pound into you, relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure. His cock is like a battering ram, each thrust driving you further into the mattress. The wet, obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room, a lewd background noise to accompany your loud moans.

"That's it, take it," he growls, his hips snapping against yours. "Take my fucking cock."

His hands roam your body, squeezing, kneading, leaving red marks on your skin. He pinches your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core."Fuck, you're so responsive," he praises, his voice rough with desire. "Love how you moan for me, how you beg for my cock."

"Gods, I could fuck this pussy forever," he groans, his hips never ceasing their relentless motion. "So tight, so wet, so fucking perfect."

His words wash over you, stoking the fire burning in your belly. Your pussy clenches around him, trying to draw him deeper, desperate for more of him.

Your eyes must be permanently rolled into the back of your head, absolutely lost in the waves of pleasure crashing over you. No coherent words escape your lips, only loud screams of ecstasy and desperate whimpers.

Aegon's thick cock stretches you and fills you utterly as he pounds into you with abandon. Your pussy clenches around him like a vice, making it impossibly difficult for him to move. But he doesn't stop, grinding his pelvis against your clit with each relentless thrust.

The familiar heat builds in your core, the telltale tension coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. You bring two fingers to your mouth, sucking them hard, drenching them in your saliva. You imagine it's his fat cock between your lips, the taste of him on your tongue.

Pulling your fingers from your mouth, you reach between your legs, finding my swollen clit. You rub the sensitive nub in fast, tight circles, your legs already starting to tremble.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You cry out, your back arching off the bed. "I'm so close, I'm gonna cum!"

Your fingers work furiously at your clit as Aegon continues pounding into you from above. His cock is relentless, each powerful thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body.

"That's it, touch yourself," he encourages you, his voice rough with lust. "Make yourself cum on my cock."

You're so close, teetering on the edge of oblivion. Your thighs begin to tremble as your climax builds, your pussy clenching tightly around Aegon's thick shaft.

"I'm gonna..." you barely manage to gasp out, your words dissolving into a high-pitched keen as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your entire body seizes up, back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure pulses through you.

"Fuck!" you wail, your voice echoing off the walls. Your pussy spasms almost violently around Aegon's cock, desperately milking him. You're lost to the sensation, drowning in pleasure.

Aegon fucks you through it, not letting up for a second. His own climax builds rapidly, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force.

"Fuck, gonna cum," he growls, his voice strained. 

"Gods, you're squeezing me so fucking tight," he groans, his rhythm starting to stutter. "Gonna fill this pussy up with my cum. Breed this tight cunt, make you mine."

His dirty words send another shock of pleasure through you, your pussy clamping down hard on his cock.

"Please," you beg, your voice ragged. "Cum in me, Aegon. Fill me up, make me yours."

With a guttural groan, Aegon buries himself to the hilt, his cock throbbing as he empties himself inside you. You feel the hot splash of his cum painting your inner walls, marking you as his.

Aegon rolls off of you, his cock slipping out of your sore, abused pussy. You whimper at the loss, feeling empty without him inside you.

Your body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, your hair a wild tangle around your face. Your cunt throbs, sensitive and abused from the intense fucking.

Aegon pulls you into his arms, nuzzling your neck. "You're mine," he murmurs, his voice low and possessive. "My little dove."

You snuggle into his embrace, trying to catch your breath. Your thighs already ache from the rough treatment, a delicious soreness that you know will linger for days.

As you shift slightly, you feel Aegon's hot seed dripping out of you, staining the white sheets below. Without thinking, you reach down, scooping up some of the mixture of your releases. You bring your fingers to your mouth, licking them clean.

Aegon watches with hooded eyes as you lick your fingers clean, savouring the taste of his release mixed with yours. His cock already twitching back to life at the erotic sight. He chuckles lowly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"Fuck, that's hot," he murmurs, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. He tilts your face towards him, claiming your mouth in a filthy kiss.

Aegon rolls, flipping you onto his chest. Your legs straddling his hips, your slick folds against his semi-hard cock. Even spent, he's massive, the thick length pressing insistently against your sensitive flesh.

"I'm nowhere near done with you," he promises darkly, his hands roaming your back, your sides, your ass. He squeezes the globes, his fingers digging into the flesh.

"Gonna mark up this sweet body," he vows, his voice a low rumble. "Leave hickeys on these pretty tits, bite marks on this tight pussy, bruises on these lush thighs."

He punctuates each word with a squeeze, a grope, a pinch. His touch is possessive, and greedy, like he can't get enough of you. Like he wants to stake his claim, show the world that you belong to him.

"Everyone will know you're mine," he growls, his grip tightening. "My pretty little plaything. Mine."

The filthy words make you clench, your abused cunt throbbing with need.

You grind your aching, messy cunt along Aegon's thick shaft, shivering from the overstimulation. You tease him, dragging your slick folds along his length without letting him slip inside.

"Mmm, yeah?" You moan, your voice breathy with desire. "You don't want anyone else to fuck this sweet pussy anymore, huh? Want me all to yourself?"

You lean down, your lips brushing his ear. "Well, if that's the case, then you're also mine. No other woman is ever going to even come close to making you feel the way I do."

You punctuate your words with a slow grind, your slick folds gliding along his hardness. "And if they even dare come near you," you purr, your finger trailing along his sharp jawline, "well, I have the money and the power to make that tramp disappear."

You smirk down at him, your eyes glinting with mischief and dark promise. "You're mine, Aegon."

Aegon's eyes darken with lust at your words, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He reaches up, fisting a hand in your hair and yanking your head back. His other hand lands a sharp smack on your ass, the sting radiating through your sensitive flesh.

"Fuck," he growls, his hips bucking up, trying to bury himself inside you. "Love it when you talk like that." The notion of you ridding him of any competition, of you fighting for him, for your claim on him... it's almost too much. His cock twitches, leaking precum, smearing your folds with the slick fluid.

"I'll burn this world down to keep you," Aegon vows, his eyes blazing with intensity. "Tear apart anyone who tries to come between us."

"Good," you purr, your voice dripping with satisfaction. "Because I don't share what's mine."

Your words are punctuated by another slow grind, your slick folds gliding along his hardness. He shudders beneath you, his hands tightening on your hips.

"Fuck, the things you do to me," he groans, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "You're going to ruin me for anyone else."

He yanks you down, crushing your lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue delves into your mouth, claiming, conquering. He bites at your lower lip, soothing the sting with his tongue.

"I'll fuck this sweet cunt raw. Ruin you for anyone else."

Another sharp smack to your ass, his fingers digging into the tender flesh. He's marking you, claiming you, staking his possession over you.

"No one else will ever make you feel as good as I do," he promises, his hips rolling, grinding his hard cock against your slick folds. "No one else will ever satisfy you like I can."

He buries his face between your breasts. He licks and sucks at the soft skin, leaving dark hickeys blooming on your flesh. He bites down on one pert nipple, soothing the sting with his tongue.

"Mine," he growls against your breast, punctuating the word with a sharp nip. "This body, this pussy, these tits, all fucking mine. Gonna fuck this pussy raw, make it remember the shape of my cock. You won't be able to sit for a week after I'm done with you."

His hands roam over your curves, squeezing, kneading, leaving red marks on your skin. He's possessive, insatiable like he can't get enough of you.

"Gonna fuck you in every room of this house," he vows, his voice rough with desire. "Gonna claim you in front of everyone, show the world who you belong to."

You couldn't take it anymore, your aching cunt clenching around nothing, your juices leaking down his thick cock and onto his thighs. You needed him inside you, stretching you, filling you. Guiding your hips, you sank down onto his thick cock, taking him to the hilt in one smooth motion. A guttural moan tore from your throat, your eyes rolling back at the sensation of being so full. As soon as you felt his thickness back inside you, your mind went blank.

Aegon groans as you sink down onto his cock, your tight heat engulfing him. His hands fly to your hips, gripping tightly, guiding you as you ride him.

"Fuck, so good," he pants, his head falling back onto the pillow. "Love feeling this pussy squeezing my cock."

You begin to move, rising up until just the tip remains inside, before slamming back down, taking him to the hilt. The obscene sound of your skin slapping against his fills the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts.

"That's it, baby," Aegon encourages, his hands sliding up your sides, squeezing your breasts. "Ride my cock. Show me how much you love it."

You lose yourself in the pleasure, your hips undulating, your pace growing faster and harder. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.

Aegon's hands are everywhere, gripping your hips, your waist, your tits. He pinches your nipples, and rolls them between his fingers, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

"Fuck, I love watching you bounce on my cock," he growls, his hips snapping up to meet yours. "So fucking hot."

The sight of you lost in pleasure, your tits bouncing, your head thrown back in ecstasy... it's enough to drive him wild. He'd never get enough of you, never get tired of seeing you unravel on his cock.

You switch between bouncing on his thick cock and grinding yourself down, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping filling the room. If the walls weren’t soundproof, the entire tower would hear your moans. You throw your head back as you lose yourself in the overwhelming pleasure.

By now your moans resemble those of a cam-girl, your eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed in pleasure.

"Fuck! Yesss!" You whine in pleasure, your thighs shaking from exhaustion already.

Aegon watches you intently as you bounce on his cock, your pleasure-filled moans driving him wild. The sight of you losing control, your eyes squeezing shut, your face contorted in ecstasy... it's the most erotic thing he's ever seen.

"That's it, baby," he encourages, his hands gripping your hips, helping guide your movements. "Ride my cock just like that. Fuck, you look so hot."

You're a vision of debauchery, your hair a wild mess, your skin flushed and glistening with sweat. The lewd sounds of your bodies coming together fill the room, the wet slap of skin on skin mingling with your wanton moans.

Aegon can feel his own release building, his balls tightening, his cock throbbing inside you. He wants to make this last, to draw out your pleasure, but he's only human. The feel of your tight heat gripping him, the sight of you unravelling on top of him... it's too much.

"Fuck, I'm getting close," he grunts, his hips snapping up to meet yours. "Gonna fill this pussy up again."

Aegon sits up, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. The new angle allows him to go even deeper, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you.

"Wanna feel me cum inside you," he growls, his teeth latching onto your neck. "Wanna breed this pussy, make you mine."

"Oh gods, Aegon!" You cry out, your voice breaking on a scream of pleasure as he starts slamming into you from a new angle. Your words dissolve into incoherent babbles of ecstasy as your body goes pliant in his arms, surrendering completely to his possession. "Too much, it's too much!"

But even as you utter the words, you know they're a lie. There's no such thing as too much with Aegon. His powerful thrusts drive you to the edge of madness, each stroke igniting sparks of pure bliss.

You let your head fall against his shoulder, giving yourself over to the pleasure. Your body goes limp in his embrace, letting him fuck you as he wants

Your eyes flutter shut, your lashes casting shadows on your flushed cheeks. You're lost to the sensation. Your body is no longer your own, it belongs to Aegon, to be used for his pleasure.

And gods help me, you've never been happier.

Aegon can feel your body go pliant in his arms, your surrender absolute. The knowledge that you've given yourself over to him, that your pleasure is in his hands... it's heady, intoxicating.

"That's it," he murmurs against your ear, his hips never ceasing their relentless pace. "Let go. Surrender to me, to this pleasure."

You're a vision of debauchery in his arms, your head lolling against his shoulder, your face contorted in ecstasy. He drinks in the sight of you and memorizes every inch of your pleasure-drunk expression.

Aegon's hands roam your body, possessive, greedy. He wants to touch every inch of you and mark you as his. His fingers dip between your thighs, finding your clit. He rubs tight circles around the sensitive nub, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Gonna cum for me, baby," he growls, his hips pistoning faster, harder. "Gonna make this pussy mine."

Aegon can feel his own release building, his balls tightening, his cock throbbing inside you. He wants to make this last, to draw out your pleasure, but he's only human. The feel of your tight heat gripping him, the sight of you unravelling in his arms... it's too much.

"Fuck," he grunts, his hips snapping up one final time. "Take it, take my cum."

Aegon buries his face in your neck, muffling his groans against your skin. His cock pulses inside you, flooding your womb with his hot seed. He fills you up again and again, marking you, claiming you, making you his.

Aftershocks of pleasure ripple through Aegon's body, his hips still rocking gently, drawing out his release. He stays buried inside you, his softening cock plugging up his cum. He never wants this moment to end, wants to stay joined with you forever.

A high-pitched moan tears from your throat as you cum, your hips bucking wildly against Aegon's. Pleasure crashes over you in waves, your body shuddering and convulsing in his arms. You are lost to the sensation, drowning in ecstasy.

Your walls clench and flutter around his cock, milking him for all he's worth. You feel him twitch and throb inside you, his own release triggered by mine. He groans lowly, his hips grinding into yours as he fills you up with his hot seed.

It's so much, more than you can handle. You can feel it painting your gummy walls, marking you as his. Some of it spills out around his shaft, trickling down my thighs. The obscene sensation makes you mewl, your hips still weakly rocking against his.

You are spent, boneless, your body going limp in his embrace. Your heart races and your breath comes in short, sharp gasps. You have never felt pleasure like this before, never been so thoroughly claimed and used.

Aegon groans lowly at the feel of your walls clenching around him, milking his cock for all it's worth. Your release triggers his own, his hips grinding into yours as he fills you up with his hot seed.

He buries his face in your neck, muffling his groans against your skin. Each pulsing spurt of his cum seems to last forever, painting your insides, marking you as his. He grinds into you, making sure every last drop finds its home deep inside your womb.

When he finally pulls back, he's left breathless, his chest heaving. He looks down at you, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Fuck," he murmurs, his fingers trailing lazy patterns on your sweat-slick skin. "You took my cock so well, baby. Such a good girl, so eager to be filled."

He reaches down, scooping some of his cum that's leaked out onto your thighs. He brings his fingers to your lips, slick with his essence.

"Clean up my mess, baby," he commands, his voice low and husky. "Lick up every last drop."

But even as he gives the order, Aegon's touching you gently, tenderly. He cups your face, brushing away the damp strands of hair from your forehead. He peppers soft kisses across your face, coaxing a smile from your lips.

"You're mine now," he whispers, his eyes boring into yours. "I'm never letting you go."

You gaze down at Aegon through your lashes as you take his cum-coated fingers into your mouth. You bob your head, your tongue swirling around the digits, cleaning them of his thick seed. 

Aegon's eyes darken as he watches you service him. "Stay with me," he pleads, his voice raw with emotion. "Be mine, only mine. I'll give you anything you want, everything you want. Just don't leave me."

Your heart races at his words. You smile around his fingers, reassuring him of your devotion.

"I'm not going anywhere," you murmur once you've cleaned his fingers. You press a soft kiss on his palm. "I'm yours, Aegon. Forever."

Aegon gazes up at you with a mixture of relief and gratitude. Your words wash over him like a soothing balm.

He cups your face in his hands, tilting his chin up to meet your gaze. "You promise?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "You'll stay by my side, no matter what?"

You nod, your eyes shining with sincerity. "I promise," you vow, pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. "I'm yours, Aegon. For better or worse, for richer or poorer..."

Aegon's heart swells at your words, a warmth spreading through his chest. He knows he doesn't deserve your devotion, knows he hasn't earned it. But gods, does he want to.

He leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It's not gentle, not tender. It's a claiming, a branding, a marking of what's his. When he finally pulls back, you're both breathless, your lips swollen and glistening.

"I love you," Aegon murmurs against your mouth, the words slipping out unbidden. "I love you so fucking much it hurts."

He's never said those words to anyone before, never even come close. But with you, it feels right, feels true. Like it was always meant to be this way.

"You're my everything," he continues, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close. "My heart, my soul, my reason for living. I can't imagine my life without you in it."

Aegon buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. You smell like home, like belonging. Like everything he's ever wanted but never dared to dream of.

"Stay with me," he pleads, his voice cracking with emotion. "Have my babies, grow old with me. Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved."

Aegon knows he's asking for a lot.

Aegon's words hit you like a freight train, stealing the breath from your lungs. I love you. Three simple words that carry the weight of the world. 

For a moment, you're transported back in time. To when you were just a couple of lovesick teenagers, sneaking out under the cover of darkness. You can almost hear the crash of the waves, and feel the sand beneath your bare feet. 

You look at Aegon now, your heart swelling with emotion. He's the same boy you fell for all those years ago. The same boy who confessed his feelings to you, his eyes wide with vulnerability.

And now, he's yours. Completely and utterly yours. You're not going to walk away again, not this time.

You cup his face in your hands, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I love you too," you murmur, your voice trembling with the depth of your emotions. "I never stopped loving you."

You lean in, closing the distance between you. Your lips meet in a soft, tender kiss. It's a promise, a vow, a declaration of forever.

When you finally pull apart, you rest my forehead against his. "Let me have your babies, grow old with me, live on a farm for the rest of our days. Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved."

You've waited your whole life for this moment. For Aegon to be yours, body and soul. And now that you have him, you're never letting go.

Aegon's heart soars at your words, your promise of forever. He feels like he's floating like he's on top of the world. You're his, completely and utterly his. And he's yours, now and always.

He kisses you back, pouring all his love, his devotion, his gratitude into the embrace. It's a kiss that says I'm here, I'm yours, I'll never leave you. Not now, not ever.

When you pull back, Aegon rests his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours. They're shining with unshed tears, with a joy he's never known before.

"You're my whole world," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "My beginning and my end. I can't imagine my life without you in it."

Aegon's hands roam your body, mapping out the curves and dips he's come to know so well. He traces the line of your spine, the swell of your breasts, the flare of your hips. Each touch is reverent and worshipful.

"I'm going to make you the happiest woman in the world," he promises, his lips brushing against your cheek. "I'm going to love you, cherish you, worship you. Every. Single. Day."

[bobohu4eva]

Golden

Part 1/2

Characters: Reader x Baekhyun

Genre: College AU, Baekhyun as an adorable art student and campus heartthrob, shy OC, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, angst, eventual smut

WC: 8.3k

Warnings: Harassment, alcohol consumption

Masterlist

The streets of Seoul set your mind ablaze in all their bright, manicured chaos.

 It had been three years since your first time in the city, but again it sucked you right in without as much as a glimpse of hesitation. Not unlike you with a bowl of your favorite ramyun.

The American midwest had its charms, if you looked hard enough, but your eyes were getting tired. The city had always been more your speed, and Seoul was, in your mind, the absolute best there was. When the opportunity finally came to spend your last year of college at Korea University you eagerly took it. 

No matter the area, the time of day, or one's specific interests, there was always a good chance that something uniquely enticing was just around the corner, waiting to be discovered. Getting bored wasn’t an option, even for those who might crave it every now and then. 

Patience, like boredom, was not on the menu in Seoul either. Ppalli-ppalli is what they call it, ‘quickly-quickly, the culture that drives the city to cater perfectly to the needs of those as antsy, or really just anxious, as yourself. It’s hard to overthink for hours when there is so much constantly changing and happening around you, demanding your attention. You found that profoundly comforting. 

Independence had always been a strength of yours, so the first several weeks flew by, but by the third week, and then the fourth, even you got a little lonely. 

After a few years studying the language, your Korean was decent. Passable. But fluent, you were not. Ordering in restaurants, reading directions and street signs, that was no problem, but having to make any kind of meaningful conversation was humbling, to say the least. 

It was a relief to finally get a roommate, Heejin, another senior at the university. She was thrilled to practice her English with you, and you your Korean with her. 

Before you knew it the semester was starting, and right on your first day of classes, you noticed him. Surrounded by a large group of friends all laughing together, he was at the center in all his beauty. 

It would be hard not to notice him, really, given his clothing. They were unusually colorful, in contrast to the muted neutrals most Koreans favor, and were often dotted with what looked like paint stains, mainly shades of yellow and gold. In the crowded lecture hall, he was a sliver of sunlight against the sea of black, brown, and gray. 

He wore round glasses, which framed kind, puppy-like eyes the color of your favorite chocolate. The dark curls of his hair were perfectly fluffy, and his lips perfectly pink. Moles and freckles decorated his nose and cheeks generously.

You struggled not to stare. He was just so pretty. Especially when you saw him smile. Just the sight of him laughing at a joke you hadn’t even heard, brought a smile to your face. 

He was shining, glowing, radiating so much warmth you’d blissfully forgotten the still looming chill of early spring. 

“That’s Baekhyun, he’s a studio arts major, pretty much every girl I know has a crush on him. I get it, though, he is super cute, he seems really nice, too, though I don’t really know him myself.” Heejin told you, when you asked about him that same evening.

Against your better judgment, or any rational thought, really, you let yourself be drawn to him, taking your seat the next day in the row directly in front of his. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you couldn’t help it, listening in on him and his friends' conversations before class started. He was whitty, charming, and effortlessly funny, though he never made jokes at anyone else’s expense, like his friends did. He seemed like a genuinely sweet guy, just like your roommate had said. And basically every girl on campus saw it too, along with how devastatingly cute he was. 

Despite feeling relatively confident in the subject matter of all your classes, you still did your best to fade into the background and avoid being called on by the professors. Trying to sound smart and confident wasn’t something your Korean skills (or still slightly fragile psyche) were up to yet.

But as fate would have it, you couldn’t avoid talking in class forever. At the end of the second week, during your last class of the day, you were called on to answer something pretty simple, yet you still ended up stumbling over your words, sounding awkward at best. 

You easily picked up on the snide comments and snickers coming from the girls behind you. Back home you would’ve thrown her a mean side eye at the very least, but now you just kept your head down. Making enemies so early on here couldn’t be a good idea. Not only that, but you knew Baekhyun would be witness to all of it. 

“Sumin, it took you three tries to pass elementary English, talking about someone else’s language skills is wild.” 

His voice was just as lovely as the rest of him, so you didn’t even have to turn around to be sure who’d said it, but you still did. There was a small reassuring smile on his lips, and a pout on hers. He’d said it so casually, like it was nothing, but it definitely meant a hell of a lot to you. 

She was gorgeous, and you’d wondered in the past if there was something going on between them. But Baekhyun didn't appear all that impressed with her, at least not the way she clearly was with him. 

You kept replaying it in your mind, until finally class was over, and you headed quickly towards the door, worried you’d be hearing more rude comments. 

“Hey! Y/n, right?” 

“Huh?” Too shocked to fully react, you spun around to see him walking straight towards you. 

“I’m Baekhyun, sorry about my friend earlier. You’re an exchange student, right?” His English was nearly perfect, the slight accent he had making him sound even more endearing. 

“Yeah… Thank you, by the way. How do you know my name?” 

“Well, you do kind of stand out. In a good way though.” 

He was grinning, looking gorgeous as ever, even in a simple red tshirt and jeans, dotted with the usual colorful specks of paint. Now that he was standing so close to you, you got a good idea of how tall he was, and although he wasn’t the biggest, most muscular guy you’d ever seen, his shoulders were surprisingly broad, and his arms looked sturdy. As your eyes stayed glued to his form, your mind wandered off, thinking about how lovely it must feel to get a hug from him. 

It occurred to you then that he must’ve asked someone about you, the same way you’d asked about him. 

“I do?” You asked, starting to make your way towards the building’s exit. 

“Well, yeah, there are other foreigners going here too of course, but I’m sure most of them don’t get as much attention as you.” 

You blushed, not wanting to read into it too deeply, but you wondered if that was his way of telling you that he thought you were cute. 

“I don’t know about that…” 

“So, where are you headed now?” He asked, holding the door as you both left the building. 

“Back to my dorm, that was my last class of the day.” 

“Same, can I walk with you?”

“Sure, it’s a little far though.” 

He shrugged, “I don't mind.” 

As he accompanied you across campus, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was being so nice. He seemed like a nice person, of course, but he didn’t know you at all. You weren’t even an artsy type like he was. 

“You’re an art student, right? Is that why some of your clothes have paint on them?”

He nodded, a big beautiful smile on his face. “My favorite is oil paints, and they stain like crazy so now I just let it happen, I kinda like the way it looks.” 

“I like it too.” 

“Yeah? Maybe I could paint on your clothes too sometime.” 

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t think I could pull it off.” 

“What? Of course you could, if I can then you definitely can.” He teased, swaying slightly as he took his next step, letting his shoulder brush your own. 

It was troublingly easy for him to make you blush, and you hoped he didn’t notice just how flustered he was making you, without even really doing anything. 

“What about you? What's your major?” 

“International business, I've wanted to move here for years, and that major was recommended to me for this exchange program.” 

“Well, I'm glad you finally made it.” He grinned, warm and lovely, and if you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought that he was flirting with you. “You're from America, right?” 

You nodded. 

“What made you want to move to Korea?” 

“My favorite professor back in the states was Korean, she told me that she thought I would do well here, and introduced me to the culture, the language, all of it. I eventually came here for a week-long spring break thing, and ended up liking it a lot.” 

Even from the outer echelons of your gaze, his smile was still bright as ever, those beautiful kind eyes fixated on you with intent. You couldn’t look back at him, not yet, your fragile heart needed time. He wondered why the architecture of the surrounding buildings suddenly became of such keen interest to you.  

“What about you? Why art?” 

He shrugged, “I've always been the creative type, ever since I was a kid. I can’t really imagine doing anything else at this point.” 

“I'd love to see some of your work, if you'd be willing to show me.” 

“Of course!” His face lit up even more, somehow, and he immediately pulled out his phone, opening up a photo album of his recent projects and handing it to you. 

You assumed he’d be pretty good just based on how popular he was, but when you got a good look at some of his work, it stopped you dead in your tracks. You froze, swiping through some of the pictures, speechless. 

“Do you like them?” 

You let out a short laugh, more in disbelief than anything else. “Are you kidding? These are amazing, you’re so talented.” 

Most of his paintings were dreamlike scenes bathed in yellow and gold, bright shapes and colors coming through in the most beautiful ways, creating so much atmosphere and movement, even just through the screen of his phone. They all depicted people, mostly women, just going about their normal lives, but the colorful and abstract nature of his style made it all so much more alluring to look at. Without a doubt, he had a real gift. 

He just shrugged, “I do my best.” 

You were a little disappointed to reach your dorm so soon, and have to tell him goodbye, though he assured you he would see you in class. For the first time, you actually looked forward to it, the promise of seeing him and his wonderful smile again making all of your previous uncertainty melt into comparative irrelevance. 

~

When the next class period came around, you’d expected to hear him sit down behind you with the rest of his friends. You did hear his friends sit down, talking among themselves, but he walked right past them, sitting down next to you instead. 

He started asking you about the homework, totally casual, and you had to act like you weren’t internally screaming the entire time. You acted as normal as you could, all the while feeling Sumin’s eyes like sharpened pencils stabbing into the back of your skull.

Eventually class started, and that took your mind off things at least a little, but as soon as the professor dismissed everyone Baekhyun was once again asking if he could walk you home, and of course, you agreed. 

An awkward silence filled the air as you tried to find something to talk about, but just having him there next to you made you so embarrassingly shy, you could hardly think straight. As he held the door for you, that disgustingly sweet fluttering sensation filled your belly, and while familiar, you’d never experienced it to such a degree. 

“Do you have a favorite painter?” You eventually blurted out. It was the first thing that came to mind, and to your relief, he seemed excited to answer. 

“Yeah! I mean, there are a ton that I love, but the one I’m most inspired by in my own work is Gustav Klimt, the way he combines art nouveau, with more classical and Japanese influences, it's so cool. I try to do something similar, but with a more Korean flair. He was really controversial during his time too, but he didn’t care and just did what he liked anyway.” 

“Why was he controversial?” 

“Well…” He cleared his throat, and you swore, for a second, it looked like he was blushing. For once, he wasn’t looking at you, seemingly avoiding eye contact himself. “Many of his really famous pieces are of women, usually without clothes on. There’s a lot of symbolism around sexuality and eroticism, so early 20th century Austria labeled his work as pornographic.” 

“Oh?” 

“Well it was the 1910’s!” He replied, maybe a little too quickly, “One rogue boob was enough to thoroughly scandalize them, you know what I mean, right?” 

You smiled, comforted by the fact that he actually seemed to be the one getting flustered now. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Different time.” 

“He was ahead of his time, for sure. That's one of the things I love about him and his work.” 

He just kept gushing about the different pieces he liked best, showing them to you on his phone, talking about the different motifs and what it was about them that he loved. It was so sweet, his enthusiasm for it, and you took it all in happily.

You could listen to him talk about art all day long. You could see the sparkle in his eyes, the passion and excitement he had for it, and you were almost jealous of him, that he was so great at something that he loved so much. Sadly though, you soon made it back to your dorm again. However this time, when you turned to start walking up the steps, he stopped you. 

“Wait, um, if you wouldn’t mind, could I get your number?” 

You stared back at him for a minute, happy but surprised, before nodding. He handed you his phone and you added your contact, heart beating rapidly, trying your best not to look as excited as you felt. 

When you reached your room, you saw the first text from him, one of the paintings he’d shown you. It was the same colorful yet overwhelmingly golden color scheme you’d seen in his own work, and depicted a man kissing a woman on the cheek. The racing of your heart took several minutes to return to a more normal pace. 

~

As the semester went on, he always sat with you, and always walked you home. It took you another few weeks to really start opening up to him, but as you gradually did, his kind and warm demeanor made you feel at ease. He asked you about your family, your hobbies, whatever he could to get to know you better. You told him about your love for music, your favorite artists, and he always listened intently. He’d check out songs you recommended, and singers he’d never heard of, seeming as eager as you to get to meet again and discuss them more in depth. 

Even as you talked to him about more personal matters, he never made you feel judged, always keeping an open heart and mind. That was another thing about him that you grew to admire. 

You loved Seoul, and Korean culture, but learned that people could be more judgemental, and on the basis of quite superficial matters. Not only that, but these judgements were perfectly acceptable to express, adding an extra layer of pressure to everyday life. Baekhyun, however, didn’t partake in any of it. 

Despite how attractive, popular, and as you came to learn, wealthy, he was, he never talked down to anyone. Jokes of that sort, that were normal to basically all of his friends, he wouldn’t react to, noticing the way he’d steer the conversation away from such topics when they came up. 

He was accepting of everyone, regardless of their status, appearance, or various other factors. He was friends with basically everyone, too. As he’d walk with you he would always be greeting people left and right, giving everyone a smile and a friendly wave, never once ignoring someone or showing any condescension. He was just good. 

His kindness, as lovely as it was, unfortunately also made you realize how not special you were to him. It was simply in his nature to be kind, even to those who might not deserve it, or could get the wrong idea. It was obvious how many girls had crushes on him, and though it never contained any malicious intent, he flirted with basically all of them. It was just part of his good nature. When he could tell someone liked him, he liked to make them happy. He never purposely misled anyone, or got their hopes up, but you still saw it happen time and time again. He would compliment a girl, and she would get all flustered, just like you had, wondering if maybe he really did like her, only to be disappointed when he did the same to her friend. If he wasn’t such a goddamn sweetheart he probably would've been labeled a playboy long ago, but everyone could clearly see that he wasn’t like that. Sleeping around wasn’t something he seemed to do either, though he definitely could’ve if he wanted to.  

All of that being said, you still fell hard for him. It felt silly, being so infatuated and getting so flustered around him due to his sweet words, knowing that there wasn’t anything special about the way he treated you. He was that sweet to all of the girls, and you couldn’t even be mad at him for it, so you learned to hide how you felt. At least you wouldn’t end up looking like a fool that way. 

~

Walking to class in the mornings always felt like such a chore, especially ever since Baekhyun had started to accompany you on your way back home everyday. You missed his company, and it was usually still quite cold, too, something you hated. Getting to listen to music uninterrupted was the only part that brought you some solace. 

One morning was particularly stressful for you, having overslept the day before an exam, already late to the very necessary hour of studying you’d planned before going to your first class. 

You were walking quicker than usual, headphones on, focused on making it to the library. However none of that seemed to deter the guy who started walking alongside you, now talking at you, motioning for you to take your headphones off. 

Annoyed as you were, you didn’t want to be rude either. You took off the headphones, telling him, “Sorry, I’m kind of in a hurry.” 

He didn’t seem to care, and when you started putting your headphones back on, he grabbed them from you. 

You stared at him, clearly pissed off and in slight disbelief, but still, he just kept walking, now uncomfortably close to you. “I’m Jaeyong. I’ve seen you around, you’re really pretty. My dad basically owns this whole place, you know.” 

“Oh yeah?” You tried to take your headphones back, but he kept them out of reach. 

You’d seen him around campus too, surrounded by a posse of other rich kids, though they weren’t the kind Baekhyun associated with, and it was easy to see why. You immediately had a bad feeling about the guy. 

“Can I get your number? We should go out sometime, I only date foreign girls. You guys are way less stuck up than the girls here, more open minded.” 

Oh lord. You’d been warned about guys like him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Come on, don’t be a bitch. At least give me your number.” 

You ignored what he said, trying again to get ahold of your headphones, and he still refused to give them back. 

“You’d be lucky to go on a date with someone like me, you know.” 

“Sorry, but I’m not interested. Can I please get my headphones back now?” 

“What? You have a boyfriend or something?” 

He’d been following you long enough that you were already in front of the library, and you really didn’t want him to follow you inside. For your own sanity, but also to spare the other students the annoyance, knowing he likely still wouldn’t shut up. 

Unfortunately when you didn’t go inside, he ended up backing you up to the side of the building, blocking you into a corner. 

“You can get your headphones back if you agree to go on a date with me.” His face was so close to your own you could smell his breath, turning away from him, refusing to respond. “Come on Y/n. You know you want to.” 

The greasy smirk on his face made you feel sick. You didn’t remember ever giving him your name.

“I really need to go study.” 

“I said, don’t be a bitch. It would be really stupid of you to reject me.” He spat, a jarring change in his tone.

He was no longer smiling, either, clearly getting frustrated with you. Fear started to take over, and you decided you could get new headphones later, you just needed to get away. You tried to get past him, but his hand on your shoulder shoved you against the side of the building roughly, painfully, and panic quickly set in, tears forming in your eyes. He didn’t even seem to care that there were other people around, clearly confident nobody would bother to stop him. 

He was talking again, and you could hear the malice in his voice, though you were too scared to even really tell what he was saying anymore, cheeks now wet, repeating again and again to please just leave you alone. Your shoulder ached, still being held against the brick wall hard enough that you knew it would bruise. 

Your eyes were squeezed shut, shaking your head, and suddenly the hand on your shoulder was gone. You collapsed to the ground, only vaguely aware of the voices around you. 

There was a cacophony of “Leave her alone”, “Mind your business”, “Fuck off”, and more coming from only a few feet away but you just sat slumped against the wall, wishing it would all go away. 

The sudden touch from a pair of hands taking hold of your own made you jump. You finally opened your eyes again, and to your great relief, it wasn't the guy who’d been bothering you, it was Baekhyun. 

“Y/n? Are you okay?” 

A pair of concerned eyes met your own, feeling his thumbs as they softly ran across the backs of your hands. You stared back at him, dumbfounded, too stunned to speak. He was crouched down in front of you where you still sat against the wall, the other man nowhere to be seen. 

“Please say something.” 

“I- I don’t know.” 

You didn’t notice, but Baekhyun grew increasingly aware of the people starting to gather around. His grip on your hands tightened and he pulled you back up to your feet, disappearing into the library with you. He made his way into the first empty study room he could find, his hand still firmly holding your own. 

Now that you knew you were actually safe the adrenaline finally began to wear off. Baekhyun pulled out a chair for you to sit, so you did, and he soon followed. He moved so he was facing you instead of the table, and you tried to do the same, but when you braced yourself against the table and put even the slightest pressure on it, pain shot up towards your shoulder, making you wince. 

He caught on right away, moving your chair for you. 

“Are you hurt?” 

Embarrassment slowly took hold now that you’d come to realize the gravity of the situation. As much as you didn’t want him to worry about you, you knew you couldn’t just lie, either. 

“It isn’t too bad, I’ll be okay.” You were avoiding his eyes, growing more and more shy by the second. “You should get to class, I need to study anyway.” 

“What?” 

The softness and confusion in his voice pierced through your heart, even with only that one word. He was moving closer, and you hadn't even realized that you were still crying, not until his thumb began to gently wipe your tears away. 

You were painfully aware of the rapid increase in your heart rate, as well as the redness spreading across your cheeks. He was so close now, his hands delicate on your face, looking at you with those beautiful brown eyes swimming with unease, still so worried about you.

His eyes moved to your shoulder, and his hand to the collar of your sweater.

“Can I..?” 

You nodded, turning that side of your body towards him, and he slowly moved the fabric aside. 

Seeing how his eyes widened, you looked down, and saw the blue and purple bruises for yourself. 

“You are hurt. Let's get you to a nurse.” He said as he stood, but you stayed seated. 

“Baekhyun, it's ok, I can go by myself later, you don't have to do all this.” 

“Yeah, I do. I want to help.” He said, and held out his hand, beckoning you to get up and go with him. His eyes met yours, holding your gaze with intent. You couldn’t say no to him, not when he looked at you like that. His hand was warm when you finally took it, gratefully accepting his kindness, bashful as you were. 

His hand stayed holding yours the entire way to the health services building. It wasn't far, but you still noticed the looks you got, especially from other girls. 

You assumed that Baekhyun would leave for class once he dropped you off, but he didn't. He took a seat with you as you waited for your name to be called, and soon enough, you were being led down the hallway, with him still by your side. 

“Sorry, your boyfriend can't come in the room with you.” Said the nurse, and you and Baekhyun exchanged nervous glances, though neither said anything to correct her.. 

He sat himself down in a nearby chair to wait, and you followed the nurse into the room. When you returned, he still wore that same nervous expression, asking, “How bad is it?” 

His sweetness brought a long overdue smile to your face. “Not bad.” You said, and pulled your sweater aside to show him the tape and bandages. “No heavy lifting for a few weeks, and I should try not to move it too much, but nothing serious.” 

Finally, you saw him ease up a bit, showing you a small smile as well. “Can I walk you to class?” 

You nodded, and he was once again by your side as you headed across campus, though this time without his hand holding yours. As much as you tried to deny it, you missed the feeling. Once or twice you felt his hand brush up against your own, and you wondered if he was thinking the same thing, but you knew you shouldn’t get caught up in those kinds of thoughts. 

“I don’t want to intrude, but if you’d like- I mean, if it would make you feel more comfortable, I could walk with you in the mornings, too, and between classes.”

As he said it his eyes were fixed on his hands, fidgeting with a ring he had on. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you late, or be a bother.” 

“It’s no problem at all! Really, I think I would also feel better, just knowing that you’re safe.” 

“Oh..I would like that, yeah.” You found yourself looking down at the pavement, blushing, mind once again wandering off, the sickly sweet feeling fluttering within you. When you turned onto a larger road, you didn’t miss the way his hand gently took hold of your good shoulder, positioning himself between you and the street.

You went on to text him your class schedule, and he happily agreed to walk with you wherever you needed to go, though you still found it hard to believe that he wouldn’t end up making himself late as a result. He seemed so happy to do it, though, you didn’t question him any further. When you thought about the very real possibility of running into Jaeyong again, you were grateful you’d have Baekhyun by your side. 

He waved you goodbye when you got to class, and when it was over he was in the same spot, already waiting for you. 

It went on like that for the rest of the day, with him being his usual wonderful self. You could tell that he was trying his best to brighten your day after it started so badly, and you appreciated it more than you could put into words. During your last class, he was joking around more than usual, complimenting you more, making you smile every chance he got. When it was finally time to say goodbye for the day back at your dorm, you didn’t want to let him go.

The next morning, true to his word, he was there waiting for you when you walked outside. Instead of heading towards campus, though, he insisted you sit down on the closest bench, “I have a surprise for you.” He said. 

You played along, sitting down, following his directions to cover your eyes. He seemed to rummage around in his backpack for a minute, then set something down on your lap. 

He gently took hold of your wrists, moving your hands aside, and you finally got a good look at the surprise he’d prepared. 

It was a pair of headphones. The same model you’d had, but the newest version. Your old pair had been expensive enough, you almost couldn’t believe that he actually spent the money on a replacement. 

“Do you like it? I tried to get your old pair back yesterday, but that asshole broke them.” 

As much as you wanted to fight him and insist it was too much, he looked so excited, the smile on his beautiful face so pure, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do so. You grinned back at him, standing up to throw your arms around him without a second thought. The way he hugged you back was just as amazing as you’d always imagined it would be. He was warm, his chest and arms firm in the most comforting way, and even the way he smelled was addictive. His embrace was nothing short of perfect, and it took everything in you not to whine when it inevitably came to an end. 

“Thank you.”

“I know how much you love music, so I figured a nice pair of headphones would be pretty important to you.” 

“It is, this is so sweet, I don’t even know what to say.” 

He grinned, a teasing look on his face, “I wouldn’t mind another hug, if that’s easier.” 

Your smile told him more than enough. This time, he was the one to pull you in, and he held you even tighter, letting the embrace linger for a moment longer. You put the headphones in your backpack, and started walking to class. 

“You know I think that's the first time I've ever heard you call someone an asshole.” 

“Well he really, really is.” He laughed. “I couldn't stand him even before he did all that. It's not the first time he's done that kind of thing either, but nobody ever stops him since his family donates a ton of money to the university and is on the board of directors.” 

“That's awful..” 

“Yeah he's the worst. How's your shoulder?” 

“It only hurts if I put pressure on it or move it wrong, it’s really not too bad.”  

You didn't have the heart to tell him that it did kind of hurt when he hugged you, but you'd happily deal with the slight discomfort of it, if it meant you'd get to do it more often. 

He seemed to catch on anyway, only lightly holding onto your good side when you got to class and he told you goodbye. You wondered if he'd been thinking about holding you the same way you had been for weeks, now that he seemed so keen on it. 

Every time he was sweet to you, you felt yourself falling for him even harder. Just walking with him was enough to turn you into a giddy mess, gradually falling in love with every little part of him. Whenever you felt especially shy, you would ask him about different art projects he was working on and he would show you, going on and on about what inspired it, the different motifs and themes. His voice always calmed you down after a little while, but by then, you'd usually be home or at your next class. 

For days you thought about inviting him over, telling yourself you'd finally just do it, but always chickening out at the last minute. With how he treated you, you started to think that if he was alone with you, he might actually make a move. Maybe.

It wasn't until the end of midterms that you finally worked up the courage to invite him in. 

He asked what you were up to that evening, as he usually would, and you told him that you were just going to study for the exam the next day, in the class you shared with him. 

“Me too.” He said, looking at you with an expression you couldn't quite read as you got to the entrance of your dorm. 

There was a moment of awkward silence as you both stood there, not yet wanting to let him leave, and it seemed to you that he didn't want that either.

He moved closer, about to hug you goodbye when your hand landed on his shoulder. 

“Wait-”

He froze, swallowing, glancing nervously at the door. 

“If you’re just gonna study tonight too, would you want to maybe come inside and study together?” 

You braced yourself for the rejection, already dreading the excuse he would make, so it came as a surprise when he showed you a big dazzling grin. 

“That sounds great, sure.” 

You didn't miss Heejins face when he walked through the door with you, raising her eyebrows suggestively with a grin on her lips as soon as his back was turned. 

“Baekhyun, this is my roommate Heejin.” 

He smiled and greeted her, and you knew she'd be bombarding you with questions as soon as he was gone again.

You led him to your room, getting out your textbook and settling in on your bed, with him right next to you. 

Part of you hoped that he wouldn't be all that keen on actually studying and you'd be able to just talk and hang out. Maybe, he would even make a move. Unfortunately though, he really did want to study.

Even as you both studied in silence, he somehow still managed to make the room feel far hotter than it realistically was. You felt his eyes on you more often than seemed normal, and a few times you'd looked back up at him, but he'd always quickly returned his attention to his textbook. He kept inching closer to you as well, every brush of his shoulder or thigh against your own increasing your heart rate. 

You probably stole a few too many glances at him too, but he just kept drawing you in. Every detail of his face looked so kissable, your mind drifted away from your class work, wishing he was in your bed as more than just a friend. 

Every time he would turn a page his hands caught your attention. The mole on his thumb was so cute, you thought, just another part of him you found yourself becoming obsessed with. 

Hours went by in what felt like minutes, and when you both started yawning, you decided to call it a night. He hugged you again before leaving, only holding onto the side that wasn’t hurt. 

You were proud of yourself for actually taking the initiative and inviting him in. The way he’d kept looking up from the textbook at you, more often than felt normal, kept replaying in your mind. As much as you didn’t want to fall victim to his charm only to be disappointed later, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, he really did like you the same way you liked him. 

You couldn’t get him out of your head as you got ready for bed that night, and even as you tried to go to sleep, his soft smiles and the way his thigh brushed against your own consumed your thoughts. Your mind wandered off, wondering how he’d react if you made some kind of move on him, though you knew you’d never actually have the confidence to do so. The idea of him reciprocating any of it, kissing you, touching you, almost seemed like it would be worth it. However the possibility of rejection, of losing his friendship, was still too scary for you to consider it. 

It was well past midnight when you finally started dozing off, but the sound of your phone pulled you back to reality. For a second you considered just ignoring it until morning, but something inside told you not to. It must've been intuition, because when you did look, it turned out to be a text from him. 

Are you awake? 

You replied pretty much right away, 

Yeah, why?

Can I call?

Sure 

Fuck. Before you even had the chance to properly freak out, his caller ID was flashing across the screen. You picked up. 

“Hi, y/n. Sorry to call so late, I can't sleep.” 

“No worries, is everything okay?” 

“Yeah.. I think I just wanted to hear your voice.” 

“Oh…” 

“Is that weird to say?” 

“No! I mean, you could call me at any ungodly hour and I'd probably still pick up, to be honest.” 

The words slipped out before you had any real chance to think about what you were saying, and true as it was, you were still grateful he wasn't there to see how hard you were blushing. 

“Really? That's awfully tempting… I might end up keeping you up a lot, though. Heejin’s gonna hate me.”

You laughed as quietly as you could, “She has her own bedroom, she'll be fine.”  

“Thank you again, by the way, for inviting me in today.”

Your cheeks ached with how hard you were smiling, staring up at your ceiling with the phone pressed to your ear. 

“It's nice to have some company. I always get so distracted when I try to study by myself.” 

“Well, if I hadn't put it off for so long I probably would've just talked the whole time. I don't know if I'm really a good study partner, but if you want company again just let me know.” 

“Well next time don't procrastinate so much, dummy.” 

“So you're cool with me distracting you?” You could hear it in his voice, the way he grinned as he said it. 

“Maybe a little..”

A brief pause.

“Did you have a boyfriend, back in America?” 

The sudden question caught you off guard. 

“No.. why?” 

“Just wondering, I guess… I mean that must be hard, right? Having all your loved ones so far away.” 

You wondered if you should tell him, but decide it would be best to just be honest. 

“Okay that wasn’t entirely true. I was seeing someone, but he wasn’t a boyfriend and I knew I wanted to move here, so I ended it. I do miss my family and friends, but I still talk to them basically every day.”  

“What about when you graduate? Are you gonna move back?” 

“No,” You giggled, amused with how concerned he sounded, “Hopefully not, I like it here.” 

“Thank god” 

“Why? Would you miss me?” 

He was quiet for a moment, dropping the teasing tone and answering with surprising tenderness. 

“Of course I would miss you.” 

“Oh.. I would miss you too.” 

“Awww, cute.” You could practically see the shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Baekhyun!” 

“What?”

“You can be such a little shit, you know that?” 

“How am I a little shit?!” He gasped, though even over the phone, you could tell he was just being his usual dramatic self. 

“You get a kick out of fucking with me!” 

“I wasn’t fucking with you! I just genuinely think it's cute that you would miss me, that’s all.” 

“You can’t tell, but I’m rolling my eyes.” 

“What? I’m not allowed to think you’re cute?” 

There was a long pause, and you considered if you should really believe him. It wasn’t that you thought he was being dishonest, you just didn’t want to set yourself up for disappointment. 

“Baek…” 

“What?” His voice was once again soft, bringing with it a tightness in your chest. 

“Nothing.. It’s just late, I guess, I’m pretty tired.” 

For a while he was quiet. You would’ve given anything to know what was going through his head right then. 

“You’re right.. I’ll let you get some sleep. I’m glad you were still up when I texted you. Goodnight, Y/n.” 

“Goodnight.” 

As much as it pained you to hang up, inevitably staying up much much later now that he’d given you so much to think about, his flirting just wasn’t something you knew how to handle. Even if he really did like you, why didn’t he say something more than just playful flirting? It would be a dream if he actually confessed to you, but it was exactly that; just a dream. That was clear enough considering how openly he flirted with other girls around you. 

The next week he was his usual friendly self, walking with you, joking around, though you felt he’d pulled back a bit on the flirting. Part of you was relieved, since it turned you into a blubbering mess, but of course you also missed it. 

He did still keep calling you though, often late at night, when he said he couldn’t sleep. A few times, you’d both even passed out with the call still ongoing. He told you that talking to you calmed him down, and once, he’d even said that he wished you were there with him. You’d laid awake nearly all night, wondering how he’d meant it. Did he just want company? Did he hate sleeping alone? Or did he also want something more than just friendship with you? Either way, until he said something more concrete, you wouldn’t be the one to ask. 

It was during one of those late night phone calls that he invited you to a friend's birthday party. It was at a popular club near the university, and at first you weren’t going to attend, but he managed to talk you into it. After all, he would be there. Alcohol and music also meant dancing, and the possibility of dancing with him was enough to ensure that you’d be there too. 

He wasn’t able to walk you, since he had to help set everything up, so you ended up going alone. Which wasn’t a big deal, in theory, but as someone who’d always been on the more anxious side, it still made you uneasy. Seoul was very safe, that wasn't the problem, it was what would happen once you got there that worried you. Baekhyun was your only friend there. You didn’t want to be a bother and hang onto him all night, since the rest of the guests were basically strangers to you. 

When the time came you wore your favorite outfit, and stepped into the subway towards Hongdae with all the confidence you could muster. 

You arrived a little later than the time he’d told you, not wanting to seem overly eager, and to your relief he already seemed to be waiting for you. When he pulled you in for a hug it was tighter than usual, and the smell of tequila on him was pronounced. You quickly took a shot with him, wondering how many he’d already downed prior to your arrival. 

The club was still relatively empty, but that didn’t seem to bother Baekhyun as he pulled you towards the dance floor. You protested, and he pouted. 

“I don’t really dance, at least not when I’m this sober.” 

Seconds later another shot of tequila was pressed into your palm, and Baekhyun clinked his glass to yours, spilling a little, before you downed them in unison. Before you knew it, he had you on the dance floor. 

It was your first real night out in Seoul, and it left you every bit as breathless as you’d expected. Now happily drunk, you danced with him, back pressed to his chest, both his hands on your hips. 

Any worries you’d had about the amount of alcohol being consumed were long forgotten. You just let the music guide you, swimming in the euphoria of his hands on you and the closeness of your bodies. 

When his warmth behind you disappeared, you spun around to search for him. Without him as an anchor, everything became far more overwhelming. There were more people now, the crowded space growing warmer, almost suffocating, until he burst through with a grin on his gorgeous face and two cups of water in his hands. 

You hadn’t even realized how dearly you needed it until he’d appeared, grateful to drink something other than tequila. When one of your favorite songs began, and you beamed at him, and he beamed back at you even brighter. He remembered, of course he did. He knew all of your favorite music, because you’d told him so much about it. 

Now as you danced, you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. His hands gripped your waist, and your arms were slung around his neck, swaying to the familiar beat, getting lost in the drunken haze of it all. You realized then that he was staring at you just as intensely as you stared at him. 

This is what it’s all about, you thought to yourself. Letting go completely, enjoying the music you love, and sharing it all with your favorite person. His smile shone so brightly, and you mirrored it, unable to imagine a more perfect moment. 

You hardly realized it when he began to drag you off the dance floor. The song had long ended, and as the speakers became more distant, his voice became clear.  

“Y/n?” 

His eyes were bigger than ever as you looked up into them, in awe of their gentle downward slope, their deep brown color, the sincerity always behind them. 

“Baekhyun?” 

“I want to tell you something.” 

“Okay.” 

“I..” He trailed off, still looking at you, seeming to lose his train of thought. “You… You look really pretty, you always do, but especially right now.” 

It was nothing he hadn’t told you before, but it still hit you harder than ever. For a while you just held his gaze, until in a burst of blind, drunken, confidence, you moved closer. You stood on the tips of your toes, and ever so softly, you let your lips meet his blushing cheek. Before the confidence could wear off and you’d start to second guess yourself, you pulled him back onto the dance floor. 

You both downed a few more drinks, your attention devoted fully to each other. It was silly, now, to think of how worried you’d been about coming here. You hadn’t had this much fun in ages. 

Eventually you had to excuse yourself to find a bathroom. You stared into the mirror as you fixed your lip gloss, wondering if Baekhyun had a mark on his face, from where you’d kissed him earlier. You liked the idea of other girls knowing that you’d been there. 

You held onto the sink with an iron grip, closing your eyes for a second to steady yourself, all too aware of the way the room spun around you. Drinking this much wasn’t like you, but you were having so much fun, you didn’t care. 

The bright flashing lights and hoards of strangers were disorienting, especially in your intoxicated state. You ended up on a sort of balcony, overlooking the dance floor, trying to find Baekhyun somewhere among the crowd. 

When you finally spotted him, your heart sank to the pit of your stomach. He was dancing with Sumin. 

Everything that happened next felt like it went by in slow motion. 

Her eyes broke away from him, scanning the room, and briefly met yours. You saw her throw her arms around his neck. She kissed him, and he kissed her back. 

The music seemed to wane into a dull buzz, sudden dizziness causing you to stumble. It took you a minute to get your bearings again, but when you did, you pushed your way through the crowd and out onto the street without a second thought. 

It had started to rain. The smell of wet concrete was your only company as you walked towards home, a cruel, painful pit swallowing you from the inside. 

Baekhyun didn’t like you like that, of course he didn’t. He was like that with all the girls. 

Part 2

[zapreportsblog]

↱ the enchanting pair ↰

➘ summary : Nobara Kugisak and her girlfriend are the it couple everyone dreams to be

➘ a/n : I’ll also be making a male version of this and will link it once it’s posted

➘ Nobara Kugisak x reader, jjk x reader

At the bustling corridors of the Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical College, there was a couple that everyone seemed to be talking about – Nobara Kugisaki and her girlfriend (Y/N). They were the epitome of the "it couple" – charismatic, charming, and undeniably magnetic. Their presence turned heads and sparked whispers wherever they went.

Nobara was a force to be reckoned with, her bold personality matched only by her incredible jujutsu skills. With her striking crimson hair and a confidence that radiated from every step she took, Nobara was a captivating sight. She had a reputation for being fierce and unapologetically herself.

And then there was (Y/N), her girlfriend. With (hair color) hair and captivating (eye color) eyes, (Y/N) was a vision of elegance and allure. Her quiet grace was a perfect contrast to Nobara's vibrant energy. Despite her more reserved demeanor, (Y/N) possessed a captivating presence that drew people in.

The combination of Nobara's fierce spirit and (Y/N)'s quiet charm made them an enchanting pair. Their relationship was a beacon of confidence and support, a living example of how two individuals could complement each other in the most beautiful ways.

As they walked hand in hand through the courtyard, their interactions were a dance of affection and playfulness. Nobara's infectious laughter would fill the air, followed by (Y/N)'s gentle smiles and knowing glances. They were a living testament to the bond that held them together, a bond that seemed unbreakable.

Their status as the "it couple" was more than just popularity – it was a testament to their authenticity. Nobara and (Y/N) were unapologetically themselves, and their relationship was a source of inspiration for others who admired their connection.

In the classroom, during training sessions, and even in the halls between classes, Nobara and (Y/N) were inseparable. Their magnetic presence seemed to draw people toward them, creating a sense of camaraderie and warmth wherever they went.

As the days passed, their reputation continued to grow. Their relationship was the talk of the school, and it wasn't just because of their looks – it was the way they supported each other, the way they shared their lives, and the way they faced challenges as a united front.

The "it couple" was more than just a label; it was a symbol of strength, unity, and love. As they navigated their way through the trials and tribulations of school life and jujutsu training, Nobara and (Y/N) knew that their bond was unbreakable. And as their classmates admired them from afar, they also learned a valuable lesson – that true connection goes beyond appearances, and that a loving partnership can truly make you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

After classes, they found themselves in a quaint café just off campus, a place they often visited to unwind and spend quality time together.

Sitting across from each other at a cozy corner table, Nobara sipped her coffee while (Y/N) enjoyed a warm cup of tea. Their fingers brushed against each other occasionally, a small and intimate connection that spoke volumes.

Nobara grinned mischievously, her eyes sparkling with playfulness. "Did you see the look on Itadori's face during that sparring session today? Priceless!"

(Y/N) chuckled, her gaze softening as she watched Nobara. "You love teasing him, don't you?"

Nobara shrugged, a playful smirk on her lips. "It's all in good fun. He needs someone to keep him on his toes."

Their banter flowed effortlessly, a testament to the comfort they felt in each other's presence. They could talk about anything and everything – from their classes to their future aspirations, from their favorite foods to their shared dreams.

As they chatted, (Y/N)'s hand found its way to Nobara's across the table, their fingers entwining in a gentle embrace. The touch was simple, yet it spoke volumes about the depth of their connection.

"Nobara, can I ask you something?" (Y/N)'s voice was soft, carrying a hint of vulnerability.

Nobara nodded, her gaze focused entirely on (Y/N). "Of course, anything."

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Do you ever worry about what people think of us? As a couple, I mean."

Nobara's expression softened, and she reached across the table to cup (Y/N)'s cheek gently. "Hey, don't let other people's opinions bother you. We're us, and that's all that matters. Anyone who doesn't like it can take a hike."

(Y/N)'s lips curved into a grateful smile, her heart warming at Nobara's words. "You're right. I just needed a reminder."

Nobara's thumb brushed gently against (Y/N)'s cheek, her eyes filled with tenderness. "You're incredible, (Y/N). Never doubt that."

Their moment was interrupted by a playful voice from behind them. "Aww, aren't you two just the cutest?"

Turning around, they found Megumi Fushiguro smirking at them, a teasing glint in his eyes. He was accompanied by Yuji Itadori, who grinned and gave them a thumbs-up.

Nobara rolled her eyes playfully. "What do you want, Fushiguro?"

Megumi leaned against their table, his tone dripping with mock innocence. "Just admiring the sight of the "it couple" in their natural habitat."

(Y/N) chuckled, feeling a light blush creeping onto her cheeks. "You two are incorrigible."

Yuji joined in with a laugh. "We just wanted to let you know that you've got a fan club."

Nobara's expression turned sly. "Oh really? What do we get as founding members?"

Megumi smirked. "Lifetime access to the premium entertainment of watching you two be adorably cheesy."

Despite their teasing, there was a warmth in their interactions, a camaraderie that spoke of friendship and acceptance. As the banter continued, (Y/N) realized that while they may be the "it couple" that others admired, what truly mattered was the love and connection they shared – a love that was uniquely their own, and a connection that went beyond appearances and labels.

And as the afternoon sun cast a golden glow on their corner of the café, (Y/N) knew that being part of this "it couple" was not about the opinions of others, but about the bond she and Nobara had built – a bond that was unbreakable, and a love that was truly extraordinary.

[dazjames1970]

Ms. Marlowe and The Time Sleuths - 1 -

The Allure of the Abandoned Store

In the quiet corridors of Crestwood High, Ms. Marlowe is a woman of many secrets. With her deep knowledge of history and uncanny knack for being in the right place at the right time, she is both mentor and mystery to her students. Her classroom is filled with relics from bygone eras and a peculiar clock that seems to tick to its own rhythm.

Among her most challenging yet intriguing students are the five misfits: Jake, Emma, Sam, Lily, and Ben. Each of these individuals stands out in their own distinct way, contributing to a group dynamic that is as diverse as it is fascinating.

One lunch time, Jake, the rebellious skateboarder who constantly tests boundaries, seemed distracted. His eyes kept wandering to a cute guy across the cafeteria, a new student named Alex.

Jake was the quintessential skateboarder with a lean, athletic build and a casual, confident demeanor. His short, tousled blond hair was perpetually messy, giving him a carefree, effortlessly cool appearance. He often wore graphic tees, ripped jeans, and his favorite worn-out sneakers, always ready to hit the skate park after school. A rainbow bracelet on his wrist subtly hinted at his pride and identity, a quiet declaration of his true self.

Emma, the quiet bookworm with her nose perpetually buried in a novel, looked up from her latest read noticing Jake's preoccupation, nudged him playfully. “Ducks! You’ve been staring at Alex for ten minutes. Just go talk to him already.”

Emma was the epitome of girl-next-door charm with her fair skin, auburn hair that cascaded in loose waves down her back, and warm, hazel eyes. She had a petite frame, but her presence was anything but small, radiating confidence and determination. Her style was effortlessly chic; she favored floral dresses, denim jackets, and a pair of trusty ankle boots.

Jake blushed, shaking his head. “Shit! Are you mad! I can’t! What if he’s not interested in guys?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Yes, ducks, you can. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”

"A punch in the face," Jake sneered.

Sam, the tech-savvy gadget lover, was emersed in his Nintendo switch, "Hey dude! You gotta have more confident in yourself. You're a handsome guy. You even give me a little tingle in my delicates and I'm straight," He said, slapping Jake on the back, "Now go over there and do something about it. You might just get lucky."

Sam was proud of his Aboriginal heritage, a fact evident in his rich, brown skin, and deep, soulful eyes. His black hair was thick and curly, often kept short but stylish. He favored practical, comfortable clothing—cargo shorts, plain tees, and sturdy boots—reflecting his down-to-earth nature.

He carried himself with quiet confidence, and his warm, genuine smile made him approachable and well-liked among his peers.

Lily, long blonde hair with a dark streak of purple, was sketching in her pad, humming to herself when she stopped suddenly reaching over to Emma. She tugged her sleeve, “Emma, could you come with me? I’m still not comfortable going in alone.”

Lily had a slender, graceful build with delicate features that exuded both strength and vulnerability. Her striking green eyes partially hidden by long hair that cascaded about her face.

Lily's fashion sense was impeccable, blending comfort and style with loose-fitting tops and skinny jeans that made her feel both confident and authentic. She often wore a simple necklace, a gift from her supportive older sister, which she touched for reassurance when she felt anxious. Transitioning in a conservative school wasn't easy.

Emma nodded, understanding. “Of course, Lil.” She turned to the others. “Hey ducks! Baby-sit my pudding. We're just popping to the loo."

Suddenly, a loud bang from a cracker could be heard followed by a cacophony of shrieks. They all turned to see Ben, the class clown, laughing his head off as he scampered away from the hurling back packs. His antics and jokes were a constant source of entertainment for his friends but not many others.

Ben was an oddball of the group with a tall, lanky frame that seemed to always be in motion. His mop of curly, brown hair often fell into his face, partially obscuring his piercing gray eyes that seemed to see the world in a way no one else did.

He had a penchant for quirky fashion, often donning mismatched socks, graphic tees with obscure references, and colorful scarves even in warm weather.

Together, these five misfits create an interesting dynamic. Their differences, while sometimes a source of conflict, also pave the way for unexpected friendships and adventures.

Under Ms. Marlowe's watchful eye, this unlikely crew were about to embark on a journey that will test their limits and uncover their true potential.

In the dimly lit corridor of the school's basement lies an old, abandoned storeroom. This storeroom, shrouded in mystery, has long been the subject of countless rumors and whispered legends among the student body. Tales of its origins trace back to the school's founding days, hinting at hidden secrets and forgotten histories locked away within its dusty confines.

Some say the storeroom houses mysterious artifacts left behind by the school's original benefactors, relics that hold untold power or knowledge.

Others believe it to be a repository of forgotten documents that could unravel the true history of the school, revealing long-lost truths that might change the very fabric of its legacy. These varying accounts, each more captivating than the last, fuel the students' imaginations and provoke a deep-seated curiosity.

The storeroom's magnetic pull had grown stronger with each passing year for Jake and his friends. Their longing to break the boredom of classes and to unfurl themselves from the restraints of high school was a big motivator.

The five students, fueled by an insatiable curiosity, devised a plan to explore the storeroom thanks to Sam's new invention.

They gathered outside the school, when everyone else had left, each cloaked in a mixture of excitement and apprehension. They still had to avoid the janitor who would be doing his rounds and make sure the principal was safely secured in his office.

They slipped through a side entrance and tiptoed through the silent hallways. The school, so familiar by day, now seemed like a labyrinth of shadows and echoes. Each creak of the floorboards and distant hum of the ventilation system heightened their senses.

Jake led the way keeping his thoughts to himself not fully on the task in hand. He was picturing Alex's cute smile. Emma started to write notes for future reference. Lily and Sam were whispering about a story his grandfather use to tell him about the Rainbow Serpent while Ben brought up the rear waving a lighter under his hand for pure amusement.

Finally, they reached the storeroom door. Sam's moment had come. With a focused expression, he used his homemade lock-picking device, a marvel of ingenuity born from countless hours in his garage.

The lock clicked open, and the door creaked ajar, revealing a room frozen in time. Dust particles danced in the flashlight beams as the students stepped inside, their eyes wide with wonder.

Ancient artifacts and documents lay scattered across the room, each one a tantalizing hint at the school's mysterious past. Old maps, faded photographs, and cryptic manuscripts spoke of stories long forgotten, waiting to be uncovered.

There were old desks, broken chairs, and stacks of forgotten textbooks. At first glance, it seemed unremarkable, but as they explored, Lily’s keen eyes spotted something unusual—a hidden trapdoor beneath a pile of old newspapers.

“Lovelies, look at this,” she called out. The others gathered around, their excitement mounting. With a bit of effort, they pried open the trapdoor, revealing a dark tunnel leading further underground.

“Indiana Jones. I always knew someday you’d come walking back through my door.” Ben said, waving his lighter into the breach. "Sweet! Well, I am game if you are."

Jake nodded, his determination unwavering. “We’ve come this far. We can’t turn back now.”

One by one, they climbed down the ladder into the tunnel. It was cramped and musty, but their adventurous spirits kept them moving forward.

As they explored further, Lily noticed a peculiar object on a dusty shelf—a small, intricately carved skull, partially hidden behind a stack of old papers and broken bric-a-brac. “Hey, check this out,” she said, holding it up for everyone to see.

Emma’s eyes widened as she recognized the object. “I know this skull! I remember reading about it—the Skull of the Nahuatlac, an ancient tribe of Aztec origin. This was supposed to have been stolen from a British museum in 1950s."

The group gathered around Emma, intrigued. Jake eyed the skull, curiously, “What’s the story behind it?”

Ben asked, "And is it worth much?"

"It is priceless to some people," Emma took a deep breath and began to explain. “The Nahuatlac believed that if you disturbed their bones, you would awaken the restless spirit of the dead, causing chaos and misfortune. To appease the spirit, a specific ritual needed to be performed.”

Before Emma could finish, their torches began to fluctuate wildly. And Ben's lighter roared with a flame that almost melted his brow ring and singed his eyebrows. This was followed by a low rumble that began to shake the room.

The rumbling grew in strength. The explorers felt it shake and shudder their bodies. It was difficult to stay on their feet. They had to cling to the walls for support.

The broken bric-a-brac started flying off the shelves and straight at them. They ducked and weaved. The floor was soon littered with the broken remains of odds and ends.

“Jumanji much!” Sam shouted over the din

“Emma, you said something about a ritual.” Jake asked urgently, trying to keep calm amid the chaos. "What is it?"

Emma, her face pale, quickly recalled the details. “It involves placing the skull in the center of the room, lighting candles around it, and reciting an ancient incantation. It’s supposed to calm the spirit and restore balance.”

Lily struggling to pull something out of her backpack, "Will this work!' It was a small battery-operated tea light. "I have my own rituals."

Jake took it from her. It would have to do. He placed the skull in the centre of the room and turned on the tea light.

Emma began to recite the ancient incantation in a clear, steady voice. "Oh! Spirits of the Nahuatlac! We humbly seek your peace. By the light of this candle and the purity of our hearts, we honor your legacy. Calm your restless spirit and restore balance to this place. In unity and respect, we perform this rite. Anahuac, Tecpatl, Quetzalcoatl, guide us and grant us harmony."

As the last words of the ritual left her lips, the tremors subsided. Their torches stopped playing up. The floor quietened and the objects stopped flying at them. There were cracks in the foundation that were going to be a problem if they were caught.

They quickly made their way back through the tunnel and emerged in the storeroom, hearts still racing. The storeroom was a mess, and several items had been destroyed in the commotion. There were more cracks running up the walls.

Their narrow escape didn’t go unnoticed. Mr. Thompson, the school janitor, was waiting for them, his stern expression a mix of anger and disbelief. “What in the world have you kids done?” he barked.

As they sat in the detention room, awaiting their fate, Ms. Marlowe entered with a knowing smile. “Ah! My brave souls who dared to explore the old storeroom,” she said, her voice laced with intrigue. “I see potential in you all.” Emma couldn't help but notice the skull resting on the teacher's desk, "Never fear, my dear. I will return this poor unfortunate creature to their rightful place. This would not be possible if you hadn't found them."

Her words took them by surprise. Instead of the punishment they expected, Ms. Marlowe’s eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement and something else—perhaps a shared sense of adventure.

[bukojuiice]

— when he does the ‘lip bite’

ೃ chars: izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugo, shoto todoroki, and denki kaminari x gn! reader

ೃ  tags: headcanons, fluff and humor

ೃ  warnings: none!

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha writing masterlist  → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

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ೃ heavily based on a very chaotic convo i had with @noodles-shoto 🥺💓 shoto doing the lip bite will forever live in mine and zay's minds rent free. 😌🖐️

KATSUKI BAKUGO: there are days when katsuki is a bit more gullible than usual. dare i say, he radiates himbo vibes during certain times of the month. and so, when kaminari jokingly told him that the “lip bite” challenge (in where boyfriends around the world supposedly have a tournament on how much their significant others would swoon over them when they do the lip bite) was the talk of the town, bakugo could not back down without a fight. you bet katsuki came marching up to you in slow strides, his eyes fierce and determined, calling out for your name. “oi (Y/N).” you turn to his attention and lock eyes . his stare is intense, his lips are pursed, and oh. He does it. He does the lip bite.

 There is silence in the air for a few seconds before you burst out into laughter, patting your poor boyfriend in the back. “SHHSHSUHSUSH katsuki, babe, please don’t do that again.” “PHAH! I don’t even care about the fucking challenge anymore! Did i make you swoon or what!?” “yes. yes you did.”

TODOROKI SHOTO: your man can just about pull off anything and he’d still look painstakingly handsome while doing so. This particular situation became exhibit a of as to why you came to that conclusion. when dekusquad dared him to send you a selfie of him doing the infamous lip bite, he immediately agreed and was determined to do what he was told. but, not before he had to go through an terrible wikihow article on how to make the “face” and how to pull it off flawlessly. “it’s missing that extra oomph.” he whispered to himself, scrolling through all these cute filters from an app called snow. several hours have passed before he was finally satisfied with what his lip bite selfie looked like. taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes as he hits send.

His text surprised you as he wasn’t one to send one so out of the blue. you swiped up to open it. dropping your phone in befuddlement because of how handsome shoto looked. It was a selfie of him with his hand on his chin, his upper lip biting the lower tenderly, and his eyes are squinting seductively. you send him a heart eyes meme and proceed to squeal onto your pillow.

what was exhibit b of ‘shoto todoroki looking effortlessly handsome while doing the most obscure and rando things out there for the memes”? Only time will tell.

IZUKU MIDORIYA: you’ve been sending your favorite memes non-stop to the seaweed-haired cutie. one of those being the lipbite emoji that was way funnier to you than it should be. It became one of your favorite out of context memes in recent time and izuku just had to find a way to resolve your “meme of the month” obsession. And so, during lunch time, he catches your attention by being too cute and wholesome. patting your hand and tracing circles around your fingers so that you can divert your attention to him. 

“so (y/n)... about that meme you keep on sending me.” “what about it?” “well…” his gaze is awkward but loving as izuku’s mouth forms into a pout, his teeth partly showing. no inclination at all of what he was trying to do, but you quickly pick up and get the idea. “Izu-kun… are you trying to do the lip bite meme?” “y-yes! did i do it wrong?” god why did he have to be this cute? You want to see him attempt to make a cute face like this again but how can you do that without discouraging him? “nope! In fact, i think we should create another meme! One that’s exclusive to class 1-A! How about izu-kun’s version of the lip bite!?”

DENKI KAMINARI: denki was the perpetrator of this all. the evil mastermind. The man behind everything. it was he, the all powerful and mighty chargebolt who made this wonderfully stupid meme become so popular in class. everyone has attempted to do it at the behest of kaminari and his wicked charm of asking them to “do it for the memes”. The only one he hasn’t asked yet was you. his favorite person in the entire world.

 instead of asking you to do it for him, he wants to do it to you. Maybe he can make you feel giddy or maybe he can make you blush because of how unintentionally handsome and sexy he looked whilst doing the lip bite. however, he doesn’t know how to react and what to feel if he sees that you were unimpressed by his cute little joke.

“(y/n)! (y/n)! He approaches your desk, a glimmer present in his eyes. “What’s up kami-kun?” He clears his throat and tries to lower his eyelashes seductively, glancing at you to try and get a reaction. A desirable reaction. “SoOooo how would you rate my lip bite!?” “wait… that was your version of the lip bite?” “yeah! yeah!” “a 1000/10. Now, please stop spreading the meme and asking everyone else to do it, kami-kun.”

ೃ taglist: @chibishae34 ​  @lovelytarou ​ @ramunegoddess ​, @serossimpy @laudthingcat @f0leysgurl

[h2bakugou]

hitoshi x reader where denki and reader have been friends their whole lives, and after introducing the two, both hitoshi and y/n start going to denki about their feelings for each other and how much they struggle

denki eventually gets sick of it and starts finding different ways to get them together (eventually ending with them being like "oh i didn't think you liked me" and finally dating

maybe a bonus scene of denki's reaction to seeing them together and being like "hecking finally"

- 🪶

a/n: hii love!! this is a really cute idea omg i love this sm <3 i hope you enjoy it!!

summary: denki's been your childhood friend since, well childhood. when he introduces you to a certain lavendar-haired boy, you find yourself opening up to denki about your crush, and so does someone else.

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff

word count: 2.1k

;cut for length;

»»————-　★　————-««

»»————-　★　————-««

The electric blonde has been your childhood friend for years. You grew up together, you told each other pretty much everything. There was the occasional talk about crushes, boys, girls, and whatever else you could talk about while growing up.

You'd always been there for each other, and now you were both attending U.A., and being in the same class had been proven to be a bit of a task for Mr. Aizawa.

The day had pretty much just started, and Denki had asked you to come with him on your first break. You were almost always hanging out with him anyway, so you were a bit confused as to why he'd wanted you to come with him.

"Hitoshi!" Denki called out, alerting both you and the lavender-haired boy of your presence.

"Oh, hi Kami-" Hitoshi falls silent as he stares at the person beside Denki. You.

Shinso feels the world stop for a few seconds as he stares at you. He's honestly speechless.

Much like you are. You'd heard about this boy now that you've heard his name, and staring at him, you can feel your heart swell in your chest. He's so handsome.

"I thought I would introduce you two! Maybe we could all go hang out together this weekend since we won't have classes." Denki's sudden plans that would include this cute boy makes your face heat up. You begin to feel self-conscious, flattening your uniform, or tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you glance at Denki.

"We're off for once?" You question.

"Yeah! We could go do laser tag, or watch a movie in my dorm?" Denki offers, grinning. His intentions had been pure, just wanting to introduce two friends.

"Oh, I totally forgot! Hitoshi, this is (Y/n), (Y/n) this is-"

"Hitoshi, Shinso." Hitoshi speaks up, and your heart throbs in your chest at the sound of his voice. It's oddly charming. And so is the soft scent of sage and teakwood that surrounds him. It had to be his cologne, whatever it was though, you enjoyed it.

"It's nice to meet you." You speak up, extending a hand to shake. Shinso glanced own before placing his palm in yours, giving you a gentle handshake. His touch is electrifying and sends sparks coursing through your veins as you pull away.

"Yeah." Shinso looks back at Kaminari, who's beaming at him, a shit-eating grin on his lips. Kaminari was reading Shinso like a book.

"Well, we've got to get back to classes! We'll talk our plans over later!"

And with that, Kaminari is yanking you back down the hall, running to make it back to class on time.

During lunch, your phone pings, signaling you've been added to a group chat. You immediately recognize Kaminari's number, his contact labeled 'kami :D' popping up followed an unknown number.

who's that?

The number asks. You see Kaminari typing a response.

It's (y/n) dummy, add them into your contacts🙄🙄

You realize this number must be Shinso, so you decide to type a reply.

it's shinso right? i'll add u too ^^

You quickly add Shinso's contact into your phone and put a purple heart beside his name. Kaminari glances over at your phone and giggles.

"A heart already? You just met!" Kaminari teases and you're plastering your hand over his mouth to keep him from speaking too loud.

"Shut up! I just think he's sweet! Besides do we need to talk about your contact info for-"

"Okay! Okay!" Kaminari quickly shushes you, not wanting his current crush to find out about whatever their contact info is.

A few days go by, and after your hangout session with Kaminari and Shinso, you find yourself falling for him more and more.

But Shinso is the one that drops the first hint to Kaminari.

"So is (Y/n) seeing anyone?" Shinso asks, helping Kaminari clean his cartilage piercing.

"What like romantically?" Kaminari asks, sitting up with his ear turned to face Shinso while his cold fingers brushed against his ear.

"Yes, you idiot. Do they have like a boyfriend or girlfriend?" Shinso asks. He's nervous.

"Nope! (Y/n) hasn't talked to me about a crush or anything. They're always showing me these fictional people though. Why? You know someone that likes them~" Kaminari wiggles his brows at the purple-haired boy.

"Shut up. 'm just askin'." Shinso is finally done with the cotton swab and tosses it before letting Kaminari go, his fresh piercing all clean.

Suddenly a knock on the door pulls them away from the conversation and Kaminari is on his toes opening it to reveal you in some goofy pajamas.

"I'm ready for pizza and mario-" Your face contorts in horror as you stare at Shinso on his bed, out of uniform in something dark and mysterious, a loose dark plaid button-up and dark jeans.

"Nevermind! Sorry for bugging you!" You yell and run back to your dorm, hiding your face in embarrassment.

"Wait! I wanted pizza!" Kaminari calls out to you in the hallway but you don't turn around.

Shinso's face is red when Kaminari turns back to look at him.

You looked so cute, and so effortlessly- You weren't trying to impress anyone, yet you looked stunning. In nothing but some silly matching pajamas that Denki most likely had a pair to match, you looked so cute.

"You didn't tell me you ate pizza and played Mario Kart..." Shinso says, faking hurt in his sentence.

"Oh shut up! Go to their dorm and see if they wanna come back up, I'll get it set up." Denki sighs.

Shinso's on the move, making his way to your dorm thanks to Kaminari's excellent directions. Knocking on your door, he feels nervous, anxious even. His heart's pounding in his chest and then cool air washes over him as you open your door.

"Kami I'm sorry I-" You freeze as you stared at the boy in front of you.

"Ohmygod." You say quietly, quickly hiding yourself behind your door.

"Hi!!" You speak up, glancing at him from behind your door.

"Why are you hiding behind your door?" Shinso asks, a small smile on his lips.

"Your pj's are cute."

It echoes in your head, over. and over. and over again.

Your pj's are cute.

You slowly reveal yourself and look away.

"So, did Kami send you down here?" You ask quietly.

"He did, he wants you to come back up, and if it's alright with you, I'd like to hang out too, though I don't have any cool pj's to wear."

Shinso's voice calms you down, though your heart still seems to beat faster and faster.

"I actually, um, hang on. You can come in!" You allow him into your dorm, and he doesn't decline.

He glances around, admiring the pictures of you and Kami. He giggles about how silly young Denki looks with his hair all crazy and spiked up.

"You guys have been friends for a while it looks."

"Since kindergarten! He shocked me on accident, and when he apologized, we just sorta clicked. Been besties ever since." You search through your drawers and eventually find a kitty onesie that was a bit too big for you.

"I think this should fit you."

"It's kitty onesie, though you don't have to wear it!"

"Did you say kitty?" Shinso's ears perk up and you nod. He graciously takes it and the two of you leave to return to Denki. Shinso changes in his bathroom.

It smells like you, and Shinso has to stop himself from smelling the hood every five seconds as he leaves. You just smell so sweet, it's kind of alarming how soothing it is.

You all play and it's a great night, until Denki decides to play a scary movie after. You're sandwiched between the boys but begin to doze off about halfway through the movie.

Your head leans on Shinso's shoulder while you doze off, and he notices right away. He glances at Kaminari who only gives him a reassuring wink.

"You're stupid." Shinso whispers.

"They like to cuddle~" Kaminari suggests.

Shinso graciously lays an arm over you, hugging you to his chest as you readjust in your sleep. You're so warm, and Shinso begins to doze off too.

When you wake up in the morning, you've been covered up by a fuzzy blanket, but the warmth radiating under you is the most alarming.

Your sleepy eyes open to see the purple-haired boy you have a crush on, under you. Your eyes widen but you don't move away. Instead, you lay back down, not wanting to wake him.

His arm rests around you, and his breathing is so calming. It lulls you back to sleep.

You don't talk about that night much afterward, until you're knocking on Kami's door at one in the morning after a bad dream.

"Is Shinso single?" You ask quietly.

"Yeah, why ya askin' me though?" Kaminari hugs you, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I'm too nervous to ask him." You giggle.

"So you like him?"

"Yeah. He's really sweet, and super cute too." You admit, pulling away to stare at your best friend.

"I'm totally not his type though."

"I'm going to beat you up." Kaminari jokes. You shake your head and laugh.

"He's gotta be into like super hardcore goth punk rock-"

"You're so oblivious." Kaminari interrupts you. You roll your eyes and get comfortable on the edge of his bed, snuggling with one of his plushies.

"Just go to sleep, you idiot." You throw another plushy at him.

"You're in my dorm! I can and will kick you out." Denki huffs.

"As if. You need my snoring as your white noise." You tease him.

"You're so mean to me." Denki pouts.

By the same time next week, Denki's heard Shinso's confession about his crush on you, and every little detail about what both of you had to say about the other.

And Denki was honestly tired of it, endearingly of course. So he was setting you two up.

"I need you to meet me here at two. Wear something cute." Is what the text had said. You repeated it as you put together a cute outfit.

Shinso had received the same text and was just wearing something casual like he usually did.

However, when you both spotted each other and not Denki, you began to realize what was happening.

"He's not coming, is he?" You spoke softly, staring at the attractive boy in front of you.

"I guess not." Shinso looks over at the cafe you're standing outside. It's a cat cafe.

"Well, if you're not busy, wanna grab a bite to eat?" Shinso offers, nodding toward the cafe.

"I'd really like that, actually. Thank you." You smile. He offers his hand and you take it gracefully, smiling at how warm it is.

Shinso's phone pings halfway through your piece of cake with a message from Kaminari.

nows ur chance dude, ask them out

Shinso swallows his fear and looks up at you. You're so beautiful, even all dressed up, you look adorable.

You're petting an all-white kitty that's laying in your lap.

"Hey, (Y/n)?" Shinso gets your attention.

"Mhm?" You hum, smiling at him.

"Do you wanna, maybe do this again sometime?" He asks, a blush on his cheeks.

"Like, as a date?" You ask, your own face heating up.

"Yeah. As a date, and as a couple." He glances over at a pretty black cat that begins to nudge your arm for a few pets as well.

"I'd like that." You smile, your heart swelling.

"Then it's settled."

Afterward, neither of you can contain your excitement. Walking back to the dorm with your hand in his, Kaminari is elated.

"Finally." He sighs.

"Finally?!" You both say in unison.

"You should've confessed the day you met. I had to listen to you two being sappy about one another for two weeks straight."

Both you and Shinso feel flustered at Kaminari's comment.

"But it's okay. I love you two so I'll tolerate it. But you two better get along or no more pizza and Mario Kart. You'll have to deal with Bakugou, and I don't think you'll enjoy buying a new controller every time you want to play."

Kaminari was genuinely happy to see you both together, and both be happy.

"Thanks, for you know." You nudge him while sitting on his bed, Shinso was gone, using the bathroom.

"What are you talking about. I didn't help. You two just finally confessed. You did that on your own."

"Yeah but, you made me feel confident about it." You smile.

"That's what I'm here for!" Kaminari smiles.

You couldn't ask for a better friend, or a better boyfriend.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[clarrissanewt]

Can I request a oneshot with young Remus where its summer and he and his parents are invited to go eat dinner at his parents' friends house. But Remus doesn't know that they have a daughter his age and when he goes there, Remus and the reader start liking each other. When they go back to Hogwarts, they hang out and finally start dating. Can the reader be a Ravenclaw please? Thank you very much 💕

Already?

Pairing: Remus Lupin x fem!reader

Warnings: none

House: Ravenclaw

GIF not mine! Credits goes to the original creator!

What would have been better, he wanted to ask, if he’d have slipped out of his house last night and stayed at Potter’s with James and Sirius?

Actually, everything. Or, so he thought.

And now that he was sprawling on somebody’s bed apparently waiting for a new ‘friend,’ his mind was full ideas (evil ideas, to be precise). 

He didn’t want any other friend because being with James, Sirius, and Peter was already a heartfelt blessing for him. Who knew how this person would react once they know his ‘truth.’

He shook his thoughts towards the hind portion of his already buzzing mind. Thrusting his hand into the pocket of his sweatpants, he continued foraging the ceaseless entity (extending charm was his life savior, at this point). 

What could, perhaps, make his mind frenzy this person already? A Sultry Saltant would definitely stick that person to the wall for a day effortlessly. A cheeky smile spread across his scarred face as he remembered how James and Sirius had stuck Snape by his buttocks in Mc Gonagall’s class (it was just to cheer him after a tedious full moon night, so he clearly remembers it).

As if this prized possession read his mind, he felt his the familiar box gleefully coming in contact with his hand.

Scrunching his nose at the blank ceiling above (too boring for a living wizard), he jumped out of the bed, his back towards the door as he carefully undid the lid.

Perhaps, it was the loud roars of the four wizards howling with laughter downstairs, he didn’t notice when the door opened; and, when he did, panic fled away the lark of his orbs.

As is on a cue, the Sultry Saltant slipped from the grip of his hand; a frantic effort made by him, smeared all the magicked potion onto his palm.

On the other hand, the original occupant of the room felt her pupils dilating in horror as she stepped into her room and clearly stumbled on something distorted beneath her feet.

To Remus, it almost felt like the time started dragging painfully slow. He peered as her mouth opened in terror, the grip of her hands on the books faltered, and her body inclined towards the floor.

As if it was a reflex, he got a hold of her hand, diverting her fall; which made her fall (nonetheless) on top of him.

Just cut what he thought before.

All this happened in a matter of half a second, and he let out a grunt as he felt his back contacting with the unfamiliar landing.

He saw- he saw how beautiful her eyes looked as she was above him, her orbs radiating slightly faded yet bright color as the dying evening sun danced around them; the way the lower petal of her lips stuck beneath the smooth and serated teeth.

But wait...why was he even thinking about her, in the first place?

Before he could mumble an apology and get back to his standing form, he was interrupted by a loud crash and a forced out groan. And soon enough, he felt himself laughing as the books that were perching in her hand a minute ago, were dropping from mid-air, and one actually hit her her head. She stuffed her face in the crook of his neck and silently grunted in pain.

"Wait, you actually read this?" He picked up the book that fell bedside him in a sort of intrigued manner.

She raised her head only till the cover reached her sight, and nodded, dropping her head to the previously kept place.

The way his scarred cheek rubbed against her triggered a sweet friction throughout her body.

She felt herself smiling, apparently, without any reason.

The soft, blueish tinge reflecting on the floor baffled Remus, but made her smile wider.

"Wicked," he gaped at the formerly blank ceiling as it feigned a soft night sky with an occasional twinkling of stars. "How did you do this?"

She rolled herself to her back, the pain coursing through her head fading at the sight of the charmed ceiling. "It's charmed."

"You come to Hogwarts?"

"If that's not obvious, yes."

"Remus," he smiled softly at her, already planning to introduce her to his silly friends.

"I'm aware. Y/n," she smiled back, her gaze flickering to the languid enchanted sky. "Ravenclaw, and same year as you, since you never noticed."

They didn't mind picking out stray bits of their lives and sharing with each other; still lying on the floor, occasionally smoting the other by their shoulder at the sarcastic comments and still holding onto each other's hand. It just felt too nice, so they urged it away silently.

Remus was pleasantly shocked when he realized that she already happened to know that he was a werewolf. When he should have been embarrassed and tried to skive off, he found himself comfortable and all smiley wheh she leaned on his shoulder and told him that she finds him intriguing nonetheless.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Remus was sure if it wasn't the summer break going on, Y/n would have hexed him for all this mess.

Apparently, when both of them were called down for dinner, they noticed that there was something connecting them.

All Remus' deed, of course.

And now that they say with the adults, silently inhaling their food with hands sticking together, Remus felt himself smiling.

He couldn't help but laugh at their helplessness when he realized their hands were now stuck together leisurely for a day.

Every now and then, he would silently pull his hand towards himself, shocking the poor girl as she felt herself inclining towards him.

And being one of the marauders, he was never short of plans.

He dropped his spoon with a loud clunk on his plate, which panicked Y/n as they met the undiverted attention of the adults.

And he was remarkable in acting them out of his mess too. Gently, his hand dived down the table as if he groped hers at that particular moment. Giving her a gentle tug, he mildly cleared his throat at the gawking adults.

“I realized we were going to uh- talk about that- that book. Right, Y/n?”

And before she could reply, he got to his feet and started marching upstairs, and Y/n couldn’t help but put on a stiff smile and wave her free hand at the wizards, signaling them to continue the dinner.

And as they both sprawled on the bed, triggering the next step of their mission, she felt a different wave of emotions washing over her. The soft starry glow on Remus’ face made her realize that the ceiling had turned this beautiful after some four years...because of him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Stop staring. It’s rude.”

Remus was bolted out of his daydreaming when he heard this sardonic advice that James passed him.

He suppressed the scoff that blocked his throat as he waved at the beautiful Ravenclaw, who just entered the Great Hall.

He still reminiscented how his parents had to shake their heads when they found both of them fast asleep (which they weren’t), and they had to leave that night without him. And, as soon as the door was closed behind, he had crushed Y/n in a tight embrace, silently celebrating the success of their plan.

“I’m not staring. I was just waiting to say hello.”

James and Sirius nodded mockingly at him, plans already multiplying in their brains.

They definitely had a task to complete.

For three months, both of them (and sometimes Peter joined them too) deliberately blocked their paths and forced them to spend time together (not like they both complained).

Remus had never met anybody so modest as her. After every full moon night, he always found her by his side, caressing the new little cuts that adorned his face. She was the only one (except his friends) who was sincerely appealed to what he was. And he was grateful.

They often let the nights roll away in their little rants about books (and Remus was careful not to start a slander on her favorite character) with a fair share of chocolates.

Today, a week since Christmas had passed, Remus felt desperation bubbling down his chest. All thanks to his friends, of course.

They didn’t stop pestering him and Y/n to ‘date already.’ She didn’t seem to mind it all, though.

And racing through the corridors after his prefect duties, he knew what he was going to do- try to ask her out.

James and Sirius had planned this (no surprises) when he actually realized how differently he feels about her.

The subtle to crazy bombardments running through him at her laugh, the way her hand perfectly fitted in his whenever she joked of that night, and how his knees felt week whenever she kissed him on his scarred cheek.

Now he needed to tell her.

Loosening the grip of his tie around his neck, he dashed into the astronomy tower to find her gazing at the starry night peacefully...he often contemplated with himself at how much she resembled the moon.

Clearing his throat lightly and deliberately, he made a sickeningly brave effort to hug her from behind; the slight contact of their bodies already freeing him.

“Well, hello there,” she beamed as she leaned back on him. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight, especially the night after a leisure Christmas break. Tired?”

He hummed absentmindedly , silently cursing himself for his deteriorating skills that his friends taught him.

“You look er- beautiful today.”

She turned to him with the ghost of a badly hidden smile. “Oh? Thanks. You look fine yourself, too. All rough and messy by the duties.”

“Uh- I was wondering that- er don’t you think, your hand fits nicely in mine-”

“Are you flirting with me?”

They were interrupted by a badly suppressed high-pitch giggle from nearby. The two murky objects that soared to their sight had Remus groaning, but Y/n couldn’t help but laugh- James and Sirius had been hiding there for God knows how long.

Triumphantly, they both strolled towards them and wriggled their brows teasingly at Remus.

“Nice,” Sirius acknowledged in the Ravenclaw’s direction. “At last you noticed.”

And while both of them carried on with their detailed report on why they should start dating (and threatened they couldn’t escape from the tower until they kissed under the magically conjured mistletoe), Remus had been looking at her, and so was she.

Silently turning their sweet memories inside their minds, their everyday late night talks that had now turned into a greater urge to be together.

 With a brief glance towards the frosty mistletoe hanging mid-air above them, Remus felt a warm breath tingling near his lips, and without any hesitation, he pulled her closer as they both sweetly melted in each other’s touch.

But the shrill, girlish squeals behind them forced them to pull away as they saw James and Sirius jumping around, doing a rather high-pitched celebration at the success of their plan.

“Okay,” James halted their dance by holding Sirius around the scruff of his neck. “Tomorrow, 11 am, all set at Hogsmeade.”

“For a date,” Sirius clicked his fingers triumphantly at his friends’ clueless expressions.

Y/n broke out laughing, and giving Remus another glance, shook her head at their restlessness . “Already?”

[shadowsinger11]

Hi! Please can I have a 💎 for George who has a crush on reader and gets all shy and stutters? Like usually he’s this confident funny guy but this person just melts him

Soft Georgie owns my uwus and that's a fact

Shy George having a crush on you:

Let's get this straight. The twins are loud. And confident as hell. Both of them. George is sensible but never shy.

If he wants something, he knows how to get it. He's charming, outgoing, flirtatious and knows how to get under your skin in the sweetest ways possible.

But when he first meets you, he needs to take a step back and process it because "Never in Godric's name have I seen a girl as beautiful as her."

Poor ginger boi was smitten within seconds and he cannot believe how effortlessly gorgeous you look. He doesn't think you need makeup at all and it wasn't even the clothes that impressed him, you were only wearing your robes. You were simply glowing, radiating indescribable energy that pulled him in.

The first thing he knew about you was your house. But he needed to know more. George loved watching you from afar as you were chatting with friends or reading in peace, and so he found himself yearning to learn more about you.

You were smart, gifted, friendly and humorous; George had happened to hear a few jokes of yours while passing by and tried very hard to stifle his laughter. "Merlin, she's absolutely lovely."

George was looking forward to every class you two shared and did everything in his power to sit next to you every time he could. You instantly hit it off, never running out of things to talk about.

He was certainly the type of guy to easily make you comfortable as he was the most laid back, non-judgmental person in the entire school. He'd happily listen to you rant and soaked in various details and quirks of yours.

But, as time went on, and George found it harder and harder to keep his composure around you, he realised.

He had fallen hard.

George's poor attempts at hiding his occasional blushes and stutters didn't go unnoticed, earning him constant teasing from his siblings and loving glances from you.

For awhile he didn't know how to get his point across, so he settled for simple, sweet gestures such as lending you his notes, carrying your bag for you and making sure there was always a snack in it.

Fred's persistent nagging finally won when George dropped the bomb and asked you out. His cheeks and neck were more red than his hair, but your excitement lessened his nerves and he added a bit of his signature charm by kissing your cheek and walking away.

***

The 1k follower is closed!

[beccascribbles]

where atsumu is a notorious playboy and now he wants you

a/n - you won't believe how long i've been working on this and it's finally finished... anyway, just wanted to say a quick thank you for 700 followers! it means a lot! hope you enjoy this little atsumu fic

warnings - nsfw (sex, swearing), possibly a little angsty?, toxic relationship

word count - 4.1k

sequel ‘returning the favour’, where atsumu gets a taste of his own medicine

When your friends warned you away from him, you should have known he was bad news, should have known to avoid him, to shut down any conversation and walk away.

When a random girl approached you in the university library and warned you away from him, told you what he had done to her, how he ignored her feelings and hooked up with another girl in front of her, the alarm bells should have started to ring.

When the very thought of introducing him to your parents filled you with dread, you should have known any kind of relationship with him was impossible. Introducing a boyfriend to your parents was nerve-wracking, yes, but you had done it before and the most severe emotion you had felt then was nerves. It was nothing compared to the dread that curled in your belly at the mere thought of ever introducing him.

But Miya Atsumu pulled you in.

Despite all the warnings, you were blinded by his easy charm, the smirk that would pull at the corners of his lips as he teased you, how comfortable he looked in every situation, as if he knew the power he held over those around him. He attracted girls and boys like a moth to a flame. In fact, he burned so brightly it was inevitable that you would get hurt at some point, feel his scathing dismal like a punch to the chest.

Truthfully, you were not planning on falling for him, not even planning to interact with the new face in your lectures. He had attracted enough attention, and you, the ever focused and diligent student, could not afford the distraction. So, while others flocked to him, you initially kept a wide berth, hurrying from lectures with your books clutched to your chest to grab at seat at the library. It would be a lie to say he had not noticed you through the crowds. You were either the first to leave the lecture hall, or one of the only students to approach the professor after class to ask questions and gather some more information about the subject. He admired the dedication you had, your unwavering focus. At the same time, he wanted to be the reason that focus, that dedication, finally broke.

On the day he finally approached you, the weather had been unpleasant. Rain had attacked you the entire walk to class, the raincoat you had on a flimsy barrier. Coupled with the harsh wind that had been blowing, it was nearly impossible for the hood of your coat to cover your head, leaving you with the look of a drowned rat and a very disgruntled one at that. The rain had soaked through your backpack, leaving you with a dripping notebook. You had to be thankful that you had transferred all the sheets of paper you had written on into a binder that had kept the paper mercifully dry. So, as you had sought out a radiator to dry your things on, he had approached you, looking effortlessly handsome... and dry. 

“Want to borrow some paper, sweetheart?” he asked, waving his dry notebook at you, his lips upturned in a grin. His stance was casual, but the way he angled his body blocked the class from your view and also cut off your potential escape route. Though the vocative grated at you, your parents had taught you to be polite. Despite the annoyance in the lines of your body, you managed to smile back at him.

“Actually, yes,” you replied, turning back to the radiator to begin draping your wet items on the heated surface. “That would be great. Thank you.”

With your back to him, you missed the way his mouth twisted into a smirk, a playful glint appearing in his eyes. You heard the rip of paper being pulled from a notebook, then felt his warm fingers circle your wrist. You turned to face him, momentarily stunned by the lack of distance between you. His warmth, coupled with the radiator at your back, heated up your body, dispelling the cold bite the rain had left behind.

“And your payment?”he questioned running the tip of his finger along your inner wrist. The feel of his rough skin tracing the soft surface sent a tingle running through you, a traitorous flare of heat to your cheeks.

“Payment?” you scoffed, reaching for the proffered paper. He released it without a struggle, but remained close to you. It would have been so simple to trace the planes of your face, to feel the heat on your cheeks build because of his touch. Instead, he sent a lazy smirk in your direction. It should have irked you, but you found it oddly attractive, the little quirk to his lips, the intensity in has honey brown gaze. “For some paper?”

“Nothing is free these days,” he stated, reaching behind him to pull his phone from his back pocket. It dangled nonchalantly from his grip as he held it out to you. You glanced at the phone, then up at him, at his lazy expression. The way he looked at you showed he tended to get his way. There was no possibility in his mind where you returned to your seat without typing his number into your phone. “Give me your number and I’ll message you when I want to collect. I'm sure you'll enjoy it just as much as me.”

He pressed the phone into your hand. It was already unlocked and opened on a contact page. Instead of immediately typing your contact information into his phone like he assumed you would, you glanced down at the phone screen and then up at him. "Sorry, but my phone number comes at a cost as well."

He let out a low hum, leaning in closer, close enough that your noses almost touched. His eyes stared into yours, appearing to commit the colour to memory. "And what cost is that?"

“If you let me return to my seat, you might find out,” you stated, peeking over his shoulder to see that the professor was powering up the slide show. You pushed against his shoulder, creating enough space for you to walk past. As you stepped around him, you slipped his phone into his trouser pocket. He turned to watch you walk away, the smirk still present on his face.

The next time he approached you, he had orchestrated it with an obsessive perfection. With the knowledge that you always rushed to the library after class finished, he had instructed a member of the class, one of his fangirls, to deliberately bump into you as you tried to make your exit. It was amusing in a sick way how easily the girl had bent to his will. One kiss and she was weak at the knees, begging him for more. The more he had promised would be done once she completed this small task for him.

So, it was with an almost sadistic smirk on his face that he watched as the girl shouldered into you roughly, causing you to stumble and scatter your belongings across the floor. If you had only got into the habit of packing your stuff away into your backpack before leaving, you could have avoided the smirking blonde, able to quickly right yourself and continue on your way. As fate would have it, it was the muscular arms of the blonde that steadied you, his fingers gripping greedily at your waist. Offering him a quick thank you, you pulled yourself from his grip, bending down to gather the items you had dropped. Just as he had planned, you were distracted and desperate to leave, so distracted you did not notice as he took your notebook from the floor and slipped it into the open bag hanging from his shoulder. And, like he presumed, you hurried from the room without sparing him a glance. 

When he decided to ambush you, you were digging through your bag, mumbling quietly under your breath as you attempted to find your notebook. It had all your class notes in it that you needed to begin your essay. Letting out a huff, you shoved your bag away from you.

"Looking for this?" asked Atsumu, notebook dangling from his fingertips as he took in your distressed form. Leaning forward, you pulled it from his grip, flicking through the pages to confirm that this was indeed your notebook.

"Where did you find it?" you asked, placing it down on the table and resting your arms on top of it as you looked up at him.

"Is that any way to thank the person who returned your class notes?"

You gave him an exaggerated, friendly smile. "Thank you. Now where did you find it?"

"The floor," he stated, a smirk tugging at his lips with his next words. "After your fall, that's where all your belongings ended up."

"I know," you snapped before turning back to the work you had been in the process of beginning. Atsumu's tall figure still loomed over the desk, his hands gripping at the edge of the table as he leaned forward to force himself into your line of sight. Your eyes narrowed into a glare. "What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"I want to take you out." The words were simple, but said in such a pleasing honeyed tone that you felt the heat rush to your cheeks. He held your gaze, awaited your reply eagerly. He knew the effect he had on you, could see it working on you right before his eyes. There was no doubt in his mind that you would say yes.

"Take me out where?" you questioned, voice coming out whisper. Your warm breath fanned against his face, made him crave a sudden closing of space between you and the parting of your lips as he pressed his against them. Truth be told, he wanted to see you come undone.

His usual method would not work on you, that much he was certain of. If he proposed a club or a bar, you would likely scoff, pull away from him, refuse his offer to take you out on a date. A restaurant however, one with a fine wine menu coupled with good food would work quite well.

"A restaurant," he said. You raised an eyebrow at his lacklustre response, expecting a more surprising proposal from the young man. "One where I can fine dine and wine the shit out of you."

“Okay,” you shrugged, feigning some level of disinterest as you pushed him lightly by the shoulder to move him out of your personal bubble. You bent to reach for a pen as you spoke. “Tell me a time and place, and I’ll meet you there.”

Atsumu blinked, unsure if he had heard you correctly. Had you just said you wanted to meet at the restaurant? That would be difficult considering he had yet to decide on one, having made a mental note to ask Osamu for recommendations later on. Trying to hide his sudden unease, he gave you a smooth grin. “Why don’t you let me pick you up, sweetheart?”

That caused you to pause, your breath to catch in your throat, your heart to stutter. The way he spoke, that soft drawl, the smooth dulcet tone of voice, made you weak at the knees. If he addressed you with the same tone each time he spoke, you would have been putty in his hands by now. You swallowed, avoiding eye contact as you tapped your pen on the table, the motion more to soothe you, though it aggravated the others in the library to no end. “Fine.”

You ripped a page from your notebook, hurriedly scribbling down your address. You held out the paper to him, finally meeting his eyes again. “When were you thinking?”

“Friday at 8?”

“Sure,” you nodded. “See you then.”

And, that Friday, you found yourself holding up various outfits to yourself in the mirror only to discard them a moment later. They were never perfect, either too sultry or too innocent, too girly or too geared towards comfort. It was so dire you had reached the point of wishing that you had ordered those dresses you had browsed after agreeing to meet with him. Next day delivery would have meant they would have arrived on time, and you would have felt confident in them. However, you had talked yourself out of it, convincing yourself you had dresses worthy of a dinner with Atsumu. With a sigh, you picked up a dress you had discarded earlier. It was the best out of a bad bunch, and unfortunately the only one you thought you could get away with. Distantly, you wondered why you were trying so hard. That was just you trying to convince yourself you didn’t care. It would be foolish to lie to yourself. You cared because you were attracted to him, to his easy charm, his good looks.

Glancing in the mirror one more time, you smoothed down the material of the dress. It complimented you well, was a trusted favourite. It hugged your body in all the right ways, emphasising your shape in a way that was pleasing to the eye. You allowed yourself a small smile. You felt confident. It was a bonus that you figured Atsumu would enjoy the view.

Hearing the knock on your door, you grabbed your bag from the desk, checking it had everything you needed. Phone, keys and purse were all present inside. Then you went over to open the door. Framed by the dark word, dressed in a dark shirt and black jeans, Atsumu looked hot. His hair had been perfectly styled, a far cry from the messier style he favoured at university. His eyes ran up and down your body, lazily, as if he was stripping you with his eyes. He drawled, “Well, don’t you clean up nice. Makes me want to stay in instead of taking you out."

You gave him a playful glare, pushing against his chest lightly. He stepped backwards, you following him into the hallway. Turning away from him, you faced the door, locking it. Over your shoulder, you quipped, "If you think this date is ending in sex, you are very much mistaken."

Little did you know how wrong your statement was. You could blame it on the buzz of alcohol in your system from the wine but, to be honest, you were weak to Atsumu's charm. The way he purred your name had you weak. The feel of his fingers grazing your bare skin made you shiver. The feel of his lips moving languidly against your own sent jolts of pleasure through you.

"I'm going to ruin you," he breathed, breath hot against your ear as he nipped gently at the lobe, fingers teasing at the hem of your dress, slipping under the material. Those words, along with his actions, were your undoing.

Your hands tangled into his hair, gently tugging as you reconnected your lips, the kiss far more passionate, a bit more messy. It was easy for him to push you onto the bed, for you to instinctively hook your legs around his waist, holding him close to you. A low moan escaped your lips as he rolled his hips into you, feeling the hardness of his cock through the layers. Your dress was hiked up past your hips, the lace of your panties on full display. He pulled away to admire you, unhooking your legs from around his waist, spreading them open for him to admire the view. He let out an appreciative whistle. "Look at you. So desperate for me, sweetheart. Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want to feel my cock filling you up?"

You let out a soft moan. Your cheeks were flushed, breathing slightly laboured as you looked up at him. You were desperate for him. He could see all this, watched with smug satisfaction as your hand slipped into your wet panties and you began to play with yourself. "Why don't you take those off for me?"

Too lost in your need, you began to slip the fabric down your legs, slowly, teasingly. Atsumu watched with a playful glint in his eyes, hand moving to palm at his cock through his trousers. Not needing him to direct you, with the lace no longer blocking his view, you resumed your previous action, fingers circling your clit. As he watched, you pushed a finger into your wet entrance, watching as his eyes darkened. While you continued to pleasure yourself, he slipped his trousers off, then began to teasingly lower his boxes, watching your reaction. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of his hardened cock, slit wet with pre-cum. With you watching, he wrapped his fists around it, beginning to stroke it. His head tilted back and a low groan escaped his throat. You moaned in response, inserting another finger inside, stretching yourself out for him.

"Fuck, y/n," he moaned. "Are you ready? Do you want my cock inside of you? Do you want to feel me thrusting into you? Because I want to feel you clench around me, for you to cum as I fuck you."

"Yes," you breathed, thumb rubbing harshly against your clit as you continued to push your fingers inside you harder, faster. "Please fuck me."

"Get on your hands and knees then, sweetheart," he commanded, watching as you removed your fingers from inside of you. And what a sight you were, back curved to provide him with the best view. He ran his hands appreciatively along the slope of your ass cheeks, giving them a playful slap. He leant over you, fingers finding the zip of your dress, his cock brushing against you. Now wasn't the time to tease you. He yanked the zipper down, the dress falling off your body, leaving you naked apart from your bra.

"Please just fuck me," you begged, pushing back against him as his fingers brushed the tops of your erect nipples hidden by your bra.

"So impatient," he said, voice low, a gruff edge to it that made you suck in a breath. The tip of his cock brushed against your clit, hands gripping your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh. Teasingly, he waited, his cock head resting against your wet entrance. Each time you pushed back, he would pull slightly away, leaving you a whining mess. Just as you were about to beg, he pushed into you, his cock brushing against your inner walls as he slowly entered you. With a low groan, he sheathed himself fully inside you, his pelvis pressed against you.

Slowly at first, he began to rock into you, pulling out slightly before thrusting back in, working your pussy, getting you used to taking his cock. Each slow thrust caused you to moan, fingers clutching at the duvet.

"More," you whined, hips pushing back into him. He stilled, holding you close to him. You moved along his cock, grinding back against him as his hands tightened on you, stilling your movements.

"What was that?" he questioned, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of your neck. "You want me to fuck you into the mattress, is that it?"

"Yes," you declared, voice breathy as you let yourself droop forward, head resting against the soft material of the duvet. He pulled fully out of you, hand curling in the hair at the nape of your neck and pulling you upwards. Your back was flush against his chest, his other arm wrapped around you, fingers teasing at your clit as he thrust upwards into you again.

The sudden harsh thrust caused you to choke, head lolling against his shoulder. You were weak to him as he continued to thrust into you, losing yourself in the feeling of pleasure. The stimulation of your clit, coupled with the harsh thrusting, had you chasing your orgasm far sooner than you had expected, the pleasure slowly building up, a dam waiting to explode.

"Shit," you gasped as he pushed you forward onto the mattress, the position allowing him to push into you with more ease, the slap of his hips against your ass and your laboured breathing the only sound in the room. "Atsumu... I-I think I'm going to cum."

"Don't hold back," he grunted, feeling himself drawing closer. "Cum for me, sweetheart. Want to feel your walls fluttering around my cock."

"A-Atsumu."

His name was the only word able to escape your lips as a wave of pleasure hit you, finally sending you over the edge. He let out a pleased hum at the feel of your walls clenching around him, continuing to thrust into you as he chased his own release. He came with a low groan, releasing his hot seed into you, coating your walls. Slowly, he rocked gently into you before pulling out his slowly softening cock. You let out a low whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness, turning to face him with a small pout. He let out a soft chuckle, grabbing you by the chin and pulling you in for a long kiss, tongue tracing the inside of your mouth. Against your lips, he said, "I'm always up for round two."

You should have know one night wouldn't be enough to satiate your hunger for each other. Despite only having a sexual relationship, the two of you formed a friendship, if constant sexual teasing could be considered friendship. In the library, in class. Atsumu was insistent, his hands rarely kept to himself when he could so easily slip them into your warm panties. Occasionally, you would return the favour, palming him through his jeans. On a day when you had been feeling particularly adventurous, you had sucked him off in the library, relishing in the soft moans he would release, the way his hips would buck upwards as he attempted to push you down onto his cock further.

One day, he had turned to you, a completely innocent look on his face and stated, "You're the only girl I ever fuck now."

You had looked at him blankly as he had pulled you towards him, placing you on his lap, urging you to straddle him. His hands rested against the bare skin of your sides. "And?"

"I'd say we're pretty much exclusive."

Those words gave you some indication of where his train of thought was heading. Though you couldn't deny wanting to be in a relationship with him, you could hardly define what you did now as dating. You felt he was just using you and that had been the truth for as long as he had begun pursuing you.

"We're not even dating, Atsumu," you sighed. Just last week, he had gone on a date with another girl only to arrive at your dorm at the end of the night to fuck you instead of her.

"Why don't we change that?" he hummed, placing kisses along your jaw before connecting your lips in a searing kiss. His thumbs brushed against your rib cage as he kissed you harder. He was close enough to feel the way your heart picked up the pace, hammering against your chest. You pulled away slightly to look at him, to see the sincerity in his brown eyes.

"Okay," you agreed. "Let's change that."

Years later, you would look back on certain moments in your relationship with nothing but anger, mainly at yourself. The signs were clear from the moment you became official. Atsumu was a person who refused to be tied down. As soon as your relationship was defined, he lost interest, pulling away from you, treating you as nothing more than a means for pleasure. But, through it all, you still felt love for him, needing to be the thing that brought him that pleasure. That illusion shattered the moment you saw him with another girl, her legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed her with the passion he used to kiss you.

Though the illusion shattered, the desire for him did not. You would still open your door for him, still let him use you as you told yourself you were using him. You accepted the empty 'I love you' he would whisper as you fell asleep only to wake up to an empty bed.

You were a fool. But he must have known that. After all, only a fool could ever love him like you did.

[candyshua]

To Live a Life of Happiness {Choi Seungcheol x Reader}

genre: heavy angst, some fluff, drama

synopsis: you move to daegu from seoul, in search of some form of independence before your inevitable fate plays out. there, you meet choi seungcheol, a confused and lonely boy who didn’t know how to deal with the love you gave him.

pairing: seungcheol x female reader

warnings: emotional and physical abuse, trauma, death during childbirth, cancer, & one makeout scene (non descriptive)

word count: 6,461

a/n: i’m not too proud of this, seeing as i wrote a lot of it while high. but i just need to post something!! 

If there was one thing Seungcheol knew about his life, it was that he was painfully and utterly alone.

As a child, he would play by himself. The other kids looked at him with fear, since false rumors surrounded his name. Whenever the word “Seungcheol” was uttered, an untrue tale would soon be told about the poor boy.

He would go home to a quaint apartment every afternoon. When Seungcheol would first walk through the door, his father could be heard releasing a sigh of frustration. After a while, the sharp pain of never being enough turned into a dull ache. He just learned to live with it.

Barely.

He wouldn’t dare to ask his dad what was for dinner. Truth be told, the boy usually made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich every night. His father would never make food for him.

Seungcheol didn’t deserve his father’s love, he knew that. He knew that there was something wrong with the people that cared for him.

“You know, Seungcheol,” His dad would say, “you shouldn’t trust anyone that says they love you. They’re lying, you know that, right? No one could ever love you.”

“Of course,” Seungcheol meekly whispered, “it’s just not possible.”

The days would drag on like that. Empty, mind-numbing days where he would feel nothing but pure self-hatred and guilt. The days turned into weeks, which turned into months, then years. Those hurtful emotions just became a part of Seungcheol’s daily life. He got better at providing for himself, as his father seemed to wither away. 

He had to feel the pain. If he were feeling anything remotely close to pleasure, he would just know that he didn’t deserve it.

He had survived all the way up until the age of seventeen that way. At that rate, he would die just the same way he lived—quietly and slowly.

But then, of course, you happened.

You were the new kid. You came in the middle of November, having missed a lot of the school year. It was typical of you, to arrive at the worst time.

You attracted everybody’s eyes the moment you stepped foot into the classroom. Even Seungcheol found himself staring at you. You elicited a pure kind of beauty, one that was enticing and tranquil.

“Ah, yes, Y/N! Please introduce yourself.” The teacher, Mr. Kim, suggested. You nodded, radiating with nothing but pure confidence.

Seungcheol didn’t know what that felt like, but he could recognize it. The way your dewy skin glowed, the way your smile was so damn charming, and the way you stood so proudly. It was truly admirable.

“Hey everyone! I’m Y/L/N Y/F/N, I’m from Seoul, and I really like to draw!” 

Seungcheol couldn’t help but crack a small grin at your enthusiasm. But, that grin soon morphed into a frown of terror when you sat down next to him. With wide eyes, Seungcheol stared straight ahead, looking at anything else but you. You and your beautiful smile, one that immediately grasped the attention of everyone else around you. Soon, you were being swarmed by the other students, them asking you questions you had no trouble answering. You were mesmerizing—how did you just answer them? Like it was nothing? How did you not freeze up with pure terror?

The day continued on like that. People were fascinated with you, the girl from the big city of Seoul. Seungcheol thought he could feel your gaze on him every so often, but he was much too timid to see if his intuition were true. Instead, he decided to continue reading his Korean History textbook, secretly praying that he could fast-forward to the end of that day.

At lunch, you managed to become even more of a confusing person to Seungcheol. The large cafeteria left room for many tables, and Seungcheol naturally chose the one that was most isolated. Every afternoon, he would stick his earbuds in and shuffle Radiohead on his phone, sitting all by himself.

And, for whatever reason, you decided to sit next to him on that day. Seungcheol wouldn’t render the fact that you would forever change his life from that point on for a long time after that. In fact, all Seungcheol felt in that pivotal moment was fear. Why were you sitting next to him? Were you going to torment him? Did he do something wrong?

Contrary to Seungcheol’s fears, you did quite the opposite.

“Hey,” You began with a genuine smile on your face, “you’re Seungcheol, right?”

He froze up. He had no other choice! How could he not? 

“H-how do you know my name?” Seungcheol managed to say. What a great first impression.

“Mr. Kim told me to sit next to you, and he mentioned your name when he told me. Sorry if that scared you!” You explained. There was something off in your explanation, though. It was the apology—it seemed too authentic. Like you were actually sorry. It didn’t sit right with him.

“Oh.” 

You giggled. And, for a moment, everything seemed right in the world. It was as if your melodic laugh ripped the weight off of Seungcheol’s shoulders, even for a brief amount of time. Your laugh was strange, but it made him feel oddly free and unburdened. It almost felt like everything was going to be okay.

Seungcheol’s eyes blinked in your direction. Even if he wholeheartedly adored your laugh, he was wondering what caused you to do so.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

He shook his head, his voluminous black hair shaking along with it. To you, Seungcheol was quite handsome. His doe-like brown eyes were quite refreshing, for some reason.

“So, you like Radiohead?”

“What?” Seungcheol gasped. You knew about Radiohead?

“I love Radiohead. They’re an amazing band!” You continued, rendering the poor boy speechless. Cool—you were so damn cool. Like the coolest person alive. You were confident, pretty, outgoing, and you fucking listened to Radiohead!

“Am I really playing it that loud?” Seungcheol laughed nervously. You nodded, but your expression was nonchalant. Unbothered. In fact, you seemed to welcome it.

“I’m not complaining!”

“Um,” Seungcheol began with his heart in his throat, “do you wanna listen? With me?”

The two seconds you took to “contemplate” his request felt like two hours. But, even though it was only two seconds, Seungcheol took in your entire appearance. You were undeniably beautiful, your eyes sparkly and your lips pursed with a playful kind of curiosity.

“I’d love to.”

So, he gave you one of the wires of his earbuds, and you gladly started listening along with him. You hummed along to the current song, which was Ripcord. Seungcheol stared at you, you who seemed so tranquil yet content in that simple moment. Your eyes were bright, and they looked at the world with such passion. Your smile was undeniably contagious, even if Seungcheol wanted to fight his own grin. Your posture was relaxed yet not hunched. 

Everything about you was so...free.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.��� .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You scared Seungcheol in the best way possible. A week after the two of you listened to Radiohead together, you still continued to sit next to him during lunch every day. You even gathered the courage to ask him for his number, to which he eagerly obliged to give you.

Yet, Seungcheol couldn’t help but feel the fear of uncertainty clutch at his heart every

time you talked to him. Were you just messing with him? Why were you being so damn kind? He didn’t deserve it—any of it. He didn’t deserve your unprecedented kindness or your cheesy jokes.

When were you going to leave, just like everyone else? Or turn on him? Seungcheol wanted you to do it as soon as possible, so he wouldn’t get too attached. It would make everything easier if you just hated him, like the rest.

But that’s the thing—you only seemed to like him more every day. And it scared the shit out of him. He had been told his entire life that he couldn’t trust anyone who told him that they loved him.

So why did he so willingly open his heart to you?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been about a month since you’d come to Daegu, all the way from Seoul. December finally rolled around, making the weather drop dramatically. You loved the cold, for some reason. You flourished in the cold, in fact. The feeling of the frosty air against your skin just made everything better.

So, why were you so damn hot? It was December, and there you were, with Choi Seungcheol, in the art room at your current school. Your last class had already ended about an hour ago, but you asked Seungcheol to help you out with something in the art room. He happily helped, even if he tried to mask his joy with indifference. You couldn’t quite figure him out, but it’s not like he was some puzzle. He was a human being, but he was unlike any other person you had ever met. And you loved that.

Seungcheol was a breath of fresh air. Amid the chaos of your life, being able to talk to someone so tranquil and laid back was lovely. Even if you knew how things would end for you, and he did not, you still wanted to enjoy your adolescence. It was all you were ever going to have, anyway.

“So, what did you need my help with?” He nervously asked, coaxing a giggle out of you. He was so damn cute.

You walked over to a set of shelves, filled with various types of drawings and sculptures. Of course, the one you wanted to show him was on the top shelf. You jumped up and flailed your arms and tried to grab it, but it was no use.

Seungcheol snuck up on you like a cheetah to its prey, yet with no malicious intent. That boy was just so damn quiet. You froze when you felt his breath fan against your neck. He effortlessly reached up from behind you and grabbed the single drawing you were aiming for with ease. And, during that brief moment, your body temperature felt like it was raised by ten degrees. He handed you the paper, not even looking at what you drew. He just gave it to you, while wearing that stupid yet adorable smile of his. He didn’t even register the fact that he made you nervous on his radar. You didn’t know if you were grateful for that or not.

You finally managed to sputter a shy “thank you” and turned away, your cheeks reddened beyond belief. Then came the hard part, even if what you had just gone through nearly gave you a heart attack.

Seungcheol noticed your change in aura the moment you gave him the drawing you made. You, who was usually so damn confident and sure of herself, looked absolutely and utterly uncertain. And, before Seungcheol could even register that you had made that drawing for him, he came to a pivotal realization.

You were a human, just like him. You weren’t an angel, nor any other non-worldly being. You were mortal, and you got nervous just like him and everybody else on the planet. And, somehow, that made him feel ten times better. You weren’t perfect—good. That was good. He still liked you anyway.

Finally, Seungcheol looked down at the drawing. His eyes widened immediately. Shock rippled through his entire being, all the way to his core. But it wasn’t the type of shock that made him feel miserable, it was a type of shock that made him change the way he thought. Because, you had drawn him so wonderfully. It was simply him, sitting down on a lunch table, with his earbuds in. You had captured everything about Seungcheol so accurately, to the point where it made him feel like someone had taken a picture. The feeling was...lovely. Someone drew him. You drew him. And it was extraordinary.

You, who was so beautiful and passionate, you had put effort into making something for him. And he felt like the first time he heard you laugh—unburdened. Joyous. Like he could do anything. Like the world wasn’t so bad after all. 

Seungcheol didn’t realize he was crying until you had cupped his face and wiped his tears away. 

“Thank you,” He whispered, “from the bottom of my heart. Thank you.”

You smiled, feeling all of your nerves start to float away. He loved it, and you could tell from the moment he first laid eyes on the piece. 

That was why you liked to draw. Because it could bring some love into the world, even if the amount was small and seemingly insignificant. But, you still managed to make someone smile that day. You made someone feel important and loved. It didn’t matter if it was only one person, because that was all you wanted anyway. If you could just make one person’s life a little bit brighter, then you had fulfilled your purpose.

In spite of his tears, Seungcheol looked the happiest you had ever seen him. And it made your heart swell with an intense kind of affection, one that made you feel warm despite the freezing temperature outside.

“Come on,” You laughed, “let’s go get hot chocolate or something.” 

Seungcheol nodded, and he chuckled nervously. His voice was a bit cracked due to his crying, but you could tell that he was being genuine.

“That sounds wonderful.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Life was so damn unfair.

The doctor’s words rang through your ears unforgivingly, and you wanted nothing else but to scream at him. And everyone else in the world. You wanted to scream at whatever made you have to succumb to such a terrible fate. 

“I’m afraid to say you don’t have much time left.” 

You scoffed at those earth-shattering words.

“Fuck you.” You whispered to no one in particular. You were walking down the sidewalks of Daegu, passing through the crowd with anger in your heart. No one knew you. People could merely walk by you, look you in the eye, and then move on with their lives. Fuck them. They get to move on! They get to go and live their fucking lives!

And you? You get to die in six months. Maybe a few more if you’re lucky.

Tears are silently cascading down your face at that point, and there was no sign of them stopping. Your pace quickened, and your eyes were glued to the ground. Maybe, if you ignored everything for long enough, you could escape to a different reality. One where you weren’t destined to die as a teenager.

Alas, nothing like that happened. In fact, your day took a surprising turn. What was supposed to be a lonely Wednesday during winter break turned into one you would spend with Seungcheol, seeing as you had bumped into him on the pavement. Your brisk pace and inattentive eyes were your downfall. Seungcheol’s head was in the clouds, and the moment he registered the fact that you were going to crash into him, it was already much too late.

Afterwards, you backed up and wiped your tears. Your eyes met Seungcheol’s chocolate brown ones, and for a moment, you forgot the previous events of the day. You couldn’t help but smile, even if it was just for a bit.

“Y/N?” He croaked, fear thick in his tone. He was worried, since it was quite evident that you had been crying.

“Hey…” You sighed, scratching the back of your neck nervously. Reality had come back with an overpowering force, and you couldn’t contain the embarrassment you felt.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.” His response was immediate.

Woah. Did Seungcheol just call you out? When did he become assertive?

Unbeknownst to you, Seungcheol was equally surprised with himself. What had compelled him to be so aggressive? Maybe it’s because of you. If it had been anybody else, he wouldn’t have pushed so hard. But he cared about you. So much. And, he didn’t want you to pretend to be okay. Hell—he was being a hypocrite. He pretended to be okay around you, too. But maybe that could change.

It was the afternoon before Christmas Eve. Usually, you would spend Christmas with your parents, but you had left them behind in Seoul. Once you found out your impending doom, your first wish was to leave Seoul and live independently for a while, since you never experienced something so monumental.

You wouldn’t ever experience a lot of things, would you?

The tears came back in an even stronger wave. Before you could stop him, Seungcheol had grabbed your wrist and pulled you to where he came from, which was his apartment complex. The two of you were previously standing in the middle of the sidewalk, and it had started to overwhelm the both of you.

And, with your wrist in his hand, the two of you ran to Seungcheol’s apartment. You could smell the frost in the air, and you felt alive. Because you were—you were alive. And you wouldn’t be for long.

So stop wallowing in your own self-pity! Make the most of it!

Your eyes flitted to Seungcheol’s face. His entire expression screamed “worried”. He seemed to pick up pace the closer the two of you got, which made it much harder for you to keep up with. But you did.

And you couldn’t help but realize how damn handsome he was. From the first day you had met him, he had enticed you. He was adorable, yet loving and kind. And you liked him. A lot.

So, you stopped dead in your tracks. Seungcheol, confused, looked at you with concerned eyes. Before he could say anything, you grabbed the collar of his sweater and pulled him close to you. And then you were kissing—and it felt just like you thought it would. Right. It felt right.

It had taken Seungcheol a few seconds to realize what was happening. Then, he had kissed you back with just as much passion. God, why didn’t you do this sooner? 

His large hands cupped your face, and soon the two of you were full-on making out in front of his apartment complex. It got heated. Fast. And, suddenly, the deadly-cold air wasn’t cold enough to cool you off.

Finally, Seungcheol pulled away with a dazed expression. You gave him a shy yet snide smile.

“Well, um, that was...yeah.” He sputtered.

“You’ve got such a way with words.”

“Yeah, well, you fucking scared me, alright? Like, what the hell? You just—you just kissed me! Me! You kissed me!”

“I know.” You had to fight back your laughter.

“Well...um, why?”

“Because I like you, why else?”

Seungcheol’s frustration was oddly endearing to you. You couldn’t help the large smile that played at your swollen lips.

“But, you were crying! Why?”

You sighed. Suddenly, the smile on your face disappeared into a troubled frown. Seungcheol noticed your entire change in demeanor. He stepped closer, his confused nature being overshadowed by his concern.

“What’s wrong?” He continued. Tears started to fall from your eyes again. It was all so real—too real. You were dying. You were going to die, and there was nothing anybody in the world could do about it.

You jumped into Seungcheol’s arms, violently sobbing into the crook of his neck.

“Six months,” You began through cries, “I only have six months left to live. I thought I had more...I was doing so good.”

Shock. That’s all Seungcheol could feel when those words of poison fell from your mouth. This type of shock was unwelcomed. It wasn’t like what he felt when you showed him your drawing. No, this type of shock was suffocating. He wanted to break this shock, or wake up from it. Because what you said just couldn’t be real! It couldn’t be…

But it was.

“What?” Seungcheol croaked. You had pulled away from his frigid embrace, and you stared into his eyes. They were blown out with fear. It seemed as if he had not even considered denial. No, he knew that it was real. That’s why he looked so damn broken. Like a little kid.

And, selfishly, Seungcheol thought, of course. Of course you’re going to die.

Because the people who cared for him never stayed. He should have known—he should have fucking known!

But then, he felt utterly disgusted with himself. How dare he try to spin your fate into a problem of his own? The urge to vomit intensified.

“I have an inoperable brain tumor.” You confessed, your voice raw and broken. 

Seungcheol began to cry, even more than you did. Because, oh god, he loved you. He loved you. And you had not known each other for long, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t fight the unbreakable feelings he had for you. So, after a little while, he swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath.

“Okay.” He stated plainly.

“What? ‘Okay’?”

“Yeah. Okay. I just have to accept it.”

Your look of confusion only got more intense.

“So, Y/N, what are you doing for Christmas?”

You scoffed. You knew exactly where he was going with that, but you couldn’t help but grin.

“Spending it with you?” You asked. A sad smile played at your lips.

“Spending it with me.” He answered.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Christmas rolled around rather quickly. You had been already planning on getting Seungcheol a present, which was another drawing. However, it was of the both of you that time. It was based off of a selfie you took during the middle of lunch. He was simply reading a book in the picture, the wires of his earbuds connecting the two of you. And, there you were, making a peace sign and smiling boldly. You had perfected the drawing down to every last detail; wanting to impress Seungcheol was something you desired greatly. 

Finally, Seungcheol arrived at your apartment, a wrapped gift in hand. When your eyes met his, which were full of apprehension and anxiety, a smile melted across your face. And you felt it—that intense feeling of affection. One that you had never experienced before. It surged through you, from the bottom of your body up to your throat, taking your breath away. 

“Come in.” You grinned.

He awkwardly stepped in, sliding his shoes off and on a pair of slippers. 

And that’s when you noticed it—his black eye. It was swollen and made you grit your teeth upon first sight. A gasp fell from your lips, and you instinctively reached out for it, grazing your fingers on his skin slightly.

He stood frozen still. 

“What happened?” You croaked. Seungcheol tensed up even more. Then the tears just fell, and they kept coming. Soon, the two of you were on your couch, Seungcheol sobbing into the crook of your neck.

You stroked his hair, silently comforting him. After a while, he finally managed to speak up.

“My f-father...did this to me.”

Your eyes went dark with anger. And soon the rage from the initial shock amplified immensely. But so did the pain in your aching heart.

“Has he done this before?”

Seungcheol shook his head. It dawned on you—Seungcheol knew so much about you, but you couldn’t say the same for him. His life had remained a mystery to you, and you couldn’t help but feel as if his silence was intentional. 

“Why?” You exasperated, your voice going raw. Then, tears cascaded down your face just like Seungcheol.

“He...he thought I was leaving him and my mom behind for Christmas.”

“What did your mom say?”

“Nothing,” Seungcheol began, “she’s dead.”

Oh. Your crying intensified. 

“My dad...is not well. But he refuses to go to the hospital. I think...I think he just doesn’t like Christmas. My mom died around this time a year. I don’t remember her, though.”

You swallowed the next onslaught of sobs. You finally detached yourself from Seungcheol’s grasp, and soon your expression became livid, yet worried.

“You don’t have to tell me more…”

His eyes lightened, even if just for a bit.

“I want to…” He shyly confessed, breaking eye contact. Your silence invited him to continue.

“My mom died giving birth to me. She had preeclampsia, and when she was giving birth, she had to choose whether to save herself or me. She chose me.”

Seungcheol’s eyes watered with tears again.

“It’s all my fault, Y/N,” He cried, “he hates me so much. Everyone does.”

Anger had overtaken you. How could he not see? He was such an amazing person! You couldn’t hold in the words anymore, you just had to tell him.

“I love you!” You screamed.

Time froze for a second. Almost as if the expression of shock on his face made everything cease to exist.. Seungcheol tensed up and incessantly shook his head.

“No, you don’t. You can’t…”

“Your father...he’s just looking for someone to blame. Just like I am. Just like my parents will and just like you will after I’m gone. But we all need to realize that there is just simply no one to blame!”

“You’re wrong! It’s my fault, it’s all my fucking f—”

“Your father is wrong. He’s wrong because I love you. He’s wrong because you made me look forward to the rest of the time I have left!”

Seungcheol’s tears stopped. He stood eerily still after your impactful worlds, concerningly so.

He finally looked up to you, his brown eyes painfully staring into yours.

“What?” He mustered.

“Seungcheol, I’m dying. I have no time to hate myself or the world around me. I have no time to blame anyone. My life just happened to turn out like this. I’m going to die young...and I’m so fucking scared. But you know what?”

“Y/N, I—”

“You fuckin’ know what, Seungcheol? I’m not dead yet. I’m breathing, I’m thinking, I’m moving, I’m existing! And I don’t want to live the rest of the short amount of time I have left in fear. So I choose to be with you. To live with you.”

A long silence followed.

Then, he took a deep breath, held it in for ten seconds, and let it out. He got out his present for you.

“Open it.” 

Your eyes scanned the disorderly wrapping, which made you scoff lightly. Finally, you started to tear at the paper, anxiety building with each rip.

Then you smiled.

He got you a CD player, along with the disk of “Pablo Honey” by Radiohead. That album had “Ripcord” on it, the song that played the first time you both talked.

“I love it,” You grinned, “thank you.”

Soon, he had opened your present, and he smiled like a complete idiot. And you relished in that fact. 

Later on, after the tension had disappeared from the air, the two of you sat on your couch watching TV. Your phone, which was in the kitchen, had started to ring.

You ran to it as Seungcheol had paused the television. And he couldn’t help but hear your voice and just how it slightly changed when you picked up the phone.

“Hey Mom and Dad, Merry Christmas!” You greeted. Your face fell after a few more seconds, but your false cheery tone didn’t fade away.

“Yeah, I’m doing great right now. I actually have a friend over! His name is Seungcheol.” And then some incoherent rambling was heard on the other line, something he couldn’t quite make out.

“Alright, bye! Talk to you tomorrow. Love you guys!”

You set your phone down on the counter, and Seungcheol couldn’t help but train his eyes onto you.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“It sucks,” You began with a sad smile, “having to pretend to be okay. Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he defeatedly replied, “it sucks.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A mutual understanding was developed between you two. One that acknowledged both of your feelings and situations.

You both loved each other. But neither of you knew exactly what to do with that fact.

Finally, winter started to end. The New Year came and went, and you went home to Seoul, celebrating it with your parents. During his time alone with his father, Seungcheol finally took him to the doctors. He had been prescribed many different medications, ones that Seungcheol had to monitor.

One March evening, where the breeze was lovely and not too cold, Seungcheol walked through the streets of Daegu. And he was just thinking. 

With his hands in his pockets, his mind uncontrollably wandered to you. Your smile, your laugh, and your inevitable fate. A suffocating ache soon took a hold of his heart, encasing it mercilessly. How much time did he have until you left him?

When would he be alone again?

When would the days continue to be meaningless endeavors, that dragged on purposelessly?

When would his world come crashing down?

Just when he was about to fall apart, to overflow, your voice was heard among the night.

“Cheol?” You called out. He didn’t realize he was walking past your apartment complex until then. Coincidentally, you had been taking out the trash. He took long strides to you, his gaze intense.

“I’m so scared.” The sincerity in his voice and the look in his eyes said everything you needed to know.

“Me too.” You morosely grin, a faraway look in your eyes.

“I wanna be with you.”

“I wanna be with you, too.” The intensity in your eyes matched Seungcheol’s. 

“We should stop wasting our time, right?” You sheepishly question. He nods solemnly. A few moments of silence pass.

“This means you’re my girlfriend now, right?” He asks. You cannot contain the initial reaction to giggle.

“Yes, that’s what it means.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You start getting visibly worse around the beginning of April. You missed school a lot, due to painful migraines and overall weakness. Seungcheol, at first, pretended not to notice. But it got to a point where beating around the bush got neither of you anywhere.

He started to miss school too. Just so he could spend the day by your side, listening to Radiohead and fooling around.

Although you were physically deteriorating, the spark of confidence in your eyes never disappeared. It didn’t even flicker with doubt. You were a fighter, that’s for sure.

“Y/N,” Seungcheol began on a day the both of you skipped school, “I have a question.”

You, who was snuggled up against him underneath a blanket, watching reruns of “The Office”, adjusted your body a bit.

“Shoot.”

“How are you so confident?”

A helpless smile spread across your lips. 

“I’m not, I just want others to think I am.” You confessed

“Oh.” Seungcheol muttered. And then it hit him—wow—you were damn good at pretending. 

“Cheol, you think everyone else except you has their shit together, don’t you?”

He nodded.

“Well, they don’t. Nobody knows what the hell they’re doing, alright? We’re all pretending that we do, though. So that no one will ever know the truth.”

His eyes, which only seemingly got deeper and easier to lose yourself in by the second, bored into yours.

“You’re so cool, Y/N.”

You lean in and give him a brief kiss, smiling into it.

“I know.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Who’s that one girl you’re always hanging out with?” Seungcheol’s father interrogated. He was making dinner for himself, his dad sitting on the couch flipping through television channels.

Oh, Seungcheol thought, he noticed?

“My girlfriend.” He responded, not finding any use in lying. 

His father turned the TV off.

“What?”

“She’s my girlfriend, Dad.”

“You sure she’s not using you? You know, you’re not exactly the most lovable—”

“Dad?” Seungcheol interrupted.

“Yes?” He responded, his tone gruff and short.

“Do you still feel the need to blame me?” Seungcheol blurted, his eyes squeezed shut out of fear. He felt like bile was going to pour out of his mouth in an instant. Anxiety surrounded him like he was the eye of a hurricane.

“What did you say?” 

Despite feeling nothing but pure, unfiltered fear, Seungcheol persisted.

“Do you still need to blame me? For what happened to Mom? It’s been seventeen years, Dad. It’s no one’s fault—”

“You shut your mouth—”

“Please, Dad. She’s dead! She’s not gonna come back…”

Seungcheol soon found himself crying, images of you prominent in his head.

“She’s not gonna come back.” He repeated, that time to himself. 

His eyes flitted toward the digital clock under the TV. It read 10:38 PM, on a Thursday night during early May. Your time together was running out.

 “And there’s no one to blame, even if I want there to be someone, there just isn’t. I’m...I’m gonna miss her so much.”

“What?”

Seungcheol shook himself out of it, refocusing his attention back onto his father. 

“Do you think Mom wanted you to treat me like this? Is this what she died for?”

He doesn’t give his dad the time to answer, for Seungcheol grabbed his keys and phone, and stormed out of the apartment.

He wanted to see you, so badly.

He dialed your number into his phone, the lovely breeze of the May evening kissing his skin. But there’s no answer.

So he called again. And again.

Soon, he was running to where your apartment complex was, his lungs burning. And the anxiety he felt was quite prominent, achingly so. No. He wanted to see you.

He needed to see you.

Seungcheol finally arrived at the apartment complex, and he used the keys you gave him to get in. He tried to wait for an elevator to come and get him, but he deemed it as “too slow” and sprinted up the stairs instead.

Please be okay.

The nervous boy fumbled with the key while trying to unlock your door. Finally, he weaseled his way into your apartment, tears uncontrollably cascading down his cheeks. 

“Y/N!” He screamed. Soon, he was able to hear running water.

You were just taking a shower.

“Cheol?”

“Yeah, it’s me…” He panted, hunched over. You quickly got dressed and ran out.

“Are you okay?” You worriedly asked when your eyes met his.

“Yeah, I-I’m fine. Just got a bit worried, that’s all.” He scratched the back of his neck, almost like he was ashamed.

You knew why he was with you. 

Tears started to well up in your eyes, guilt washing over you so much you could drown in it.

“I’m sorry…” You croaked.

“What?” Seungcheol questioned, surprised at your sudden change in demeanor.

“I...I won’t be by your side for much longer. I’m...so sorry!”

You began to wail uncontrollably. Seungcheol just simply held you in his arms, reassuring you every few minutes. But it was to no use—what you said was true. Your body was starting to wilt away.

“Don’t apologize,” he began with a sad glint in his brown eyes, “this is no one’s fault.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

June was in full bloom. The excruciating heat was prominent in the air just about every day. 

One night, you were overcome with fatigue. Plus, the pain in your head wasn’t subsiding, no matter how much Advil you took.

Your vision began to blur. It went in and out of focus, and you weren’t really looking at anything. Your eyelids grew heavier, and soon you just couldn’t keep them open anymore.

You knew what was happening.

For some reason, your mind replayed the first time you spoke to Seungcheol in your head. You could hear “Ripcord” so clearly, almost like it was being played at that exact moment. 

You watched his smile of shyness and uncertainty bloom into one of confidence and authenticity.

Seungcheol was...so nice.

Your arm extended out to the air in front of you, reaching for his face. It felt like he was right there, next to you. 

He wasn’t.

I guess this is it, you thought.

I hope...someone else can take care of Cheol.

The selfie you had taken of the both of you flashed in your mind. You hoped he still had the drawing of it—the one that you made.

“I love you, Cheol…”

His smile replayed in your mind.

“Thank you…”

His warm gaze comforted you.

“I hope...you let yourself be happy, Cheol.”

Your vision turned bright, and soon life left your body like a bird flying away, never to return.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been about four months since you died. Seungcheol graduated high school, and his plan was to study abroad in America.

He didn’t think he was going to return.

Nothing kept him rooted to Korea. In fact, he wanted to leave. His father was a shell of a human, and Seungcheol was afraid he was going to turn out just like him.

He continued to pack everything he needed, his mind elsewhere. But then the picture you drew of him was suddenly in his hands. It brought Seungcheol back to reality.

Like a closet door shut tight, Seungcheol kept everything he felt locked away. But he just broke at the sight of your lovely drawing of him.

He started to sob. His throat grew painfully dry, and his cries turned into silent gasps. 

“Where are you?” He screamed. He longed to see you more than anything else. But you were six feet under, and he was not. He was alive and breathing. Without you.

You’re not going to come back.

He was alone.

Seungcheol was alone.

Why had the world moved on? Your parents went back to work, and your classmates graduated and were going off to college.

Why was everyone else okay except him?

Seungcheol then remembered something you taught him.

Everyone’s just faking it. No one really knows what they’re doing.

He smiled forlornly. 

You loved him, and because of that, he wasn’t alone. If he carried your love with him everywhere he went, he would never truly be alone.

If there was one thing that Seungcheol knew about his life, it was that he knew nothing at all. And, for some reason, that felt okay.

All you wanted for Seungcheol was for him to live a life of happiness. He knew that.

So, that’s exactly what he would do. And, as the years passed by, happiness wasn’t such a foreign concept anymore.

Seungcheol didn’t have to deal with the ache of isolation, for that’s not how life is meant to be lived. 

Your melodic laugh reverberated throughout his mind. He smiled.

Everything would be okay.

[kissjane]

SOME SURPRISE / Not so short story

[So when I started with this list I thought those stories would be about 500 words each. Then after I got a few done I thought, okay, maybe 500 words is not enough for some of these prompts, I’ll just keep them all under 1000 words. Then some stories got a bit longer still and I thought to myself, okay, around 1000 words each, then. Then… Well, this one is over 2000. Sue me.]

#37 from this prompt list.

For everybody who wanted to see Matteo in black leather doing things to David and for everybody who wanted to see jealous David…

We’re dating and I didn’t know you were a mobster/biker

David checked his phone again. He’d been standing in front of the coffee shop for nearly twenty minutes now, waiting for Matteo to show up. It wasn’t that he minded waiting for Matteo - to be honest, he’d wait a lot longer for Matteo - but he was getting a bit worried. He had tried to call Matteo a few minutes ago, but it had gone straight to voice mail.

He supposed a delay of a few minutes was not too bad, though. Matteo probably just got held up in class for some reason.

A smile appeared involuntarily on David’s face, as he thought about the blonde boy he had met a few weeks ago. He didn’t know how on earth they had been studying at the same university for almost two years, knowing a lot of the same people, even being both somewhat involved in the LGBTQ+ group on campus, without ever running into each other earlier - but they finally had been introduced to each other, and they had hit it off immediately. They’d been going on several dates since, and David already knew he really, really liked Matteo.

Matteo was so laid-back and easy-going, compared to David, who was always pushing himself to be the best at everything he tried. Matteo’s nonchalance was refreshing. David also appreciated the other boy’s dry humour, his wry self-deprecation, his sly remarks. He was charmed by Matteo’s cute clumsiness and his quiet thoughtfulness. He liked how Matteo took his time, thought before he spoke, didn’t need to be loud to get his point across. They laughed a lot, hung out doing nothing, letting their inner child out. It just was all very easy with Matteo. And his big, sky-blue eyes didn’t hurt either.

David couldn’t remember if Matteo had class this afternoon, or if he would be coming from home. He peered both ways, trying to see if he could detect a lanky figure in multiple layers of baggy clothes walk up, when a sleek, shiny motorbike turned in to the street. David was impressed by the machine. The driver seemed to control it masterfully, lying flat with the bike in the turn, and revving it up smoothly. David looked at it wistfully. He’d always kinda wanted to learn how to ride a bike. He thought it would be so cool, to just get on and drive away into the sunset, dark and mysterious. As he was watching, the biker parked across the street. David’s eyes wandered from the chrome and metal to the rider, who turned off the engine and got off in a graceful movement, their leg swinging high. David stared at the slender figure in tight-fitting leather, moving like in a carefully orchestrated choreography. He noticed the strong legs, the curves of the calves, the way the black fabric hugged the biker’s thighs. He kept looking as they bent over to take something out of the saddlebag, and he blushed as he noticed their ass. A tiny flash of guilt crept up on him - it was probably not very appropriate to stare at some hot biker while he was waiting for his date - but it wasn’t strong enough to make him turn away his eyes from the delectable sight in front of him.

It just - it did things to him, okay? He felt his breathing go slightly shallow and a blush taint his cheeks as he watched. The person across the street was effortlessly sexy. It seemed a bunch of girls agreed with David, as they stopped right next to the mysterious biker, and preened, smiling coquettishly, unconsciously adjusting their tops, their hair, their earrings.

The biker then stood up, his back to David, and took off his helmet. He shook his head, and slid a gloved hand through his tousled blonde locks. David smiled. He did have a thing for blonde men, remembering how Matteo often made a similar gesture with his hand to move his hair out of his eyes.

The girls started giggling, a few of them bravely saying something to the man, moving closer. One of them put a small hand on the guy’s upper arm, and suddenly David felt a pang of jealousy. He wished he could ever be that confident, to just walk up to a hot guy and let him know he was interested.

Then the guy turned around, looked straight at David, and smiled.

David felt his heart skip a beat - make that a couple of beats - before it started drumming hard and fast in his throat.

The girls kept throwing simpering looks at the leather-clad man, smiling, winking, circling around him – and David couldn’t do anything but watch in horror. He felt bile rise in his throat as he saw the guy’s lips moving, saying something to the girls, which made several of them blush fervently. He wanted to run over there, push each and every one away, and stake his claim.

Before he could move, however, the man made his way towards David.

The girls stared unapologetically, and David couldn’t even blame them. It was a very, very nice view.

“Hi,” the blonde boy softly said, leaning against the wall next to David. “Sorry I’m late.”

David blinked, his mouth open in confusion, staring at the hot body in form-fitting leather, then slowly moving his gaze up to the softest blue eyes he had ever seen.

Matteo shifted, looking a bit uncomfortable.

“Uh,” he started, his voice uncertain, “Is everything okay? You’re not mad, are you? I was visiting my mom and I should have left a bit earlier, I’m sorry…”

“You ride a bike,” David blurted out unceremoniously.

“Uh, yeah,” Matteo replied timidly after a short pause. “It used to be my dad’s. He wanted me to learn how to ride it, like a real man or something.” He huffed humourlessly. “My father isn’t really happy about me being gay, to put it mildly. Anyway, it comes in handy sometimes, but I don’t use it often.”

“Why not?”, David asked, his eyes alternating between the motorcycle across the street and Matteo looking all dangerous. “It seems those girls think it suits you.”

They both looked over, where the girls still hung out, occasionally throwing a come-hither look at Matteo. The latter shrugged, visibly embarrassed.

“Oh, uh, yeah, that happens sometimes. They seem to think it’s hot, or something…” His voice trailed off, and he shrunk into himself slightly, a blush on his pale cheeks, clearly self-conscious.

“No kidding,” David muttered, rolling his eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing.” David collected himself. Matteo looking so ill at ease reminded him he was still the cute, fun boy David had been hanging out with, although the exterior seemed to have morphed into someone else entirely. “Come on, let’s go get coffee.”

Matteo smiled, and they went in together. David glanced over his shoulder at the girls, who seemed to realize they wouldn’t get to talk more to Matteo any time soon, and continued on their way. Good riddance, David thought possessively, as he put his hand on Matteo’s biceps as the girl had done earlier. If Matteo thought it was strange, he didn’t show it.

However, David’s torture wasn’t over yet. The barista, a cute brunette with glasses, started twirling her hair around her finger when Matteo walked up to the counter to order, and her voice was too high-pitched to be natural when she asked him for his name.

“Oh, Matteo,” she tittered. “Are you Italian? How interesting!”

Matteo replied slowly, “Half. Uhm, David, what do you want?”

The brunette glared at David, but took his order nevertheless. David shepherded Matteo to a table, touching him as he did so. He was painfully aware that more than one head turned as Matteo passed through the crowded space to the nearest free table. It was time all these girls realized who Matteo was on a date with, David thought grumpily.

They sat down, and Matteo smiled at him again, and David melted. He never realized before how gorgeous Matteo looked like this, a sort of half smile, half smirk around beautiful lips, his blue eyes sparkling like the sea on a summer day, with sunlight reflecting off of it, his hair falling over his face, his cheeks all rosy. He wanted to take a picture of it, to look at late at night when he couldn’t sleep. Suddenly he craved more - he wanted to ask Matteo to make things official, to be his boyfriend, to ask for permission to kiss him senseless.

But then the cashier called out that their drinks were ready, and David hastily got up. He didn’t want anybody else to have a chance at flirting with Matteo. He brought the drink over, and it seemed like another crisis was averted, until he noticed the phone number on Matteo’s cup. Matteo saw it too, at the exact same moment, and they both stared at the innocent numbers in black sharpie.

“Seriously?”, David hissed. He never knew he was the jealous type, but right now, he wanted to claw out the girl’s eyes.

Matteo looked up, and the smile had disappeared, as had the joy in his eyes.

“Uh, sorry about that,” he mumbled, but David was fed up with the whole business.

“What are you apologizing for? It’s not your fault every girl in town is trying to flirt with you, is it?”

Matteo recoiled from the anger radiating from David, and he immediately felt bad. It really wasn’t Matteo’s fault, and David shouldn’t take it out on him, but he felt like the situation was slipping out of his grasp. He could rip the head off anybody who as much as breathed in Matteo’s direction. Matteo was here with him, to hell with everybody else.

“It’s just that, maybe, if you were trying to get phone numbers from random girls, you could do it at some other time. You know, when you’re not on a date with me.”

Matteo’s mouth dropped.

“What? I’m not trying to get any phone numbers! And definitely not from some random girls! I’m gay, remember?”

“Yeah, well,” David murmured, somewhat chastised by Matteo’s outburst. “I’m sure you could get some boys to throw themselves at your feet, too.”

Matteo gaped at him.

“I wouldn’t be interested in any of them, either,” he said, quietly but calmly, and with such determination and conviction that it threw David for a loop.

Matteo was looking at him, unblinking, his coffee forgotten on the table between them.

“Why not?”, David finally whispered, after a long silence in which neither of them moved.

“I’m already here with the guy I want to be with,” came the reply, stead-fast.

David swallowed, as the envy coursing through him died a swift and painless death.

“But, Matteo,” he hedged, “you could get anybody…”

“Stop,” Matteo interrupted, “just stop right there. First of all, this,” he gestured at the black leather, his helmet resting on the chair next to him, “this is not who I am. Yeah, some people think it’s cool, and they want to flirt a bit with a badass biker, but I am the furthest from that anybody could ever be. You liked me when I was stupid and stubborn. You liked me when I sent you silly memes. You didn't care that I was nervous and gawky and lazy and looked like a bum in my sweatpants and thrift shop jumpers.”

David tried to protest, but Matteo put a finger against his lips. The intimate contact made the hair on David’s neck rise, and a delicious shiver ran down his spine.

“And secondly…”

He stopped himself, suddenly looking down at the table, removing his finger from David’s mouth. David immediately mourned the loss of it.

“Secondly?”, he asked breathlessly.

“And secondly,” Matteo mumbled to the green Formica tabletop, “secondly, I don’t want anybody else. You are so cool, David, and you don’t even see it. You are so talented and smart and you would walk to the end of the earth to reach your goals. And you’re pretty hot, too,” he finished, a bit bashfully, looking up at David from under his eyelashes.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” David said, trying to make it sound like a joke, but instead it came out as total and utter admiration. Matteo laughed, anyway.

They sat for a long beat, looking at each other, a tentative smile on their faces.

David imagined riding home with Matteo later, his arms tight around Matteo’s waist, his body plastered to Matteo’s back. It made him feel warm and fuzzy with excitement.

“Uhm, does this – does this mean we’re, like, together? I mean, are we boyfriends now?”, David finally asked.

Matteo nodded.

“I would like that, if you would like it too.”

Their smiles grew a bit bigger, as David hummed affirmatively.

“Can I make that fact clear to everybody who might be thinking of slipping you their number too?”, he then inquired.

Matteo looked confused, but nodded hesitatingly nevertheless, and David leaned in.

Their kiss was explosive, and should make it abundantly clear to everybody in the room that Matteo was not going to call any other phone number any time soon.

[curious-minx]

Denis Leary is making an animated vignette series based on Dogs Playing Poker and 10 Other Pieces of Kitsch Art That Should Be Turned Into TV

KITSCH auction house tremors and stampedes.

Dennis Leary basically discovered sex, drugs and rock n’ roll with his 2015 two season FX series Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll. Leary’s always been one of those guys that can’t be beaten down  in spite of how dopey and cynical his edgy working class personal brand is. He’s got an entire deal set up with Fox, the flailing broadcasting company has placed all of their chips on a Denis with only one lousy  “N” in his name. I can’t even with this fake Irish Bostonian droid. Relish in the delicate thought process of Leary and leftover former Daily Show producer, Jim Margolis,  bringing up a Pinterest screen grab of the Dogs Playing Poker by Grand Master of Kitsch Cassius Marcellus Coolidge and money signs popping out of both of their heads. Here is a dramatic retelling of this thought process:

“Yo, get this Big D,” salivates the recently fired from Netflix Jim Margolis to Leary over a Zoom, “Fox got this Bento Box Animation Studio sitting around doing nothing but churning out animated interstitials for the Masked Singer, Paradise PD, The Prince, The Blues Brothers animated series, animated Harold And Kumar, Housebroken, The Great North, and ugh..um..Hoops..”

“I fuckin love Hoops, Jimmy! Why aren’t we pitching this on Netflix again?”

“Because Dogs Playing Poker is going to work so much better as pregame filler for live Sporting Events...on Fox.”

“Oh yeah. All of those rotten good for nothing grease monkey and lunch pail people will probably be giving each other Budweiser flavored Covid at the local saloon with these damn dog pictures hanging up. It’s like when old drunks would stay out late and watch the Flinstones at the bar, did you know that actual human male adults would sit in a town like Boston and waste away in a bar watching Flintsones. Can you believe that Johny?”

“My name is Jimmy, err Jim, but yeah Denis we’ll send you the scripts over. Any idea who we should cast?”

“Get me the hot blonde from Inspector Gadget 2, God dammit I miss Louie..are we sure we can’t get Louie back on air?”

“Afraid after Patton Oswalt dognapped his role from him in Secret Life of Pets, Louie CK has been banned from ever appearing as a talking dog again.”

“So bogus. Bobby Kelly will have to do.” Denis gets a text. “Dammit, Adam is getting all thirsty for this juicy  delicious bone. Gotta throw a  big bone to my dog Ferrera. Who else?”

“Ok. I’ll get one of those sad Daily Show losers. Um picking one at random, Roy Wood Jr. They’ll pretty much jump into anything, because John Oliver was in Love Guru they start thinking they can fail their way up.”

“I said no politics at the table! Paws off the table! This is going to be so fucking lit!”

////

Kitsch Art deserves so much more. George Lucas, retired American filmmaker, robber baron of childhoods and all around  mensch has been heavily invested in the kitsch art of Norman Rockwell. There are a bounty of stories to tell. Too many of them are far too white and basic, but there are rich narratives to be found in his out of date even for his own time romanticism of The Old Masters. Hopelessly out of date could have been a failing of Rockwell, but his politics grew progressive as his career went on and fought against the system. Cassius Marcellus Coolidge is the man that operated the first bank in Antwerp, New York  had the astronaut-like grace to wonder, “what if dogs played poker like people played poker?” A painting that dates back to 1894 used as means to sell cigars. What strikes me most about this painting is that they aren’t wearing clothes, but I bet when you try to imagine the painting you imagine these dogs fully decked out in some sort of work coat. There is a further anthropromized version of the ad called “His Station and Four Aces” that depicts a glimpse at a look at an entire canine furry society. His ideas of putting an animal in clothes remains to this day one of the most novel and surefire commercially friendly means of artistic expression. The original cynical man laughing all the way to the bank, his own bank that he founded to boot.

Seen above: An example of a Comic Foreground that also demonstrates the failings of having too few people in your party to properly partake in the comic foreground experience. 

“Cash” Cassius wasn’t the first man to imagine a domestic pet in people clothes, but he’s probably one of the few to do so with such commercial finesse. The man also at one point filed the patent on the “Comic Foregrounds,” which is the technical name of one of those carnival boards with holes to stick your head in. In post Covid times how many more heads will be salivating and rushing towards those holes to pop their heads in to create a lasting memory, if only for a second. So when I start learning more about this remarkable weirdo Cassius Coolidge, a man according to his official website dogsplayingpoker.com’s Biography: “Trying to chase mischievous boys from an abandoned house, he fell from a window and hurt his knee, leaving him injured for the rest of his life.”

Flash forward back to 2021 and Denis Leary and his career a man with a wikipedia with fun entries about all the accusations of plagiarism and hate speech against autism I start to worry about the legacy of more Kitsch art falling into the hands of other greedy and desperate TV executives. That being said if you are a greedy TV executive who happens to be a maniac that likes reading rando’s tumblr pages do I have a list for you!

TOP TEN PIECES OF KITSCH ART THAT SHOULD BE TURNED INTO SOME KIND OF SOMETHING

“We Are Having a Heavenly Time” Columbian Bike Monkey and Parakeet by, once again, Cassius Coolidge

Coolidge’s anthropomorphic foresight strikes again! This time he effortlessly establishes a captivating duo that could be easily voiced by an endless combination of celebrity voice actors. PAUL RUDD as “Monkey” and ISSA RAE as “Parakeet” present “We Are Having a Heavenly Time” present a travel show. You could basically use whatever leftover footage you have lying around from the many Conan O’Brien segments and plug Monkey and Parakeet and their trusty bicycle anywhere for an irreverent glimpse into the foreign World around us.

2. “Clown and The Girl” by Haddon Sundblom  

Now I know what you’re thinking, that title is miserable! I agree, but with a little  reverse engineering you get The Girl and Clown, which could be a whole new addition to the Girl on a Train, Girl with a Dragon Tattoo, Girl with a Dangly Earpiece, the Girl-Verse! The girl appears to be quite fearless of this clown, which is good because we need someone to be brave for when the clown takes off his mask.

Sundblom is also the original artist for the Coke a cola Santa Claus and how is it that we have gone this many rotations around the sun without a single Coke a cola Santa Claus special is the real reason why Christmas will always be the saddest time of year.

3. “Clean Your Fornasetti” based around the artistic Plate collection of Pierro Fornasetti 

Muk bangs, videos of people eating are a huge cyber traffic boom. People love watching people eat. Why not add the element of surprise by what kind of playful Fornasetti chanteuse is hiding underneath this plate full of gruel? Fornasetti is an artist with over 11,000 items created in his name and over 500 of them are based around a variety of expressions of a single woman. Clean Your Fornasetti is a deep and poetic rumination of the romance between the act of someone cleaning their plate and the reveal that the plate contained a visual feast all its own.

4. “Mickey’s Kinkade Playhouse” by the one and only Thomas Kinkade

The Kinkade Studios features over 63 “narrative panoramas” featuring Disney characters, but largely Mickey and Minnie, simply vibing. It’s time we stop pretending that small children like Mickey Mouse and market him for wistful older audiences that want to radiate in a nice long warm bath of color and sound. I am not sure I am even pitching an actual series but more of a Narrative Panoply. One thing that is missing from Disney Plus, and streaming services in general, is a severe lack of programming frills and flourishing. The iconic Adult Swim bumps are something completely lost to the dustbins of programming history left to remain in youtube compilations. Thomas Kinkade is a lot like Enya. Art critics treated him like a comedic punching bag for so long, but I doubt there’s an artist that grasps the kind of sterile enchantment people want after a long day of opioid benders. We’re all trapped inside doing puzzles why not do the bare minimum of slightly animating a pleasant scene of Mickey and Minnie roasting marshmallows or enjoying a breath of fresh Alpine air?

5. “Dust Lickers” by Odd Nerdrum

Quick! Get me Trash Humpers’ Harmony Korine on the Line Show him Shit Rock! The world of Odd Nerdrum is a harsh and primeval one that would make for an astonishing animated landscape. Odd Nerdrum himself feels like a worthy subject of some kind of documentary based around his imagery and insistence on making his art in the most arcane and old fashioned methods possible. Once again, maybe the visual world of Odd Nerdrum may not make for a full on narrative series, but once again would make for one hell of an animated segment.

6. “Homemade Pasta” by John Currin 

A cozy Queer slice of life cooking drama based around the two charming fellows of John Currin’s Homemade Pasta scene. A series of vignettes based around the completely unfabulous and domestic version of bliss that was denied many people as a result of the AIDS crisis. You can’t tell me you don’t see those two nice guys getting cozy and making pasta together and you aren’t dying to see how they go about rolling out their own focaccia bread.

7. “The Velvet Elvis” by the Collective Conscious 

David Lynch at one point in time was trying to crack into making his own Elvis biopic. I think it’s pretty safe to say that the age of a public wanting a David Lynch directed Elvis biopic has probably passed, but that does not stop Velvet art enthusiasts. TheVelvetStore.com is featuring a remarkable promo that could really bump up what a David Lynch Elvis movie could be like and the horror of having one’s soul trapped inside of a Velvet Elvis rendition painting seems like a pretty fertile place to begin a proper story about Elvis in America. 

8. “Big Eye Bunch” by Margaret Keane 

Yes, it was only a matter of time before Ms. Big Eyes herself, Queen of Kitsch, Margaret Keane would come up on a list like this. Tim Burton tried and sort of kind of captured what it so endearing about Keane’s work, but I think a fully animated dive into an orphanage full of sad Big Eye kids that time travel and meet other Big Eyed children version of historical figures is a Big Idea that could make a whole new generation keen on Keane.

9. “Banality” by Jeff Koons

An animated series based around the artistic sensibilities of Jeff Koons would be a tricky affair, but just the kind of gaudy whimsy that someone like Michel Gondrey could use to proper effect. A series based around someone trying to steal the fifteen million dollar Michael Jackson statue would also be appropriate.

10. “Groovenians reboot” by Kenny Scharf

Scharf is the only artist on this list that actually was a kitsch artist that caught the attention of early aughts adult swim. A tv show that only features the artistic sensibilities of Scharf but also a voice acting cast that consisted of Paul Reubens, Rupaul, Vincent Gallo, and Dennis Hopper. There’s also a theme song performed by the B-52s and musical direction by Devo’s Mark Mothersbaugh. One of the only known published reviews of the pilot describe the show as needing mind altering substances to enjoy and that it is essentially like “watching a cartoon reflected off of a funhouse mirror. This is basically a description of the modern tik tok addled twitchy type content that makes a killing on the Internet for millenial and zoomer types. Basically the whole aesthetic of a warped and broken looking cartoon is the exact sort of thing weirdos deep diving at youtube at four in the morning are looking for and seeing that this gets a failed pilot and Denis Leary’s Dog Poker vignettes get greenlit is exactly what’s wrong with the world.

[certifiedmoth]

Three’s More Fun

Xavier Plympton x Jim Mason x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader finds herself in an interesting situation when the two most desired men at Camp Redwood seem to only have eyes for her.

Notes: I know we know absolutely nothing about Xavier (if that even is his real name), but oh well, I wanted to write some fuckboy Xavier and sweet jimmy, enjoy!! picture credit to @cruzinwithhorrorstory

Warnings: Oral (female receiving), fingering, degradation

Word Count: 3.1K

___

Everybody knew who the kings of Camp Redwood were. From the moment they stepped foot on the soil, they owned it. Wherever they went, hungry eyes followed and daydreams played in the mind of every not-so-innocent bystander.

Xavier made his presence known no matter where he went. Whether it was the dining hall, the shared cabin the counselors used, or his studio, once he stepped into a room, all eyes became glued to the confident (some would even argue cocky) blonde. They would look him up and down, as he strut across the room, with a smirk that showed he knew all too well what he was doing to everyone there. With his shorts a little too short and his demeanor a little too friendly, he knew ways to get exactly what he wanted out of people.

He was the dance instructor, and a good one, at that. He moved effortlessly throughout his classes and always made sure to pay extra attention to those he liked. Always so eager to help out his more attractive coworkers with their stretches and techniques; one could say he was simply a generous man. Or at least, he would say that. He so graciously gifted everyone with the ability to fantasize about what life would be like with the king himself. About how he would touch them, how he would kiss them and dote on them… about how he would make them feel when they were all alone together at night. He got off on knowing just how wanted and adored he was.

Attention had always been something that Xavier craved and it filled him with the sweetest pleasure knowing that it was him who everyone dreamt of at night. The idea of others secretly pleasing themselves in their beds to the thought of the man himself, hopelessly wishing he was there with them, was enough to keep him busy at night, as well. The thought of others desiring him filled certain parts of his body with need and he really was never one to deny himself of such pleasures, so he’d hungrily search for his release anywhere he could. He’d touch himself, not bothering to hold back his almost-too-perfect sounding groans. He figured his loud, sweet noises were just another gift. Such a giving man.

Fantasies and audio porn weren’t the only gifts bestowed upon his peers. He was also kind enough to share stories. His sexual experiences were a gold mine, and he never missed an opportunity to share just how skilled he was. But as generous as he was in some ways, he had difficulty finding anyone actually worthy of taking a ride on his “Magnum X”, as he liked to call it. With a sex drive through the roof, but feeling as though he was too good for anywhere there, he grew bored at camp. The frustration in his eyes became evident only on certain days, when he was sure no one was paying attention. But everyone was always paying attention.

And then there was Jim. Sweet, carefree Jim. Who didn’t demand anybody’s attention, but got it anyways. He was the lifeguard at Camp Redwood and instantly caught everyone’s eye the moment he showed up, walking into camp with a friendly smile that was sure to melt the heart of anyone. His white t-shirt hugged his toned chest deliciously while the blue of his denim jacket contrasted with his sun-kissed skin in a way that left everyone in a daze. He radiated warmth and everybody wanted their own piece of Jim’s sunshine. But he never seemed to show an interest in anyone.

With as kind as he was, it was hard having to constantly turn down his admirers the first few weeks of camp. Everybody got the hint shortly after, though, and realized that for whatever reason, he simply wasn’t interested in them. This was an especially difficult and heartbreaking fate to accept for those who were upfront about their feelings and desires to the mysterious brunette. But then Xavier came along and Jim found it almost too easy to give in to the tall blonde who somehow, and may he admit, not-so-subtly, appeared in Jim’s line of sight one day, making a show of manspreading in his tight clothes on a hot, summer day. Everyone at the camp stopped what they were doing and watched as these two men interacted for the very first time. Xavier looked him up and down over the top of his sunglasses and beckoned him over with a slight nod of his head. With his arrogant smile and presumptuous quirk of his brow, Jim didn’t stand a chance.

It was only natural that Xavier and Jim became good friends after that. The blonde had managed to get everything he had ever wanted in life and that included the sweet lifeguard at Camp Redwood. Xavier knew right then and there, when he first saw how the blue in Jim’s eyes shone as bright as the glare off the water while beads of sweat teasingly ran down his toned chest, that he had to have what everyone else so desired. To take him for himself – his own little water boy. He knew then that the whispers he’d heard about this “new Jim” were true and he’d soon have to find a way to dig his claws into him. He knew, however, that being as charming and hot as he was, it wouldn’t be that hard.

And shortly after, they came to be known as the Kings, as it were. Natural leaders who (depending on who you were talking about) either ruthlessly demanded or graciously accepted the attention and power that was bestowed upon them. But you saw them for who they truly were – and you had to admit, you liked it.

And you swore you thought, perhaps they liked you, too. It wasn’t that you were oblivious, it was just that you enjoyed playing their little game. You had noticed the glances, and the flirting. The way they whispered in each other’s ears as they stared you down, the way Jim’s lips turned up in a smirk whenever he caught your eye, and especially the way Xavier repeatedly and passionately brushed up against you in dance class, with his graceful hands placed on your hips and his not-so-subtle bulge rubbing against you, chuckling at the sound of your breath hitching in your threat. You noticed it all and honestly, you enjoyed it all – a little too much. You played hard to get and it only made them crave you more.

And yet, somewhere along the line, you must have faltered in your plan. They must have seen a crack in your façade and sneaked their way in. Because here you were, completely naked and at their mercy, resting your back against Jim’s chest as Xavier stared up at you from in-between your legs.

“Look at our pretty little girl, Jim,” Xavier stared up at the brunette behind you, the blue in his pupils completely dark and wild with lust.

“God, she’s beautiful,” the faintest whisper could be heard against your ear as Jim continued kissing the soft spot on your neck while his hands tenderly massaged your breasts. You three had been at this for an hour now and you were a needy mess, practically begging for your release. You were complete putty in their hands, just how they liked it.

“It took us a hot minute to finally get her, but now look,” Xavier’s voice drawled as he licked and teased your thighs. “She’s all ours.”

Jim couldn’t be bothered to respond with all of his attention focused on leaving as many bruises and red marks as he could on your neck, a subtle reminder to the rest of the camp that you had been claimed. Your soft mewls sounded exactly how he had imagined heaven would sound. He danced his lips across your skin, pinching your nipples every now and then only to smile at the small gasp that would leave your lips. “Such a beauty, X.”

“And look at how fucking wet she is, Jim… and it’s all for us,” he groaned as he dove two of his fingers into your soaked cunt once again, gathering your juices to show his partner. “Such a pretty little slut,” he stared at his glistening fingers, losing his train of thought, while licking his lips.

“Don’t be mean to our new plaything,” Jim spoke up from your neck, massaging your sides to soothe Xavier’s harsh comments. From what you could tell, Jim was the sweeter one. He gave you praise and was gentle with you. He worshipped the body he held in his arms. But Xavier was a different story. You were simply a toy to him, something to play with and use as he wished. He would push you to the edge, seeing how far he could go every time. But he underestimated just how much of a “naughty slut” (his choice of words) you truly were. It was unexpected to say the least. Every time he was rough or degraded you, he was only met with moans and a look that said “give me more”. He knew you were a special one.

“I think she likes it when I’m mean,” he smirked, giving you a wink as he lowered his head and teasingly licked a long stripe up your folds, all the way to your oversensitive clit, sucking harshly and getting lost in the taste of you. “Such a sweet little pussy, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it,” he whispered to himself, not realizing the other two could hear him.

He took his sweet time with you and you were done with the teasing; you needed him now. It had been an hour of them edging you and you were at your wits end; you didn’t think you could take another second. You reached for his hair and pulled him closer to where you ached for him.

“Don’t touch the hair!” he shot up, looking at you with disgust as he quickly went to fix his slightly tousled locks.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Jim laughed at the disgruntled man in front of him. “And don’t yell at her like that,” he protectively placed his arm around your waist, making sure you felt safe and cared for. Jim knew how Xavier could be but you were new to the ways of his man and the last thing he wanted was to scare you off. “And honestly, if you’re going to act like that, you can just leave. You’re taking too long with her anyways, I think she needs somebody with a better touch,” Jim said with a smile, clearly looking to challenge the man.

Xavier looked up slowly with icy, blue eyes. “I know you’re not insinuating that you’re better at this than I am,” he said calmly but with a hint of danger tinging his voice.

“Isn’t is entertaining how upset he gets,” Jim whispered in your ear just loud enough for the hot and heavy man to hear, secretly hoping to get him even more riled up. Jim laughed against your skin with his usual boyish charm and you couldn’t help but join him as a giggle escapes your lips.

“Oh, is that funny?” Xavier turned his attention to you and quirked an eyebrow before flashing a smile, his tone as dangerous as the glint in his eyes while he lowered his head once again, inching closer and closer to your core.

“No! I’m sorry,” your laugh betrayed you as his hands continued sliding up your thighs. “Jim didn’t mean it, he was just trying to get under your skin,” the last of your giggles left while he stared up at you, his eyes showing just how hungry with lust he was.

“And how do you know my boy better than I do?” he squinted his eyes at you, while leaning down and playfully biting at your thigh.

“Well technically, now I’m her boy, too,” Jim spoke, smiling down at his lover while he snaked his hand down your stomach. Xavier caught on to how Jim wanted to finish you off and sends a wink his way.

“You two are going to be trouble for me, aren’t you?” Xavier breathes in while shaking his head. You’re too focused on the way Jim keeps lowering his hand, teasing you and getting you all riled up, to suspect what Xavier’s about to do. You wait in anticipation for Jim to put those fingers to good use when Xavier suddenly slaps your cunt harshly. You scream while the arm Jim’s placed around your waist holds you down.

“That’s what dirty little whores get for messing up my fucking hair,” Xavier speaks calmly while gently rubbing soothing circles on your inner thighs. You look back at him in disbelief and anger. Just as you open your mouth to chew him out, he immediately latches onto your clit, causing you to cry out and throw your head back on Jim’s shoulder. Your mind replaces the anger and pain with only pleasure and need.

“Shhh, angel, it’s okay” Jim coos in your ear softly. “And X, we all know you’re the troublesome one here, so enough with the act,” Jim looks down to see the blonde boy smirk against your folds. Jim’s hand finally reaches down to your heat and starts rubbing your clit skillfully. “That’s it, baby. God, you look so beautiful like this.”

Xavier reluctantly pulls himself from your heat, making a show of licking off your arousal that deliciously coats his lips. Quickly, he plunges his two fingers into your aching core, curling them with every thrust and noticing how close you are to your release. “Good god, what a filthy whore you are.” Your eyes are closed in pleasure, but you can hear the smirk evident in his voice. The cockiness and arrogance, it was unrelenting. “Look at how you’re basically fucking yourself on my fingers. Do they really feel that good in your little pussy?” he mocks, a low chuckle leaving his glossy lips – your juices worn like a trophy, another one of his “stories” he’ll most likely share to unsuspecting coworkers in the future. Xavier’s movements suddenly stop and you immediately open your eyes.

“What the hell-“ you start, but are cut off by the blonde below you.

“I asked you a question, pet,” Xavier looks completely unbothered, but his voice grows raspy. He loves this little game of cat and mouse and decides he could play with you forever. He looks at you as if you’re the dullest creature he’s ever come across as he awaits your response, adding an extra touch of arrogance by tapping his fingers on your thigh, to show he was waiting.

“Yes, it feels good,” you spit out through clenched teeth, just giving him what he wants so he can get back to giving you what you want.

“Okay, good. Next time you don’t reply, I’ll just leave you like this,” he graces you with a cocky smile, once again looking unbothered. “I have a million other things I could be doing; I’ll have you know. Making sure precious little Y/N gets her orgasm today isn’t one of them,” his voice says one story, but the way he’s looking at the juices dripping from your core, completely soaking his bed, tells another.

Jim scoffs in your ear, followed by an eye roll. His boy could be so dramatic some times. You don’t even care about what either of them are doing at this point, however, as you feel the arousal in your stomach building to a dangerous level. Jim works his fingers on your clit, rubbing small circles as his lips work wonders on the sensitive parts of your neck. And Xavier’s fingers thrust so deep in you that you swear you’re seeing stars with every thrust.

“That’s a good girl. Cum for us, baby,” Jim coos in your ear, seeing how shaky your legs start to get and how you start to arch your back into him.

“Be a good little slut and soak my fingers just like how you’d soak my cock,” Xavier lets out a low chuckle as he stares you down, noticing the small gasp you make at his lewd comments. Your moans start getting louder as both of them pick up their pace, their primal need to see you cum taking over as they revel in the sweet noises leaving your lips.

Suddenly, the tightly wound coil in you snaps and your orgasm hits you violently. After the both of them edging you for what seems forever, the intense feeling of pleasure overtaking your body is almost hard to grasp. Waves of electricity run through your body as the boys watch in awe. How you throw your head back on Jim and your face contorts in pleasure. How wet and lewd the sound of Xavier thrusting into you suddenly becomes. They notice it all – and they never want it to end.

You start to come down from your high as the pleasure dissolves into you. You think to yourself you could get used to these two, even if they’re a pain in the ass sometimes. Jim holds you close to his body as you try to calm your breathing; he feels as though he never wants to let go of you. You fit so perfectly in his lap and he considers just keeping you in this position forever. Xavier licks his lips and watches closely as your chest rises and falls with each breath; he thinks to himself, although would never admit it to the two in front of him, that this is a sight he’s sure he’ll truly never get tired of.

He reaches in-between your legs and gathers some of your juices on his fingers only to bring them to Jim’s lips, who stares back at him hungrily. You watch as Jim sucks your arousal off of Xavier’s long fingers, a deep groan being heard from the back of his throat, as his eyes close in pleasure. Suddenly, you feel the slight twitch of his cock against your back and it’s only then that you can feel how painfully hard he’s been this whole time. You glance down at Xavier to find that his bulge is extremely prominent in his shorts, as well.

You look between the both of them in anticipation as they turn their focus to you. Xavier grabs your chin and forces you to look at him while a smirk plays across his lips, “Oh, we are going to have some fun with you this summer.”

Taglist:

@mega-combusken, @lathraios, @livocc, @sojournmichael, @no-need-for-rules, @katiekitty261, @ladynuwanda, @hecohansen31, @blakewaterxx, @rosegoldrichie, @langdonsdemon, @fckinsupreme, @wroteclassicaly, @kleineshaschen, @whydonthumansfly, @femaleantichrist, @peachesandfern, @langdonsplaytoy, @liliesandforgetmenots, @langdonswhoreprobably, @langdvnshepherd, @maso-xchrist, @littledemondani, @confettucini, @miami-summer, @peppermint-punk

[bymoonchild]

Set On You (M)

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader

Genre | Fluff, smut / volleyball!AU, college!AU, setter Jungkook x manager reader

Warnings | Light smut, detailed thigh-riding, thirsty nsfw thoughts, alcohol consumption, swearing and a whole lot of hopeless pining and soft moments because it’s soft uwu hours 24/7 

Word count | 18.1k

Summary | Sports has never been your thing, so when you find yourself in a sports hall that reeks of perspiration and cologne and in front of a group of volleyball players whom you’re supposed to be managing (heck, you can’t even manage your own life), you know that you’re in Deep Shit™. 

Especially when Jeon Jungkook, the golden setter of the team aka the boy who holds stars in his eyes, starts to occupy your reveries, slowly becoming both the quiet and pandemonium of your heart.  

The repeated squeaks of sneakers and harrowing smacks from the contact of palm against ball reverberate across the court, sounding awfully similar to the erratic thumping of your heartbeats, but they do nothing to drown out the thudding in your eardrums. Cowering meekly behind the door of your school’s daunting indoor sports hall, the perspiration on your palms is getting way out of hand and your legs almost threaten to take you back to your dorm, but the palpable, icy-cold air that greets you halts you in your tracks.

Clad in their renowned black and red jerseys, you watch the volleyball players manoeuvre effortlessly all over the court, giving their all to keep the ball up in the air. They almost look identical – radiating with a peculiar charisma and indomitable grit – if not for the designated numbers on their backs.  

More volts of panic pulse through your veins. You’re intimidated out of your wits, but even for a person who’s allegedly allergic to sports, you can’t deny the ferocity of their match – it’s pretty enthralling. Thinking about it, this is actually your first time catching your school’s volleyball team in action and you have to admit that their teamwork is quite something.

Sports has never been your thing, let alone volleyball. In fact, you would very much rather be cooped under your quilt in the comfort of your air-conditioned room at this very moment. How you’ve landed yourself in a humid and stinky indoor sports hall that reeks of perspiration and cloying cologne, facing a group of really tall and sweaty college boys with that signature awkward grin of yours is beyond you, and something you definitely didn’t foresee yourself doing in your second year in Seoul National University.

You should have trusted your gut feeling when you thought that agreeing to be the student manager for the school’s volleyball team to earn extracurricular points for your scholarship would be a terrible idea. Gosh, this is all on Hoseok, your English Lit seatmate and also (surprisingly) the captain of the volleyball team. Curse him and his manipulative ways of convincing people.

According to your very wise friend, 1) you desperately need to join a club ASAP because the only club you belong to is the Sunshine Club – no, it’s not a real club, it’s just a pejorative term for students who alternate between home and school, and that certainly earns you zero extracurricular points, 2) you need to get out of your comfort zone more often because this is college and in college, you fuck things up for the fun of it, and 3) a student manager could really do good for the volleyball team because the new season is starting really soon and they’re gearing up for first place this season after their demeaning loss to Hanyang University last year, oh and also, the boys have been praying everyday to have someone (new and well, fun) other than their coach on the team because the old man sure can be a little grump.

You don’t question the last point because it’s a known fact that the volleyball team is your school’s pride and joy. When they were beaten at their own game last year, the entire school went in mourning for a whole damn week. It’s pretty hilarious, the more you think about it, that the competitive sport is basically just a more intense game of “don’t let the balloon touch the floor”. But almost everyone finds the sport cool because somehow or other, the players also happen to be naturally tall and also attractive – though the latter is highly subjective and does not include your terrible friend.

Albeit not knowing the players personally and being able to match their names to their faces, you’ve seen the gang in school, perpetually flaunting their black and red jerseys that can be spotted from miles away and drawing attention to their rambunctious selves.

The number of people who admire (and worship) them don’t escape your notice too, including your smitten professors who all have a mutual soft spot for Hoseok whenever he falls behind or sleeps in class. It seems like everyone is oddly bewitched by their charms – you’ve heard stories about the appalling number of girls who’ve confessed to them and hooked up with them at parties, only because Hoseok can’t stop gloating about the increasing count. But whether they’re just plain ole rumors or facts, you’d rather not be involved in their social politics because Hoseok is your own Gossip Girl and that’s more than enough, really.

“Guys, gather up!”

Coach Kim blows his whistle and literally the entire team comes scrambling to swamp the two of you. A wave of panic washes over you, draining colour from your face as they start to look you up and down inquisitively. You’ve never felt that inferior about being vertically-challenged before, but being surrounded by a group of volleyball players who could appear to be almost a good 2 meters tall? Definitely not up your alley.

“We finally, yes, finally,” you don’t miss the enthusiasm and relief in Coach Kim’s voice, “have a student manager on the team!”

At that, everyone explodes in loud cheers, their gruff voices filling up the court and you shudder at the resonance of their voices.

“Hi,” you give a little wave to the tall towers before you, trying to make things less menacing for you. “I’m Y/N, a second-year Psychology major. Nice to meet you! I’ll be the student manager from today onwards. Hoseok dragged me here—”

“Yay, welcome Y/N!” Hoseok interrupts your intention of throwing shade at him with an overzealous whoop of excitement and his teammates divert their attention to their loud captain. “You guys be nice to her or you’ll be catching these hands.”

They all roll their eyes, before grunting out an okay. After taking turns to introduce themselves – honestly, your brain could only be loaded with so many names, you’d definitely need more time to digest and remember their faces, the players soon disperse and resume their usual rotational drills.

Turning to you with an eerily wide grin, Hoseok then leads you to the perimeter of the court and hands you a clipboard. “Okay for today, just familiarise yourself with the positions and the guys. Easy peasy, I know we’re all good-looking—”

You interrupt his narcissistic statement by faking a gag.  

“Rude! As I was saying before I was rudely cut off, we’re all good-looking, but it’s easy to distinguish us. Unless you mix Seokjin-hyung and Jungkook up, which is fine because they look quite similar. Both ugly.”

“You just said—”

“The entire team is present except for Jungkookie. He’ll come later because he’s taking a test now. When you see a tall guy who looks like an overgrown, emo baby bunny, just mark Jungkook present.”

You hum mindlessly and glance over to the guys who’ve already taken their respective positions.

“Now, now, don’t gush over the guys. They’re fucking gross. They sweat a lot and stink like rotten meat after practice.”

“As if you don’t too! I’ve sat beside you in class after your practice before and I had to hold my breath the entire class.”

“Excuse you!” He clicks his tongue in annoyance, “I’m already pretty hygienic compared to the others… Anyways, it’s too late to back out.”

“Oh shit.”

“I’m kidding! We’re really nice, a little intimidating maybe because of our heights but that’s only because you’re short as fuck, but we don’t bite… unless you want us to. Come! Let’s go through the positions together.”

Being the volleyball neophyte you are, Hoseok walks you through the various volleyball positions. You learn that there are four main positions and only six players are allowed on the court, though the entire team is 14 members strong. There are three wing spikers in total – Hoseok, Taehyung, and Yoongi – and they carry the defensive workload. Namjoon and Seokjin are the middle blockers, while Jimin is the libero who wears a different coloured jersey since he can conveniently switch in and out of the game (usually with Seokjin) and lastly, the setter, who is none other than Jungkook. Hoseok calls him the backbone of the team.

“Okay, this isn’t that hard. I can do this,” you think to yourself after Hoseok leaves to join his teammates, a dry attempt to spur yourself on.

Maybe it’s because you haven’t done much besides committing their names and faces to memory and learning about the different positions, but the first thirty minutes of practice have been going surprisingly well, until—

“Jungkookie!” Hoseok shrieks while looking past your shoulder towards the door.

“The overgrown, emo baby bunny?” You quote your friend, before turning your head to look at the latecomer.

And damn, you wish you could take back your words. Standing before you is a boy who’s unfamiliar to your sight, but a dazzling one in appearance. His hair is a black mop of soft tousled locks, his onyx eyes are doe-like and his lips take on a soft rosy pink tint.

Upon your words, Jungkook doubles over with a boyish chuckle. “Hyung! What did you call me?”

Ignoring the latter and swatting him away, Hoseok continues with a beam, “Yep, this is Jungkook, our golden setter. Great, now you’ve met everyone on the team!”

He then turns back to Jungkook, while offering you a pat on the back, “Jungkookie, meet Y/N, our new student manager. Treat her nicely or I’ll break your fingers.”

Jungkook takes offense at the threat (his dearest fingers…) and glowers at his captain. He then turns to you and you notice that his facial expressions soften for a moment, before his face starts to scrunch up. With a contrived smile, he extends out his hand, “Hello, nice to meet you.”

You draw in a furtive breath, painfully aware of how he practically looms over you.

“H-Hi, I’m Y/N.”

You instantly curse yourself, red threatening to dot your cheeks because Hoseok literally just said your name like 10 seconds ago.

Even from where you’re standing, it doesn’t take much for you to notice how his eyes take on a sharp, mesmerising glow. Like stars glistening in the velvet night sky, vying to out-glow one another.

And so, you panic.

“Nice to meet the overgrown, emo baby bunny,” are the words that follow your already embarrassing introduction and you grimace upon hearing yourself, wishing to swallow your stupid words back. Your mouth just lives to sabotage you whenever you’re nervous.

The awkwardness starts to saturate the air, uncomfortable in the way it clings onto the two of you, minus Hoseok who’s drinking everything in with confusion. Jungkook’s eyes rest on your embarrassed features, blinking owlishly and this is when you know that you need to leave, stat. Embarrassed, you bite your lower lip and mutter, “I have to go… help Coach. Bye!”

Spinning on your heels skittishly, you jog past hoarse hollers of nice serve and chance ball to join Coach Kim at the sidelines and you swear you’ve never speed-walked this fast in your entire life before. It literally takes every ounce of you not to freak out even when you can still feel holes being bored on your back. Not even an hour into practice and you’ve embarrassed yourself already? So much for beating your personal record.

“Well, that was painfully awkward,” the captain taunts with a smile full of mirth.

“Urgh h-hyung, stop it!”

Besides the brainwork of remembering the players’ names and positions, your agenda of tasks also includes physical labour, much to your dismay, of refilling water bottles, picking up stray balls from all corners of the court and being in charge of the dreaded grimy storeroom aka your new hiding place away from the sausage fest outside.

You don’t really get to watch today’s full six-on-six match, too busy scrambling all over the court to gather the stray balls and when you’re finally done, the boys have taken a five and are sprawled all over the floor, grumbling loudly in fatigue.

Joining Coach Kim on the bench, your eyes sweep quickly across the court and you see Jungkook lying on the ground with his eyes closed, chest heaving up and down rhythmically in tandem with his breathing, like an empty boat blobbing on gentle early-morning waves. What catches your attention is how apparent his jersey sticks to his abdomen, slightly exposing his torso and warmth violently flares in the full of your cheeks, tipping your ears pink. You can’t unsee it, but you desperately want to. Beside him, Hoseok has his shirt rolled up to his chest, baring his well-sculpted front, but you don’t feel a thing. 

As if on cue, a raven black mop of dishevelled locks rises up from the ground, swiftly meeting your eyes in the process. He freezes like a rabbit caught in a snare, eyes wide and shoulders rigid. But it’s not like you’re any better. You stare back at Jungkook blankly, trying your best not to panic because he just caught you staring at him like a creep and it’s only your first day.

Uh oh.

A disconcerting feeling starts to stir in the pit of your stomach, so you quickly pry your eyes away because you’re that good at pretending that you didn’t see shit.

From your periphery, you realise that he’s still looking straight at you and you shudder at the weight of his piercing gaze, feeling hot all of a sudden.

Eventually, you decide to muster up some courage and turn back to him. You see that his eyes are still dead set on you and this throws you off kilter. Forming a thin line on his lips, he suddenly throws himself back onto the ground with a thud, causing his teammates to rise up instantly and wonder what the heck is wrong with their setter.

The way Jungkook stares at you remains etched in your mind even after practice. If this is what you’re going to face three times a week from today onwards, you’re going to need all the luck you can have and probably also some calming tea for your unsettling nerves.  

You arrive at the sports hall punctually the next practice, a tad excited, albeit the nerves in your stomach. Instead of reporting straight to Coach Kim, you decide to greet the few players who are already warming up, but almost retract your footsteps when you see Jungkook part of the warm-up circle.

He’s already staring at you with that same gaze of his, but the boys don’t sense your hesitance and beckon you to join them. It’s a little too late to back away, so you saunter over with a bubbly façade, ignoring the fact that Jungkook is still relentlessly boring holes onto your face.

“Hey!” Taehyung chirps and scoots over to make space for you. “Sit here, Y/N!”

“Hi Y/N!”

“Did you come from class?” Hoseok pipes, spinning a volleyball with his finger.

“Yeah, it ended 10 minutes ago.”

“H-Hi.”

You hear a soft murmur beside you and turn your head, only to meet Jungkook and his brown doe eyes. Seated only inches away from you, his breath fans out across your cheek and warmth scatters over your skin in the rise of gooseflesh at the proximity. He doesn’t break eye contact with you for few seconds, as if you two are the only ones in the court, before he blinks away and continues stretching like he didn’t just stutter.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you mutter in a slight daze of confusion, wincing when your words come off as a gasp, so you quickly turn back to somewhere safe – to the sight of Hoseok doing push-ups with the derpiest face ever. If Jungkook has heard your silly gasp, he’s sure being really nice for not laughing about it or bringing it up.

Once Coach Kim finally enters the court, you run up to him in relief because you’re dying to break away from Jungkook’s gaze, and Hoseok invites you to join their discussion about the strategies for their practice match. Foreign terms like “quicks”, “back-row attacks” and “jump float serves” are being strewn around vivaciously, but you dutifully scribble whatever you could decipher on your clipboard, though the technicalities are starting to get pretty overwhelming.

Mid-way into the discussion, a particular chuckle floats over to your direction and you can’t help but draw your gaze to the middle of the court. You see Jungkook goofing around with his teammates, spinning a volleyball deftly with his hands, and the edges of your lips curl up at the sight of him having fun. It’s strange how he’s so uptight whenever he’s around with you, all rigid limbs and awkward glances.

Practice starts promptly after the discussion and things start to change half an hour into practice, contrary to their chill warm-up session. Taking their respective positions, nobody’s cracking jokes or slacking off, all committed to ensuring that the ball stays afloat and honing their skills.

The shift in Jungkook’s demeanour is especially evident to you. From the shy and awkward boy he is around you, he’s now focused and charismatic. His gaze doesn’t break away from the ball, always on the lookout and poised to set.

The boys practice for another two hours, constantly refining their moves and providing feedback to one another. Besides listening to Coach Kim’s never-ending commentary and laments about the boys, you also move around the perimeter to observe each player and take notes on your clipboard.

You somehow find yourself standing near the net, where Jungkook is positioned in his fully immersed glory. Hoseok calling him the backbone of the team comes to mind. After researching more about the different positions, you’re aware that the setter controls the flow of the game and orchestrates the attacks, but what intrigues you more is knowing that Jungkook is one of the best setters in the zone. You wonder if he’s really that amazing as what they make him to be, so you decide to take a break from your clipboard and pay full attention to the boy in front of you.

The ball arches over the net from the opposing team and Jimin springs into action, diving on the ground without hesitation. He grunts loudly when he manages to save it, pumping it back up in the air. A rolling receive, you recognise. From behind, one of his teammates screams an exasperated “nice save”.

The ball glides over to where Jungkook’s at and he extends his arms, as if inviting it to rest in his cupped hands. You can’t help but be mesmerised by his figure that’s positioned at a breath’s gap from the net, his back arching into a parabolic shape and thigh muscles rippling as he uses just one hand to slightly push the ball over the net with great aplomb. His effortless move sends the ball diving straight onto the ground, untouched by his stunned teammates from the other side.  

“A dump!” Taehyung hollers excitedly, “Holy fuck!”

“What the fuck, Kook!” Namjoon from the opposing team shouts in frustration, but seems to be equally impressed by Jungkook’s sly move. “You’re a devil.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle at their dumfounded reactions and the edges of your lips quirk up involuntarily. His sun-kissed skin shimmers with a thin sheen of sweat on his neck, while his dark eyes sparkle with intensity. He looks almost idyllic being on the court, phenomenal even – it’s like he belongs there, like he was born to play and shine on the court.

There’s something about his contented smile that’s enamouring – there’s something warm, soft and child-like beneath it. Something very much like a young boy playing hide-and-seek, hidden deep within him and hoping to be discovered and resurrected.

His smile is a nice sight.  

The match resumes and you continue to observe how the setter receives the ball and tosses it to his teammates with impeccable control and precision. The way his fingers cup the volleyball doesn’t go past your notice and you gulp when your eyes land on his veiny arms.

A warm tingling feeling courses to your own fingertips. You wonder how holding his hand would feel like and similar thoughts continue to invade your mind throughout the entire practice.

The following practices fly by in a blur.

You’re on the bench with Coach Kim, your clipboard in hand. You’ve soon found joy in analysing the skills of each player and coming up with strategies, and this is evident from your clipboard that’s now filled up with your messy handwriting. The exciting game of volleyball is really starting to grow on you, though what’s more captivating is watching the setter shine on the court.

Jungkook is a silent and calculating setter who pinpoints his tosses with an eerie tactical accuracy. He’s especially meticulous in estimating the average height of each spiker’s jumps and he knows how to change the speed and altitude of his tosses to complement each teammate, leaving no room for mistakes.

While you’re realising all these by yourself, the guys are still fighting it out on the court, engrossed in the last set of the practice match and Jungkook’s team is in the lead. It’s against his own teammates, but the setter’s competitive burn doesn’t seem to know when to stop, boundless when it comes to the things he’s passionate about. This isn’t exclusive to just him though – his teammates seem to have picked up his vigour too, all firing with extra vitality. It isn’t surprising as all of their efforts are dedicated to winning the championships this season.  

Seeing how the game is never coming to an end because they’ve been at match point for the last five minutes and neither team is letting their guard down, you excuse yourself from the game to refill their water bottles. Seokjin decides to join you when he watches you leave. Jimin has stepped in for the last few minutes of the set and you thank him for his help because carrying 14 water bottles is not an easy task.

From the corner of his eye, Jungkook sees you returning to the court with their water bottles hugged to your chest and he wishes he could run over to help you. But when Seokjin appears behind you, sharing a laugh with you, an unfamiliar feeling pools in his stomach – something about the sight of you laughing with his teammate puts him off. He doesn’t like it, but he softens at how brightly and effortlessly your face lights up. Seokjin’s probably telling you one of his overused dad jokes.

Sharp curses and flustered yells of Jungkook’s name fly through the air, but there’s barely enough time for him to process what is going on. He registers the blur of yellow and blue spinning in a few centimeters away from his face and before he knows it, he’s crashing on the cold hard ground from the impact.

A yelp escapes from the back of his throat. He feels like his nose just did a full-on pancake save on the ground. The middle of his face is throbbing in pain and his vision starts to blur from the tears at the edges of his eyes.  

“Jungkook, what the heck were you doing!” Coach Kim bellows and jogs over to check up on him, his creased forehead is evidence that he’s in disbelief that the golden setter is actually capable of being distracted during a match.

The blazing blur of blue and yellow is soon replaced with shadowy looming figures and gasps of horror.

“Gosh, your nose is as red as Angry Bird,” Taehyung pipes in and chortles with his phone in hand. “What the fuck, I need to capture this. This is blackmail material.”

“Dude! What was that about?” Hoseok kneels down, a tad amused by the situation. “You’re normally not like this, who were you looking at?”

“Guys, guys! Give him some space…”

A lulling voice emerges amidst the insults mercilessly thrown at his injured self and Jungkook relaxes a little.

Easing your way to the front, you squat beside him, wincing at the sight of the bloody gash. A single line of blood trickles down his jaw and then to his neck, causing a red seam on his jersey.

“Okay, kids! Thank god that we have a manager now. Y/N will take care of Jungkook and his bloody face, so get back to practice!”

You offer him a little smile as he stares at you wide-eyed silently.

“Jungkook? You’re okay. You’re fine, it doesn’t look that bad,” you coo reassuringly, hoping to lessen the pain that’s evident from his contorted expression.

Pressing the back of his hand to his nose to wipe away the blood, Jungkook flushes pink, as if his face isn’t red enough already. Besides the stinging pain on his face, he feels his heart beating a merciless staccato rhythm. He already has trouble breathing from the blood in his nostrils, but all air rushes out of him when you inch even closer to assess the damage and he shuts his eyes in panic.

“I’ll take you to the nurse after you’re all cleaned up.”

Jungkook grunts in response. With careful fingers, you cradle the back of his head and push away his sweaty bangs with your other hand, before gently wiping the area around his nose. Slowly reopening his eyes, he gazes at you quietly and you avoid eye contact with him at all costs, but you shiver involuntarily when the warmth of his breath graces your arm.

At this close of a distance, you can count the long eyelashes that frame Jungkook’s large orbs, the crooked bunny teeth that appear when he winces, the little mole under his lips and the faint scar on his right cheek that mars his otherwise unblemished and fair skin. His hair also feels soft as it tickles the back of your hand and you’re so tempted to thread your fingers through them. You have to physically shake your head to rid yourself of these thoughts.

“Okay… Slowly…” You slip out of Jungkook’s hold as he settles on the edge of an empty bed in the school clinic and the nurse approaches you two without a word, as though injuries like these are an everyday occurrence.  

“Does it still hurt?”

“Not as bad as before,” he mumbles bashfully, peeking at you through his lashes and you instantly want to melt into a puddle on the floor, especially since there’s less blood, people and space. It’s just the two of you now.

Noticing that you’re standing awkwardly by the door, he pats the space beside him and you move over, actually tired from the whole ordeal.

You two make some small talk while waiting for the nurse to return. You learn that Jungkook is in his second year too, a Computer Science major, and you tell him that you’ve never seen him in school before though the Social Sciences faculty is right beside his.

“I think I’m kind of low-key?” He states and you raise an eyebrow. He is definitely not low-key. There are probably girls gushing over him at this very instance.

“I’m always in class or at practice. Okay, I spend 30 percent of my life in class, 60 percent at practice and the last 10 percent in my room,” he explains animatedly, flinging his hands to gesture how he divides his time.

You try not to sputter into a fit of laughter, but laughter pokes its way across glassy eyes and pink cheeks when Jungkook scrunches his nose at his words.

“But I think I’ve seen you in school before? Your faculty always has fundraiser activities going on. And you performed for a talent show before, didn’t you? My friend dragged me to your faculty’s talent show. You sang an Adele song right?”

“Oh,” you squeak, a little too high to your liking, red finding its way up your cheeks. You’re nonplussed and a little touched that he remembers you from the other talented and pretty female contestants because they’re so many girls around him and you’re just… well, you’re just you.

“Oh my god, I probably sounded terrible,” you grimace, hand flying up to cover your face in embarrassment.

“No, you didn’t! I remembered your performance because it was that good.”

“R-Really?

He hums in response. 

“Okay… thank you, I guess?” You look down at your fingers awkwardly. “That’s really nice of you.”

A chuckle escapes his lips. “No – thank you. Coach would have just left me bleeding on the ground if it wasn’t for you.”

A small smile tugs at your lips and the edges of his lips start to curl up to a semblance of a smile as well. Before you know it, he has his hand up, gingerly ruffling your hair and your entire body instantly stiffens, as if zapped by electricity. Muted colours of soft pastels swirl in your head. You think that his touch on your head might actually burn more than his squashed nose.

“No problem, Jungkook.”

It’s been a month since you joined the volleyball team as their student manager and now your existence alternated between school, your dorm and the sports hall, but you’re actually enjoying every bit of it.

It’s a Tuesday, which means there’s no volleyball practice, but you’re heading to the sports hall to clean up the storeroom and do some administrative stuff for their upcoming friendlies.  

“Y/N!”

Looking up at the direction of the familiar voice, your eyes land on Jungkook who’s smiling at you and you stop in your tracks. You drink in the sight of him in a white T-shirt, ripped light blue jeans and a denim jacket. It’s nothing over the top, but he looks stunning regardless and you have to curb the lingering wisps of excitement brewing in your stomach.

This is probably the first time seeing Jungkook in school. Ever since his bloody nose incident, the two of you have started to become less uptight with each other and are now friends, if you choose to omit the awkward stares, flustered cheeks and sweaty palms. Just friends, nothing more or less.

You wave to him, trying your best to hide your surprised expression. He has never approached you directly during practice, let alone in the hallway. 

“Where are you headed to?” He breaks the distance between you and him in less than five strides.  

“I’m just going to clean up the storeroom. You?”

“Clas—oh actually, I was about to practice my tosses too.”

“Don’t you have class?”

“Um, no I don’t?”

“But you were just walking in the other direction, away from the sports hall.” You raise an eyebrow and tilt your head.  

This stops him cold. He can’t place your expression exactly – it’s a cross between amusement and confusion and this makes him even more torn between wanting to continue lying so he can go to the sports hall with you and dropping the act and running away to save himself from further embarrassment. He chooses neither.

“Okay fine, you caught me. Can we… let’s just go to the sports hall together?”

How and why is a mystery, but you find yourself nodding your head in acquiescence.    

Walking beside Jungkook is anxiety-inducing, as if you aren’t nervous enough around the said boy on a regular basis. As you pass through the hallway of blur figures, you pick up a whiff of Jungkook’s scent – it’s a comforting, clean fresh laundry scent that rests pleasantly on your nose. The soft material of his denim jacket is ticklish as it brushes against your arm, sending your heart ricocheting even more furiously in your ribcage.

There’s always been something about Jungkook that makes you feel… alive, you realise.  

It’s the little awakening tingles that shoot up your spine every time his skin comes into contact with yours, be it casually and intentionally and the momentary halting of your heartbeat and the fluster that attacks you without a warning whenever he gazes at you. It’s the little crinkle at the edges of his eyes when he’s smiling and his mellifluous laughs – both soft and loud ones – when he’s cackling up with the guys that never fail to render you breathless.

You hate how you always magically transform into an incoherent fool every time you come in contact with him. But no matter how times he has caused your heart to stop for the briefest of moments, you don’t regret the lovely loss because you’ll gladly succumb to any pain, fuzzy feeling or ramification that Jungkook brings – just because, as strange as it sounds, you like it.

You don’t realise that you’ve held your breath the entire walk to the sports hall until you reach the storeroom and that was only possible after persuading the insistent Jungkook that you don’t need his help with clearing the cabinets.

When you’re done after spending an hour in the stuffy storeroom, you find Jungkook spiking the balls against the wall in his sports attire. You swallow hard when your eyes trail down to his accentuated butt that looks too good for his own good and his thighs that flex dangerously when he moves. Your cheeks sear with embarrassment that’s hot enough to burn away your lewd thoughts.

For someone who’s painfully shy and cannot toss a ball for pity’s sake, you cannot fathom where you get the sudden surge of courage, but your mouth decides to take matters into its own hands and blurt out something along the lines of “Hey, want me to toss the ball to you?”.

You hate how your voice rises in the end, turning into an awkward squeak, but he seems to find it adorable if his dazed look is anything to go by.

Eagerly taking you up on your offer, the two of you soon fall into a comfortable pattern – you’d toss the ball to Jungkook for him to practice his tosses and spikes and this continues till the volleyball crate is emptied out. Sometimes you don’t toss high enough and he’ll laugh at your fail attempts, but he’s always patient with you and even teaches you the proper way of tossing the way with the correct push. Heck, you didn’t even know that there was a correct way of tossing a freaking ball.

After what seems like 10 hours, you sit down to catch your breath, slightly embarrassed by your lack of stamina because Jungkook looks like he can go on for another 10, looking as impeccable as ever. When he runs a hand through his hair with that lopsided smile of his, it leaves you even more short of breath. It’s as though he’s doing this on purpose.

His fitted shirt is drenched with sweat, cruelly sticking to his abs and you gulp when your eyes trail down to his thighs. The fabric of his shorts hugs his lower half like a second skin, revealing the harsh lines and sculpted muscles of his thighs. And you really need to curb your obsession for his thighs, because it’s getting way out of hand and you’ll skin yourself alive if he ever finds out about it.

“Hey, you tired?” Jungkook trudges over to sit beside the stoned you, playing with the ball in his hands.

“Oh no no, I’m okay,” you lie blatantly and begin to stand up, but he stops you.

“It’s okay, I’m pretty beat too. Want to grab some food? I’m actually really hungry.”

He looks at you with a painfully familiar glint swimming in his corneas and your breathing stutters violently at the sight.

Listen, you don’t know if you can survive being this close to him, but you decide to fuck it when Hoseok’s words echo in your mind: you need to get out of your comfort zone more often – go and fuck things up.

Deciding to heed his stupid advice, you shoot Jungkook a smile, “Thought you’d never ask.”

Somehow or other, you two end up eating at a convenience store near campus because ramen after practice is always a good decision.

“So, um, how’s school?” Jungkook starts off, picking up his noodles with regalement, but deadpans upon realising how lame he sounds.

“How’s school?” You repeat with a bemused tone, chuckling at his dry attempt at making small talk.

“I mean like… tell me about yourself? Like how’s school been like for you… Urgh, this is so embarrassing.”

He groans loudly and buries his head in his palms and then peeks at your face through the spaces in between his fingers. His heart swells like never before at your smile and the tinges of amusement dancing in your orbs.

A highly ranked and skilled setter he might be, but Jungkook knows no shit when it comes to his strange, burgeoning feelings for you. He wishes that feelings could be more like volleyball – systematic, clear-cut, and guaranteed a clear, satisfying view if you try hard enough. Human emotions bring along this ambiguity that he’s scared of approaching. He isn’t sure if he is capable of understanding it, but there’s always a first time for everything.

You laugh dryly, “I’m always clueless when I’m supposed to talk about myself. I guess I’m just a normal person with normal dreams and normal hobbies?”

He chuckles boyishly and your breath hitches, nervous as heck from the way he’s looking at you so attentively with a soft smile.

You continue, “Okay, I don’t really have a hobby and I spend a lot of time by myself in my room. I know I’m lame.”

“No, it doesn’t! If it makes you feel better, I feel normal too. With normal dreams and hobbies.”

A corner of your mouth curls up in retaliation. “Being the golden setter of SNU’s volleyball team and probably the best in this entire zone isn’t quite my definition of normal. Now I feel even more boring.”

“No! Urgh… You’re not boring. If you were, I wouldn’t be here listening to you – I swear. And I have a limited patience for boring people… like Coach. God, he is the most boring person in the world.”

“You’re just being nice to me.”

Jungkook shakes his head fervently and your heart gnaws at how disconcerted he is –he’s trying so hard to make you feel better about yourself that it’s endearing.

“Being normal is great, but there’s nothing normal about normal I feel? And you… you’re a special kind of normal. You’re nice, smart, funny, sometimes pretty awkward but still not as awkward as me, so you’re not that bad.”

You chuckle sheepishly, but your smile fades away when he shoots you a longing look before muttering under his breath, “And you make me feel normal.”

His brown eyes glimmer in the hazy streetlights, highlighting the caramel flecks in them. Your eyes dart between his soft expression and his fingers that are drumming against the table.

“Me?” You squeak, startled by Jungkook’s sudden confession. Your mouth drops agape, but it’s quickly overridden by a shy smile when you observe how the little blush on his cheeks has receded to make camp on his ears, the glint in his eyes brighter.  

“Yeah. When I’m with you, I feel normal. Not a volleyball player or the golden setter. Just me, Jeon Jungkook.”

Heat sits high on your cheeks as his words linger in your ears. The world seems to hang suspended, out of space and out of time. You try to find your voice but your tongue is suddenly terribly numb, so the two of you continue to sit in silence, staring at one another and enjoying the swim of your heads.

That night, Jungkook walks you back to your dorm and you give him a hug before saying your dreadful goodbye – a lilting whisper of good night Kook.

Hugging isn’t uncommon with the team because they’re strangely big on hugs and being their manager means that you’re their personal teddy bear that they can crush after a long tiring practice. But you don’t miss how you hug Jungkook a little tighter and longer compared to the casual ones you share with the others, relishing the warmth of the sweet honey gold that pulses through his veins. To your surprise, he wraps his arms around you as well and the two of you stay in that position for awhile in the quiet of the night. The way his broad chest heaves up and down alongside his slow, steady humming heartbeat serves nothing but as a solace to you.

You feel safe in his arms.

There is truth that you think Jungkook is cute, that you couldn’t deny, alongside the emotionally-constipated but quiet and sincere ways he cares for the people around him. He’s sincere, doesn’t sugar-coat his words and can also be quite the jokester. He doesn’t flirt excessively and make you feel uncomfortable nor does he do anything particularly extravagant to get your heart racing, but your heart still runs a fucking marathon nonetheless.

That night, you only manage to fall asleep after spending hours trying to counter your own thoughts and coax the erratic slamming of your heart against your chest. He’s a child of the cosmos. You wonder if he sings lullabies and waltzes with the stars in his slumber.

You wonder if the stars look at him in defeat, envious of the way he outshines them all. The effulgence he possesses beats the brilliance of all the other stars.

In between shy glances and awkward banter sessions, Jeon Jungkook has slowly become both the quiet and pandemonium of your heart.  

That night, Jungkook’s phone blows up with messages from his teammates and he’s this close to throwing his phone on the wall and strangling them with his bare heads, seniority and all be damned.

[minie hyung] [22:49] jungkookie is getting it [22:49] with y/n our lovely manager!!! 2 qt pies   [22:49] [Image]

[best captain in the world] [22:49] damn kid [22:49] it’s only been 2 weeks   [22:50] and i didn’t ask y/n to join the team so that you could hit on her??

[jungkook] [22:50] guys wtf I’m not hitting on her!!! [22:50] we’re just friends [22:50] and wtf jimin hyung where were you??? when did you take that pic?

[minie hyung] [22:51] when you 2 were busy staring at each other!! [22:51] i was just walking back home and passed by the store bcs I WAS HUNGRY [22:51] but you were too engrossed in looking at each other and being lovey dovey to notice me but what’s new

[yeontan’s dad] [22:51] y/n’s hella cute tho

[grumpa hyung] [22:52] yeah, really pretty and smart too

[jungkook] [22:52] lmaO say wAT [22:54] she’s mine, just saying [22:55] back the fuck off

[joonie hyung] [22:55] “we’re just friends” he said

[handsome hyung] [22:56] aww our kookie has a crush !! who knew that you were capable of feelings

[jungkook] [22:57] well someone has to take ONE for the team

[best captain in the world] [22:57] wrong interpretation of the phrase kid. [22:58] you just insulted y/n, i’m telling on you

[jungkook] [22:58] NO HYUNG PLEASE DON’T [22:58] I’M SORRY ��� Y/N PLEASE ☹☹☹ [23:01] hyung????

“So… you and Jungkook, huh?”

Hoseok plumps his ass down dramatically onto the seat beside yours and you, for the nth time, regret choosing that seat on the fifth row on the first day of your English Lit class. Who the hell would have known that you’d sit beside the pesky and loud-as-fuck volleyball captain and end up being extremely good buddies?

“Me and Jungkook?” You tilt your head, though you already have an inkling of what he’s going to bring up. You just wish that he wouldn’t tease you too much about it.

“Yeah, you two have been awfully and shadily close nowadays. You know you’re all that he talks about, right?”

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach at his last sentence. You had no idea at all.

Hoseok catches the flush that runs all the way down to your neck and simpers at your speechless self who’s currently mindlessly picking at your food and avoiding all eye contact.

“And the sexual tension between you two is real. Don’t think the team hasn’t realised. It’s our favourite thing to talk about now. Besides talking about our sexcapades, that is.”

“What the fuck? I totally did not want to know that.”

Shooting him an incredulous glare, you throw a fry at him. The thought of Jungkook engaging in hook-ups bothers the heck out of you and you want to vent all your frustration on your meddlesome friend. You wonder if Jungkook’s as nice to other girls as he is to you, and if there’s another hapless girl who’s in the same plight as you. The thought of it makes you sick.

“Okay, but you must have noticed how intensely Jungkook looks at you. Like he wants to eat you up. Or out.”

“Oh my god, can you not say that so loudly?”

“I speak nothing but the truth, girl.”

“Shu—”

“Speaking of the devil, look who we have here? Your lover boy!” Hoseok guffaws.

Fate is really pulling strings to get the two of you together.

You tilt your head upwards and amidst the bustling students, you spot half of the volleyball team in the middle of the cafeteria – they probably decided to grab lunch together before practice – and then your eyes land on Jungkook, who’s already looking at you with his doe eyes and boyish smile. He’s dressed in his signature look – his favourite oversized black hoodie that practically drowns his physique and grey sweatpants – and damn does he look dashing.

“Guys, over here!”

Hoseok hollers as loud as he can, much to your dismay, diverting all attention to your table and you squirm in your seat with a defeated sigh. As they make their way over, you focus on stuffing your food in your mouth, so you can hurry get the fuck out of here. But before you know it, a tray is settled beside yours and of course, it belongs to none other than Jungkook.

You scowl at your tray, knowing that the guys have obviously left that particular seat empty for Jungkook. From your periphery, he slides into the seat beside yours and your entire body tenses up. Despite having gone out for a meal with him before, you still don’t think you can handle the proximity.

He greets you with a hi and you nod back in response. He has no idea of how his mere presence fills your veins with electricity.

The boys soon fall into a conversation about their rivalry with the other schools and throwing a party before finals to relieve some stress and frustration – you honestly wonder what kind of frustration they’re talking about here.

Sitting with the volleyball players – even just half of the team – for lunch makes you wonder how the heck you agreed to becoming their manager and how you’re still with them because they’re so rowdy and embarrassing. You’d probably feel intimidated by them if you didn’t know them personally, but look at yourself now: you’re part of the team and also hopelessly crushing on their setter, who happens to be sitting right beside you.

“Oh right, Y/N! I have something to show you,” Hoseok coos from across you, wagging his eyebrows suggestively with a sparkle of mirth in his orbs. Interest rekindled, you urge him to spill and he fishes out for his phone from his pocket. At this, you notice Jungkook tense up instantly.

After scrolling through his phone for a few seconds, Hoseok beckons you to lean forward with a shit-eating grin and you have a hunch about what he’s up to.

“The other day, Kookie said some things in the group chat that you might want to see.”

“Hyung!” Jungkook flares up beside you, lurching forward across the width of the table and snatching the phone from Hoseok’s grip before you could even look at the screen properly. “Fuck hyung, you’re such a snake!”

Hoseok only shrugs casually. You have to battle Jungkook yourself if you want to pursue the matter.

“Jungkook, what’s on his phone? Why can’t you show me?”

“Um, i-it’s a secret!” He panics, holding the phone high up and out of your reach.

Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you try to grab it, but Jungkook’s hand is so fucking long that you can’t get the phone within your fingertips regardless of how high you reach out.

“Kook!” You lament, leaning forward to weasel your way to find out why he’s being so shady, but he doesn’t let up and holds the gadget even further away from your reach.

Caught in a frenzy, you don’t realise how your boobs are pressed against his left arm and your other hand is propped onto Jungkook’s thigh. How and when it happened is nebulous. It’s only when your fingers find themselves kneading his thigh that you realise the dire situation you’re in.

Dragging your eyes down to where your hand is at, you halt when you realise that it’s centimetres away from his crotch. Any careless movement and you’ll be brushing against Jungkook’s dick and this very thought sends a small jolt through your body.

Fuck.

The fact that he’s wearing those grey sweats of his doesn’t make things any better as they’re proudly flaunting the distinct outline of his bulge prodding at his sweatpants. Gulping down hard, your whole body freezes up blankly.

Seconds stretch into infinity. When Jungkook realises that you’ve stop persisting, he absentmindedly turns to you and is met with a dangerous view of your cleavage conveniently pressed up against him. But he soon grasps that this isn’t the sole reason why you’ve turned paralysed. When his eyes follow your gaze and find that your hand is milliseconds away from his bulge, he flings Hoseok’s phone onto the table.

“Oh my god, fuck I’m so sorry Jungkook.”

You withdraw your hand away instantly and pry your eyes away from his crotch, though you can’t stop thinking about his bulge. Flopping back into your seat, your limbs turn into goo. You’re definitely going to hell.

He looks up to meet your eyes, fumbling frantically over his words. He wants to bury himself alive.

“It’s ok—I, um, it’s fine, Y/N. It’s okay. Shit—”

He trails off awkwardly and you almost choke at the congealing tension in the air. You swear you could slice it with a knife and then use the same knife to cut Hoseok apart because your friend sure is a devil.

“Gross. Can you guys stop flirting with each other in front of us?” Jimin pipes and you dart your eyes to across the table and see that everyone has their eyes fastened upon the two of you with amused expressions. You close your eyes and wince – maybe if you close your eyes long enough, you’ll disappear into thin air.

Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly and stares hard at his food. He takes a little peek at his crotch and dies a little more inside upon realising that he’s popped a boner in the fucking cafeteria just from your touch. Fingers tugging down the hem of his hoodie, he hopes that you wouldn’t look down and notice it.

The next few minutes of lunch pass by agonisingly with you fuming silently in your chair, looking more like an aggravated hamster than anything with your flustered face and crease on your forehead.

Every time Hoseok reaches over to pet your head, he’s attacked by an icy glare and a hard kick to his shin from the boy sitting two seats opposite him. But he also notices how Jungkook melts at the roses flaring across your cheeks. He’s so whipped. Their golden setter is so fucking whipped and he has no clue what to do about it.

It’s D-20 to the start of the season. The team needs to kick their training into high gear if they want to be ready in time for their first official match and that means absolutely no slacking and only two hundred percent during training and friendlies.

That goes the same for you too. You’ve been busy coming up with strategies for each player and organising friendlies with neighbouring schools. It’s hard to arrange friendlies due to time constraints and it took you tons of phone calls and paperwork, but you manage to secure a session with Hongik University just before the start of the season.

You’re just returning to the sports hall after walking the Hongik team to their bus when a loud bedlam from inside catches your attention. Rushing into the sports hall, you see the SNU players huddled in a circle, tension evident in the air. Arms are being recklessly thrown about and bodies are being shoved.

Squinting your eyes, you take in the breadth of the agitated shoulders and your stomach drops when your mind registers the number 9 on the jersey.

Jungkook.

A wave of panic hits you square in the chest. From where you’re standing, you watch Taehyung grab him on the shoulders to calm him down. The setter retaliates by flinging his arm, turning to your direction in the process. He is livid, cheeks flushed red with eyebrows furrowed as he proceeds to grab another teammate by the collar.

Number 1.

Hoseok.

This sends your stomach flying into a sequence of contortions.

You’ve never seen Jungkook this furious before, normally so composed with his feelings. This very sight gets your blood rushing frenziedly, especially how he’s this close to socking Hoseok in the face – Hoseok, his captain whom he respects so much.

Ignoring the fear that catches in your throat and freezes the breath in your lungs, your legs take you across the court as fast as they can.

Jungkook freezes and drops his fists instantly when he spots you approaching. The nervous flickering of your eyes doesn’t escape his notice and under your worried gaze, he feels the world crumble at his feet. He feels like he’s the shittiest person in the entire world.

You reach out for him with unsteady fingers, but he recoils at the slightest touch of your fingertips, distress and chagrin all over his face. A series of frustrated grunts and curses escapes his lips before he stomps off the court with heavy footsteps, ignoring the concerned looks of his teammates as he barrels out of the door and slams it shut.

You stare blankly at the door, bombarded with a tumult of conflicted emotions. You contemplate running after him, but you understand that Jungkook probably wants some alone time to cool down. So you choose not to, staying behind to check on Hoseok while the others fill you in about the argument.

“I kept missing Jungkook’s tosses and he got mad at himself for not tossing high enough for me, but it’s not even his fault,” Taehyung explains apprehensively. “He was in a bad mood throughout the match, so we lost. After that, Hoseok-hyung went to talk to him and Jungkook started lashing it out on him.”

His lips quiver at the thought of him causing the argument, so you put your hand on his shoulder and offer him a small smile.

“Y/N, check on him for me, please?” Hoseok walks towards you and pats your back softly. You could only nod, because knowing the setter, he’s probably beating himself up right now.

Torn ligaments, twisted joints and sore shoulders: they all heal with time, but disappointing the team is a heavy weight to carry, especially for setters.

It’s the setter’s role to bring out the best of their teammates, to know each of their strengths and weaknesses and adapt accordingly to each player’s skills. And it’s also the setter’s fault if his teammates keep missing his tosses. It’s his fault for their loss today.

Jungkook’s limbs feel so heavy that it’s as though he’s carrying the weight of the world. No one is blaming him. Not to his face, at least. But he knows that he has led them down and his self-deprecating thoughts are so loud that he can literally drown in them. He might look like a dense guy, but there’s a tenacious hurricane living in his mind.

Hunched over on a bench, he grits his teeth and locks his fists, nails digging the skin of his palms, while hot tears threaten to spill. Maybe if he practices harder, maybe if he doesn’t fuck up that often, maybe if he disappears, the team will be better—

“Hey Kook.”

He snaps out of his trance when his ears perk up at the familiar voice. Blinking his tears away, he sees you with the same concerned gaze and feels a sharp tug at his heartstrings at the very sight of your worried expression.

You lower yourself to meet him and press a cool water bottle to his forehead. The sudden coldness makes him look up and the tugs soon multiply rapidly when you smile softly at him, moving to sit beside him.

You don’t talk for a good three minutes, letting the silence weave itself comfortably into the spaces between you two. You don’t really know what to say and you don’t want to force him to talk either.

“You’re always saving my ass.”

Jungkook shatters the unnerving silence with a sigh.

Your lips curl up at his attempt of lightening up the mood. “Maybe that’s because I’m your manager?”

All hardness of his features soon disappear and he looks like a scared bunny. Honestly, you just want to give him a tight hug until you take away all his sorrows.

“I mean, beyond being our manager… You always seem to be around whenever I mess up. You’re like my personal cheerleader,” Jungkook laughs.

His laughter is a sweet symphony to your ears, prompting a small bubble of laughter to escape your lungs too. “Out of all things, I especially don’t want to be your personal cheerleader.”

Your relationship with Jungkook has developed by leaps and bounds over the past few months. From being awkward strangers who could barely hold eye contact for more than two seconds, to a cordial manager-player relationship, and to the good friends (minus the bashful smiles, burning cheeks and occasional NSFW thoughts) who look out for each other that you are today. It’s amazing how much you two have opened up to each other.

“Y/N, do you think I’m self-centred?” He asks suddenly. “I’m sorry that you had to see me like… this. I wished I had a better control of my emotions, but sometimes it’s just really hard, you know…”

His words clog in his throat and he swallows them meekly.

Your heart gnaws at the way he views himself.

“Hey, don’t say that. You’re not self-centred, Kook. In fact, you’re one of the most selfless people I know. And I know it’s hard – it’s normal to feel frustrated. Everyone’s feeling the pressure, but your feelings are valid even on bad days.”

“So… you’re not going to scold me for picking a fight with my teammates? With Hoseok-hyung?”

“You think I came here to do that?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook mumbles and looks away glumly.

“Don’t be silly,” you nudge him softly, urging him to turn towards you. “I came here because I know that you feel responsible for losing today. You’re angry at yourself for Taehyung’s slip-up.”

“Y-You know? How?”  

“Hmm, I notice a lot of things about you, Kook. You just don’t realise it.”

An acknowledgment between a whine and a ‘hmm’ escapes from the setter’s lips, so quizzical and innocent that he sounds like a bunny.

“It’s just… I’m the setter and I’m supposed to be the core of the team so if we don’t do well, it’s on me. It’s my fault… I just don’t want to disappoint them.”

The remainder of Jungkook’s sentence dies on the tip of his tongue as he shuts his eyes, remembering the commotion he caused.

“But it’s not your fault, you know that right?”

“I—”

“Do you know how much the team looks up to you? You’re indispensable. The guys depend on your skills, your experiences and trust in them. Yes, the team could have done this and that – a lot of things could have been improved – but we shouldn’t be focusing on the could haves. This is why we practice and practice. You’ll do better next time, I’m sure.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because,” you turn to him, settling your hand on top of his. “You are Jeon Jungkook and all of your teammates have faith in you. Myself included.”

“You?” Stupefied, his voice comes out as a soft whisper.

“I’m your teammate too, right? Oh, and also your personal cheerleader. I mean, this title was kind of forced on me but I’ll take it if it makes you smile – just like how you’re smiling right now.”

Jungkook merely shakes his head with a soft smile and raises his arm to ruffle your hair, stirring up a mini tornado within you. He chuckles when you jump slightly, displaying his bunny teeth in their full glory and though you would have liked to stare a little longer, you have to stop yourself, so you avert your gaze. The pink flush threatening to dot your cheeks is lethal and you can’t afford Jungkook knowing your true feelings.  

He then squirms closer, eliminating any space in between you two, and rests his weight on you. Before you know it, he’s lowering his head on your shoulder and your heart soars at the intimacy.  

He feels warm beside you. He’s always mysteriously warm and it’s the kind of warmth that brings you nothing but comfort. You resist the urge to press closer against him and tilt your head to match his, still too stricken to move a muscle. He continues fidgeting, until his nose finds the crook of your shoulder.

“It’s nice,” Jungkook murmurs and you almost don’t catch it.  

“What’s nice?”

“That you’re here.”

Golden stardust bursts within you upon his words, doing absolutely nothing for the wildfire claiming the land of your chest, but you try to conceal the joy in your voice.

“Well, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Until I get sick of managing you idiots, but I also need extracurricular points, so I’ll still be here, whether you like it or not.”

“I like it.”

Lowering his gaze to the ground, he repeats with an earnestness that wakes up the hummingbird of your heart with a gentle pat on its head. “I like it a lot.”

You can almost imagine Jungkook serenading it with a lullaby – you know he would.

There’s no denying the sudden lightheaded feeling you get from the sweet calm of his presence. You can’t ignore how your wandering eyes are always somehow meeting his sparkly ones and how they rest on you longer than they should, rendering you breathless every single time.

While Jungkook is energetic and burning with passion, slightly insecure and childlike in his own dumb Jeon Jungkook ways like a young fire, you, on the other hand, are perceptive and calm, like a soft breath of cool air on a hot summer day that sways the knee-high grass in the meadows. And maybe this is why he adores you so much, for you are each other’s opposite and complement.  

You used to be skeptical about the idea of love and hate all sorts of uncertainties, but that was until you found a new home in the galaxy of Jungkook’s eyes.

“Shall we head back?”

He stands up, looking as determined as ever. He offers his hand to help you up and you gladly reach for it. To your surprise, Jungkook slips his fingers into yours wordlessly and any hope of catching your breath fizzles out.

The two of you walk back to the court with comets dancing across your rosy cheeks and smiles brighter than the celestials in Jungkook’s eyes.

He’s hella whipped for you – that he will willingly admit defeat. There isn’t a definite time or date when he realised that he has his little crush on you, or when that little crush has graduated into a serious, ardent adoration for you. It’s a gradual plummeting; a peaceful and clandestine descent before his heart was willingly taken hostage by you.

You’re catastrophically beautiful, completely detrimental to the feeble defences of his heart. You never fail to soothe the storms in his mind with your lulling presence. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in him and to be very honest, he is utterly petrified, but he wants to try, if it’s with you.

The world around you is spinning.

As part of their team bonding efforts and to relieve some stress before the season, the team has decided to throw a party at Hoseok and Namjoon’s frat house, which only means: a fuck ton of alcohol and unruly volleyball players with no brain or mouth filter whatsoever.

After chugging seven shots of vodka and four shots of suspicious mixtures that were handed to you, you’re more than just out of it. Everything is fuzzy and ten folds funnier, liquid confidence smouldering within your bloodstream. The amount of alcohol in your system is enough to make heat pool in your stomach and send your thoughts into a frenzy.

You’re aware that you’re badly smashed, but for fuck’s sake, you don’t understand why you can’t stop having nasty thoughts about the boy sitting in front of you.

Opposite you, Jungkook is watching his embarrassing teammates sputter into a howling bout of laughter with an amused grin. From his half-lidded eyes, he’s a little out of it, but he still looks fucking good and this causes your chest to swell.

You’ve made eye contact with him for the fifteenth time within the past two hours. Much could be said in the language of stealth. It’s as though you two enjoy this little game of the push and pull attraction of two magnets. You don’t miss the twinkle in his eyes that never fails to ignite a deep fire in your bones, washing your senses away. As you imploringly pry yourself away from his intense gaze, you turn to see Hoseok flashing you his most annoying grin ever.

“Fuck off,” you mouth, knowing exactly what your idiot of a friend is about to say, but this only urges him to tease you even more and you want to sock him in the face.

Without wiping that annoying smirk off his face, he leans forward and whispers into your ear, “You two little shitheads have been eye-fucking each other the entire time.”

“Wha—”

“He probably has a boner right now. Just look at him trying to cover it up.”

Your eyes search for Jungkook. Shifting uncomfortably with a cushion planted on top of his lap, his irises suddenly dart all over the room to avoid looking anywhere near you.

You gulp down.  

He has a boner?

The voice in your mind screams at you hysterically and you can almost hear the smile in her tone. He has a boner. A fucking boner! Fuck.

How your thoughts run from wanting to tape Hoseok’s mouth so that he’ll shut up for the first time in his life to imagining yourself taking care of Jungkook’s hard-on is beyond you. The mere thought of Jungkook’s hard dick strained against his jeans gets your mind whirling with images of you kneeling on your knees, kissing the head of his dick before taking him completely in your mouth and blowing him till he comes.

Between glowing cheeks and averted eyes, you abandon the righteous battle with your morals, knowing exactly what you want.

You want him. You want him to fuck you senseless until you forget your own name.

These thoughts send a bolt of heated pleasure straight to your core, causing wetness to pool between your thighs.

Frenziedly, your eyes trail back to the setter and you notice him fidgeting uneasily under your gaze. Fuck, you’re not freaking drunk enough for this. You reach out to grab the drink from Hoseok and down the deathly concoction that he probably made with the intention of getting downright wasted. Seconds after your brave and reckless act, you wince at the burn of your throat.

Hopes of washing your cacophonous, lustful thoughts away with the burning liquor go in vain because it’s just simply fucking impossible. This has morphed into a battle of brain and heart. Your heart definitely knows what it wants: for Jungkook to take you there and then, but your brain is screaming at you to stop being so concupiscent. But since when have you ever listened to your brain? Jungkook probably doesn’t even think of you that way. Poor boy’s probably going to be mortified when he finds out how ready you are to bend over for him.  

Shoving Hoseok away in embarrassment because you’re ashamed that that bitch has caught you red-handed, you decide to hide in one of the rooms to clear your head because the living room is an intolerable place to catch your breath and rid your filthy thoughts when everyone is raucously downing shots and screaming at one another. You may be a wreck, but this place is a breeding place for hell and havoc. So much for team bonding.

After finding your way through the maze of sloppy and rowdy drunks, you spot a bedroom down the hall – yes that’s right, Hoseok’s room. Hopefully, that will teach him a lesson for perpetually feeding off your misery.

In your drunken state, it takes you a few fumble attempts to ease the door open and when you see one of the boys sitting on the edge of the bed, you know you’re utterly fucked.

Jungkook.

With a cup of vodka in hand, looking as irresistibly riveting as ever.

A whimper finds its way lodged in your throat and you’re unsure whether to laugh or cry at the absurd situation, because ending up in the same room with the boy whom you’ve been trying to avoid the entire night because you couldn’t stop thinking about sucking his dick dry is truly ridiculous.  

His eyes widen when he finds you at the door and his lips can’t help but part to expose his teeth at your surprised and shit-faced expression.

“Y/N?” He slurs, voice raspy, and you grasp that he, just like you and everyone else in this apartment, is wasted as fuck, so you should definitely leave before you do something that you’ll regret. You’re about to turn on your heels and hide from him for the night and well, the rest of your life, but the alcohol pulsing through your veins screams at you to fuck it and go against your thoughts.

“Hey,” you mumble, closing the door behind you.

“You okay?” Even in your drunken state, you can still hear the worry burning at the edges of his usually composed voice. You nod as he pats the space beside him and you amble towards him.  

“It was too noisy. Had to take a breather in somewhere quiet,” he mumbles, raising his cup to his lips.

“Me too.”

The two of you continue to sit in silence, drinking in the moment of weird stillness and suffering from the whirlpool in your heads. At the speed that your thoughts are racing at, it’s a feat how your mind is still functioning – how it can still coherently form lewd thoughts and images of Jungkook buried in between your thighs.

You need to tame the fire that’s flaring viciously within you before you lose control and pounce on him. For what it’s worth, you notice that he has been anxiously fidgeting with his cup, downing it for the nth time in the past five minutes. You’re pretty sure that he’s drinking nothing and is probably just as nervous as you.  

Deciding that anywhere would be better than being stuck in a room with the boy whom you can’t stop lusting for, you break the silence, “Um, maybe I… should go—”

When you stand up to leave, Jungkook frantically leans forward and grabs hold of your wrist, pulling you towards him. He hasn’t meant to do it, but you somehow end up toppling over, bones liquefied by the booze.

The room starts to spin even faster, your orbs flickering back and forth. Your body is planted snug on top of his thighs, your hands and boobs pressed against his broad chest and your crotch against his bulge.

Arms firm around your waist, his body heat zaps your skin with a fiery warmth, flaring up your neck and ripening your features with an unbridled lust. For the briefest of moments, you swear you feel his dick twitch beneath you and the way he gulps down his saliva hard confirms that he bears the exact same thoughts.

“Oops, sorry,” you giggle, feeling an abrupt surge of high from the alcohol. You push against him to steady yourself, but he doesn’t let up, arms still locked around your befuddled self.

Another deafening silence descends. Even in your intoxicated state, you can still hear the thumping of your heartbeat blasting in your eardrums. You two look into each other’s eyes, unmoving. You can’t tell much from Jungkook’s eyes since they’re droopy and hazy, but he’s looking at you so intensely that it sends another zap of electricity down your spine and to your arousal. You subconsciously rub your thighs together and his lips curl up into a smirk when he realises the effect he has on you.

“Y/N,” Jungkook whispers hoarsely and he leans in till he’s dangerously close, till the delicate graze of his mouth transgresses the juncture between your jaw and ear and a familiar prickle of gooseflesh tremor moves along your neck at the sudden proximity.

“You’re so beautiful.”

A cascade of warmth starts to pour into your abdomen, the intimacy of the moment suddenly drawing upon you. You can even smell the alcohol from his breath and it’s inebriating, making you wetter than ever.

“Can I kiss you?”

He breathes into your ear and you jerk your head in bewilderment, eyes wide and ears ringing. You hesitate and wonder if he’s joking, but he shows no sign of teasing; just a look of patience and sincerity.  

“Y-Yeah,” your words come out practically as a whimper and you let your eyes fall shut as he slowly inches forward.

When he presses his lips against yours, a fizzle of electricity runs through your veins. His lips are everything that you’ve imagined – soft and warm. Intoxicating.

He parts them slightly, enough to capture yours nicely, and presses in a little firmer. The tip of his tongue shyly licks at your bottom lip, coaxing you in more, and you feel like melting in honey.

Greedy for more, you chase his tongue and he chuckles in satisfaction, tangling his tongue with yours. God, he can taste the vodka and sprite on you and as silly as it sounds, he thinks this is the best mix he has ever tasted.

You whimper against his mouth, fingers threading through his hair and tugging softly at them.

“Fuck. I want to do bad things to you,” he exhales with a little whine, hands smoothing up the expanse of your back.

Despite your drunken, flummoxed state, you manage to hear him loud and clear. A deeper surge of tabooed desire runs through your veins at the thought of Jungkook getting turned on by you. You imagine him getting off to thoughts of you, desperate for your touch. You wonder what kind of risqué fantasies he has of you and if they’re as filthy as yours.

“Like what?”

“Urgh Y/N, please don’t make me say it out loud. I’m drunk, but not drunk enough to tell you that I want to fuck you.”

“You do?” You ask, voice laced with a barely restrained frustration.

“I want to strip you bare and fuck you. Right. Now.”

“How badly?” You bat your eyelashes at him coquettishly. It’s almost impossible to curb the lingering wisps of excitement brewing low in your stomach.

“So fucking bad,” he groans, gnawing at his bottom lips anxiously. “B-But not today… I want it to be done properly.”

You sulk blatantly, tugging at his hair again.

Cupping your cheeks, he lowers his forehead to meet yours and chuckles, “It has to be somewhere perfect for you. N-Not in my captain’s dirty ass room.”

“But Kook,” you protest with a whine and press yourself against him. His entire body tenses up when your cold hands begin to roam, slipping underneath his shirt and tracing the hot flesh of his chiselled abs.

“God, you’re such a tease. Fuck you.”

The desperation in Jungkook’s voice is shameless and he’s this to close to surrendering at the hands of your intoxicated dirty self.

“Please do,” you whimper frivolously against his neck, licking at the tender exposed skin. The heat between your legs is so intense that it’s starting to ache with need.

“Y/N—”

“Fuck, I fucking love your thighs.”

It must be the alcohol talking, but fuck it. You’re going to follow your heart’s desire.  

“W-What?”

He stiffens underneath when your nimble fingers graze along the inside of this thighs.

“Do you know how distracting your thighs are when you wear those volleyball shorts?”

“You were staring at my thighs?” The teasing lilt caressing the edges of his voice doesn’t escape your ears.

“Your thighs are fucking thick. It’s too tempting to look away.”

The winning moment of liquid courage takes over your brain completely and you can’t help but moan unabashedly when Jungkook’s fingers slip under your dress, grazing your skin languidly.  

“I-I want to ride your thigh.”

There. You said it, embarrassment drowned in giddy anticipation and longing ages ago.

Jungkook grunts despairingly. Every single nerve-ending of his is aflame, skin tingling with ferocious desire.

You are going to the bane of his existence.

“Please?” You beg wantonly, aching to be touched.

In sly discretion, you press your thighs together, desperate for some sort of friction that will make your throbbing need easier to bear and Jungkook clicks his tongue in fake annoyance, shooting you a glare when he realises what you’re doing.

“Fuck, Y/N. You’re trying to kill me. I’ve had a hard-on ever since you arrived.”

You giggle, noticing how his normally-doe eyes darken with rampant lust and you rub your thighs even more.

“You’re so fucking pretty. So beautiful. Fuck my life.”

He rolls his lower half suggestively, allowing you to detail the thick profile of his length – underneath lies a furious red begging to be touched and sucked.

“Ride my thigh,” he instructs, eyes glassy with lust and desire, inducing another wave of lechery to consume your insides.

Without any hesitation, you adjust your position on his thigh to make yourself at home, torso melding against his and this fucking turns you on like no other. Eyes rolled back into your head, you start to grind on his thigh, shuddering blissfully at the hard ridges of muscles against your dripping core.

Pleased with your reaction, he flexes his thighs with a satisfied smirk and a shiver traverses your entire body, leaving you with a spasm of nerves. You wail his name out loud – knowing that the others outside probably can’t hear it and your whimpers increase in volume and pitch when his fingers linger around the elastic of your panties, before palming your ass cheeks to anchor you closer to him.

You moan at his touch, begging for more. The wetness in between your thighs has long ruined your underwear and Jungkook’s jeans.

“Fuck, your ass,” he grunts loudly from the back of his throat, finding purchase on your ass cheeks and kneading them with a vice-like and desperate grip.

“The guys were talking about how cute your ass is and I told them to shut the fuck up. Do you know how fucking hard I get when you bend over to pick up the volleyballs? I always have to spend hours jerking off after practice.”

You moan in response, light-headed from the mental image. Jacking off in the locker room is not anything new or a taboo among the guys. But Jungkook always spends a longer time than the others in the cubicle to curb the pulsating urges between his legs. The mere thought of you, innocently batting your long lashes at him and being so intimate with him, has always been enough to make him cum.

Wiped over by another intense surge of lust, you grow an ardent urge to touch him more. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing he wants to see in this world, it’s like a battle of waits between predator and prey, but you are lucidly aware of what you want.

Slipping your hand between your bodies, your fingers trail down from his toned abs to graze against the prominent outline of his clothed bulge and it grows to its full hardness almost immediately from your touch. You haven’t even seen his dick yet, but fuck, you really, really want a taste of Jungkook’s dick.

“I-I want your dick. So bad. Please, Jungkookie. Please?”

You’re so filthy that you don’t even recognise yourself. Moving your hand along his length, you stroke him through the two layers of material, but you can still feel the heat of his cock against your palm. Just as you’re about to unzip his jeans, he stops you to your disappointment.

“No, not today,” he manages to breathe out, nearly at his wit’s end. His voice is about to crack from his insatiable hunger for you, while you groan despondently in response.

Jungkook’s fingers trace along the length of your neck until they find their way into your hair and run through them as he leans down to the crook of your neck. You shiver when his breaths coast on the exposed skin of your throat before he nips gingerly on your skin, soft one moment and dirty the next, relishing how it makes you jump.

God, he can smell you at this proximity. Your favourite citrus and lavender scent. He stifles a laugh at how you can still smell so tantalisingly innocent when you’re so fucking needy for him. His dick grows even harder, turned on by the stark difference in your character and this makes it even harder for him to prevent blowing his load there and then.

He desperately wants to pin you down, strip you bare, explore your body in all of its magnificence, memorise every crevice of your body and then fuck your brains out till his name is the only thing you know. But he needs to hold himself back, not wanting it done sloppily at a party and especially not when you’re drunk, but he’s this close to joining the dark side.

White stars begin to dot the edges of his vision.

He digs his fingers into your waist to press you closer to him, thigh bouncing rhythmically so your clit brushes against a different area of his toned thigh each time. It brings a euphoric sensation to your core, the tingles spreading fast and sending you near delirious. A writhing wreck, you can only fall limp against his chest, muffling your stuttering whimpers. You wish he’d let you come apart with his fingers, but the way he’s grinding his thigh up against your clit is intoxicating enough, much more than the alcohol in your blood.

“That’s it,” he smirks, watching you grind your hips back and forth with a lustful gaze and you reach up to kiss his neck to exhibit your high.

“You like this?”

“Fucking,” you mewl wantonly, tugging at his tousled locks. The heat radiating from Jungkook’s body burns addictively and sharp intakes of air occur against your lips, leaving your throat to run dry. “Love it.”

He grins at your honesty, more spurred to make you feel good. Tonight, it’s all about you and your pleasure. Hovering over him, you let your mouth hang open and inhale each other in. His breath coasts on your cheeks when he pulls away for air, only to dive back into the pristine juncture of your throat, attacking the delicate skin, searching and starving. He doesn’t stop sucking and running his tongue across your skin till your neck is painted with lilac bruises, till he’s satisfied with his very own masterpiece.  

“J-Jungkook, please.”

With a predatory gaze, he watches how your breasts bounce with each rock of your hips and leans south to trail his tongue down your cleavage. You hook your arm around his neck, soft whimpers leaving your mouth when the pleasure overpowers you till you can’t even find your voice. Jungkook hums in satisfaction, burying his face into your chest.

Discovering the pleasant weight of your breasts and the firm peaks of your nipples against his calloused palms, he kneads them hungrily, fuelling the growing pressure that’s culminating in the pit of your stomach.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so hot.”

A combination of a hoarse moan and gasp is strangled out of Jungkook’s throat from the depths of his lungs. His spine straightens as his body locks up over the sudden onslaught of pleasure. The slick noises of your folds against his thigh are almost deafening now, filthy to the core, but not as erotic as your moans. He honestly can’t believe this is happening, after his many fantasies of being this intimate with you.

“Jungkook,” you moan shamelessly when the coil inside you grows tighter and tighter, hotter and hotter. “I’m cl-close.”

“Come for me, baby.”

The smallest of smirks tugs at the corner of his mouth when he runs a finger down your clothed core, further tightening that coil in your belly. You feel so vulnerable under his command, but his dominance lights up your nerves like fireworks. You fucking love it.

Jungkook’s leg starts bouncing faster and the otherworldly sensation sends you over the edge. Your nails dig deeper into his biceps to stable yourself as your legs begin to shake, stomach knotting. You choke back a sob as you jerk your hips up, moaning an incoherent string of curse words and his name all mixed in one. The sight of your lovely face hovers over his, your swollen mouth hanging apart, eyes half-lidded in a torrent of bliss and neck messily painted in purple bruises.

Jungkook holds your hips down to help you with your high, whispering sweet praises into your ear as his hands stroke your sides. He lifts his leg ever so slightly, dragging the hard muscles against your core once again until you snap your eyes shut, your entire body briefly locked up and dispersed into a series of erratic spasms.

The idyllic blinding white fades to only a shimmer at the edges of your eyes. You slump forward, burying your face into his chest. Seconds after, he follows suit, coming untouched in his pants.

Head still buried in his chest, Jungkook wraps his arms around you to engulf you in a tight hug. He breathes heavily against his work of art on your neck and jerks up when reality hits him square in the face.

Your breath is still ragged in your lungs, forehead rested on his shoulder as he gently rubs comforting circles on your back. You’ve ridden off most of the intoxication, but you still can’t think straight. Not when Jungkook is nipping at the soft lobe of your ear, an attempt to coax you into relaxing.

“That was… wow.”

He breaks the silence with a sheepish smile as he pushes the messy strands of your hair away from your face, gingerly running his thumb over your rubescent cheeks. He leans his head down to meet your forehead, brushing the tip of his nose with yours.

“Yeah,” you breathe out softly and he can hear the gears turning frantically in your mind.

“You don’t… regret it, do you? Fuck, I’m so sorry… We’re both drunk and I shouldn—”

“No! Of course not,” you shake your head, “I-I liked it.”

“You liked it?” From the lilt that caresses the edges of his voice, he’s clearly enjoying this.

“Urgh, shut the hell up!”

Even in his post-snogging and thigh-riding state, he still looks incredible. He’s just so delicate and nice to you that it’s almost unreal – it’s like being in a dream. He looks at you like you hold the stars in the night sky with utter adoration, before pecking a soft kiss on your forehead.  

At this very moment, you realise that you’re irrevocably, hopelessly and unabashedly in love with him and there’s no turning back, not when the stars in his eyes are twinkling with nothing but love.

Jungkook and you aren’t exactly a thing. Not yet. Sure, you guys hang out exclusively and all like before, but neither of you has popped the question or sat down to delve into the daunting topic of Feelings.

The morning after, both of you wake up to tangled limbs, bad morning breaths, bashful smiles and memories of last night’s dalliance. He tells you to give him some time because honestly, he thinks he needs all the time he can have to ensure that he does this relationship thingy properly with you. The last thing he would want is to fuck things up with you. And you tell him that you’ll wait for him, because you know how hard things have been on him. Juggling between volleyball and school work is tough enough, so you don’t want to give him more pressure.

However, you realise that there have been several changes regarding the way he acts with and around you. Whether it’s because of that intimate night or stress from volleyball (or both), Jungkook has become so much touchier with you – he’s always wanting to hold your hand and keeping you by his side. Displaying of affection is also more common in front of his teammates, but it’s not like you have anything against it. He probably needs more attention and affection since the season is only days away.

After a series of friendlies, the season has finally begun and the boys have never been readier, all prepared to be crowned as champions. With your clipboard attached to your hand, you unwaveringly multitask between watching the semi-final match and taking down notes for the boys.

Their semi-final match is with Yonsei University. While you’re pale in the face standing at the sidelines, the boys are determined and embody a degree of calmness on the court, their nerves submerged by the jolts of adrenaline. They’ve got the upper hand with Yonsei and their win is guaranteed, but it’s impossible not to feel anxious.

The crowd cheers as Jungkook tosses the ball to Taehyung at a calculated height and precision and the latter spikes it down before their opponents even have time to blink. The incident from last month comes to mind. You’re glad that he has learnt to have more confidence and trust in himself and his teammates, though he dedicates this improvement to you and your calming presence.

"You're at set-point, so please focus. And don't do anything dumb," you tease, placing your hands on your hips and faking a scowl at him as he unblinkingly hovers over you. You remember how you used to be afraid by their builds, but you’ve grown slightly accustomed after awhile, though there’s one thing that you think you’ll never get used to: the way Jungkook looks at you with stars dancing in his eyes.

“I’m kidding, kiddo. You’ll do well like always, okay? I know you will. Now go there and kick some ass.”

He nods and downs the water bottle that you’ve handed to him before pouring the remaining over his head. His action doesn’t surprise you anymore as you already have a towel ready to wipe him dry.

But what takes you aback is when he grabs you by your shoulders and leans down to meet your eyes. You open your mouth, ready to lament about him touching you with his clammy hands, but retract upon seeing the change in Jungkook’s demeanour.

Despite the loud cheers from all four directions, Jungkook can hear his heart racing loudly in his ears. Just before the whistle pierces through the court to signal the end of time-out, he traces your jaw with his fingertips and whispers into your ear, his mellifluous voice softer than snow, “I have something that I need to tell you after the game.”

Tinges of affection waltzes with the stars in his pupils. He looks at you like you hold his entire world on the tips of your fingers, like he just needs you for everything to be okay.

Lacing your fingers together, warmth seeps from his palm into yours like a soft, comforting hum and you know exactly what he wants to tell you.

“Okay, I’ll be waiting here.”

With a sliver of hope, he jogs back to the court. It’s now his turn to serve. With that same palm that just held yours, he gallantly performs the best serve of his life, one that spirals off his palm to shoot through the hole between the other team’s back line, clinching a safe spot for SNU in the finals.

After five long sets, SNU wins Yonsei by a landslide and the team gets an evening off before they resume practice the next day. Jungkook seizes this chance to take you out for dinner, somewhere that isn’t at the convenience store.

The sky is already soaked in sparse hues of navy and black, and the silence of the night becomes even more endearing due to Jungkook’s mere presence by your side. He’s nervous, you can tell, even more than this morning, from the way he’s bouncing nervously on the balls of his shoes, as though he’s about to combust.

His vision zones in on how your bottom lip is caught between your teeth – a habit of yours whenever you’re unsure, so he takes you into his arms and intertwines your fingers together. You relax involuntarily when he starts rubbing circles onto your palm.

Jungkook cranes his neck up, lips grazing the shell of your ear and you shudder at his warm breath fanning against your skin, inviting the rise of gooseflesh to scatter all over your neck.

He wraps one hand around your waist and looks deeply into your orbs, as though he’s spellbound by the iridescent glint in your eyes and the roses flaring up across your cheeks under the sliver of moonlight.

And in the velvet of the summer night, he gingerly whispers, with utter adoration swelling his chest to the size of the moon. The words that you have repeatedly dreamed of him to say. The words that you’ve been wanting to tell him. The words that have been trapped hidden behind his heart for the longest time.

“I love you.”

You feel the warmth of Jungkook’s palms cradling your blushing features, while he strokes your cheeks with his thumb.

“Kook,” you breathe out softly.

“I love you, Y/N.”

He repeats in a tone three notches deeper, paired with an earnestness that gets your heart ricocheting in your ribcage.

“I knew there was something about you when you joined us on the first day… And I confirmed it after sacrificing my own nose.”

“Sacrifice? You mean it was on purpose?” A sparkle of mirth glimmers in your eyes under the hazy yellow light.

“I normally don’t get distracted, but I couldn’t help but get upset when you came back into the court laughing with Seokjin-hyung. I was still staring at you when I got hit on the face.”

“You’re so silly, but at least your boopy nose is still cute. I love your nose.”

“And my thighs, right?”

You blush fervently at the memory of that night.

“Fuck Y/N, I just confessed to you and all you do is tell me that you love my nose,” he laughs, his thumb still rubbing circles onto your cheek.

Your lips curl up into a smile. “Kiss me?”

“I will give you the entire world if you asked me to.”

His whisper is so earnest and affectionate that it makes you feel like melting.  

In a graceful sweep, he pulls you closer by the hips, finding purchase on your waist. The first touch is similar to the caress of a feather, so light that you could barely feel it. The tip of his tongue skims over the rosy flesh of your bottom lip, eliciting goosebumps that tingle along the nape of your neck. You close your eyes, feeling like you’re plummeting into a bottomless pit.

Jungkook’s lips are soft, a little chapped, as they meld to yours. He kisses you like he hasn’t kissed you before, like it’s your first time being completely vulnerable to each other, like planets condemned by gravity to collide.

Images of him moaning shamelessly beneath you as you grind on his thigh and him kneading your ass get completely fizzed out of your memory. You can only think of him kissing you, how tenderly he’s holding onto you, how sweet his lips taste onto yours and how sincere he is on stealing your breath.

You can only think of how the objection of your affection is coruscating before you as he sprinkles his personal collection of stardust onto your lips, with a love so blazingly radiant that it rivals the intensity of the sun.

You feel golden.

Like you’re lying on a bed of sunflowers, drifting alongside the movement of summer’s light towards glistening honey.

A whimper lodges itself in your throat, bubbling against Jungkook’s lips and even in the darkness behind your eyelids, you can vividly picture the crescent of his smile forming against your lips.

The tip of his tongue prods at the seam of your lips and you part your lips to let him in entirely. You reach out and caress the nape of his neck to deepen the kiss, jumping slightly in surprise when his fingers splay gingerly over your waist, tugging at the hem at your shirt languidly. Your mind has long become a labyrinth of little streets that you have difficulty navigating, sent into a turmoil by how sweet his love tastes. It’s insane how much you yearn for his burning touch.

You inch away slowly and your eyes land on his, now glistening with solar debris that sends instant palpitations to your heart. He stares at you longingly, like he can’t believe that you’re really here in front of him, cocooned up against his body and adoration swells in his chest. He feels like combusting, but he also feels like hugging you and having you all to himself till the end of time.

“You know how I feel for you, right?” You mumble, looking deep into his orbs.

Jungkook notices how your bottom lip is taut between your teeth and the hint of a blush is still glowing effervescently on your cheeks. You’re beautiful. A visual spectacle, a sight to behold. You’re so beautiful that his chest constricts, lungs taking a sparse second to remember how to fucking breathe normally again.

“Remind me?” He whispers back.

You let out a giggle at how ardently Jungkook is gazing at you and how lovely he looks right now, exhilaration gleaming like a kaleidoscope of stars in his eyes.

This time, you lean in, planting your lips on the rosy flesh on his mouth and he softens. Kissing him is akin to drinking hot chocolate on a rainy winter day, snuggling under your warm quilt after a long day and dancing in the rain. It feels like weaving through time and space.

Pulling away, he lets out another one of his boyish laughs, tugging at your heartstrings for the umpteenth time that night before dusting kisses over every inch of your blushing features, exhaling words of love against your skin. You see galaxies sprawled all over in the darkness of your closed eyelids.

“I love you Jeon Jungkook,” you breathe out, gracing the shell of his ear. “I love you so much and I swear by the stars in your eyes.”

“Are you… wearing Jungkook’s jersey from last season or are my eyes playing tricks on me?” Hoseok quips, eyebrows raised.

“Oh.”

You look down at your attire – Jungkook’s old jersey and a pair of denim jeans. “Yeah, he made me wear it and now I feel like some frat boy’s hoe.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you. Hell knows what the kid did while wearing that jersey, probably jerked off in it like a million times. Oh and he also sweats a lot – I know it’s been washed and all, but it’s literally a sweat-drenched shirt. Unless you’re into that kink…? Like Jungkook’s sweat? Hit me up, baby.”

You throw the nearest object at him – your clipboard, clocking him square in the chest, though the boy remains unperturbed.

“Listen, I’m really happy that you’re here with us. You’ve been with us for only three months, but you’ve been of such great help to the team and we all really appreciate you being here. So yeah, thank you?”

“It’s so weird that you’re being nice to me,” you chortle. “But no worries, dude. I somehow like suffering, so I like being the team’s manager.”

“Well, you have Jungkook now – take it as a thank you gift from the team, won’t you? He’s a good human sacrifice for the satanic you,” Hoseok waggles his eyebrows greasily.

“Fuck off,” you sneer back, rolling your eyes.

“Jungkook is a great guy, really, even though he’s an overgrown, emo baby bunny,” he quotes himself and you recall what happened the first time you met Jungkook. “But I’m just really happy for the both of you.”

Time really doesn’t wait for no one.

Amidst a whirlwind of tiring training sessions, worn-out limbs and bottles of protein shakes, three months have come and gone in a blink of an eye. Your first season with the volleyball team is approaching an end.

It’s finally D-day and everyone has been waiting for this since forever – their final match with Hanyang University.

The game passes in flashes of white, alongside the voices of excitement and desperation, hand signs and bruises that stacked up quicker than their attacks. They're ferociously neck and neck with Hanyang – both teams are refusing to relent, tightening up their plays and leaving fewer and fewer loopholes in their game as they vie for match point of their fifth and final set.

Your lips are probably chapped from biting on them, bearing the brunt of anxiety, as you continue to chant please, please let them win to yourself.

A risky ball returns to your side of the court and your heart stops at the difficulty of receiving it, but Jimin slides across the court in time and manages to save it, hollering loudly, “Chance ball!”

He digs it towards where Jungkook is poised, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and everyone drops into their ready positions, all eyes on the ball and set to put an end to the intense rally.

It’s only a matter of milliseconds before the ball falls into the cupped hands of the golden setter who then pushes it back up in the air, quick and effortless, to an altitude that complements the height of Hoseok’s jump. Without even the slightest of delays, the captain is up on his feet and stretches his hand to slam the ball down ruthlessly.

His smack sends it rocketing towards the other side of the court and his opponents scramble to receive it. It brushes against their libero’s forearm, but it’s almost impossible to save it from the speed and force it’s flying at, and meets the floor with a satisfying thwack of finality. Everyone freezes all at once with hitched breathes, eyes glued to how the ball dribbles obstinately in a slow motion, before rolling away from the perimeter of the court.

The last whistle breaks the static silence to announce the finality. Everyone turns to the score chart – 28 to 26.  

There and then, the gym erupts into a positive torrent of roars and it takes a few prolonged seconds before reality hits Jungkook right in the face.

SNU won the championships.

They won the season!

Consciousness comes streaming back to the players after awhile. Yoongi is the first to scream, unexpectedly, with a loud fuck yeah and this snaps everyone out of their trance. Jimin’s reaction comes next, falling to his knees to do his signature slide, both fists pumped in the air as he snarls, “We fucking won!”

The players then tackle one another into a tight group hug, all smiling triumphantly and throwing their fists up in excitement. The sound of cheering from the crowd sends a tingle up their spines and it feels so fucking good.

Coach Kim is already on his feet, running towards them with the proudest smile you’ve ever seen on him and you’re about to follow suit, until you see Jungkook break away from the huddle and barrel towards you at a speed too fast for your comprehension.

Smiling at how his face is lit up like the stars in his eyes, you throw your arms wide open and he dives into your embrace, hot tears brimming at the edges of both your eyes. He engulfs you into the tightest hug he’s ever given anyone and you wrap your arms around his waist, heart swelling with pride.

He feels like the dew on a perfectly bloomed rose in your comforting arms as he nuzzles further into the crook of your neck, relishing the warmth of your lithe body against his.  

“Kook! You did it, oh my god!” You scream in joy, but your repeated words of congratulations get muffled by his broad chest.

He leans back to take a look, a really good look of your beaming face that screams nothing but pride and love, before scooping you up in a graceful sweep and twirling you around, simply because words cannot describe how happy he feels.

A soft, feather-light peck is then pressed on your ear and a blush makes camp on your cheeks. His warmth leaves your skin after a fleeting second, the cool air of the sports hall rushing back to stroke the flaming blush on your cheeks.

Still riding the high from their win, he then leans in to kiss the beam from your lips and the open display of affection makes your heart burst in your chest. Behind you two, the entire volleyball is wolf-whistling and applauding raucously. Jungkook scrunches his nose in embarrassment at how all his teammates and Coach are gawking at the two of you, but really, he cannot find any damns to give.  

Red-faced and bright-eyed, the champions of the season make their way out of the court with a steady, triumphant gait, their bodies pumped with a brew of adrenaline and slight exhaustion. Lagging at the back of the team is Jungkook and you in your own little bubble. His fingers are interlaced firmly with yours and he registers that his heart will forever and always be set on you.

In his eyes, you see stars. You see yourself. You see the two of you.

You see love.

For the nth time that day, Jungkook leans in to meet your lips and he knows very well that this is the sweetest victory he will ever taste in his life.  

Note | If you’re reading this, hi there love! ♡ Thank you so much for reading my first piece on this site. If you liked it, hit that like or reblog button or/and hmu with feedback or talk to me here – it’ll really make my day ♡ This was beta-ed by Ali @gukseuphoria and J @glitterjjk – thank you for being my first beta readers! There’ll be more stories coming your way, check out my WIPs for more! 💫💛✨

(A special shoutout to Ayv @piedpipers for being my first friend here and for always believing in me and hyping me up 👭🌞🌸💖)

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[stuckwith-harry]

Halloweeping 2018 - “You’re Warm”

A/N: “You’re Warm” is one of 100 prompts in this prompts list, which I’m currently kind of turning into a Hinny series. And since it’s Halloween and I actually couldn’t stop about thinking about Harry and his parents while I was out trick-or-treating with my ten-year-old-niece, I cooked this up. It has undergone minimal editing, and it’s forty minutes to midnight where I am, so please forgive typos, timeline errors, and the like. 

With that said - happy Halloween, happy Halloweeping, and happy NaNoWriMo Eve! I love you lot, I hope you didn’t cry about our fictional son’s dead parents too much. Here is a story about rituals - about what stays the same, and what doesn’t, and about playing your part when it does.

“You‘re Warm”

                                                                                                     Halloween 2018

Harry spends much of the day thinking about all the ways that Halloween feels the same.

When they were younger, sometimes Ginny asked him if he wanted to take the day off. And though Harry has thought a lot about that, too, and though the idea crosses his idea every year, he never has. He still doesn't know if that makes the day sadder, or, in some strange way, a little more hopeful – that the gears keep turning, anyway. The world does not stop for Lily and James Potter.

But he has learned to avoid the Daily Prophet, knowing their names will leap at him from some double-digit page, somewhere, every year. He's learned to make it to work ten minutes before everyone else, so he can hide out in his office and pretend he is the only person in the whole world who knows they ever existed.

When Ron was still there, he'd ruffle Harry's hair in passing and pat his shoulder before sitting down at the desk opposite him. Around noon, he would get up, repeat the same ritual, and disappear in the cold October for ten minutes, and when he came back, he did it carrying two steaming take-away meals. Halfway through whatever he'd picked up for them this year, he would quietly prod Harry's foot under the tables, and Harry would either look up and shrug, or shake his head.

But some years, he would talk. Not for long, not much – never demanding Ron to reply.

“I’ve been alive longer now.” That year, it was chicken, Harry remembers. He stuck his plastic fork in the dry meat and tested how far he could bend it before it snapped. “I’m older.”

The year after that: “They’ll never meet James, you know?”

“I was jealous.” Three years later. “Because you and Hermione got to get married with your parents. And I guess I’ve always known I won’t … but I didn’t really realise it until I watched you do it.”

And Ron would do his best.

“Oh. That sucks, mate.” Pause. “If you fancy distraction, I can tell you about this ridiculous thing Crookshanks did last night. Hermione’s still in shock.”

“They’d definitely love him. Reckon your Dad would like the name, yeah?”

“I’m sorry. You can have the last slice of pizza, if you want.”

But after that, they’d carry on like it was any other day, except Ron would deal with anyone who knocked on their office door; and Harry liked that best.

The first year in the house, Ginny asked if he wanted to put a Confundus Charm on the front door, so no trick-or-treating children would disturb them. Harry said he didn’t mind – and so, every year, they turn on the TV and watch a movie that doesn’t remind Harry of anything at all. But Ginny gets the door if he can’t force himself to smile, and Harry stays on the sofa until she comes back, and sometimes she nicks some candy from the bag in the hallway and sneaks it into his hand. She curls up next to him, and Harry buries his nose in her hair and waits for his chest to stop burning.

When their own children got old enough to go, they made it a habit to be back before the credits roll. They take off their coats and costumes and sit on the carpet in the living room; and without fail, each of them has brought back a piece of candy specifically for Harry. All three treats find their way into his hands silently, and then the five of them sit on the floor digging their way through the rest of it. Ginny tells Lily if the movie was any good at all, and Albus asks if his ironic wizard costume is still clever even though it’s the third time he’s worn it.

The graveyard is reserved for another time. Sometimes, when Halloween falls on a weekend, they’ll go during the day, before the streets fill up with gaggles of children cheering and nosily inquiring about their lack of costume. If not, there is always the first of November. Ginny holds his hand, the kids take turns carrying the flowers, and they don’t bicker the slightest bit until they’re back home.

But Ron is long gone from the Auror Department, and Harry doesn’t have the luxury of spending the day buried in mindless paperwork anymore. James and Al are at Hogwarts, and this time next year, Lily will be, too.

So it feels the same, for now, but it’s bound to change. Harry has gotten so used to the comforting noise around him, he doesn’t think he’ll know how to deal with the silence when it comes back.

Ron rings, now. Their conversations sound the same every year, echoing lunch breaks in their joint office, years ago.

“Hi. It’s me.” Ron is usually quite pleased with himself for using the Muggle contraception so effortlessly, but on Halloween night, he’s sure not to let it show too much.

“Thank you for calling.”

What comes next is a silence for Harry to take: It’s what’s left of Ron’s habit to stretch his leg under their office tables and bump his foot into Harry’s. There’s no obligation here: Some years, they just listen to each other breathe, and rustle around their respective houses, until Harry changes the subject and Ron takes the cue.

Some years, they talk the way they always have. Few words. Simple comfort.

“Alright. Well, call, if you need anything.”

“Sure. And thanks again. For checking in.”

“Yeah, of course, mate.”

Then, they stay on the line for a little longer, just in case. And when Harry hangs up, the burning in his chest has eased a little.

“Ready to go?” Ginny.

“Yeah.” Harry puts down the phone and makes sure to reach for her hand, if briefly, in passing. “I'll go get the flowers.”

“I’ll tell Lily. See you in a second, babe.”

That is Ginny’s part.

Her first year playing for the Harpies, she was stuck at practice. They didn't make plans – none apart from the usual, and still, when Harry came stumbling out of their fireplace that night, her Patronus was there, filling the living room with warm, silver light, waiting for him, and he somehow managed not to have a panic attack right there and then.

“I’ll be there by eight, and if I’m not, my Patronus will be and tell you when. Either way, you will know. I promise.”

She got home twenty past eight, exactly like Patronus number three had told him she would, and crawled onto the couch next to him.

Once she'd reached for his hand, she looked up at him and said: “I’m sorry for the wait, Harry. I didn’t know it would take so long.”

Even now, Harry remembers all the directions his emotions ran when he looked at her – how quietly baffled and yet, wildly, weirdly touched he was.

“It’s no big deal”, he said.

Ginny gently put her head on his shoulder, and Harry slouched into her, soaking up the warmth she radiated. “I didn’t want to worry you”, he heard her say. “I didn't want you to come home and – find the house empty.”

Harry was so taken aback, so in awe of her, and so heavy with sadness, he couldn’t speak. After a minute or so, he said, with a tight throat: “Thanks – just … for thinking of that.”

“I just wanted you to know I’d be there.”

Lily holds on to a bouquet of bright yellow flowers with one hand and to Harry’s fingers with the other. She’s ten, going on eleven, and she walks by her parents’ side with steady steps as they make their way down the street that leads to Godric’s Hollow’s graveyard.

It has taken Harry a long time to learn to talk about them. The handful of people he talks to has grown over the years, slowly and steadily, but remains a handful, still. There’s Ron, and Ginny, and Hermione. There’s both Weasley parents, and Andromeda, and one Christmas, George. Harry asks Hagrid about his parents, and his children ask him about them. Harry has told them who they’re named after, and why they’re not there anymore.

What he hasn’t learned is how to talk to them. He stands in front of the tombstone, and despite all the years behind him – all the things he’s said to Ron and Ginny and everyone else – there is nothing he can say, now, here.

Outside of the graveyard, Lily and James Potter’s names are never far. They are mentioned over dinner and around the Christmas tree. Their faces are in photographs around the house. James, Al, and Lily walk past the graduation picture of Hogwarts’ 1978 class every morning when they come down the stairs.

Harry’s life is full of proof that his parents have lived and loved and fought and loved some more. The graveyard, somehow, feels so far away from all of that. Here, they are only dead. Only cold. Only rotting underground.

And for that, Harry has nothing; nothing but silence.

Lily Luna Potter kneels down, picks up a bundle of dried flowers from earlier in the month, and gently lays down the fresh ones she carried here.

“Dad, can you tell the story about the Snitch again?”, she asks. “The one grandpa drew.”

Her part.

“Well, it’s a bit embarassing for him”, says Harry, the same way he always tells the story, and Ginny softly chuckles next to him. “He was supposed to be taking an exam, see. Like you will, once you’re in Hogwarts. But he was already finished, because he was really smart, and so, to pass the time until everyone else was done, he started doodling this little Snitch. And he put your grandma’s initials in it, too.”

“L, and E”, says Lily promptly. “L for Lily, like me, and E for Evans, because her name was Evans before they got married.”

“Yeah. See, he already had a big crush on her, but he didn’t know what to do about it yet. He crossed it out when it was time to hand in the exam, so no one ever saw it except him.”

“And you”, Ginny says.

“And me.”

“I’m sure he drew more”, Lily says with all the confidence of a ten-year-old. “After they got together.”

“I’m sure he did”, Harry says, and Lily nods like that concludes the story.

The three of them fall silent. Chilly October wind tugs at them – Lily buries her nose deep in her scarf and steps closer to Harry, leaning against him.

Ginny does, too – her forehead is touching Harry's chin, and she keeps one arm wrapped tightly around him. All three of them are looking at the tombstone, and Harry feels Ginny’s hand resting on back. When he finally swallows and tears his eyes away from his parents, she is already there and looking at him.

“Are you okay?”, she asks. “It’s freezing.”

“I’m okay”, Harry mutters. “You're warm.”

[iwritethat]

UnreQUITed - Part 3

Request: UnreQUITed 3?

A/n: Sorry for the wait! Please say if you want a Part 4 or if you don’t.

Warning: Strong language.

>>>>——————————>

~ Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~

Word had spread, as had Deathstrokes' influence. He was already a feared assassin with his own men if need be but there were very few he actually trusted - you were not one of them but automatically gained a high position despite your unwilling dedication. All of the attention from Gotham's underworld was bound to draw the Bats to you eventually but for now your priority was protecting the ones you cared about.

"So, how does it feel (Y/n)? Being back where you belong little Renegade."

You were leaning against his desk, neck deep in your flooding thoughts when Slade disrupted you, the mocking nickname the very definition of traitor. He meant it as an insult or wind up, you weren't quite sure but you knew you disliked it.

"Don't call me that, and I'm fine. Not that you give a shit anyway." Your words spit like venom, and you hoped it poisoned him like he had you many moons ago.

"You know (Y/n), when you disappeared he got reckless. He seemed angry, lost even. It was amusing, I've never seen your bird so off his game than without his love by his side or at the very least in his life."

"That's bullshit, he didn't love me. You know full well he had a thing for Batgirl." You hissed, glaring daggers at the bemused but skeptical Deathstroke.

"You didn't see how he always watched out for you in a battle? He was the first to defend you and looked at you like the light of his life - and you thought he was into Batgirl - he was but that was after you. Do you really think he'd infiltrate my organisation, alone, to fight only one member in particular. Damn that man tried so hard to win you over but I never thought you'd fall for it."

"C'mon, that's just who he is."

"Alright deny it. Tell me, what's this thing with his 'brother' then?"

"Stay outta my life, we are not friends and I don't look up to you anymore Slade."

Despite storming out of his office with a foul attitude, Deathstroke's words struck a cord in your train of thought. Why would he bring Jason up? You were friends and it had no connection to romantic involvement. The big bad vigilante wound you up something dreadful, it was like he enjoyed pissing you off but in contrast he was there whenever you needed it and when you didn't - like his mind went blank and Jason would nearly always help you after making a mini protest. Almost like you were with... Oh.

Of course, you could be overthinking, Jason would do anything for his friends and you were lucky enough to be classed as one.

————————

It wasn't long until the organisation was infiltrated, you strolled into the main area swinging your sword to rhythm of the blaring alarm siren but fell into a paralytic trance once locking gazed with a witty Nightwing. Internally, you were forever thankful for the armour and mask, it acted as a facade to be someone else - someone who hadn't been in love with him. Slade was the one to pull you back to reality, your head tilted slightly, twin swords drawn at the ready.

"Well? What are you waiting for little Renegade?!" At his unorthodox command, a frustrated groan was sent to Deathstroke before you tackled the interference.

.

Escrimina sticks consistently clashed with your blades and you found yourselves moving the battle to the rooftops in order to rid Slade of distractions.

"Are you Ravager Junior? Because you didn't seem to like that name he called you earlier."

"Sorry pretty bird, that's none of your business." You responded, knocking him off of his feet again.

"It means traitor right? Did you do something to piss him off because if that's the case I'm surprised you're still alive." Nightwing was forever chatty, you were glad that hadn't changed.

"Oh y'know, I did it for a boy." You laughed bitterly, almost as if it was a joke.

.

It was a combination of your voice and the way you moved that prompted his memories of your past rival fights to resurface, how you didn't aim for any lethal blows - if anything you were herding him away with no intention of hurting him which was abnormal for a criminal.

As of that point, you noted a change in the way he fought also, his sole focus was on removing your mask and you didn't notice until it was too late. A well placed kick to his chest sent him skidding away from you but when the soft chill breeze brushed your cheeks and strands of (h/c) flew into your face you knew your secret had been ripped from you.

.

"(Y-y/n)... I knew it, how are you - where were you - shit, I can't believe it’s you. I don't know what to say, I just really freaking missed you!" The moment you dreaded had finally arrived, his voice radiated relief and happiness at the mere sight of you even if you were glaring at him.

Nightwing didn't care, you were back and that's all that mattered to him and it caused your hard expression to falter. However, you remembered who you were and it wasn't his so when he moved to hug you instantly refused - the first time you had ever done so with the tip of your katana resting millimetres from his heart which forced him to stay back.

.

The action received a quizzical expression, a contrast to the broken one that soon followed but what you were about to say was probably so much worse. A split second lie that you’d hoped would make him leave.

Your eyes were darkening, brow raised in skepticism. "Do I know you?"

You could practically hear the crack of his heart, feel the utter wave of loss that pulsated from his body as every vein filled itself with regret. Did you really mean that much to him? You'd thought it would be better this way, that he believed you couldn't remember even though you did. Maybe he’d hate you? Start fighting you again? It’d be a welcome alternative than acknowledging your own longing waging a war in your system.

"Wha-what? No. No this can't be happening - (Y/n) it's me, Nightwing, Dick Grayson, your best friend... anything? Look, I'm not gonna hurt you, I can't, so do whatever you need to." The ravenette ran a hand through his windswept locks, tone holding a mixture of pain and melancholy, and in the end he just shrugged, offering you one of your katanas that'd been disarmed previously and dropped his escrima sticks to the ground in defeat.

.

He had to do this, no doubt he was blaming himself for your apparent betrayal and brainwashing but you couldn't kill him despite how easily he’d allow such a thing. Instead, you ended up pinning him to the windy rooftop with a blade to his throat and he didn't even attempt to fight back. It was both pitiful and honourable.

"What was it you wanted me to remember? You love me, I wish you would've told me (Y/n) - heck I wish I would've told you in the first place..." His words made you feel sick, anger burned deep in your heart and you wanted to rip him to shreds after he’d said it. Where was this attitude 6 months ago? Where was it when you needed to hear it?

"Ohhhh no. You don't get to do this to me, not now Dick!" You viciously muttered, looking away from him with furrowed brows haphazardly removing the blade. Your plan miserably backfired.

"Ah so you do remember! You need to stop this (Y/n), come back to me please." The pure sincerity in his voice had your knees trembling, to the point where the weight of your body and your guilty conscience was too heavy to hold and soon you collapsed.

The cold night winds whipped through your hair as you hid your face from view, thanks to your muscles weakness you were straddling your friend and on the verge of tears.

A surprised gasp escaped your lips, a feeling of comforting and gentle warmth spread through your body, originating from the toned arms encircling your waist. One reached up to gentle tug your wrist to be met with soft vibrant blues and a charming smile.

"Hey (Y/n)."

In that brief moment of happiness you returned the gesture, wrapping your arms around him to narrow as much distance as possible, your fingers entangling themselves in his mess of strands just as he did to you. The closeness allowed access to his familiar scent of cologne, his calming breathes all the more apparent once Nightwing nuzzled into the nape of your neck with a deep chuckle. All of the confusion and anger dispersed, despite everything your friendship remained and you belonged on his side.

"I'm glad you're back..." Your past best friend told you meanwhile carefully wiping the tears from your face.

"How can you say that?! Dick, have you seen who I'm working with - you're supposed to hate me!" Emphasis was forced on your words, it’s what was expected of him.

"I could never hate you, you are and always will be my best friend. Besides, I won you over once and I know you've got your reasons, I trust you (Y/n)." Intimacy seemed to rise, the way his nose gently brushed yours in a soft manner, the way his words flowed so effortlessly with truth and emotion. It was no surprise when you felt his lips lightly press against yours as if asking permission.

The smallest of touches from him could send your heart racing but this had you on edge, had the butterflies in your stomach dancing with the stars and you wanted more. But you knew better than that, friendship came before self indulgence.

"Mm-no - Barbara. You have Barbara, you can't." Your voice was a soft pained whisper, gazing to down to prevent his lips from meeting your own once again. His breath hitched at your accusation, pulling away and fingertips brushing your cheekbones in hopes of regaining your full attention.

"I can, me and Barbara... we're not, I mean we're um..." He took a deep sigh, contemplating how to deliver the information.

"After you left - things between us changed and it was harder to keep a relationship going because I realised that I relied on you, relied on being with you more than I ever wanted to admit. I spent most of my time looking for you, to bring you back so I could talk to you - I mean you can't just disappear with only a note (Y/n). I missed you and Babs noticed, I think she knew deep down it was more than that but chose not to say anything. We drifted apart, then decided it was best we remain friends so we aren't dating anymore." By the time he’d finished his much needed explanation he could barely look you in the eye, most likely due to regret and the following developments only worsened it for him.

"How long have you two...?"

"3 weeks after you left, so it must've been a few months. We laugh about it now actually."

.

It was silent for a moment, a period to process the information you'd been given that provided a fill in for what you'd missed whilst you were absent.

"I never meant to hurt you, I'm so sorry Dick." You got to your feet and offered him your hand as you spoke, no longer avoiding eye contact.

"So am I (Y/n)."

You both released short sheepish but content breathy laughs, as if getting to grips with each other again as you stood opposite. His fingers brushed through your stands again almost tenderly, he was nervous with the way he closed the distance between you two. His shaky breath hit your skin and you suddenly became hyper aware of his every movement, practically anticipating what was to come. You smiled slightly, kissing his bottom lip teasingly but you barely had the time to pull away before he connected them again, all hint of nervousness evaporated with your touch. Dick didn't have to hold back anymore, there was no fear of rejection, no Barbara, he wouldn't lose you - all of this was demonstrated and the passion alone soon had you backed up against the wall with your hands lost in his raven hair. He'd jokingly scold you for ruining it, you knew that but with him smiling against your skin and whispering sweet nothings it seemed worth it. It was the only way you could think of to express how you’d truly felt about seeing one another again, being on the same side once again - a kiss seemed more fitting than words could ever describe. The both you were able to enjoy the others presence after sharing the intimate moment, basking in the closeness of one another’s energies and simply being able to communicate without the shadow of awkwardness lingering.

.

However revitalising as being lost in everything Dick Grayson was, you were blinded by a vibrant flash of ruby skimming your vision.

Aiming.

You didn’t have the time, neither of you did before you heard it.

Bang.

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Tagging: @palmtopliion