#then he whipped out his phone opened Twitter scrolled scrolled scrolled and then I thought to myself what if… no way….

[yesloulou]

.

[urperfectcinnamonroll07]

Falling In Love With You

requested?: no pairing(s): hwang hyunjin x afab!reader genre: smut, fluff, angst (kinda, not much) warning(s): mentions of insicurities (not specified), angst if you squint, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it ladies nd gents), mentions of crying, hyune being whipped for reader, praise, breast play, hyune being a boob guy, soft sex, not proof read, lmk if i missed anything:) summary: the reader is feeling insecure, so hyune tells the reader in his own little way that they're perfect word count: 1.5k a/n: was thinking of writing one of these, so here you all go. reader's body type is never specified, so, go wild. remember to eat and drink some water, love yas mwah

lately, you were feeling quite insecure. you had an idol boyfriend, and you just thought he could do better. you saw all of these pretty girls fawning and flirting with him, but he chose you? he could do so much better.

hyunjin had just come back from his choreo practice with the rest of stray kids, you didn’t hear the door open as you were too busy  scrolling through your phone in bed, reading all of the comments on hyunjin’s latest insta post. it was a pic of the both if you, chan had taken it. he had his arms around you with his chin resting on your shoulder. you had your head facing him over your shoulder, smiling widely.

the comments started out sweet, at first. you had all of your friends and long-term fans supporting you and him, saying you were cute together. but then all of the comments just turned sour, like you had just bitten into a lemon.

you scrolled through them, letting tears flow down the sides of your face, you couldn’t help them. it was only when hyune opened the door to your bedroom and saw you curled up on your side, that you realized he was home. you tried to wipe away the tears as fast as you could, but hyune was faster.

he took your hands in his and kneeled at the side of the bed, looking for the source of why you were crying.

“honey, what’s wrong? have you started your- oh wait, you don’t start for another week. honey, what’s wrong? I won’t judge, I swear” he spoke frantically and fast, his words tumbling out of his mouth. you shook your head in response, signaling nothing was wrong, he knew you were lying, he always did.

“don’t bullshit me love, I know when you’re lying” he spoke, pressing a small kiss to your forehead.

you glanced at the phone in your hand, it was still open on twitter, the comments on the screen. hyune followed your gaze and frowned. you were quick to try and hide it, but he was quicker in snatching your phone and reading the comments. he scrolled for a little bit before looking at you with a serious look.

“jagiya” he spoke softly, lifting your chin to look at him, “i told you not to look at those comments” his tone was soft, much unlike his face. his brown eyes were piercing straight through you.

“i know, i’m sorry” you whispered. he clicked his tongue and brought you in for a hug, wrapping your arms around him.

you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of being with him, until you felt feather light kisses on your neck.

“y’know, you really shouldn’t listen to all them, they don’t know what they are saying, you’re absolutely gorgeous jagi”

you whimper lightly as you feel him begin to nip at your neck and leave small bites. he smirked against your neck, knowing it was getting you worked up. he knew everything about you, how to get you to sleep to how to get you so turned on with the slightest touch. he knew damn well it was working, and you were already horny, he just liked taking the piss and teasing you, making you melt like putty in his hands.

“hyune” you whimpered out, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you. he quickly got up and on top of you, pinning you down onto the bed and pinning your hands next to the sides of your head, making sure he kisses every inch of your neck before moving down.

he makes quick work of getting his shirt off, and then yours (his). he fiddles with the clasp of your bra before you try to intervene, but he just pins your arms back to where they were at the side of your head.

“i can do it” he says with a small pout on his lips, you giggle softly and he melts at the sound, smiling softly.

he’s quick to get back into it though, managing to unclasp your bra and throwing it god knows where in the room. he slowly kissed down your collarbone, leaving small nips and love bites on his way down to your tits. he took one of your hardened peaks in your mouth, sucking on it. you arched your back up into him, trying to give him more access. you moaned loudly as you felt his other hand roll your nipple through his index finger and thumb, giving your other breast attention while he licked and sucked on your other.

he looked up at your face, taking in all of your facial expressions and memorizing them for later on while he was on tour to jerk off to. he would have to think about that later, there was a much bigger task at hand which he needed to solve: getting your panties off and fucking you slowly, just how you liked it.

“so fucking gorgeous, jagi, every inch of you. your hips” he squeezed your hips, “your stomach” he left a kiss on your stomach “and these gorgeous fucking tits that only i can see and suck on like this” he said, taking your other breast in his mouth and groaning at the feeling of your hardened nipple against his tongue.

“but the prettiest part of you is your pussy. is it wet for me? wet enough for me to fuck you so slowly just how you like it, and tell you how gorgeous you are? hm?” you nodded softly, biting your lip lightly as you look down at him, his mouth still attached to your right breast.

he smiled at your response.

“can I see jagi? your pretty pussy wet for me?”  you nod again, “jagi” he says in a warning tone “what did we say about using our words baby?”

“m’ sorry hyune, you can see” you whisper

“good girl, love your pretty pussy so fuckin’ much” he husks, hooking a finger in your panties and dragging them down your legs, you help him by moving your hips upwards so he could get them off.

he groans when he sees your pussy, glistening with your juices. he drags his grey sweats down his hips and throws them to the floor.

“you ready?” he asks, his eyes half lidded, a seductive look glistening in his eyes.

“please hyune” you whimper, trying to widen your legs even more, if it were possible.

he nods before sinking himself inside of you, slowly stretching you out around his thick cock, but that wasn’t the aim of what he was doing. he wanted to fuck you slowly and sensually, making sure you thought you looked so gorgeous all of the way through and remembered how absolutely stunning you were in his eyes.

you pulled him closer via the back of his neck, tugging lightly at the strands of hair on the nape of his neck. slowly moved in and out of you, making sure you could feel every inch of him inside of you, every vein every inch, everything. he wanted to make you feel special tonight, not the usual where you’re all fucked out and tired, no, he wanted you to feel so good while he told you that you were enough for him.

he moved in and out of you, whispering soft praises into your ear, telling him how well your pussy took him in, how well you fit around his fat cock.

“fuck, so pretty jagi, so fucking pretty. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, you look so fucking gorgeous the way you are, you don’t need to change for anyone” he groans into your ear, you moan out in response

“say you’re gorgeous baby, wanna hear you say it” he close to whimpers

“fuck hyune- i’m gorgeous” you say, mostly to him than yourself

“louder” he says, quickening the pace, but not by much

“i’m gorgeous” you moan out

“louder” he growls loudly in your ear, hitting that gummy spot inside of you over and over

“fuck gonna cum- i’m gorgeous!” you scream out as you’re thrown over the edge into pure ecstasy, your orgasm shaking you violently. hyune came not long after, feeling your gummy walls clench around him was enough to make him come.

he pulls out and lays next to you.

“seriously, jagi, you are absolutely the most gorgeous human being in this universe, don’t let all those people online tell you otherwise, they hide behind vile comments for a reason, they’re all too scared to say it to your face” he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear “lets get you in the bath, hm? and then we can binge that show you love so much and take a nap, sound good?” you nod and smile in response, he smiles back “good, lets go then” he says, helping you up to the bathroom to run you a nice hot bath.

you knew people online hated you and hyune’s relationship, and they thought he could do better. but at least you had reassurance from hyune to tell you that you’re gorgeous and no one can change that for him. he will always love you, and you love him too.

[lostandfoundbook]

Chapter 9

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Alex had a few weeks to make her choice. She decided she couldn't stay with Everette, and she couldn't go down the path of pain and suffering again. She had done it many times in the past. She journaled a lot and was able to decompress her feelings in this manner. She'd re-read through her journal and reminisce on the memories she latched onto. 

Having amnesia was extremely weird. Sometimes when people asked her things, it was like she just knew she knew it, but she couldn't place her finger on it. Like somebody who needed glasses, taking them off, and asking them to read a book. All the lines between her life were blurred together, one gap in-between.

Currently, Alex and the other cast members were sitting in the back of the stage, all dawned up in their leotards and costumes. Some people were dressed in 19th century clothing despite the time frame Spring Awakening took place in. It matched the ballet, however, and Alex liked it. 

She turned to face Brandon. "Do you think we could take a picture?"

The entire group clamored in whispers and giggles, excited to be apart of the process. Alex whipped out her phone and handed it to Brandon. "You have the longest arms." She shrugged. 

"Okay, everyone say 'Sneeze'!"

"Sneeze!" the whole group yells out, a few of them continuing to giggle. "Here you go"

"You alright with me posting this?" Alex asked, looking towards the other cast mates. Nobody said no, so she continued on her way. She stepped away from the crowd of people and posted it on instagram with the caption "happy to be back in theatre" all lowercase. She posted it and then headed over to Twitter, where she noticed she was trending. She scrunched up her nose and clicked open the hashtag.

"Andie Gray pictured with boyfriend Everette Hart!" There was much disgust in the comments below, but also, a lot of people rooting for Alex. She sighed out, and shook her head. Of course Everette would pick today of all days to try to launch their relationship. By this point, she had already had multiple phone calls with him discussing how they absolutely, would not work out, under any circumstances. 

He said he didn't want to hear it until she said it to his face. She refused to see him again, and so instead they sat in Schrodinger's dating sphere. She scrolled back down to her original timeline and retweeted a few posts before copy pasting her Instagram post onto Twitter. That ought to add fire to the flames. People will be so jealous they didn't get tickets, they'll completely forget about Everette.

She was basically hard-launching her platonic relationship with Oliver to the public, as well. By this point, it would be pretty obvious that if she was apart of one of his productions, that she'd somehow made up with him. She herself didn't know how it happened, so she didn't get into it, But now EVERYBODY would be asking her about it. In the mean time, she tried to ignore it.

Instead she focused on the fact that she only had thirty minutes until she was set to go on stage. Thirty long minutes that felt like torture. She just wanted everything to be done and over with, and passing the time felt impossible when you were supposed to stay backstage.

"Does anyone have anything to do?" Alex asked out as she walked back towards the crowd. "We could text people. Drink some tea. Rehearse one last time before we go."

Alex eyed up Brandon before making a judgement in her head. "Lets go through the lift one last time. And then we should run Mama Who Bore Me Reprise in the studio room just in case. And maybe we could text a few people." 

Brandon's eyes lit up in fear "You want to do the lift?!" 

"Yay! Let's call people!" Julia added in.

"You can do it!" Scott clapped his hand onto Brandon's shoulder and the two met eye to eye for a moment, before Brandon looks away, blushing. Those two are totally going to get together at one point, Alex thought to herself. "Okay. Yes. I want to do the lift. We can do it! And I do need to call my PR people and check in..."

"Okay! Then get ready, Alex, because I'm about to catch you!"

"You better!" She jokes, giving him a stern look playfully. "Ready?" she gave him a single nod.

"Ready."

She began sprinting towards him and jumped into the air a bit too early, crashing into Brandon. "Ouch!" 

"That wasn't supposed to happen. That was my fault."

Brandon rubbed his head. "Is that what it feels like every time I drop you?" Alex let out a little giggle. "I wouldn't know, I can't feel what you're feeling. But... probably. Get up and let's do it again"

"Are you sure? I'm pretty confident I can do it..."

Alex held her hand out and put the other on her hip. "I'm not THAT bad." She raised her eyebrow and kicked her leg out to the side. She was wearing pointe shoes that she'd have to change out of after the first scene which accentuated her movements. Brandon grabbed her hand and hoisted himself up.

"Alright. Give me distance."

Alex did a mini-sprint backwards before stretching out her arms. "Ready?"

He nodded towards her this time, and she started sprinting again. She used her arms to give her momentum she didn't have previously, and she catapulted herself into his arms. Once again, his knees were weak and shake-y underneath him. It would've need nice if he'd been able to stabilize it at this point to minimize the risk of dropping her. 

He lifted her up into the air when he slowly lifted her down in front of him with one arm, her arm sitting straight out mirroring his to steady her own balance. She reached the floor En Pointe and turned to look at him. "We did it!" 

"Yes, we did!"

Alex looked towards the crowd, who were all doing their own form of rehearsing. "Hey, can we get the ensemble for the Reprise? Call if you need us. You have my number" 

A few people out of the crowd came tagging along as Alex led them all towards the sound-proof studio room just next door. 

When they finished rehearsing the Reprise, Alex was feeling like she needed SOMETHING to do before she went insane. She scrolled through her contacts on her phone and selected Greg's name. It rang once. Twice. Three times. "Hello?"

She beamed at the other end of the line. "Hi Greg, It's Alex. I'm looking for PR help. You're who I call, right?"

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. "This is about Everette? We can't do anything about it--"

"No. I was thinking, I go heavy handed and promote the theatre show I'll be doing."

The line was silent for a few minutes. Alex made her way back towards the backstage area and noticed how worn down the buildings back on this side of the hotel looked. Very dilapidated and elegant at the same time. You could tell it was built a long time ago. 

"Alright, listen. We can give you all the promo in the world you need, but right now, we need music."

Alex nearly stopped in place as she heard the words ringing in her ears. She wasn't ready to return to music yet. It was too raw of a process for her. It was barring her entire soul into one piece over and over and over again until it's pure perfection. It's sending your emotions out into the world as a gift, with the recipient being able to deny it at any given moment, leading to heartbreak. 

Alex wasn't ready for heartbreak, yet. That's why she kept avoiding Everette. She knew that those paths in her life lead to nothing but sorrow and anguish. They tug on the blurriest memories of hers, telling her that she's missing SOMETHING important. It nags at her soul, and it kept repeating itself. "find it. find me."

Maybe music was the way to find it? "Listen... I'll consider writing a single... maybe. I'm going through a break up right now and I--"

"Perfect! Use that material for a new song."

Alex frowned. "You know, these are the kinds of conversations I have with my producer and management, not my PR team."

"In terms of PR, we are drowning. You've mysteriously fallen ill which has left us with the aftermath of whatever has happened. The people asking for comments, the people looking for interviews, all of the people who are asking where you've been-- it's starting to become our problem. You need something that will shocked these people enough to leave an impression and tell them all you're safe."

"Tell them I'm safe?" she questioned, as if she hadn't questioned it before. Was she safe at the hotel? Instantly, yes. 100% yes, the hotel is safe.

"I am safe."

There was a hardy sigh on the other line of the phone. "I know that. You know that. Do THEY know that? Or have you been too vague." 

Alex had fully made her way backstage and was surrounded by her other castmates as she next spoke out the words "Okay. I'll release another song."

For a minute, she didn't even think about it. It wasn't until she looked up from her phone call and saw everyone with saucers for eyes. "What?"

"You're making more music? You've been on hiatus forever! Like, before coming here forever." Brandon spoke out, seeming the most excited. "Everyone is going to lose their minds when they hear it."

Alex playfully pushed him away from her before she chewed on the inside of her lip. Were people really excited to hear her music? "Would you still like my music if I changed styles..." Alex hung up the call without listening to what Greg was saying.

"Or producers" Julia added on. "What? No! I like Benji's producing" Scott added on. It all felt very surreal to her. Like she had been given tickets to her own fan club meeting.  And in a way, she had. These people were her friends, yes, but they also cared about and supported her career.

It was a little glimpse into the minds of the people who loved her. 

"I might have to change producers. Maybe. It'd be easier to record here, I think. But I don't even know what I'm really allowed to do. I'm just staying here, not living here, so I don't know what amenities I'm allowed to use."

"It's so cool, though!" Scott began "You get to try out all these cool things. I just work here, you know. I constantly wonder what it would be like living here full time. The pool, the mini plaza they tried to recreate. It all seem so.. lavish."

Alex didn't have to stop to consider it. She already knew it was an extravagant place to live. She barely touches the surface of it, but she understood deeply. "Yeah, it really is."

Out of the corner of her eye, Alex could see the director staring her down. "Give me a second, yeah?"

She walked over to where he walk standing. She was instantly hit by his aroma, some kind of perfume that smelt expensive. And nice. "You're all ready? All prepared?" He asked out as she met his eyes. "Yes, we've even got all the music down proper. We're ready for this."

His eyes narrowed "I've never had so many people show up to one of my shows" 

"Really?"

He nodded in affirmation. She stepped around him to peek outside the curtain, and could see the seats jam packed. Some people were on their phones, while others talked to the people around them. The light were all low except for the multiple spotlights angled at the stage, lighting it up. There had to be at least three thousand people inside of here.

"What's the capacity?" 

"Three thousand five hundred. We had to stop accepting people at the front door. We told them there were no tickets. We can't afford to mess anything up tonight." He gave her a glare, as if she were the commanding force here. Any sense of authority that he once had seemed to have left his body. Her voice was steady as she spoke "We won't. We've been practicing for weeks."

A moment of silence between the two before Dr. Mike the director regained his composure and walked away. Alex has a charm to her that made people drop their guard whenever she was around. It was her special gift to the world. 

She turned back toward her cast mates and took a deep breath of recognition. "Are you guys ready? We go on in two minutes and we have a full house."

Julia smiled deeply. "Oh, yes. We've got this. I've been waiting for this my whole life." Alex gave a half smile as she turned towards the rest. "And you guys?"

"We're ready, Alex." 

She sighed. "Good, because I just told the director we're ready. Now is go time. Everyone get your last sip of tea and make sure your props are all in place. Where is the stage manager, by the way?"

"Karen's over there." Scott pointed towards the other side of the stage, where the director and the stage manager stood together, talking. "Alright. Everything's in order then." She brushed off the wrinkles in her clothes and stepped towards the curtains. 

The crowd was bustling with life and threatened to intrude on her thoughts of composure. There really were so many people. Benji never used to pull crowds like this, and neither did Alex. She didn't know what type of shows she did before her accident (namely because she couldn't remember, but also because of the drugs she'd done at the time), but she knew this had to have been her biggest show yet.

"What are you thinking about right now, Andie?" Julia asked out, placing a hand on her shoulder. She nearly jumped from the skin-to-skin contact but managed to compose herself. "I'm thinking that this is a shit ton of people..." She finally replied.

"Yeah.. It's your biggest show, yet. But it's ALL of our biggest shows ever, and for some of us, it's our first time on the big stage. We're all a big ball of nerves. Try to use that for the performance, yeah?"

Alex nodded. She walked over towards her binder and phone laying on a table in the back and picked up her phone. She scrolled over to twitter and looked through the notifications. A lot of the people showing up were her fans, and they managed to get last minute tickets within the 25 minutes of her posting. This was the reason it was so full. It was because of her.

She was nervous. She didn't get nervous often. It was an emotion she tucked away into the corners of her mind and suppressed them as hard as she could. There was no time to be nervous when you had to focus on the roar of the crowd in front of you, cheering your name.

It was time to get into their places, and everyone in the cast quickly ran to the strike marks that had been placed on the ground and waited for their cues. They we're all mic-ed up, and full of glee and nerves. As the call for curtains to rise came, all Alex knew was that she came face to face with Oliver sitting in the crowd.

She could feel the butterflies in her stomach as she remembered what Avery had told her. This could be a good thing, but right now she couldn't focus on anything but him as she tried to avoid making eye contact with the crowd. It became nerve wracking. She channeled her energy into her character as she took a breath and she began to sing

'Mama who bore me, Mama who gave me, No way to handle things, Who made me so sad'

She was mock-standing in front of a mirror in a short white tutu, and she drew her leg out to her side as she sang. She begun to dance in a way that portrayed her emotions, expressive, youthful, and free. It was a very contemporary piece, and she found herself wondering if Oliver understood that.

She began running through the routine she'd been learning weeks previous. Her developpe was high pointed in the air with one arms mirroring her leg, and the other straight out by her side. Her soul lead her into her next position, a simple attitude croise devant. It was meant to represent your inner child, and was mirrored after children ballet.

Alex was perfect with this. These were the years she was allowed to perfect and grow, the same way she continued to grow on the stage as the song furthered.

'Some pray that one day, Christ will come a'-callin, They light a candle, And hope that it glows'

From here she felt her worries of Oliver sitting there begin to fade away as she began to get lost in the character. The feeling of being unknowing, uncaring, and fearless. Truly innocent and youthful. So full of joy. That was who the character Wendla truly was to her.

Her simple dancing turned into something more advanced as she continued on with a fouette. She passed her working leg in front of her body whilst spinning, and twisted her arms by her side as she did so, giving her momentum. She bended her knees to steady out the movement, and continued singing as she did so.

'And some just lie there crying, For Him to come and find them, But when He comes they don't know how to go'

From there her dancing stopped, and the ensemble members began to walk into main stage. Three girls on each side of Alex, each holding a candle with a flame on the end of it. It shocked her weeks ago when she learned they were allowed to use open flames in Oliver's theatre. She guessed the rules must be different when you aren't working with a dilapidated building that was falling apart around you.

She ended the beginning song of the musical with interpretive dance, pulling her hands up to her face and letting the back up dancers drown her out.

Performing the musical had actually been really easy. Of course, there were hard moments. Like the grave scene. Alex had to work hard to not keep crying throughout the rest of the ending scenes. Once she locked onto a character, it was really hard for her to get out of that mindset. Once she's crying, she's crying. All the nerves that she might have been suppressing came barreling out.

The ending scene got her heavily worked up, too. She was sat backstage crying while other people were busy massaging their ever-swollen feet. Ballet-feet were never pretty, but it could wait ten more minutes for Alex to deal with her emotions.

And lastly, Alex almost couldn't handle the pressure of knowing Oliver's eyes were on her. Watching her. Judging her. She hadn't had the time to remember the Survive event, but she knew this is why she felt such pressure for it to really be... perfect. Everything had to be perfect.

By the time that everyone was doing their bows, Alex saw Oliver stand up to clap with the rest of the people. He must have really liked it. She didn't know when she started caring about his opinion, but right now she really did. She saw him eyeing her up as she walked off the stage, going to greet a couple of her fans.

"Oh my god, hi!" one of them chirped. "I can't believe you're really here!" Another squawked.

"I know!" a third added on. "It's like a dream come true! You're doing professional theatre!"

Alex barely got a word in edge wise. She was just excited to see them here for her, supporting her, excited in their own little worlds. She took photos for them and signed their playbill proudly. They gawked and prodded about her life, which she left vague answers to. "Hey, do you mind? I think I've got another visitor" Alex eventually said, pointed towards Oliver's direction. He was pretending to not watch them by looking through the adverts attached to his own playbill.

"Of course! We're all so glad you patched things up. Well. Most of us. I'm glad!" The first girl said before getting dragged away by the other two. They giggled and talked as they walked away.

"Hey" Alex said, meeting eye to eye with Oliver for just a moment before looking away again. "Full crowd tonight"

"Yeah, you guys did great." Oliver finally said, putting the playbill in his suit jacket pocket. "You really think so?"

"Yeah. You want to go for a walk?" Oliver's eyes looked relaxed and comforting, as if they were inviting Alex to take a swim in them. They were inviting to look at, and she didn't feel any pressure to look away when she looked at him.

She felt that way with people, sometimes. Like their eye contact was so potent she might just combust into flame right then and there. But Oliver's eyes weren't like that. They soothed her unkempt soul like they were dousing her internal flame with a bucket of water.

"Obviously. Let me change real quick, though, it'll take me five minutes max."

Oliver raised a questioning eyebrow at her as she darted off up the stairs of the stage and into the backstage area. Alex quickly shed herself of her tutu and hair bun as she made her way into the dressing room, scavenging around for her book bag. She shed the rest of her costume and tossed it to the side.

She put on a black pair of sweatpants and a white tank top. She undid her point shoes and threw them across the room, cursing them out in her head as she did so. She eye'd up her blisters before eventually deciding to just go barefoot. Her messy blonde curly hair sat poofily against her shoulders as she fought to zip her bag clothes, launching it around her shoulder.

She darted back out of the backstage area. It looked so hollow and empty. It was a stark comparison to an hour and a half ago when it was bursting at the seams with life. She continued to make her way out of the door, shutting it behind her.

"Where are we gonna go?" she asked as she pitter-pattered her way up to him. "No shoes?" he asked. She just shook her head. "They hurt."

He shrugged with his facial expression and the two continued on their way. Oliver had his hands in his pockets as they made their way out of the theatre, walking down the hallways of the hotel. Oliver eventually broke the silence however, speaking as they walked. "You did good"

"It felt good. I've missed being apart of theatre."

"Why'd you stop?"

Alex looked out over the banister of the walkway. She could see she was on the ground floor and there was a center plaza in the middle full of seating and plants. A single front desk area sat unattended. "I don't know. I never got that far in the story."

Oliver understood what she meant. "Well, you're doing well in writing a new chapter."

"Minus a few bumps and bruises along the way"

Oliver took his hands out of his pockets and rubbed them together. "Every good character has flaws. Like Wendla."

"Right. Or like Ilse." She corrected. "I relate to her story more, despite playing Wendla. I mean, running away with an artist colony to do drugs?"

Oliver shook his head. "I never interpreted it at her doing drugs."

Alex laughed. "Ether? What else is that supposed to be?"

He smiled a look of contemned with the situation, as if he had been wrong and was okay with it. "Right. And you relate to that more? Running away to do drugs?"

It was another emotional bid of honestly from Alex. "Yeah. I mean, that's basically what I'm doing now, isn't it? It's what I've done in the past. Lots of running. Lots of drugs." The air was thick between the two, as if they were the only people in the world as they spoke.

"But what were you running from?" he asked, turning to look at her as she did. She looked down towards her feet. She noticed how red and swollen they'd become after she removed her shoes. She'd have to patch them up and bandage them when she got back to the room.

"Myself. My parents. My life. I think that's what my career started out as, really. Escapism. A form of entertainment to guide myself through school, at first. Then through college, before I dropped out. I couldn't afford it anymore. Then I ran from that, too."

"You do a lot of running, don't you?"

It was true. Parkour, dance, working out, actual running, it had always been her thing. Literally and metaphorically. She ran a lot. She confirmed his statement with a nod. She didn't seem to do a lot of talking, while saying everything at the same time.

"Do you want to get something to eat?"

She stopped to think for a minute. She was STARVING, but if she stopped moving, she might not start again. Her stomach growled as she was actively thinking about it. "I heard that. We should."

"It wasn't that loud!" Alex retorted, raising a hand to her stomach as she did. "It was. I literally heard it. We're getting food. It's this way."

Alex could see people out of the corner of her eye, but she ignored them and let herself fall into the world in front of her. Truly living in the moment as she tried to let the rest of the world fade away. She was tired, and a bit disoriented at this point. Fully exhausted from head to toe.

"I know where the food center is. I go there often."

"Well then. You don't need me."

The thought tugged on Alex's heart strings. "Noooo stop. You're just being evil, now." That earned her a giggle out of Oliver's mouth. A small one. The kind that you only let out with close friends. Subtle and gruff.  

"So you need me?" He added on playfully, clearly teasing. 

"Well, obviously I need you. I would be out of a house without you. I think I lived with Everette."

Oliver raised an eyebrow at her. "I'd need a drink at the end of the day, too, If I had to deal with him all day." Having conversations with him was easy. It was truthful. He always said what he meant, and meant what he said. There were no hidden agenda's behind his words. Just the brutal honestly of hating Everette.

"Yeah. I think I'm glad I don't remember that."

The two turned the corner to the food center, where all the lights were out except for a few building. "Oh."

"Yeah, I guess it is getting pretty late" Oliver finally said, crossing his arm to look at his watch. "It's 10 o'clock."

Alex pursed her lips. "I'm hungry!"

Oliver looked her in the eyes for a moment before nodding. "I know where we can get free food."

[loveharlow]

SEVEN - FAIRYTALE

CHAPTER SYNOPSIS; [4.5k] JJ and Y/N are finally showing some sort of regret for their actions and it's only a matter of time before this whole spat of their comes to an end, not without proper apologies of course.

CHAPTER WARNING(S); swearing, mutual pining, mild angst, avoidance, the reader has an older sister because I said so and wanted to up the word count, FLUFF (it's been so long since y'all saw this word, I know I know)

A/N; ONE MORE CHAPTER!! Also, Ik the whole sister thing came out of nowhere but I feel like we needed an outside perspective other than the pogues and the sibling trope is just *chef's kiss*, so...

*If you have your settings on dark mode, the text may appear black for you. i don't know why and I have tried to fix this. Sorry.

series masterlist

“MORNIN’ POOL PRINCESS.” John B croaked as I entered the kitchen where he and Kie were perched at the counter. Giving him a heads up as a greeting as I rubbed the sleep out of my left eye. I sat myself next to Kiara and she nudged my shoulder in acknowledgement.

Once my eyes didn’t feel as stiff or dry, I blinked them open as a yawn escaped my throat. “Are we still on for today?” I asked tiredly, resting my chin in the palms of my hands while my elbows rested on the marble countertop. 

“Actually, no.”

Directing my gaze to the messy-haired brunette boy sipping on a mug of coffee, my eyebrows brought themselves together in confusion. “I thought-”

“Apparently, Sarah forgot to buy the tickets.” John B interrupted, seemingly annoyed at his girlfriend's lack of proper planning skills. 

“And we can’t buy the tickets now because they’re sold out, so.” Kie added, scrolling through her messages on her phone. 

“We’re just gonna go to the beach later today.” John B proclaimed. “There’s one not too far from here but we heard it’s way too crowded during the day.” 

I nodded in agreement as the three of us fell into a somewhat comfortable silence — Kie paying little mind as she texted who I presumed to be Mariana from the black hair in the contact picture. Yes, I’m being nosey. Cope. Then there was John B who looked to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed but was trying his best not to show it. I was starting to wonder if it had anything to do with what Sarah mentioned the other day, about them being in a tough place recently.

After a few moments passed, I lifted myself from the bar stool and trotted over to the fridge, grabbing the half-full carton of orange juice and pouring myself a glass. “I think I’m gonna head back into the room. See you.” I muttered before dragging my limp and tired frame back into my shared room with JJ.

Entering the room, I immediately noted the empty bed — lopsided pillows and covers thrown to the side. 

“Oh,” I heard to my left, whipping my head to a certain blonde staring at me — phone in hand as he looked up. “There you are.”

I gave a slight ‘hm’ in response and rounded the bed to my side, picking up my phone from the nightstand and looking through my notifications. “Yeah, I was talking to JB and Kie. We’re supposed to go to the beach later.”

Now it was his turn to give a small ‘hm’ in response.

The tension between us was still clear as day but not as thick anymore. There was no more burning anger or crippling confusion, at least from my perspective anyway. It was just…odd.

I made no moves to look up at him and continued catching up on what I had missed over night — random twitter posts, group text messages, story mentions.

“Can we talk?” And there it is.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I said there was no more burning anger, I’m still upset. I just no longer want to sock him in the balls.

Side-eyeing him, I shrugged. “We just did.” He let out a long, defeated sigh — a tell-tale sign he was about to say something. Something I most likely did not want to hear. So, before he could speak, I did. “I’m gonna call Adele.” I said shortly, plopping down on the mattress with my back to him.

Adele is my sister, older by 4 years. She's always one of the first people I turn to and she knew all about my situation with JJ, more than Kiara, save for a few minor major and recent details.

“I’ll, uh, give you some space then.” He muttered before the sound of the bedroom door was heard opening then closing shut, my deep breath leaving my chest. I’d talk to JJ eventually but I needed to sort my words out and clear my head first. We both clearly saw where speaking from the top of our heads has gotten us thus far.

Clicking on her contact, the phone rang before I heard a voice on the other line. 

“Hey! How’s the trip-”

“I need your help on something.”

“SHE HATES ME.” JJ whined, throwing himself onto the mattress of Pope and Kie’s shared bed. Pope had just left the shower, throwing a hoodie over his head as he examined himself in the mirror. The bathroom door was wide-open, allowing the two boys to communicate freely in separate parts of the bedroom.

“She does not. You’re just dramatic, and get your nasty ass feet off the pillows.” Pope reprimanded.

JJ groaned and sat up properly on the mattress, a childish pout plastered on his face. “What am I going to do? She won’t talk to me, Pope. She’s probably venting to Adele about me as we speak, which would suck because Adele would kick my ass-”

“I won’t deny that.”

JJ and Adele had an almost brother-sister bond because of how long JJ and I had been friends. They annoy each other and tease one another but it’s all love at the end of the day. However, during their teasing and play fighting, JJ discovered Adele held a considerable amount of strength and refuses to get on her bad side to this day.

“For one,” Pope continued on. “Y/N could never hate you.” He assured as he exited the bathroom, sitting himself next to JJ on the bed, facing him. 

“I don’t know man. This is different.” The blonde boy sighed. Pope proceeded to pull JJ's legs onto his own lap, patting his calf before speaking,

“Okay, well I am now your therapist for the day. Talk to me.”

JJ sighed as he adjusted the cap on his head, moving his hands to rub on the thighs of shorts nervously. “Okay, uhh, how do I start-”

“From the beginning. From whatever happened between you two that started this whole mess.”

“Alright, okay. Uh, it was that kegger about a year ago.” He began, easily recalling the chaos filled night. "We were drunk and I was coming onto her and she wasn’t pushing me away, she was into it. Things sort of went from there I guess?”

“Went from there?”

“I don’t know, man. We made out for a couple hours, felt up on each other-”

“Hours?”

“Pope. You’re supposed to be listening, man.”

“Right. Sorry.” The boy held his hands up in mock surrender, a silent signal for the blonde to continue his story.

“Anyway,” JJ dismissed. “We had agreed that it was a one time thing, that it wouldn’t happen again because we thought it was best for the group. But, I don’t know, I just couldn’t do it. Stay away from her, I mean. I tried Pope, I really did. But that girl just does something to me.” He admitted, vulnerability shining through his features. “We let it go too far one time. Just one time-”

“Woah, woah,” Pope interrupted, eyes going wide in what he might hear as a response. “What do you mean exactly when you say you let it ‘go too far’?”

…

“JJ…”

The blonde averted his eyes and scratched the top of his baseball cap. “It was only once. I swear.”

“JJ.” Pope turned to fully face his long time friend. “Did you and Y/N sleep together?” The blonde slowly nodded his head and Pope threw his back with a disappointed groan. “Well, this whole thing makes a whole lot more sense now! Dude! What the hell? When?”

“A couple months back, around 6 months ago maybe? We didn’t mean for it to happen. That’s not to say I regret it.”

“Well, I can’t tell you much, JJ.” The boy admitted solemnly. “What I can tell you is that no matter how strongly she feels about you, no matter how much she loves you — in a romantic way or not, she’s not gonna wait around forever. We both know that Y/N is caring and patient but every one has their breaking point. If she feels like you’re taking her kindness for a weakness, she won’t hesitate to leave. You know that. And she seems to have given you more chances than I expect she would if it were anyone else.”

JJ nodded shamefully in agreement, biting the inside of his cheek in contemplation.

“So, I’ll give you this-” Pope started up once again. “An ultimatum — either you tell her how you feel by the end of today-” He paused to raise his phone in the hand that remained mainly out of sight during their conversation, revealing the device unlocked and recording. “-Or I’ll just let her listen to our entire conversation.”

JJ's eyes went wide, his frame shooting up in the bed in a swift and desperate attempt to get the phone — only for Pope to draw his arm back out of reach and quickly stand from the bed.

“Pope-”

“Make a choice, JJ.” He taunted, ending the recording but still edging away from the frantic blonde who was now up and on his feet, closing the space between the two.

“Pope, c’mon man.”

“Time’s ticking…”

“Okay! Okay, I’ll do it just fucking delete it!” JJ exclaimed, now standing inches away from Pope after his last futile attempt to gain control over the situation.

“I will once you tell her!” Pope proclaimed, pocketing his phone in his shorts. Crossing his arms over his chest and looking his friend in the eyes, Pope raised his eyebrows. “Better get to writing, my friend. You have a love confession to make.” He teased.

“GUYS! SUN’S SETTING!” Sarah’s voice bellowed through the house. I had just finished tying  the strings on my bikini top, still letting my sister’s words ring around in my head. 

“Life goes on. Either you keep trying or let him go, but it’s up to you.”

Talking to her really did help to weigh my options, observe my situation. We aren’t in highschool anymore. We’re adults and it’s time we acted like it. Whatever happened to JJ and I in the long run, I’d just have to accept it.

So, grabbing my beach tote and slinging it over my shoulder, adjusting the sunglasses atop my head — I left the room to join the others out in the foyer. 

“Always the last one down.” John B teased.

“Always loud and wrong.” I shot back playfully, reaching the bottom of the stairs and plucking the backwards baseball cap on top of his head. 

“Alright,” Sarah began. “The beach is about 45 minutes away. You guys wanna stop to get food or no?”

Everyone agreed that we would and we headed out of the house to pile into the car. 

About halfway there, we stopped at a drive-thru to eat something quick and continued on to the beach, the boys covering their ears as us girls sang at the top of our lungs to the radio with the sole purpose to annoy them.

“UGH THIS IS MAKING ME HOMESICK. I MISS OUR BEACHES BACK HOME.” Sarah groaned as she walked at the forefront of the group, our feet digging into the warm, damp sand as we made our way closer to the shore.

“Is this a good spot to set up the chairs?” John B asked, to which we all nodded and unfolded the lawn chairs we brought with us, digging the legs of them into the sand.

The beach was dark and calm, with only two other groups of people, that we could see anyway. Sitting down, John B cracked open the beers and passed them around the group and things pretty much took off from there.

Cracked a few jokes, shared some laughs, now we were playing never have I ever. 

“Okay, Okay,” Kie spoke through laughs. “Never Have I Ever… kissed more than one person in twenty-four hours.” 

“Okay, that’s not even fair!” John B defended as the group broke out into laughter. “It was 9th grade…”

“They were twins!” Kiara croaked out through her hearty laughs, a hand placed on her stomach as she practically fell out, making us all laugh harder.

In the midst of our carelessness, none of us had noticed one of the girls from the other group on the beach had made her way over, tapping JJ on the shoulder as she approached behind his chair.

“Hey…” She said flirtatiously, shifting her weight and twirling a strand of her brunette hair. She looked about our age — her slim frame adorned in a bikini that barely covered much, sand stuck to her thighs and her hair damp from the water. Our group fell into a stunned, awkward silence due to the intrusion. “You from around here?”

“Uh, no. I’m not.” He answered hesitantly, whipping his head from her to us — to me? We all cut our staring and fell back into chatter, meaningless as we tried to talk while also eavesdropping. 

It couldn't have been more than two minutes before the girl was walking back to her respective group, where her friends were watching and giggling as she made her way back. JJ turned back around in his chair, his cheeks blown as if he was holding back a laugh.

“She’s gonna call someone but it’s not gonna be me. I pray she isn’t bold enough to send a nude as a first text or something.”

“You gave her the wrong number?” John B added, his expression one of surprise. JJ nodded and leaned back in his chair, sipping on the nearly empty beer in his hand. “JJ? Turning down women? Guys, I think hell has finally frozen over.”

“Ha, ha.” He retorted. “I’ve actually been chilling for a little while, if you haven't noticed.” He glared at his friends. “And she’s not my type.” He said flatly, staring directly at me with no indication that he was trying to hide it.

I felt my cheeks grow hot and I was not going to let him know that he was getting to me, not after everything that happened in the last few days. What is up with him anyway? So, sitting my beer on the ground, I got up from my chair and shimmied out of my shorts to reveal my bikini bottom.

“I’m gonna go for a swim.” I announced, getting hums of acknowledgement before heading off on my own. Reaching the edge of the water, the waves hit my toes before receding back. The water was cool, not too cold. It prompted me to go further, just until the water hit right under my chest.

My thoughts were running a muck in my mind, clouding my brain with every thought I’d set aside. I took two handfuls of the cool, salt water and splashed it on my face. Surprisingly, it helped. 

My nerves jumped for a second when I felt two cold hands on my shoulders, whipping around with a yelp to face Kiara who was holding back a laugh with her hands up in surrender. “Kie! What the hell?”

“Relax.” She drawled. “I was just coming over to see how you were doing.” I crossed my arms over my chest to rub my forearms which were growing slightly cold due to the water that got splashed on them and Kie ran her hands through the water waiting on me to speak.

“I’m doing better, I guess.” 

“Anything new about you and JJ?”

“There is no ‘me and JJ'. So, no. Nothing new.”

The brunette girl scoffed and looked off to the side. “Jeez, y’know I miss when you would look at that boy like he hung the stars in the sky himself. Now, everything is so…negative.”

I shrugged and drew my lips into a thin line, pushing my eyebrows up for a quick second. “Yeah well, shit happens. Things change.”

“Things like what? C’mon, don’t leave me out of the loop. I was the first groupie.” She pleaded like a begging puppy. I groaned, but ultimately decided to confide in her. She practically knew everything anyway.

“We got into a small argument last night and I talked to Adele about it earlier and I’ve just been going over what she said.”

“Well, what did she say?”

“That I have to make a choice, basically. A whole bunch of shit about entering the adult world and learning to make hard decisions, for better or for worse.”

“Your sister’s always right, somehow.” Kie stated, me nodding in agreement. 

“I just-”

“Mind if I steal her for a moment?” A raspy voice spoke from behind Kie, her turning and me peering over her shoulder to find the topic of conversation standing nervously. 

Before I could respond myself, Kiara was speaking for me. “Yeah, go ahead.” She said, turning back to me and wiggling her fingers as I glared at her before she headed towards the shore. I turned my back to face JJ, staring at the moon that I didn’t even know had risen.

“Can you look at me?” He sounds so desperate that I couldn’t help but turn around to meet his eyes. He couldn’t be more than a ruler’s length away from me, the moonlight illuminating on his hair, making his blonde strands shine even more than they normally do.

I had a feeling that the pogues were watching from the beach but I knew they couldn’t hear a thing. 

“So…you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yeah, I uh,” JJ stuttered, playing with the water around him and taking a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize.” My demeanor fell, my hard expression faltering. “Actually apologize. For everything. Everything I said and did. And everything I didn’t say and didn’t do.”

“JJ…”

“Just let me do this. Please?” He pleaded, hands opened and eyes wide. I sighed and nodded for him to go on. He brought his hands in front of him, wringing them together as a nervous tick. “The first night when we kissed, I was happy. Happy because I liked you for so long but I didn’t think you felt the same way and that night showed me something different. It showed me that there was a chance. But it was like when morning came, all of the guilt came with it. I thought about how what happened would have destroyed our friendship and caused problems within the group so that’s why I made that deal — that it was a one-time thing.”

He looked up to stop the tears falling that were brimming in his waterline.

“But I knew from that moment that it was a lie. I could try and try to get myself away from you but it would never work. But I didn’t want to put that on you. The same guilt that I had settled myself with, I didn’t want that for you. So, I tried. But anytime either of us got too close to one another it was game over, really. And the one time that we…” He lowered his gaze directly in line with mine, a silent agreement that we both knew the night he was referring to.

“Look, I know you don’t want to hear a timeline of events that you’ve lived through so I’ll just get on with it.” He urged himself. “When you started to ask questions, about what we were and what was going on, I never had an answer for you. Because I knew what I wanted but I wasn’t sure if I was what you needed. I would get caught up in my own thoughts and reservations that I would scare myself out of giving you the answer you wanted. It was always on the tip of my tongue, just like it is now.”

He waded closer, barely any space between us now as his voice lowered to just above a whisper. 

“I love you. Possibly more than I love anyone else I’ve ever known. And I’ve been an asshole, I know that. I put you through hell because of my own insecurities and I won’t blame you if you can’t forgive me. But you needed to know that. You need to know that I love you and I have for quite a while now and I’m ready to say it, to own it. And I’m prepared for however you react because I know that I waited too long to do this.”

By this point, hot tears had gathered in my own eyes. JJ and I were close so I had seen him at what I had presumed was his worst. But I was wrong. This, this, was his lowest point. He was vulnerable and open and honest — all the things he hated to be in the public eye and even in front of the people we call friends and family. So, I knew that everything he had said came from a place he buried deep within himself.

I’d be lying to myself if I sat here and said that these last 2 days hadn’t been hell. Not because JJ put me through it, but because it felt like we were drifting apart. JJ had been my rock for years — my shoulder to cry on without judgment. Even with our ups and downs, he would always be there. Thinking about what Adele said earlier, about making decisions and being an adult.

This was the time for that. I won’t ignore what we’ve been through recently but he was right — we needed to own up to it.

“It’s not all on you,” I started, reaching out to put one of my hands over both of his. “I was stupid.” His face fell and I could tell he was going to try and reassure me but I looked at him and shook my head, a signal to let me finish. “I was and I cannot put that on you and I won’t let you take all the blame for what’s happened. I won’t let you do that to yourself.”

I pursed my lips together before speaking again. “When things started, at the kegger, I was relieved. Because I had gone back and forth about my feelings for you for years. And I thought that you had realized you felt something for me too. So yeah, the morning after that night crushed me a little bit. It knocked down almost every single piece of hope I gained. And every time you came back, that hope would keep building and get knocked again. And at some point, I realized what I was doing to myself. I was hurting myself by loving you. That’s why I started to ask questions. Because I needed to know. To know if it was worth it.”

My hands traveled up his arms to link together behind his neck. “And I won’t lie to you. I was starting to think that it wasn’t. I started to think that you’re JJ and you ‘don’t do relationships’. That thought brought me the comfort I needed at night to sleep. Because I couldn’t think of any other reasonable reason why my best friend didn't feel like my bestfriend. I’ll admit, I still don’t fully understand where we went wrong, the miscommunications, any of it. But I think we can get there — get to a point of understanding.”

JJ's hands unlinked from one another and went to my waist, his forehead falling against mine. “I want to try this. But we both have to want this, JJ. And we both have to try.”

I felt him nod against me, his head craning up to place a kiss on my forehead. “I swear to you, I’ll do my best. I want this. I do. And I’ll prove it to you, only if you let me.”

We stood wordlessly in each other’s arms for a few passing moments, at some point my head dropped to rest on his chest as his arms encircled me in an embrace. I wasn’t crazy or delusional. I knew this didn’t erase anything we had said or done to each other in the past 2 days, before that even. It would take time, and maybe a lot of it. But if we saw some kind of worth or value in working towards doing better, for ourselves and one another, then this was a moment to be cherished.

Because it’s a starting point. A good one. A better one. And this time, I didn’t have to convince myself of anything. I didn’t have to draw from context clues or body language to plead my case, to find some kind of saving grace. It was all here — laid out and in the open. He loved me and I loved him.

After a while, I lifted my head away from him to look up and meet his eyes. “I know you’re probably sick of hearing this but at least this will be the last time.” I half-joked. “What are we?”

And he just looked down at me with the most adoring expression I had ever seen. One of his hands came up from its place under the water on my waist to cup my cheek, drops of water dripping down as his thumb caressed my face.

“Well, I was hoping this meant that I could call you my girlfriend.” 

Then I tried my best to bite back a smile as my cheeks grew hot, the heat crawling up to my ears. “I think..” I started nervously, biting the inside of my bottom lip. “I think I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” A boyish smile broke out onto his face. 

“Yeah…” I whispered. Both of our pupils were blown wide and I felt this overwhelming rush of a feeling I couldn’t quite place but it felt...good. Really good. “Before we head back though…” I started with a mischievous glint in my eyes. “I’d like to put in my first official girlfriend request.”

His eyebrows arched in curiosity, and I’m pretty sure I saw some amusement in there. “Oh yeah? What?”

Wrapping my legs around his waist under the waist, I gazed into his eyes, my gaze only shifting for a second to look at his lips that were slightly parted. “Kiss me.” I whispered.

“Well, you didn’t have to ask for that.” Was all he said before he was leaning forward so his lips could meet mine, his hands trailing down to hold my thighs and pull me more into him. When I started to pay attention to my surroundings, I could hear the whoops and cheers of our obnoxiously loud friends all the way from the shore.

“Whoo!”

“It’s about time!”

I could feel JJ smile into the kiss at their antics, prompting one to spread on my own face, breaking the kiss but we made no moves to create space between one another. “They’re ridiculous.” JJ laughed.

“Gotta love ‘em for it.” I assured, moving my face back so we could look at each other normally.

“NOW BRING YOUR ASSES BACK OVER HERE SO WE CAN PLAY TRUTH OR DARE!” Kie bellowed from the beach.

“We should probably-”

“Yeah.” But the blonde made no moves to put me down, turning around and walking us both back to shore as the waves moved around us. 

And as we came back into clear view of our friends, our people. The night felt right. And I felt happy and warm. Content. 

Whatever happens from here, at least we gave it a fair chance. 

But right now? I couldn’t be any happier.

General taglist; @livlaughquinn

JJ Maybank Taglist; @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @maybankslover

Bittersweet escape taglist (please use my inbox to be added, just ask:)); @totallynotkaibiased @magnificantmermaid @livlaughquinn @maybaenk @honeynicoole @lomlhs-blog

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

©loveharlow

[jongsungs]

book club | prologue

< masterlist | next >

SEMI-WRITTEN CHAPTER

after sprinting down the halls, past all of the students he would incessantly apologise to after bumping into them, beomgyu opens the door to library to find you sorting out books that had been returned behind the desk. without a second thought, his dumbass shouts your name to catch your attention, as well as every other student in the vicinity.

you look up, panicked, and drag him towards where soobin and yeonjun were sat and scolded him.

"what is wrong with you, you're in a library! be quiet, man."

"remember how i told you i have some hot gossip, soobin, stop crying for like two seconds and listen to this." slapping the back of his senior's neck, beomgyu whispers before stealing one of the snacks yeonjun had snuck in.

"i was eating that?" yeonjun attempts to snatch the bag back, but beomgyu shifts his body's position to stop yeonjun from taking anything.

"anyways, as i was saying, you know that guy park jay?" he chomps on another snack he takes out of the bag, to which yeonjun watches dejectedly like a kicked puppy. waiting for your nod, beomgyu continues, "well, i follow his twitter and he made a kind of, salty, rude? remark, i guess, i don't know if you'd call it rude, but i thought it was rude."

"well, what did he say that was rude?" soobin's stopped crying and sniffles, sitting up properly on his seat, waiting for beomgyu's response.

before he could say anything, taehyun interjects, ruining beomgyu's moment with a pile of books in his arms, with kai tailing behind him.

"oh, i know what you're talking about! he called y/n a bitch on his twt, now all of his fans are going beserk and wondering who you are." he places the books down gently beside soobin, the only one with a reaction.

"you ruined it! i was gonna say it all, but no, you had to butt in. now it's not suspenseful anymore. y/n? hello? y/n?" there's no response from you.

a bitch? were you being a bitch? you've never even had a proper interaction with this boy for him to already formulate a harsh opinion on your demeanour. what was it about you that made you a bitch? beomgyu was right, that was rude.

"do you have proof that he called her a, the b word?" yeonjun whispers extremely carefully, like someone was going to hear him curse.

"yeonjun, you're 22 not 11, no one cares if you curse." you smack his shoulder, "but yeah do you have proof?"

"of course i have proof, why would i say that and then not have proof? i'm a law student." taehyun whips out his phone, and scrolls to the particular tweet in which this park jay called you a bitch. "oh wow, there's a lot more likes and comments on this," you deadpan taehyun before he smiles sheepishly, "sorry."

"yeesh, these are harsh, oh look! this one name dropped you!" kai points at the particular tweet, a bit too enthusiastically.

"gee, thanks kai." sighing, you scroll through the tweets as they just get worse before yeonjun snatches the phone and hands it back to taehyun.

"hey, everyone here knows that none of this is true, so we won't let it get you down yeah?" he rubs your shoulder kindly, to which you respond with a little smile.

"why don't we get revenge!" beomgyu pumps a fist in the air.

"gyu, no." soobin drags him back down to his seat before looking back at you. "so, what are you gonna do, beomgyu shut your mouth, no ideas please."

"i'll just do the simple thing and ask him to apologise and take the tweet down. easy." pressing your lips together, you look at the boys before you, trying to analyse their expressions.

"and if he says no?" taehyun asks.

"i guess we'll have some problems."

"oh finally, some drama, maybe i'll attend the newspaper club for this." kai sighs in relief before all of you stare at him skeptically. "oh, sorry, wrong moment."

summary park jongseong, better known as park jay, is best known for his reputation as well as his friends, so when he makes a spiteful tweet about you, the school library's volunteer, all his fans begin to direct their hatred towards you, ruining your reputation for a reason you wouldn't find out unless you asked the park jay himself.

♱

those who couldn't be tagged are in bold!

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[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not allowed, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader; established relationship yoongi x reader

summary: The love of your life, BTS’s very own Min Yoongi, tells you he has a gift for you. But he also says you’re not allowed to refuse. What’s that supposed to mean, hm? Surely not... wild hot sex with the Golden Maknae himself?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship with Yoongi (takes place after his surgery); smut (fem reader, m-receiving oral, dirty talk, penetrative sex, doggy, spanking); idol!BTS; it’s self-indulgent and I’m a little ashamed but it’s too late now, whoops

--

Just... just looking through the Twitter tag couldn't hurt, right?

You scrolled through the pictures slowly. They performed really well these past two days. Received all the awards they deserved, because BTS were the best. Still, it depressed you seeing the empty space where Min Yoongi was supposed to be. 

But that was because Yoongi was beside you, propped up in the bed with pillows, scrolling on his phone with his right hand. Occasionally, he would lower it to use both hands, since his left arm was still in the sling. You two had watched the MMA and MAMA 2020 performances together. You knew he wanted to be there. You could hear it in his voice when he called in. 

Oh, that’s right, were you supposed to be in his apartment?

No. 

But you didn't care about rules and neither did Yoongi. 

Were you dating? Well, as much as dating could be when it came to a relationship with the most loved 'lil meow meow' in the whole world. 

Yoongi always gave you this look of disapproval when you called him that, but you would always just smile and say it again, slower. 

It was the kind of thing that simply fell into place and neither of you wanted to convolute it with too many other opinions or thoughts. What happened, happened. You weren't going to make yourself known or ask for impossible things. When he told you that he was getting surgery for his left shoulder and wouldn’t have schedules for a long while, you cashed in on all those sick hours you accumulated at work, stating you had to take care of a loved one. 

No one knew your loved one was Min Yoongi. And that's way you two liked it. 

Yoongi leaned over to the long straw of the water bottle tucked in the crook of your arm. 

"Staring at our maknae again?"

You stiffened. "I'm looking at all their pictures, Yoongi. Just happened to stop on Jungkook."

He took a short sip.

"Mmm-hmm."

A few seconds past. You stared at Jungkook’s intense dark eyes, his long hair flying about from dancing, his clenched jaw as he focused. Looking sinful in all white, tempting you to save the photos.

"You're not changing the screen."

"I'm admiring the stylists' hard work."

Yoongi hummed. "You're a bad liar."

You would have thrown your phone at him if it wasn't the special edition BTS S20+, complete with a Shooky phone case. You swiped past, seeing the image of Jungkook lifting Jimin in the Black Swan performance.

"I should tell him."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Sick of me?"

"No." He pointed to his left arm. "Can't take care of you either."

"I don't want to be the reason you need more months of physical therapy. I'm fine."

Yoongi placed his phone in his lap and placed his right arm around your shoulders. "We could risk it," he purred. 

You chuckled. "I don't think that's a good idea." You leaned your head against his shoulder. "I want to see you preform again."

"But you still want to bang Jungkookie."

A muscle in your eyebrow twitched. "I'm only looking at the pictures, Yoongi. You know you're the only one for me."

"You wouldn't try? Even if he begged you?"

You turned to Yoongi and his crafty smirk. "No." You stared at his lips and leaned in, kissing him lightly. You smiled against them. "I love you, Yoongi." Your smile turned into a smirk. "I worked too hard to sneak in here. Even outsmarted Dispatch. You can't get rid of me so easily."

Yoongi smiled back. He leaned against the headboard.

"What if I was okay with it?”

You blinked at him. "Why would you be okay with it?”

Yoongi shrugged. "You're mine, no matter what, no? Not even Jungkook's dick is going to change that."

"... Hah?"

Yoongi held up his hand, long fingers spread out. He ticked them down as he spoke. "Pros: my woman gets to satisfy her little crush, gets the fucking she wants, and will be happy."

You felt your ears burn. "Yoongi..."

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, wicked smile on his lips. "Cons... none."

You rolled your eyes. "You'd be pissed off."

He tilted his head. "What do I have to be pissed off for? Are you saying there's a reason I should be worried?"

You frowned. "No. Even if it did happen, which it won't, you will always be number one."

Yoongi nodded. "There you go."

You let out a puff of air. "I don't think Jungkook would agree anyway. And I wouldn't do it, because it's not the right thing to do."

"Who decided it's wrong?"

You made a face. "I don't know... society?"

"And we trust that societal rules are just and moral?"

"I mean, no..."

-

Washing your hair was always a pain in the ass.

You had to blow-dry it upside down, add five products at different stages, brush it super carefully with a special brush to avoid breakage, collect the fallen hair and throw it out, blah blah blah.

You shrugged on one of Yoongi's shirts after the shower – the black-and-white checkered one he wore during his VLive. Running your hand through your hair, you finally picked up your phone. Yoongi was at physical therapy, so he wouldn't be back for a while. You had some messages from him, probably before he had to put his phone away.

I sent you a gift. It will arrive today. You are not allowed to refuse.

You raised your eyebrows at that. 

P.S. Merry early Christmas. 

Was it jewelry? You pursed your lips. You always told Yoongi not to buy you things. Firstly, because you felt bad you could never reciprocate the amount he spent. You didn't make the money he made, after all. And secondly, you weren't that interested in owning expensive things. The only expensive items you loved were technology-based. Yoongi and you bonded over the newest Samsung products and always kept an eye on the latest tech. 

Maybe that was it? Maybe you had to collect a package. You mused, brushing your teeth. You were going to borrow Yoongi's pants, but you had to go hunt for some. After the teeth brushing. 

You spat and gargled some water.

The front door opened. 

You frowned. Was physical therapy canceled? Yoongi didn't have people come in and clean the apartment, because he didn't want anyone to find you. You weren't supposed to be here and no one knew you were here – except for his members, of course. But they didn't have the key, so it had to be Yoongi. You waited, in case there was someone outside. You didn't want them to hear your voice. The door closed and relocked.

You spat and rinsed out your mouth before turning off the light and going to the hallway.

"Yoongi, was physical therapy can–"

The head of long black hair lifted and turned around. He was in the middle of taking off his black sneakers. He pulled down his black face mask.

It was not Yoongi. 

"Hey, noona."

Abort.

You backed up. 

"J-J-Jungkook?"

The mischievous maknae grinned. 

"I'm the gift."

Your eyes widened. You whipped your phone to your face, nearly dropping it, juggling it for two seconds before slapping it between your palms and rereading Yoongi's messages. Rereading them way too many times because what? What, what, WHAT?

"D-don't you have p-practice?" Why were you stuttering? You never stuttered. But you never had that conversation with Yoongi until a couple days ago either. 

"I have some time, but I have to go back, yeah," Jungkook replied, far too cheerfully for how flustered you were. He was probably trying not to laugh at you. 

"How did you get in? And what do you mean, y-you're the...?"

You felt like your world was spinning. Did Jeon Jungkook just announce he was the gift? What? You're not allowed to refuse. Of course, you were going to refuse! This was Min Yoongi you were in love with! The cutest in the entire world! 

Jungkook brushed back part of his long hair and tucked it behind his ear, revealing half of his forehead and his silver hoops. Smirk on his pink lips, the mole underneath his lower lip winking at you. Skin tan and glowing in the hallway light.

...

Okay, yes, Jeon Jungkook was very handsome, but it didn't matter because–

"Hyung and I had a talk. He gave me the key," Jungkook said, dangling it. 

"Hahaha, why would be do that?" you laughed nervously, still crab-walking backwards because maybe if you just fused with the wall then you were be spared from those penetrating dark brown eyes.

Jungkook stepped into the apartment, following you. “I was surprised too.” He smiled somewhat apologetically. “I guess he overheard me telling Taehyung that I would totally fuck you if you weren’t hyung’s girlfriend.”

You blinked rapidly. “P-pardon?”

Jungkook held up his hands. Oh dear. His pretty, large hands that reminded you of Yoongi’s, but his right hand was tattooed. “But I wasn’t going to do anything though. Promise.” His eyes shifted upwards and then he looked back at you, his rueful expression turning into one of slyness. Shit. “Well, until Yoongi-hyung asked me to, that is.”

You stumbled in the doorframe of the bedroom. To be honest, you kept backing up because Jungkook advancing on you was making you uneasy, hot, and bothered. With emphasis on the latter two. You still couldn’t believe Yoongi would do this to you. This was Yoongi! Mild-mannered, sweetie with swagger, SUGA of BTS!

Then you had a thought.

You were always very good at teasing Yoongi. Either to annoy him or sexually in public situations. You could imagine Yoongi’s smirking face now. Knowing he got the one-up on you. Knowing he’d finally shocked you.

You’re not allowed to refuse.

The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. A hot shiver went up your spine. Jungkook was right in front of you. Black parka, black jeans. Jungkook unzipped the parka, shrugging out of it. Black dress shirt. You knew Jungkook did not like wearing button-ups. Why was he wearing it? He unbuttoned the first one, revealing his collarbone. Then the second one. Open-mouthed smirk completed with his tongue between his teeth, dark eyes on your shaking form.

The maknae was going to fucking striptease you?

You held a hand up. “Hold on a second.”

Jungkook’s fingertips paused above the next button.

“You’re doing this… for fun?”

Jungkook tilted his head. “No. Not really for fun.” His voice was low, deep. His eyes trailed down your body, then back up to your face, lingering all over you. You swallowed. “I’m doing this because this is the only chance I’ll get.”

“What if I say no?”

Jungkook lowered his hand. “Hyung said you weren’t allowed to refuse.” His voice was softer now, almost pouting. Ouch. It actually pained you. You wanted to give in to him just like that. You loved Yoongi with all your heart, but the maknae’s charms definitely worked on you. They worked on everyone. Everyone loved Jungkook and wanted to give him everything.

“Jungkook,” you breathed, trying to reorient yourself, trying to find the right words. “I’m not saying I’m not interested. I definitely am.” He observed you carefully as you groped for the right words. “But this is a little crazy. And… you could get anyone.”

“I couldn’t get you.”

You slowly, slowly made eye contact with him. Jungkook took a step towards you. You didn’t move, transfixed by his chocolate eyes.

“The way you slowly fell in love with Yoongi-hyung,” he whispered, getting closer and closer. “You didn’t even notice. You still don’t notice. The way I stare at you, you and the beautiful shape of your eyes.” His finger came up and traced your eyes, rooting you in place. “Your cute nose. The shape of your lips.” His fingertip brushed against your lower lip. “So full. I watch you kiss him, wishing it was me.” He caressed your cheek. “The dimples that appear when you smile. So cruel.”

Jungkook’s breathing shallowed. His eyes flickered downwards to your hands, still clutching your phone. He reached for it and took it from you. Threw it onto the bed. Then his hands wrapped around yours, clutching them tight. You stopped breathing. Jungkook’s voice dropped several octaves.

“I watch your hands. Touching him, resting on his thigh, tracing up, palming him right in front of us.”

“I didn’t… think anyone would notice.”

Jungkook leaned in even more, still holding your hands tightly, as if they were going to disappear. You could smell his clean scent, like fresh laundry.

“I always notice,” he murmured. “Whenever you’re there, I can’t help but have my eyes on you. I couldn’t touch, but I could look. I thought that was all I could have.”

Jungkook let go of you. Hand dancing up your neck, cupping your cheek. Tilted his head, eyelashes lowering. Breath against your lips. Eyes pleading you, waiting for the heartbreak.

“Please let me kiss you.”

You’re not allowed to refuse.

You pressed your lips against Jungkook’s, eyes closing. It was impossible to say no. He was sweet and soft. You could feel his nerves and his fear in his kiss, not trying to ask for more, not wanting to ask for too much. It was you who hooked an arm around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Right, wrong? That didn’t matter right now. The only thing you cared about right now was taking Jungkook’s fear away.

You pulled him onto the bed, arms around his neck, mumbling his name against his lips. His breathing hitched, hands circling your waist, holding onto you.

“Noona…”

“Call me by name, Jungkook.”

He gulped, shaking his head. “I can’t.” He gnawed on his lip anxiously. You smiled, and took his hands, placing them by the buttons of his shirt.

“Weren’t you in the middle of giving me a show?” you teased. “You’re great at putting on a show.”

Jungkook’s lips curved into a smile. “Oh yeah?”

You settled down into the bed, looking up at him from in between his thighs. You could tell Jungkook was still nervous, but there was something else too. His mischief was creeping back into his sparkling eyes. You cocked an eyebrow, smirking. He undid another button. And another. Carefully, playfully pulling the fabric apart, revealing a little of his skin at a time.

“Hyung told me you like staring at my pictures.”

You shrugged, licking your lips. “They’re nice photos.”

“Were you satisfied by just looking at pictures?” he purred, already reaching lower, lower. You could see the contours of his muscular torso, the top of his abs. Ugh, Jungkook was so attractive. Scratch that, so fucking hot. He reached the bottom of his shirt and placed two fingers under your chin, pushing it back up to his face.

“My eyes are up here.”

His fingers under your chin made you realize how hard you were breathing.

“Jungkook.”

He tilted his head at you, long hair covering part of his face.

Yoongi’s words came back to you. My woman gets to satisfy her little crush. At the time, you thought those words were referring to your crush in Jungkook. But perhaps it was the other way around. Maybe Yoongi was referring to you satisfying Jungkook.

“Don’t hold back.”

And then you got up from the bed, grabbing the collar of his dress shirt and yanking them down Jungkook’s shoulders, kissing him again, but harder this time, tongue sliding into his mouth and thrusting into it, taking his breath away. Jungkook’s eyes went wide, gasping against your tongue, struggling to get out of his sleeves before he scrambled for the buttons on your shirt, moaning as you sucked on his tongue, gripping his upper arms.

“N-noona…”

“Call me by name or nothing at all,” you growled dangerously.

His dark eyes bored into you, daring you. You nipped at his lower lip, grinning.

“You think you’re the only one who’s horny here?”

Your hands danced around his arms, reaching around him, and your nails scratched him down his broad back, hissing as he moaned, tipping his head back, Adam’s apple shaking. Fuck, it felt so good. It felt so fucking good to drag your nails down that back, seeing Jungkook lose some control, falling more and more into the moment. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him, shuddering as his hard body was pressed against you and your half-open shirt.

“I want it all,” you breathed. “I’m so greedy, but I want it all, Jungkook. Give it to me.” Voice dropping, inhaling his delicious scent. “Please.”

He growled deep in his chest and grabbed the bottom of your shirt, yanking up and revealing your bra clasp, undoing it easily. Pushed you back, swiftly pulling your shirt and bra off together, tossing it aside to the floor.

“Fuck, your tits are as pretty as I thought they would be.”

And then Jungkook’s mouth was on you, furiously kissing down your neck, licking your collarbones, biting your shoulder, his hands roughly squeezing your breasts. You moaned, your nipples pressed against his thumbs, pinching them against the side of his hand. His lips travelled down, down and then they latched around your nipple, flicking it with his tongue. Your hands flew up into his hair, gripping it tightly.

“Fuck, they even taste good,” he whined. “You taste so fucking good.”

Your back arched as he began to suck, running your hands through his hair, whimpering his name, telling him how good he was, how nice it felt, lost in the feeling of his tongue and his strong arms around your waist. He switched to the other nipple, saliva dripping. Licking it all over and then breathing on it with his hot breath. Your entire body trembled in his arms from the sensation.

“I’m drooling; that’s how fucking good you taste,” Jungkook mumbled, sucking hard and tight, dark eyes on you as you cried out softly, holding onto his head. Your fingers curled into his long locks, grasping them tightly. He raised his eyebrow, but you began to rock back and forth into his mouth, tugging your nipple with his lips. Jungkook’s fingers dug into you, erotic groans vibrating in his throat as you fucked his face with your tits.

Wetness soaked your panties, the scent of your sex getting stronger and stronger.

Jungkook removed his lips, sucking in a tight breath. Your name slid out of his mouth in a tight hiss, no honorifics. You felt your pussy throb hearing your name come from his lips, saturated with desire. You grinned.

“Took you long enough, Jungkookie.”

He chuckled, grabbing your hips and shoving them up into his jean-covered crotch. You gasped. You could feel his erection straining against the thick fabric, grinding against your soaked panties. Fuck, you couldn’t stop staring at Jungkook, him and his sharp jawline and his beautiful eyes and his playful smirk on his damn lips, infuriating and arousing you.

“You’re so fucking irresistible,” you whispered, rolling your hips into him hard. It was his turn to gasp, his turn to shudder at your movements. The way you could turn him from smug confidence to those submissive doe eyes was turning you on way too much.

You wanted to ruin him and be ruined by him.

You grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him onto the bed. He yelped as you slid down, nails racking down his torso, whimpering in your wake. The front of his jeans was wet with your juices. You undid the button, zipping them down.

“How are you going to explain this?” you smirked, gesturing down to the giant wet sport at the front of his pants.

“They’re black,” Jungkook panted. “It’ll be fine.”

You laughed, pulling them down his legs. Jungkook’s hand flew down, reaching into his back pocket, pulling out a condom. You tilted your head.

“Only one?”

He looked down at you, startled. “W-well… I don’t know if you want more….”

You raised an eyebrow and reached over to the nightstand, opening it and taking out the whole damn box.

“Er… I cannot cum that many times. In one sitting, anyway.”

“Ah, well, let’s just see then.”

You peeled his jeans and boxer briefs off, licking your lips as your hungry eyes landed on his cock. Half-hard, pre-cum glistening at the tip. Jungkook swallowed nervously, but you crawled on top of him, immediately licking a fat stripe down his entire length. You moaned with him, feeling the blood rushing to his cock, pulsing against your lips. You hadn’t had sex in a while, trying not to tempt Yoongi or aggravate his injury. His recovery was too important to not only you, but the nation and the world. So, you kept your need to yourself, but now Jungkook’s cock was right on front of you.

And there was nothing to stop you.

You pressed your lips against his balls, licking them all over, playing with them with your tongue. Jungkook groaned above you, grabbing fistfuls of sheets as you began to suck on them, bobbing your head up and down. He was panting your name breathlessly, helpless as you pulled your head back, his balls slowly slipping out from between your lips.

You kissed up his length, tongue swirling around the head before taking him in, all the way, softly but firmly. If there was anything Yoongi’s tongue technology taught you, it was how to apply his technique to giving head, much to his surprise. You were good at extrapolation. You pressed the head into the roof of your mouth, raking it all the way to the upper part of your throat and tightening. Jungkook gasped, eyelids fluttering as your tongue assaulted the bottom of his cock, from the bottom of the head to the base.

You heard something between the lines of, “Holy fuck”, “What the hell”, and “Oh my fucking God.”

You retreated for a second, wrapped your tongue all the way around the head and teased the thin skin right where the head and length connected, repeatedly rubbing your lips over it before going all the way down again.

Now Jungkook was absolutely incomprehensible as you began to suck him off, fast and tight, lips soft compared to the vacuum of your mouth. Was it unfair? Yes, it was, giving him soft and hard, rough and wet, scraping the head against the back of your throat and choking it with your muscles. Jungkook was whimpering and cursing, his thighs flexing under you, tasting so fucking good that you were dripping between your own thighs.

You didn’t stop.

Faster and faster, holding his hips down, watching Jungkook unravel under you, hands in his long hair and slamming his head back into the pillows, covering his mouth as he screamed your name into his palm. You felt his cock spurt his cum into the back of your throat, your muscles constricting as you drank him up, your moans added vibration along his length.

The first orgasm was always the most and tasted the best. So much, coating the entire inside of your mouth, your tongue swiping around his cock to collect it all. You lapped it all up, encouraging his cock to get hard again. Smirking as you succeeded, popping your mouth off gently.

“What position do you want me in, Jungkook?” you murmured, throat a little hoarse, taking the condom and opening it, rolling it onto his cock.

He moved his palm from his mouth, panting hard, hair all over his face. His intense brown eyes locked with yours and you knew the dynamic was switched.

“On your back. Want to watch your face when I fuck you.”

You could relent, rolling onto your back, removing your soaked panties, chest heaving in anticipation as Jungkook got up, towering over you. His hands gripped your hips, adjusting you to the correct angle. You could play the other part, with one small caveat. His eyes found yours, glaring at you.

“Wipe that smirk off your face.”

“Make me.”

Jungkook thrust into you, hard, and you kept the smirk on your face as he forcefully stretched you out, pushing your limits.

“Hurts?” he taunted.

You licked your lips. “It’s not good unless it hurts.”

The slight irritation that flashed in his eyes spurred you on. You tightened around his cock, exhaling with a hiss. Fitting him to you, bringing out the dominance in him. Jungkook gritted his teeth and slammed his hips into yours. You had the audacity to chuckle.

“Did you really want me that bad, Jungkook?” you teased. “Or were they only pretty words? Are you a tiger or just a cute little bunny?”

Jungkook snarled low in his chest.

Then he began to fuck you, lifting your legs onto his shoulders and pressing down, smacking your ass with his hips. The position made you tighter, gravity making him pound you harder, forcing you to feel all of him as drove his rock-hard cock into you. Your hands flew up, one pressed against the headboard, the other clutching a pillow for dear life, eyes squeezing shut at the fullness and harshness.

“A-ah, fuck, yes,” you gasped. “So fucking good…”

Jungkook brought his face close to yours, hitting you deeper and just as hard. “Where’s your smirk now? Can’t give me one when you’re being punished by this cock?”

Your heart jerked in your chest at his dirty words, becoming even wetter with the dangerous edge to his voice.

“Listen to you, fucking dripping down my thighs with how wet you are for me,” Jungkook hissed, inhaling sharply as you throbbed hard around him. He groaned, clenching his jaw. “Fuck, I can’t help myself, I just have to fuck you like an animal.”

You snickered dryly, jerking your hips up to meet his. Not saying anything, letting your pussy do the talking because you were so close to orgasm that you roughly massaged his entire length, throwing your head back and moaning as you came around him. The squelching sounds between your connected hips got louder, drenching the air with the scent of sex and lust.

Jungkook sank his teeth into his lower lip, grimacing. “Fucking unfair how good you feel,” he ground out, squeezing his eyes shut, ramming his hips into you, muscles in his arms and shoulders tense. “Can’t even last, fuck.”

He crashed his hips into yours and growled your name in his throat, cock smacking against your walls as he came, swelling the condom full. You whimpered in ecstasy, back arching, clenching around his cock.

“Yes, Jungkook, oh, yeeees…”

It wasn’t enough.

Neither of you had had enough.

Jungkook gripped the end of the condom and pulled out, hissing at the sensitivity as he took it off. You tossed him a spare towel from the nightstand drawer and he cleaned himself, gasping.

“Hands and knees.”

You rolled over, flinging the box of condoms at him, and he caught it, dark eyes glinting.

“Spread that pussy for me.”

You reached back and planted your hands on each ass cheek pulling your wet slit open. Jungkook hissed and you could hear skin on skin of him jacking himself off to get hard again. An idea popped into your head.

You flexed your vaginal muscles, opening and closing your hole for him.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re so damn sexy it’s illegal.”

You heard him get onto his knees. The sound of a condom being ripped open. His groan as he fitted the condom over his aching cock. His strong hands gripped your hips, the head rubbing against your entrance.

“Don’t know how long I can last,” he murmured. “I’m just going to go as hard and as fast as I can.”

“Do it, Jungkook,” you panted. “Make me feel you for days.”

He whimpered at your words and sank into you. Both of you moaning, your hands clutching the sheets, his fingertips bruising your skin, imprints of lust. Jungkook was pure, glorious power that threatened to overtake you, his cock throbbing and digging into your walls as he fucked you hard, muscular thighs slapping into yours. The poor bed could barely take it, but neither of you noticed, lost in the feeling of being filled and doing the filling.

His hand came down on your ass, a sharp, harsh sound that echoed off the walls and made your pussy clench. It barely hurt. You had felt worse before.

“You like that?” he panted.

“Fuck yes I do,” you gasped hotly. “Spank my ass, Jungkook.”

He did, thrusting into you and slapping you repeatedly, making your ass jiggle. You squeezed him each time, now rolling your hips back into him, arching your back as you came with a satisfied sigh. Your skin stung, your pussy was pulsating with abuse, and Jungkook’s cock hit all your deepest spots.

“Fuck, Jungkook, you’re so fucking good at fucking me,” you breathed, feeling him wind you up again.

He couldn’t even reply, only loudly moaning through the convulsions of your pussy radiating up and down his length. Good thing the walls were pretty soundproof, because it was a goddamn porno in the bedroom at the moment. It was obscenely lewd with the wet slapping of his hips into yours.

“So close, so close, squeeze me, fuck, choke my damn dick,” Jungkook rambled in between breaths, hissing as you did as you were told, gripping him every time he slammed into you. He came with a half-scream, half-moan of your name, whining at the sensitivity as you pulsed around him, leaking down his thighs and yours. It smelled so strongly of sex that you weren’t sure how you were supposed to clean this up before Yoongi came home.

Your phone buzzed loudly on the bed.

You grunted, clawing for it as Jungkook remained inside you, softening but refusing to leave your warmth. He wrapped his arms around you, burying his face into your back.

You checked your messages. From Yoongi.

Your gift needs to get his ass to practice before he gets yelled at.

“Jungkook, you’re gonna be late.”

He groaned in annoyance, squeezing you tighter. Another message popped up.

Tell him there’s plenty of time before I fully recover. If he works hard and does a good job, maybe after I recover too.

You poked Jungkook. He lifted his head, pouting, eyes changing to excitement when he read the message.

-

part ii “You’re not allowed to leave until your noona is satisfied.”

--

masterpost

[kiridarling]

𝔽𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: fem!reader, top!kats though some switchy themes, competitive sex, enemies to lovers, daddy kink, begging, blowjobs, no quirks

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 3.3k

ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕨: 

Katsuki Bakugou is the textbook definition of a brat.

It’s always been easy for you to get straight A’s—you’re a fast learner and a creative problem solver, solidifying your spot at the top of the class, the number one. You switch schools just to find someone equally as bratty and merciless as you and burn to do nothing but shove him off his cocky pedestal.

But. A brat doesn’t go down with a fight, and boy oh boy, is Katsuki Bakugou bratty. 

OR; Where Katsuki loves to get under your skin, so you shut him up with a kiss.  

—ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴀɴ 𝟷𝟾+ ʙʟᴏɢ. ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴅɴɪ

“Katsuki, Y/N, please stay after class.” 

The murmurs from the class only heighten the suspense as you eye the bane of your existence standing next to you. With explosive ash-blond hair and foxy red eyes to match, you’ve never met someone else so annoying. 

Either way, your shirt and apron are soaked to the bone, and you hope Katsuki burns under your glare through the plastic of the safety goggles. 

“And Y/N?” Your teacher says exasperatedly, “Please change your shirt.” 

You look down to reveal your shirt is nothing but see-through, though the apron helps cover your most indecent parts. 

When you return from the bathroom, opting for the gym shirt you were planning to bring home to wash anyway, Katsuki’s the only one left in the classroom, a permanent scowl on his face while sweeping up the glass from you two’s little lab fiasco that wound you here in the goddamn first place. 

He only stops once he realizes you aren’t going to help clean up, feet propped up on the desk in front of you as you scroll through your Twitter feed. Ooh, it looks like Hawks has a ne—

Your thought process tire-screeches when your phone is rudely snatched out of your hand. You pout, grabbing for your phone—but unfortunately for you, Katsuki’s too fucking tall. 

“Hey! Give it back, you asshole!” 

There’s no use in jumping, so you opt for balancing on your desk instead to pluck it out of his hands—though something tells you he let you grab it. “Dick.” 

“Get to fuckin’ work,” Katsuki grumbles with an unusual taciturn-ness. “I don’t wanna be here longer than I gotta be.” 

“Then be quick, pretty boy.” Now that you have your entertainment device again, it’s much easier to ignore his presence. “Chop chop.” 

“Funny that you thought your dumbass was getting out of this,” Katsuki grouses before shoving the broom he was using into your chest. “I got the fuckin’ tables, just sweep. You can do that much, can’t you?” 

Rolling your eyes, you snatch the broom from him and debate beating him in the back with it. “Whatever, smartass.” 

Katsuki Bakugou is the textbook definition of a brat. 

It’s always been easy for you to get straight A’s—you’re a fast learner and a creative problem solver, solidifying your spot at the top of the class, the number one. You switch schools just to find someone equally as bratty and merciless as you and burn to do nothing but shove him off his cocky pedestal. 

But. A brat doesn’t go down with a fight, and boy oh boy, is Katsuki Bakugou bratty. 

Katsuki’s whistling. It’s on purpose—to annoy you specifically, just because you know he likes to get under your skin, and he knows how easy it is for him to do it. And you find yourself falling for his bullshit every. Fucking. Time. 

“Can you shut up?” 

A satisfied smirk creeps across Katsuki’s face when you finally crack. “No.” 

You assumed as much. Sighing, you pray Katsuki’s high-pitched mouth noises will fade into the background if you focus on sweeping up the glass that isn’t there anymore. 

He doesn’t. 

“Shut. Up.”  Katsuki’s a shitty whistler. His lips are too dry, and it’s mostly just fucking air, but he insists anyways, walking your way with his hands tucked and lips pursed, blowing his disgusting breath your way. 

So naturally, you kiss him. To shut him up. 

Though you think you might’ve broken him because he pulls back with this semi-dazed look on his face before blinking towards his feet. Your eyes follow. 

No. Fucking. Way. 

“You’re hard,” you say as a simple matter of fact at first, letting it sink it. Katsuki’s like, full mast, beanpole hard, and you find yourself cackling at the revelation more than you should. “You—really hard holy shit, you fu—” 

“If you don’t shut your goddamn mouth…” Katsuki growls, fists clenching at his sides. His face is nothing short of beet red and shaking with so much embarrassment; you can’t help but feel a little bit bad. “I haven’t...had fuckin’ time, okay—stop lookin—” 

“Awe, you don’t have to be ashamed.” You giggle, waving him off in favor of exfoliating the floor with the broom again. He’s hard. He’s hard, and you did it—Nah, you’re chilling. Not freaking out. “Katsuki Bakugou is a bottom. There’s no shame in that.” 

“Oi,” Katsuki growls, hands curling into fists. “I might be hard, but I’m no goddamn bottom.” 

You snort, unashamed (okay, a little bit, but he doesn’t have to know) in the way you rake your eyes up and down his body before saying. “Sure, uh-huh. Which is exactly why you’re stiffer than a board from an argument and one kiss. ” 

“Two words, brat. Pent up,” Katsuki dares to step closer with that patronizing tone, lips dangerously close to where they were before. 

“Liar,” you bravely challenge, sticking your chest out. You’ve never been one to go down without a fight. 

Katsuki only seems to burn brighter at this, snatching you by the jaw for a firm peck. You snort in response. 

“Not a fuckin’ bottom,” Katsuki growls into your mouth. As if that kiss really made a difference. 

“Yeah?” You’re a little breathy, but from the way you’re pressed up against the desk, it’s a bit hard not to be. “Prove it, then.” 

Katsuki makes a sound akin to a moan before his big hands are around your waist, twirling you around until your hands are pressed against the desk, ass out in the open for Katsuki to do whatever he pleases. To say you dislike this position would be a lie, but you stick by it anyway, even when he flips up your skirt to deliver a firm slap on the ass. 

“Ow, you dick!” You whip your head around and glare his way with fury, but he seems to pay no mind, mouth dipping to nip at your shoulder. 

“Oh, it’s not that bad, brat. Stop fuckin’ complain’.” 

You shut up, but only because his hand lands on your ass again, a hot sting bursting from his palm. You shiver. 

“This isn’t fa—fuck.” He shoves two fingers in your tight pussy, completely freezing your train of thought in favor of fooling with that sensitive spot in between your legs.

Katsuki laughs lowly as you struggle to hold yourself back. In your defense, you happen to be a bit pent up yourself, and Katsuki’s unnecessarily skilled with just two fingers, pumping and curling until he hits that sweet spot that makes your legs quiver. 

“What was that, brat?” 

“You’re a fucking dick,” you turn to spit, though you doubt the blush on your face is working in your favor. Either way, Katsuki isn’t having it, and his face hardens as his hand cracks down on your ass again. This time it jolts the table. 

“Y’know what?” You hear Katsuki say behind you and the warmth his hands leave only for the sound of a belt buckle to ring in the room. “I’m gonna put that big ass mouth of yours to good use. Turn the fuck around.” 

You don’t fucking know why you listen, but you do. 

“On your knees.” 

With a slight sigh, your knees kiss the cool classroom floor. It’s slightly uncomfortable, and your knees have never been the greatest, but you might as well get this o—

Holy shit. He’s hung.

“Big, isn’t it?” Katsuki says with a grin, fist working the head of his cock as he enjoys the view of you on your knees. “Now suck, slut.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you lick from the base to the tip, loving the way that cocky grin slips off his face a bit. You repeat the action a few more times, loving the way he shivers until he gets impatient. Then you swallow as much as you can.

“Fuck,” Katsuki’s chokes out moan is much more attractive than you anticipated, sending electric shivers down your spine. Wrapping a hand around the base of his cock, you pump what you can’t fit in your mouth, and his grip on the desk tightens. 

“Shit—look at you, taking me so goddamn��s-so goddamn well.” He curls over you to say, knuckles stark white and bending the wood of the desk. You know he’s about to crack, but that only propels your determination further, your free hand reaching to grab him by the balls. 

Katsuki lets out nothing short of a moan at that, causing you to open your eyes to a very, very pretty sight. A strawberry-faced Katsuki Bakugou with his ash-blond eyebrows knit, pretty pink lip tucked underneath his front two teeth. You moan, and he shivers, and you’ve never found it so hard to disguise a shit-eating grin while sucking dick. 

But despite your unrelenting gaze, you seem to miss the hand snaking from the desk to underneath your chin, Katsuki’s thumb and index squeezing your cheeks around his cock and ultimately making your job harder. You suppress an indignant growl when he hits the back of your throat, tears springing to your eyes. 

“I’m gonna cum down your throat,” Katsuki rasps, voice noticeably wrecked. He needs to take a moment to lick his lips—the apex between your thighs likes the sight of that very much. “And you’re going to swallow every—fuck—goddamn drop. Got it?” 

You moan in response, eyelids fluttering. Katsuki lets out a breathy moan at that, the hand around your jaw tightening before his hips stutter with a gasp. 

“C-Cummi—” 

Katsuki spills down your throat with a broken moan, eyes glued on your spluttering figure because he comes a lot. But you swallow it all, licking whatever mess you didn’t catch off your fingers—the ash-blond watches it all with a satisfied hum. 

“Good girl.” 

You shiver. 

“C’mon. Up.” Though you don’t expect him to, he helps you onto your unsteady feet. Your hands feel tiny in his calloused palms, fragile, and in a flash, your hands are back on the table, and those calloused palms are caressing the tender swell of your ass. 

Katsuki swipes a finger down your slit, chuckling at the whimper you fail to hide. 

“So fuckin’ wet,” he groans, dipping his nose into your neck as his body encompasses your own. “And it’s all for me, isn’t it, brat?” 

You earn a slap on the ass when you don’t respond, but in your defense, Katsuki’s rubbing messy little circles on your clit, and it’s getting you more riled up than it should. A breathy “yeah” is all you manage to squeak out, rendering the second spank unfair. 

“Try again, brat.” 

The difference in pet names makes your head spinning the best way. Your chest shudders with an exhale, body strung tight from being suspended in lust for so long. “Y-Yes, Daddy.” 

You know it’s the answer Katsuki’s looking for when his chest rumbles against your spine, and the hand between your legs speeds up. He stuffs two fingers in your pussy and coos when you moan at the white-hot gunshot of pleasure and keel over, head hung between your shoulders as you let him do whatever he damn well pleases. 

“Good fuckin’ brat, takin’ my fingers so goddamn well,” Katsuki grunts, and you imagine his eyebrows just as tightly knit as before. “Gotta get you nice and ready for my cock. Can’t wreck your pretty pussy from just a few thrusts, can I?” 

And fuck, aren’t you wrecked enough? 

“Shit,” you choke when Katsuki’s fingers curl, so like the asshole he is, he does it again. And again, until your thighs are numb and you’re sure you’ve made a proper mess all over his hands. Patience wearing thin, you snap.

“The hell are you waiting for?” 

You loathe the way you sound too far gone to be complaining, bent over in an empty classroom with your sworn enemy knuckle-deep in your pussy, but the fact that he’s not balls deep feels like the most urgent issue out of the two.  

“Depends,” Katsuki jeers, fingers jabbing at the ever-tightening knot growing in the pit of your stomach. “Whaddya want?” 

“What?” You laugh in your confused arousal.

“What,” he repeats, sharper this time, “do you want?” 

It takes a second for it to click. Oh. Oh, Katsuki’s asking for consent. 

That’s...that’s actually kind of cute. 

But you don’t have the time to analyze the heat blooming in your chest because your mouth moves much quicker than your brain does. “Your fuckin—fuck me, you stupid a—” 

You yelp when you’re flipped onto the table. Katsuki yanks your thighs apart like you’re his next meal, pink tongue wetting his bottom lip with burning red eyes trained on all of you. The look he gives you is uncharacteristically soft, hypnotized from following the dips and curves of your body, and you don’t like how it makes you feel. 

“Condom, idiot.” 

Katsuki blinks himself out of his strange trance, looking your way for a second before huffing, disappearing for a moment to (hopefully) grab one from his bag.  “I was gonna anyway, dumbass. Geez.” 

You snort at his petulance, but every drop of your ego evaporates when the ash-blond reappears, pumping his thick cock with a blue plastic square held between his teeth. Even though you saw it less than fifteen minutes ago, his cock is nothing short of pretty, and you find yourself mesmerized by the way his head looks in his fist. 

“Like what you see?” Katsuki’s eyes are on you, eyebrow raised, and tone is cocky, and it’s annoying to think you caused such a reaction. You look away with a huff. 

“Just get on with it.” 

Katsuki clicks his tongue, finally rolling the rubber on. You shiver the moment the head of his cock kisses your entrance, and he firmly snatches your chin to make sure your eyes are on him. 

“I’m gonna fuck the brat outta you,” he growls, yet somehow you have the gut to smile right back. 

“Bold statement, you laz—fuck!” 

Katsuki’s balls deep in one thrust. You squeal, and he bites his lip, both pairs of eyes trained on where you two are connected. He doesn’t dare move again, thank God. 

“Asshole,” you grumble, eyes glaring daggers at the man towering over you. Katsuki scowls. 

“Y’know, you’re awfully bold for someone so full of cock,” he pants, bracing both hands on the edges of the table behind your head. You open your mouth to bite back because you aren’t one to go down without a fight, but the moment Katsuki’s hips buck? All thoughts fly out the window. 

“Tight,” Katsuki whimpers behind a bitten lip, “You—Y/N—you’re really fucki—shit.” 

You laugh at his mottled sentence, but you’d be lying if you said you were doing any better. You feel both pleasantly full and unbearably horny, the weight of his rocking hips jolting both you and the table. Katsuki seems focused, eyes set and face twisted in concentration. 

“Good,” he grunts. At first, you think he’s telling you, but the silent plea behind his eyes tells a different story. 

“Y-Yeah,” you moan, shuddering when he hits that spot. “Really good.” 

That’s the spur on the horse, and Katsuki readjusts his grip before pistoning into you, tilting your hips off the desk for a better angle. And boy, is it a better angle. 

The dam in your gut is terribly close to bursting, and you want—no, need it to, so you reach in between your legs to mess with your clit before Katsuki slaps it away. You whimper uselessly, moaning the second he replaces the vacancy with a finger of his own. 

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t ya, brat?” Katsuki moans, applying more pressure on your clit just to make you squirm. “You gonna cum? Gonna fuckin’ cum all over my cock like the dirty little girl you are?” 

His words send a shiver of pure ecstasy up your spine, and you nod fervently, the desk creaking under both of your weight. “Y-Yea—yeah, I’m gonna—” 

Katsuki stills. 

He fucking stills. 

As you suppress the urge to scream, Katsuki lands a fat slap to the top of your pussy, clit throbbing upon impact. Asshole. 

“Then beg.” 

You whine, though you’re not sure if it’s from his voice or the twitch of his cock. Beg? Oh, your dignity is really taking a hit today. 

After clearing your throat and shifting uncomfortably, you take a shot in the dark, “Please uh, fuck me?” 

Katsuki clicks his tongue, and though the thumb on your clit starts to move ever so slightly, it’s surely not enough. 

“Try again, brat. C’mon,” Katsuki’s hips jostle to give you a bit of an incentive. “I know you can do better than that.” 

“M-Make me cum.” You retry, firmer this time though your face is beet red, “Please.” 

The look on Katsuki’s face is indiscernible as he blinks down at your trembling figure, long enough to make you squirm under his gaze. Then the familiarly annoying sly smile returns. 

“Good,” is all Katsuki says before his hips return to life, and he drives into you with everything he has, quickly bringing you closer to the edge than you were before. “Good fuckin’ brat, takin’ me so goddamn well.”

You moan, grabbing for his big shoulders as you scramble for something to hold onto. Adrenaline rushes your veins, and though you know you need one more thing to finally push you off the edge, you don’t know what that thing i—

“Cum with me,” Katsuki pants into your ear, eyes fluttering when your pussy spasms, “Fuckin—make a fuckin’ mess, all over m—” 

But you don’t hear much after that because your orgasm rips through your body, hearing ducking and eyes squeezing shut as the tremors wrack through your body. Katsuki’s completion is marked by the stutter of his hips followed by a breathy moan and a grunt before he collapses on top of you—both of you wholly spent.

When he peels his body off of you, you’re sure you look no more spent than he does. Katsuki’s all rosy-cheeked and glossy with sweat, ash-blond hair a hot mess as he slides into the chair to catch his breath. You do the same, limp as a noodle as you stare at the ceiling. 

“So,” you say, killing the silence after a painful five-minute stretch. Katsuki looks at you from his blown-out gaze on the wall. 

“So,” he responds uselessly. You sigh. What did you expect him to say? Ask you out on a date? In all the time you’ve known him, Katsuki’s never dated, let alone had a girlfriend. You don’t understand why you were awaiting something after that, either. It’s annoying.  

After adjusting your uniform, you hop off the desk, ready to wallow in whatever self-inflicted misery you’ve built. Though your legs aren’t prepared, apparently, and you almost crumple underneath the weight. 

You would’ve if Katsuki’s hands didn’t catch you by the waist.  

“Careful,” he grunts, voice much too close to your ear for your liking. You pull away first.

“Thanks.” You nod, silently noting that he’s tucked his dick away and pulled his pants back on sometime in the five-minute silence. You didn’t notice. 

The silence returns as you pick your bag up off the floor. Katsuki watches you, carmine eyes nearly pinning you in place. You push through the paralysis somehow, though, eyes taking a quick sweep before deeming the classroom cleaner than it was before trying your best to conceal your speed-walk to the exit. Should you say bye, or would that be weird? 

“Oi.” 

You freeze, hand on the cool metal knob, and so close to freedom. You have half a mind to slam the door open and sprint down the hall. You don’t, though. But you don’t look at him either. 

“Y’know I don’t do this bullshit with anyone, right?” 

And, shit. You think you may know what that means. But if you misunderstood, that’d be really awkward. 

When you don’t respond, Katsuki keeps going with a heavy sigh. You hear him stand, but he doesn’t dare cross over. “I—goddammit. Fuck it, fuck it.”

Katsuki sounds like he’s hyping himself up more than anything else, and you hate to say you find it endearing. You pull your hand away from the doorknob. Maybe you’ll hear Katsuki out—you suppose can deal with his bratty attitude for a little bit longer.

[dreamerstreamer]

Breathless

Pairing: Dream / Clay x asthmatic!gn!reader

Summary: Life with a chronic illness isn’t always easy, and some days are more difficult than others, but you always manage to find yourself breathing a little easier with Clay by your side.

Warnings: tw// depiction of asthma & asthma attack

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: my second commissioned story! this work has been altered from its original form so that everyone can read it, but the plot and writing remain largely the same. this was more specific and required more research than the stories i typically write, but i hope you all enjoy nonetheless! <3

The smell of sanitizer and antiseptics tickled your nose as you pushed past the hospital office door, folding the piece of paper tucked in your hands into quarters. Slipping it into your pocket, you raised your chin, the paper resting comfortably next to the familiar weight of your inhaler. You stretched your arms above your head with a small groan, rolling your shoulders back as you made your way down the hall with a small bounce in your step.

Respiratory therapy may be good for you, but your favourite part was still when you got to go home.

You rubbed your hand over the patch stuck to the inside of your forearm, the tiniest hint of red colouring the ivory white cloth as you pressed your fingers gently against it. Letting out a sigh, you faced forward once more, your eyes lighting up as the waiting room came into view. Walking a little faster, you was just about to head into the waiting room when you froze, your eyes falling on the figure sitting in a chair pressed up against the wall adjacent to you.

Clay was drumming one hand against his thigh as the other scrolled leisurely through his phone, Tweet after Tweet flying by on his screen. In his ears hung a pair of earbuds, and you could see him gently bobbing his head along to the beat of whatever song he was listening to, his foot quietly tapping against the tiled hospital floor. You traced your eyes over the bridge of his nose and the crest of hair that tickled the top of his forehead, a fond warmth rushing through your chest.

He always waited for you no matter what, even if you told him not to. It didn’t matter if he had a stream planned just a few minutes after your session would wrap up or if he was in the middle of editing a video—he would drop everything to wait for you, patient and caring as always. He was just stubborn like that, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to get him to swallow his pride, as much as you may try.

Blinking as you gazed at him, a thought suddenly popped into your head, a devilish ember tickling at the base of your spine. Your lips split into a sly grin, your eyes narrowing as the cogs in your head churned. Ever so slowly, you crept over to his side, just barely keeping yourself out of view until you were standing just diagonally behind him, a single step away. As quiet as a mouse, you reached your hand forward and dipped your head down beside his ear, gently tapping his shoulder. With a start, Clay jumped in his seat, his eyes shooting wide open as he whipped his head up to look at you. In a flash, he was tearing out his earbuds, his phone going slack in his hands and a bright smile tugging at his lips.

“Boo,” you whispered, waving your hand at him as your lips stretched widely across your face.

“Hey,” he said, gentle and warm as he reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers between his. “You done with therapy for today?”

You beamed proudly, bobbing your head. “Yep. We’re all good to go.”

The gleam in his eyes was as sweet as honey as he got to his feet, slipping his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. He tilted his head at you, and before you could ask if anything was wrong, he had raised his free hand to brush a stray strand of hair away from your face. A second later, he was dipping his head to yours, and you shivered at the warmth of his lips pressing against your forehead while he murmured into your skin, “Perfect.”

When he pulled back, he squeezed your hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles lovingly. With one last grin, the two of them began to stroll out of the waiting room and into the front hall.

“So,” he said after a moment as they turned a corner, “how did everything go, today? Did anything different happen?”

You shrugged, gesturing vaguely. “Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Got my blood oxygen level checked, did some breathing tests and exercises—” You eyed the small patch on your arm with a wistful glance. “Just the usual.”

A comfortable silence washed over them as they swung their arms together in a charmingly off-beat rhythm, occasionally brushing their sides up against one another with a small smile. Beside you, a nurse bustled past with his stethoscope bouncing around his neck and a clipboard clutched to his chest. You glanced over at him, then opened your mouth again. “What about you?” You shrunk back the tiniest bit, your fingers sheepishly twitching against his. “I hope you weren’t too bored or anything waiting up for me.”

Clay laughed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “For you? Never.” You felt your heart stumble in your chest as he continued. “I just scrolled through Twitter for a while, then I made a tweet about the donation I’m making for my next video—you know, the one to spread chronic illness awareness.”

Leaning against his side slightly, you sighed, your head stuffed full with adoration for your boyfriend as you pressed your head into his warmth. “That’s incredible, Clay,” you murmured, squeezing his hand. “You’re incredible.”

His lips twitched into a ghost of a smile, and he squeezed your hand back. “I try my best.”

You felt your heart swell, and you resisted the urge to kiss him in front of the hospital staff right then and there. Just how lucky could you be to have someone as lovely and compassionate as Clay in your life?

Stepping into the front lobby, he gently nudged his shoulder into yours, stepping to the side to make way for another patient. The ringing of the secretary’s phone made you jolt beside him, but not once did his eyes leave your face. “I’m guessing we’re coming back the same time next week?”

You flashed a grin at him, winking sheepishly. “You know it.”

The chuckle he let out made your stomach flip, affection nipping incessantly at the back of your head. “Awesome,” he hummed, sticking his hand into his pocket. Fishing around, his mouth quirked up a moment later as he pulled out a ring of car keys, clasping his fingers around it. “Alright—let’s go.”

You blinked, your lips curling into a frown as the automatic doors parted in front of them. “Wait, I can drive us.”

He shot you a fond look, shaking his head. The sun’s warm rays cast a golden sheen to his dirty blond locks, his eyes practically glowing in the midday heat. “Nope, no can do.” He jutted his head toward the car, which sat a few yards away in the parking lot beside the hospital. “You drove us here, and now it’s my turn to drive us back.”

Something flashed in your gaze, and your tongue darted out to swipe at your lips as your fingers twitched at your side. “You say that,” you began, your hand shooting forward toward the keys in his, “but not if I get the keys fir—hey!”

A gasp flew from your lips as your hand met nothing but open air, Clay having leapt back with his arm stretched up high above his head. Stumbling back a few steps, shimmering mirth danced in his gaze as he waved the keys at you, just barely out of reach. “Too slow, baby.”

Scowling, you leapt forward yet again, your fingers desperately reaching for the keys as he simply stepped off to the side, backpedaling until a few feet stood between the two of them. The glare you shot him only seemed to egg him on as he began to twirl the silver key ring around his pointer finger playfully. He was teasing you now, you knew it, and you were not going to take any part in it.

“Clay,” you said slowly between gritted teeth.

“[Y/N],” he drawled back, a wide grin still plastered to his face.

Just then, you were bolting over to him, a small breeze biting at your face as you lunged for his hand. You could feel your lungs tighten as the warm, humid air came rushing into your chest, but you were far too focused on the glint of metal against his skin to care. Clay’s eyes went wide as his hand suddenly snapped shut around the car keys, his arm pinning itself to his back as his other hand reached out to steady you against him.

“Okay, okay,” he cried, his fingers gently pressing into the fabric of your shirt, “no running! Please.” His voice suddenly went soft, and your feet came to a grinding halt before him, your lungs heaving. “I don’t want you to stress your asthma.”

Feeling your heart batter against your rib cage, you sucked in a breath, rocking against him ever so slightly as you lifted your chin at him. “Then will you please let me drive?”

He blinked at you for a moment, a thoughtful look passing over his expression. “Hmm... should I?”

You gasped, bobbing your head eagerly, a hint of a smile gracing your lips. His tongue poked out at the corner of his mouth, and you felt a glimmer of hope spark in the pit of your stomach. Yes!

Then, he smiled, apologetic and teasing. “Still no.”

Your face fell in an instant, twisting into a pout as you sagged against his side with a whine. His grin only widened at the sight, patting your on the shoulder with a gentle nudge. “Sorry, [Y/N],” he hummed, turning on his heel to walk over to the driver’s side of the car, “but I’m not budging on this one.”

You groaned, begrudgingly dragging yourself over to the other side of the car and tugging the door open. “Ugh. You,” you said, flopping into the passenger seat with a frown and your arms crossed on top of your frontside, “are the worst.”

He let out a chuckle at your face, pushing the keys into the ignition and turning his hand with a knowing look. “Sure, sure,” he murmured, soft and low. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

Despite yourself, you felt your heart flutter in your chest at the pet name, melting back into the car seat as your arms went limp over your chest. Sneaking a glance over at him, you felt warmth skitter across your face at the way his eye caught yours, loving and true. Huffing, you feigned annoyance and stuck your tongue out at him, but you couldn’t quite stop the smile from tugging at your lips, something pink and fuzzy bubbling up in the core of your chest as they pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

You were so driving next time.

You picked at the patch on your arm, your gaze focused intently as your nails carefully peeled back one of the corners. Gently grasping at the lifted flap, you tugged backward, the patch slowly peeling off until it was popping off your arm with a satisfying flick. Smiling triumphantly to yourself, you walked over to the garbage can and tossed the used patch in, relishing in the feeling of the cool air brushing over your now exposed skin. Leaning against the kitchen counter, you tugged your phone out of your pocket, swiping open your phone with a soft hum.

It had been a few days since your last respiratory therapy session, and you were feeling good. The new breathing exercises you had been suggested were working amazingly, and it almost made your feel like you didn’t need to keep your inhaler on hand every waking second.

Sucking in a deep breath, you held it in for a long moment, then exhaled, feeling the air rush out of your lungs in a single gust. It was right then that a small itch rose into the back of your throat, and you coughed just a little bit, swallowing sharply as you straightened. All of a sudden, a head popped into the kitchen doorway, golden brows knit together with worry.

“[Y/N]?”

You whirled at the sound of your name, your gaze immediately landing on Clay’s pursed lips on the opposite side of the room. “Mhm?”

He cocked his head at you, his eyes scanning you up and down for a split second before locking onto yours once more. “I heard coughing.” His eyes flashed. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, shooting him a reassuring grin. “Yeah—just choked on some spit or something. It was nothing serious.” When he only blinked at you, you firmly added, “I promise.”

Just like that, his shoulders relaxed once more, and a soft smile crept onto his face. “Alright. I just wanted to let you know that I’m gonna be editing for a couple of hours.” He jutted his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll be in the next room over if you need anything, alright?”

You grinned, sending him a playful salute. “Roger that.” Pushing back against the counter, you slipped your phone back into your pocket and strode across the kitchen over to him, stopping just a tile in front of him. “How much is it this time?”

One side of Clay’s mouth curled up into a thoughtful expression. “Well,” he began slowly, leaning against the doorframe, “I’ve got about five hours of footage and audio to cut down into about fifty minutes, so...”

He gestured vaguely with a pained expression, and you offered him a sympathetic look. “It’s a lot?” you prompted.

He let out a long sigh, weary yet sure as he bit back a wince. “It’s a lot.”

Shuffling a step closer, you reached your hand up to brush your fingers over his cheekbone, gentle and sweet. “You’ll do great,” you said quietly, your eyes curving into crescent moons alight with ardent and honest affection. “You always do.”

Clay leaned in to your warm touch, his eyelids fluttering for a moment as he let out another sigh—an enamoured one, this time. “I love you,” he whispered, sincerity seeping into every letter he breathed.

The fondness of his voice made your heart melt into a sugary sweet puddle in your chest, and you let your hand bury itself into his soft locks. “I love you, too,” you whispered back.

With a warm gaze that made your insides tingle, Clay was dipping his head, and you let your eyelids fall shut as you let your mouth part ever so slightly. A second later, his lips were pressed against yours, plush and loving as you felt yourself smiling into the kiss, his hot breath tickling the side of your cheek. Just a moment later, they broke apart, warm air rushing into your lungs as you flashed him a bright grin.

“Go ahead, now,” you murmured, nudging his shin with your foot. “You’ve got lots of footage to sift through.”

Standing up straight again, he rolled his eyes as he turned on his heel with a dramatic groan. “Why did you have to remind me?” he cried over his shoulder.

You could only laugh in return, waving at him with a jesting bow and grinning at the way he pretended to be offended. You watched as he slunk into the next room over down the hall, pushing the door shut behind him with his arm. With a hint of a smile lining your lips, you hummed to yourself before strolling out of the kitchen and into the living room. Flopping onto the couch with a huff, you settled back against the cushions with a comforted exhale and pulled out your phone once more. You relished in quiet moments like these, even if you would much rather be spending them with Clay. Maybe you would make him a snack or something, just to help him ease up on all his editing.

You had only been sitting for a few minutes when you felt a familiar itch gnaw at the base of your neck once more, and you ducked your head into your elbow to let out a harsh cough. Your chest felt tighter than it usually did, and you furrowed your brows. You had been breathing just fine less than an hour ago. What in the world could be possibly changing that?

As another cough welled up in your mouth, you turned your head, sweeping your gaze across the room. Just as you began sucking in yet another burning breath, a flash of cerulean blue caught your eye, and you froze, your jaw going completely slack.

The window was open.

Everyone had their own asthma triggers, whether it was a cat allergy or some nasty pollution. But for you, having so much as an open window could be more than enough to send your body spiralling into overdrive and straight into an asthma attack.

And by the looks of it, your body was doing just that.

Your lungs felt tight—too tight, almost as if a boa constrictor had snaked up your spine and wrapped around them, constricting them until they were nothing more than two, tiny, trembling slivers in your chest. You let out a choked gasp, then desperately tried to breathe in, only to feel your lungs screaming in protest within the cavity of your chest, fuzzy pain swimming throughout the entirety of your body. your windpipe felt like it had been squeezed into the size of a straw, and you knew it was only a matter of time before you began wheezing. With a hammering heart, you stumbled to your feet, your hand reaching for your pocket with a shuddering cough. Patting against your thigh, you suddenly seized up when you felt nothing pressing up against your palm. That was when it hit you.

You had left your inhaler upstairs in the bedroom, back when you were feeling better than ever just a couple of hours prior.

You half wanted to cry out of both amazement and agony—how ironic was it that you would have an asthma attack the one time you didn’t have your inhaler on you?

You could practically hear the blood rushing through your ears as you took a shaky step forward, holding yourself upright as much as possible as you tried to remain calm. Or, as calm as you could when you couldn’t breathe. It would take too long for you to go all the way upstairs and grab your inhaler—there was simply no way you would even be able to make it that far.

Luckily for you, you knew just where to find another one.

Striding as quickly and steadily as you could on your shaking legs, you pressed your way out of the living room and down the hall, breathing as deeply as possible despite just how narrow your airway felt. You coughed again, the inferno ripping through your lungs like a raging beast as you grasped at the wall for support. It was like someone had sat on your chest, pressing down like an iron anvil slamming into the earth from a cliff.

It hurt.

You could feel the back of your eyes sting more and more with each desperate gasp for air you took, and your entire body felt like it was about to collapse beneath your . You nearly sank with relief when you finally reached Clay’s door, your knees buckling like a newborn fawn’s. With a muffled choke, you wrapped your hand around the door handle and twisted it, pulling it back as hard as you could. The door slammed into the opposite wall with a reverberating thud, shaking the floor with a low creak.

In front of his desk, Clay jolted at the sudden sound, ripping off his headphones as he spun around in his chair to face you. “[Y/N]?” he said, confusion clouding his face. “What’s wro—”

You cut him off with another cough, the flames licking at your throat with a burning vengeance as you frantically gestured toward your neck. An instant later, you were sinking to the ground, wheezing for dear life. That was all it took for Clay to come barrelling out of his desk chair and across the room to your side, one hand already digging itself into his pocket.

“Oh, crap, okay,” he rambled in a panicked rush, pulling an inhaler out of his pocket. “[Y/N], please look at me. I’ve got a rescue inhaler here.”

Forcing your head up to meet his frenetic gaze, you could feel tears brim along your lashes, opening your mouth for him. Not even a split second later, he was gently pushing the inhaler past your lips, one hand carefully gripping the plastic while the other reached for your hand.

With a quivering voice, he slipped your hand into his. “Ready, set, breathe, baby.”

He pressed down on the top of the inhaler, and immediately, you were sucking in a harsh, aching breath. Almost instantaneously, you felt a cool mist of medication spray against the back of your mouth, your throat relaxing the tiniest bit as you exhaled. A few seconds later, he was pressing down again, and you were inhaling as much as you could. For a few minutes, they stayed like that, your hand squeezing his as tightly as possible as you took breath after agonizing breath, your lungs working beyond belief. You weren't keeping track of how much time had passed, focusing only on the simple act of breathing and the feeling of your lungs slowly expanding in your chest. Every so often, you let out a tiny whimper, and he would reassuringly squeeze your hand in his, his emerald eyes filled with an intensity you rarely got to see.

At long last, you tapped thrice at Clay’s hand wrapped around yours, and in a flash, he was pulling the inhaler from your lips and letting it rest in his lap, his eyes desperately scanning your face. Your chest felt like it had just been unraveled from a wound-up ball, and you leaned forward the tiniest bit, your palm pressing against the ground to stabilize yourself.

“Clay,” you whispered, your throat feeling raw and your voice coming out with a slight rasp.

His name was only about halfway out of your mouth when he was wrapping his arms around your shoulders, the warmth of his hands soaking into your skin. “[Y/N], are—are you okay? Does your chest hurt? Does it still hurt when you breathe?”

You took in a staggering breath. Then two, then three. After a few long seconds, you lifted your head, flashing him a brighter, calmer smile. “I—I’m okay. Y-Yeah, I’m—” You cleared your sore throat, not missing the way his eyes flashed with concern. “I’m alright.”

His palms were still tense next to your arm. “Are you absolutely sure?”

You reached a hand up to grab one of his, gently prying his fingers into yours with a soft promise. “One hundred percent.”

His eyes focused on yours for a moment longer, then he was sagging with relief, his shoulders finally slumping. “Good. Really good. That’s great, honestly.”

You laughed at his reaction, your heart only just slightly trembling between your aching lungs. “Thank god it’s over. Just, woah, um,” you rambled, your words coming out in a hazy rush. “That was—holy crap, that was so… so...”

He raised his hand, and you suddenly fell silent as he warmly patted your side. “Slow down a bit, baby,” he said gently, his brows sloping downward. “I don’t want your lungs acting up on us, again.”

You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut for a second before whispering, “That was so scary.”

Just like that, his face was flooded with compassion, and he brushed his thumb over your cheek with a soft croon. “It was. It’s been a while since you last had an attack.” You melted against him, soaking in his every word. “Do you know what triggered it, this time?”

You paused, furrowing your brows before cocking your head. “I, um, there was an open window. In the living room.”

Clay blinked at your . Then, his expression slowly shifted to one of realization, the horror creeping onto his face like a stalking beast. “Oh, god,” he breathed. “I—I opened it when we got home from grocery shopping today. I just thought... it might be nice to have some fresh air, and—” He ran a hand through his hair, anxiety flicking at his head. “I wasn’t thinking. [Y/N], I’m sorry. That was terrible of me, I—”

His voice cracked brokenly as he dropped his head, and you were immediately throwing your arms around him, climbing forward and into his lap with a soothing tone. “No, no, no, Clay, no. Don’t say that.” You pressed your hands to his face and lifted his chin until he was looking at you again with wide, ashamed eyes. “You’re so good to me,” you whispered, “so wonderful in every way. If you didn’t have an inhaler on you, we would have had to call 911, and—”

You shook your head, your lips curving up into a gentle smile as you leaned forward to press your forehead to his. “Clay, you’re the best. Really, I mean it. Don’t think so poorly of yourself.”

For a minute, all was silent. Clay’s lips were parted with what looked like a mixture of awe and admiration, and you watched with surprise as he suddenly tugged you closer to his chest, your chin resting upon his shoulder as he squeezed you tightly. You could feel his breath tickle your ear as he whispered the softest of words into the quietness of the room. “God, I’m just glad you’re safe.” He brushed his lips against the shell of your ear. “You’re too important for me to lose.”

You gulped, your heart somersaulting through your chest and barrelling right through your lungs. You could feel your eyes water the tiniest bit as he rubbed a small circle into the curve of your waist, and you smiled as he nestled your head into the side of his neck.

He always managed to take your breath away in the best way possible.

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x reader (part 7)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

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

word count: 2.5k

warnings: um just implied smut and fluff and a reference to bdsm I guess?? but it's pretty chill overall

Liked by starkcosmetics and others

y/n.y/l/n okay first of all, it takes an act of god to get a picture of this guy smiling, but it’s always worth it.  he really changed everything for me and I can’t thank him enough for that.  so happy ❤️ 

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caroldanvers 😍😍😍

flowercrowny/n oh my god this is so sweet i’m gonna cry

1 HOUR AGO

He smiled as he stared down at the post you’d made, remembering how much effort you’d put into finding the perfect picture (in your opinion; he thought he looked kinda dopey in it) as well as writing and re-writing your caption.

The speed at which your post gained likes and comments was inconceivable to him; even more impressive was the speed at which gossip rags were picking up the story.  Sure enough, his phone’s alerts to new headlines about you were not only going off like crazy, but had started to include news about himself as well.  

Y/N Y/L/N Shocks With Romantic Instagram Post, Confirms Dating Rumors

You’ll Never Guess Which Hollywood Starlet Is Dating Her Driver

Who is James Barnes?  Everything We Know About Y/N Y/L/N’s New Beau

Skimming one of the articles, he was impressed at how much information they’d managed to get without actually getting anything from you or him.  Born in Brooklyn, disabled Army veteran, worked a list of odd jobs before becoming your driver and bodyguard.  ‘No social media presence, prefers to keep a low profile’ one of them said; you can say that again, Bucky chuckled to himself when he read it.

He found another from People and didn’t particularly appreciate that it spent half the time going through all your past exes and rumored partners (turned out ‘rumored’ is a fancy word for ‘a bunch of fans deluded themselves so hard that it somehow turned into news without any proof necessary’).  But he still smiled when he got to the part that was actually about you and him.

‘The relationship is pretty new but they’re so happy together,’  a source close to the couple reported.  

Close indeed; that statement came from your publicist, who he’d never even meet.  

‘He’s a very private guy and she’s got this huge following, so they’re sort of an odd couple in that way, but she knows her fans are respectful and will let them have their own life outside of the spotlight.’ 

Bucky wasn’t sure that the respectfulness of fans was such a given here, but he hoped you were right.  To be fair, they’d been very sweet on your original post insofar. 

However, when he scrolled to the bottom of the celebrity magazine articles and realized they had their own comments section, he discovered that they were a little less forgiving than the ones on your Instagram.  

Is this the best she thinks she can do?  So sad tbh :(

a military guy…. yikes, she could get any guy she wants and she goes for a murderer. 

He looks like a hobo that found a coupon for a free haircut lol

I don’t buy it, I know she’ll always love Pietro!

Pietro being your former co-star that so many of your fans were convinced was actually your soulmate.  From what he’d heard from you, those speculations had made things so uncomfortable between the two of you that it killed your friendship.  Those were nothing, though, compared to the comments about someone you actually had dated.

she’s obviously not over sam… they were so good together

He’d better watch out for her ex, he still likes tweets about her and they have so much chemistry

Wait, she’s not still with Sam Wilson??  I could’ve sworn they’d been dating for, like, five years.

You were scrolling through your phone with a smile as you walked past where he was sitting on the couch, and he just couldn’t help himself from asking even though he knew it wasn’t the best idea.  “Do I need to worry about this Sam thing?” he blurted out, trying to play it cool and not sound too anxious.  “People are really obsessed with you two…”

“Sam and I…” you sighed, staring off into space for a second.  He made himself anxious imagining what you were thinking about in that moment.  “I haven’t talked to him in… years?  I think it’s just because our relationship was so public that people are still talking about it.  And it had a lot of gossip material— we did a movie together, people thought it was sweet that we got together during production, it was great promotion for the picture… and from the outside, we made a lot of sense for each other.  But he has his own problems.  I loved him, but… he wasn’t ever going to be a one-girl kinda guy.”

“But you’re not just any one girl.  You’re… you know, you,” he emphasized.

“You’ve been reading too many headlines,” you shook your head as you sat down beside him.  “Please don’t turn into one of those guys who thinks of me as a celebrity first.  Before that—” you pointed to your own name where it was bolded on his screen in the trending topics page of Twitter— “was popping up on movie posters and in gossip magazines, it was just my name.  And I’m not perfect.  Not even close.”

Bucky sighed and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him and holding you tightly.  “And before I knew you were famous, or rich, or incredibly talented, I was totally obsessed with you just for who you are.”

“You’re too fucking amazing,” you sighed as you held his face and gave him a gentle kiss— the kind of kiss that instantly melted his heart and banished his worries.  When you pulled back and looked up at him with a smile, it was like everything else just… faded away.  “Don’t read the comments, okay?  None of them matter.”

He smiled and brushed his thumb over your cheek, overwhelmed by not only the softness of your skin but of your spirit as well.  In all his life he’d never been handled so… gently, with so much care.  “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he mumbled, not even really realizing he’d said it aloud until you gave him a beaming smile.

“I can’t believe you’re my boyfriend,” you giggled pridefully.

“Seriously?  I can… very easily believe it,” he scoffed.

“I just mean… you’re so…” you searched for the words.  “You’re actually good to me, that’s the thing.  I’m not used to that.”

“You deserve the world,” he assured.  “I’m just gonna keep trying to give you as much of it as I can find.”

He watched his hand trail over your face, down your neck and to your chest where he played with the hem of your t-shirt.

"It's odd to know there are millions of people who are jealous of me,” he admitted quietly, remembering some aggressive comments from some very angry dudes who had apparently also watched your nude scene a few too many times.

"Do you like it?  Do you like how it feels to know you're making them angry every time you touch me?"

"Couldn't care less," he refuted.  "Nobody else matters when I'm touchin' you."

“Do you maybe wanna… touch me a little more about it?” you smirked, opening your legs slightly in invitation.

“Always.”

//

Bucky had, thankfully, not let the newfound fame get to his head.  In fact, he had demanded that the two of you hunker down in the house, since he feared that going out would lead to being recognized.  What he apparently hadn’t anticipated was that that might not be enough.

“Will you get that?” you requested when the gate buzzed, too wrapped up in the book you were reading to answer the intercom.

He hopped up and held down the button to communicate with the gate speaker.  “Who is it?” he asked.

“I’ve got a delivery from Anjappar Chettinad on 23rd?”

Bucky didn’t even reply before hitting the green button and granting access to the driveway.  BEEP BEEP BEEP! you heard the gate signal its opening, and the car pulling around up to the door.  Bucky didn’t open it until there was a knock, greeting the delivery guy with a smile and the necessary cash.

“I’ve got a lamb korma, hyderabadi mutton dum biryani and an order of— woah,” the man suddenly stopped, staring at Bucky’s face.  “Are you—?’

“Hungry?  Yes,” he frowned.

“You’re the guy dating— holy shit, congrats man,” he beamed, smacking Bucky on the shoulder pridefully before leaning in with a mischievous smirk.  “Say, is she a freak or what?”

“She is,” you piped up from the couch, making both men turn their heads; but one was chuckling while the other looked mortified.  “You better not have forgotten my paneer pakora or I’m gonna chain you up and whip you.”

“Uh, I— no, I got it right here,” he promised weakly, handing the bag over to Bucky and starting to dash away before Bucky grabbed his arm, making the smaller man whimper fearfully.

“You forgot the money,” Bucky reminded him gruffly, stuffing the bills into the driver’s front pocket.

Finally, he let go, and the delivery man instantly pulled away, rubbing his arm and looking a bit like a kicked puppy as he went back to his car and drove away.

“You didn’t need to scare him that bad,” Bucky chuckled.

“I could say the same to you!  Grabbing somebody with the metal arm like that will put the fear of God into them pretty fast.”

“I didn’t mean to grab him that hard,” he admitted, examining the prosthetic hand as he came back to the couch with the bag of food, handing it to you while he focused on watching his motorized fingers curl and uncurl.  “I think I need to get this thing recalibrated… it’s been bugging out lately.”

“I dunno, it was working just fine last night,” you smiled, remembering how delightfully cool those fingers felt inside you.

Bucky seemed to miss it entirely, though, as he stared off into space.  “I can’t believe I got… recognized.”

“You’re a star,” you winked.  “And not just with random delivery drivers.  I’ve had a lot of press requests, everybody wants to be the first one to get nice pictures of us together— we’ve had a dozen event invites as a couple.”

“Seriously?!” he scoffed, snapping back to reality slightly enough 

“Yeah, and look what came in same-day mail this morning!”  You leaned over to shuffle through the mail on the side table before finding and handing him a letter in a gold-embossed envelope, watching him read what you knew was inside.

The Hollywood Foreign Press Association extends an invitation to Y/N Y/L/N and James Barnes to the annual Grant Banquet in support of the Young Artists Fund.

“It seems like a good first event for us,” you explained.  “Relatively small and low stakes, it’s for a good cause…”

“Are you sure I’m ready to be, you know… seen?  By people?” 

You scoffed, hardly believing how insecure he could be sometimes.  “You look great, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Will I have to talk to anybody other than you?” he asked, grimacing as if that were a form of brutal torture.

“Probably,” you admitted.

His frown deepened.  “What if I say the wrong thing?”

“I’m not that worried about you,” you smirked.  “You’re a lot better at this stuff than you think you are.”

“I don’t have anything to wear…”

You smirked, a little too proud of yourself, when you remembered the email your publicist had forwarded to you just this morning.  “Hugo Boss will pay you $1500 to wear one of their suits on the carpet.”

“They’ll pay me to wear free clothes?” he repeated with wide eyes.

“Yeah, that’s one of the cooler things about fame,” you laughed.  “I make a grand every time I wear this watch outside!”

“I guess I should send them my measurements then…” he trailed off.  “Any chance I can get in on that watch deal?”

“No, but you can make $50 by getting papped at Jamba Juice.”

He paused for a moment, scratching the back of his neck as he thought.  “Is the smoothie comped?”

“I don’t know.  Do you want me to ask?”

“...kinda…” he admitted with a shy smile.  

“Well, I will, and I’ll RSVP to this invite saying we’ll be there next week,” you decided as you started to open up the food, but Bucky stopped you by reaching for your hands.

“Are we really doing this?” he asked.

“If you want to,” you mitigated.

“Of course I do.  I guess I have to accept that you’re actually willing to be seen with me,” he chuckled.  “It’s just sort of hard to believe.”

You leaned in and kissed him; it was meant to be a casual, reassuring peck but he held you closer and you melted into him, moaning softly at his touch as you started to climb into his lap.

“The food’s gonna get cold,” he reminded you with a mumble against your lips.

Unfortunately, your literal hunger was a bit too strong to ignore, even with the growing intensity of a metaphorical hunger for Bucky.  “Alright,” you relented, getting off of him and returning your attention to the meal on the table.  “Just know that I really, really want to be seen together, in public, just in case anybody missed the news about us already.  I’m not embarrassed by you or afraid you’re going to do something dumb.  I…”

One of those words that can’t be unsaid started to bubble up in your throat and you coughed, banishing the thought.

“I really like you.  I think we have something special.”

He smiled gently, giving you one more kiss on the cheek.  “I think so, too.”

//

Since this was slightly less of a big deal than a premiere or press tour, you had managed to convince your styling team to let you dress yourself, which was why he was laying on the bed and talking to you through the bathroom door while you put on your gown.

“Do you want me to hire a new driver?” you prompted him, voice muffled slightly as he imagined your head covered in the fabric, trying to navigate through the dress.  “I don’t want you to feel… I don’t know, like a servant?”

“A servant?  You’re still paying me,” he reminded you.  “You are still paying me, right?”

“Yes,” you laughed, “but still, I would hate it if you felt like staff.  You’re my boyfriend!”

(His heart still fluttered every time you said it.)

“No new driver,” he decided.  “I can drive just fine, and considering how things went between us… let’s not open the door for anybody else,” he smirked, making you laugh in that way you did when he made a stupid joke but you still liked it somehow.

“Okay, sure, but what about being my bodyguard?  Is that too weird?” you continued.

“God no,” he scoffed, “if anything I’m gonna be better at my job than ever.  As your boyfriend, keeping you safe is my job, but since keeping you safe was already my job… it’s, like, doubled-up now.”

He lost his train of thought when you opened the door.

“How do I look?” you asked as you stepped in and gave him a spin in your new dress.  Your whole body was draped in red silk, with the exception of your back which was almost entirely exposed, as if it were begging him to run his fingers down your spine.

“Like everything I ever wanted,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

And it was so odd that you questioned his desire to drive you, because those moments where he could steer with one hand and rest the other on your thigh, when he could catch a glimpse of you looking out the window at the city rolling by, when he got to listen to you ramble about something to kill the time during a drive; those were his favorite moments, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

After a relatively brief trip, you arrived at the venue, and all of a sudden he was doing what he’d fantasized about more than he’d like to admit: escorting you down a red carpet.  It was almost overwhelming— yelling, chattering, reporters speaking into camera, flashes going off in every direction—

“Hey,” you whispered, bringing your hand up to his cheek and instantly taking all his attention.

“Hey,” he returned.

“Just follow my lead,” you instructed.

“That was the plan.”

[mmonamona]

petty fights and lonely nights [corpse husband x reader]

synopsis: it’s the first time visiting your boyfriend, and with new experiences comes you first serious argument. fluffy ending cus I’m a sap.

a/n: ahhhhhh I’m nervous to post this but I’ve been simping too long and I need to get this idea out of my head. Also if you follow me and you see this, no you didn’t❤️ also also if anyone want to request anything, go ahead. Uni is kinda hectic but writing relaxes me so feel free to do so.

It was just another night, really. You could hear Corpse’s laughter from beyond the wall of his recording room as you prepped dinner, remembering the intricacies of his diet and preferences. You weren’t an amazing cook, but you were definitely better than him when it came down to it, and you refused to have him order takeout once again.

Since you had come to visit Corpse for the week, you noticed he seemed apologetic about pretty much everything in his life. He apologised his apartment wasn’t clean enough; he apologised he couldn’t do anything but order takeout for every meal; he apologised about his irregular sleeping pattern, and so on. Over and over you assured him that it was no problem, to which he would give a somewhat wary smile and a kiss on your forehead, only to continue with his everyday tasks. The week had almost gone by and already his apartment was looking tidier and his cupboards more stocked. It wasn’t that you were a clean freak per se, but you wanted to help the man you loved. You opted to doing smaller everyday tasks he wouldn’t normally be able to do without much effort because of his anxiety, like buying groceries and taking out the garbage. It was almost as if you already lived together.

With dinner now arranged, you wandered over to his door of his recording room to be greeted with silence. A peek inside confirmed that he had ended his stream and was now editing, so you walked in and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey babe, dinners ready. You should come eat,” you smiled encouragingly.

“I’ll come later, gotta finish editing this.” He said, giving you a quick glance before looking back down wrapping himself back up in his work. The pressure of gaining fame so quickly was clearly taking a toll on him, and you couldn't help but notice even with how much as he tried to hide it from you.

“Corpse, you’ve barely eaten anything all day. And you have to eat soon if you wanna fall asleep-”

“I know ok? Stop coddling me.” He grunted, not taking his eyes off the screen, but he seemed to halt his work on the computer in front of him. You paused, processing his words.

“...Coddling you? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You huffed, crossing your arms.

“You’ve been treating me like a child this whole week. I’m not bedridden, I can do things for myself.” He said, not even having to raise his voice for his words to sting.

“So thats what this is about? You think I-“

“Just fuck off, I don’t need you mothering me.”

His words lingered in the silence of the room like a bitter taste you couldn't wash down, and neither of you seemed to have a rebuttal. You could’ve shouted at him real nice and loud, given him a piece of you mind, but as you stood there imprisoned in your own thoughts, you realised it wouldn't be worth it. 

You rolled your eyes, letting out a huff of air. “Fine.”

With that, you left the room, the door closing shut behind you as you stomped across the apartment. Your stubbornness had you in a frenzy, impulsively pushing you through the living room and past the dining table, your mind set on leaving there and now. You opened the front door and- ..oh.

You didn’t have any shoes on. Or a jacket. And where would you even go? It’s not like you had any friends in the area. Or a car. And your phone was still inside.

These realisations were enough to snap you out of your stubbornness and make you roll your eyes at you rash behaviour. Fuck, you were really dramatic when angry.

You lived nowhere near, and you sure as hell weren’t getting a hotel room just because of a silly argument. With a sigh you stepped back into the apartment and slammed the front door shut, walking back into the living room and spreading yourself on the couch.

‘Our first fight’ you thought. It was so stupid, and now that you were calming down, you realised you could’ve handled that so much better. You peeked at the door of his recording room, guilt and regret flooding your mind. Admittedly, you didn’t know what you were expecting, but there was no sign that he had even moved from the position you left him in. As much as you wanted to go back and give him a hug and apologise, you thought it was best if you let him cool down too.

You figured he wasn’t coming out anytime soon, so you grabbed your dinner plate and sat back on the couch, settling for eating in silence. Watching a movie or something on your phone just didn’t attract you right now, not when you had so much on your mind.

Had you been coddling him? It wasn’t like you meant to baby him around, it’s just that you wanted to help him. You wanted to show him that you cared, that he could rely on you and that you would help him in any way. You didn’t even realise he could have taken it the wrong way, and it made you feel even more guilty. You frowned as you munched on your food, feeling lonely for the first time since you stepped foot into the apartment. Sure, you weren’t always with each other even now, but with the tension between the two of you, you couldn’t help but think that you missed him, even if it had barely been 10 minutes since you exchanged words.

God you wanted to slap yourself. You had only been dating him for a couple of months and yet you had fallen so hard. You almost laughed at yourself as you got up and put your empty plate in the sink, realising just how whipped you were. You turned back to the dining table, the remaining plate making you frown again, but you just walked back to the couch and sat down, pondering on how you could spend your time. You figured mindlessly scrolling through twitter could help you pass the time.

It couldn’t have been 20 minutes before you heard a door open, the sound of footsteps and sniffles echoing in the silent apartment. 

...Wait- sniffles?

Your head whipped around, and you were met with the sight of your boyfriend standing in the doorway of his recording room, his face stained with tears so uncharacteristic of him, his eyes clearly searching for you in the dark living room. His eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness and the fact that he couldn’t find you with his temporarily impaired vision was freaking him out, the eyepatch he still had on not doing him any favours.

“Y/n?” His voice wavered, lip trembling as if he was on the verge of tears once again.

“Babe. I’m here,” you replied quickly, getting up off the couch and towards him, where he met you in a warm embrace. You felt his figure relax against you; he released a shaky sigh to calm his breathing and held you tight, almost as if he was afraid you'd disappear from between his arms.

“I thought you left,” he whimpered, face buried in your neck. You rubbed his back in a comforting manner, and your other hand went up to play with his hair like you had every night all week when he couldn’t sleep, “I heard the front door-”

“No baby, I would never leave you. I was just angry, you know I’d never do that.” you whispered, tears gathering in your eyes.

“I’m so fucking sorry, I’m such an idiot and I s-shouldn’t have-”

“It’s okay Corpse, I know you didn't mean it,” you cooed, reassuring him with a kiss on the cheek as his breathing steadied, “I just- I don’t mean to pamper you or whatever,” you started. “And I don’t do it because of your health or because I pity you. I do it because I love you. Because you mean the world to me and I wish-“ your voice cracked, and you felt him tighten his arms around you even more; you recognised the sound of him holding back his cries. 

“I wish I could love all your problems away, but I know I can’t so I just.. I love you in the ways I can. You’re never a burden to me. And you deserve the world and I just wish I could give it to you.” You rambled, voice heavy with emotions. You buried your face in the soft fabric of his hoodie, wishing you could remain like this until the end of time.

“I love you too,” he sighed, “and I don’t need the world. I just need you.”

[armysantiny]

Letters For You - KSN

Pairing: Sunoo x female reader || Enhypen

Genre: fluff, oneshot, request

Includes: Soobin (TXT) mention, translator reader, idol Sunoo, massages, spa day, texts, gifts, coming home late, eating at a café, café, dying hair, KakaoTalk, cuddling, watching kdrama together

Word count: 1518

Warning: food cw

Rating: PG

Networks: @kwritersworld​, @kdiarynet​, @kpopscape​, @ultkpopnetwork, @kpopficsnetwork, @kpopcontentcreatorsclub​​ @k-dinernet​, @lovesick-net, @whipped-kpop-creators, @prism-nw​, @hybenet​, @k-library​, @k-mysticsnet​, @enhypenwriters, @enhypennetwork, @knet-bakery

Tagging:@teeztheflag, @intokook, @cherry-hyejin, @difcore, @ofaffectionate || Taglist Form

An: I hope you like this @xxatinyminionxx! I had so much fun writing this~

Long days at the agency weren’t anything new to Sunoo; just regular procedure. But coming home later than usual felt different ever since he had met y/n. Y/n was his lucky charm – Sunoo’s grounding presence when he would come back from the hectic rush of his schedule. And that night was no different, as the music artist sipped on his coffee on his way home. Entering the passcode for the shared apartment, the dyed-blond removed his jacket and shoes, a relieved sigh falling from him.

The apartment was quite that night however, much quieter than usual – the faint sounds of y/n working on a transcript nowhere to be found. Switching on the lights as he made his way to the kitchen, Sunoo’s eyes were drawn to the covered dishes on the table, and a note addressed to him.

“Does she have a part-time shift today...?” Voicing his thoughts as he went about following the neatly drawn instructions on the note, Sunoo warmed the prepared meal. Y/n had made his favourite, and he could almost distinctly hear – in his head – the subtle sound of y/n humming a nameless song under her breath, occupied with her next cooking project. His face flushed at the thought, humming the last melody he heard y/n singing. Perhaps y/n knew that he’d be home, because she’d video called Sunoo as he was putting the dishes on the drying rack. Picking up the call with a slight yawn, the teen perked up almost immediately.

“Noona! How was your day? Oh – where are you?” Sitting down on the sofa, Sunoo asked his question, parts of y/n’s background seeming vaguely familiar.

“Sunoo baby~ my day was good, I missed you today~ Ah – do you remember my sunbae? The one who went to study film?”

“Oh… Soobin hyung, right?”

“Mhm~ he needed a translator for his project late minute and I was the only one available. I’ll probably be gone for the weekend. I’m sorry baby~ will you be alright?” Y/n explained, an apology finishing her words. Soobin’s call had been the very definition of ‘out-of-the-blue’, but at the time y/n couldn’t deny that her sunbae sounded urgent. In any case, it was only for the weekend; Sunoo would be okay.

By next morning, Sunoo stretched as he slowly started to awake, his bedroom glowing from the light of the morning sun. Looking over to y/n’s side of the bed with a gentle but longing smile on his face, Sunoo traced his fingers over her pillow. She’d be back. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed and making his way to the bathroom to freshen up, the idol went about getting ready for the day ahead. Caught up on whether he should eat breakfast at home or go to a café, Sunoo grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge while he pondered on his options. Not expecting any calls for at least an hour from noon, Sunoo’s brow raised in curiosity when his KakaoTalk notification went off. Once he had read the display name, little butterflies bloomed in his chest as he opened the text message from y/n.

Y/n Noona: Morning baby~ I’ve been translating scripts until 2 am ☹ but I’ve got a long day, so it’s early alarms for me. Have you woken up yet? I saw a really nice breakfast café yesterday, I think you’d like it! I should vanish now, I’ll call you later. Love you, sunshine~

“Breakfast outside it is~”

Finding the café with the address y/n had given him, Sunoo marvelled at the exterior of the café once it had come into view. Had he walked into a kdrama set? The inviting scent of baked treats and hot chocolate were doing him no favours as it took a gentle hold over him, luring him into the ‘trap’ of a sweet breakfast – not that he was complaining, that is. Finding himself in line to order, Sunoo scoured the menu, easily finding something to eat that Saturday morning.

Watching people walk past the café windows while he nibbled on his pastries, Sunoo drummed his fingers against the table, unsure of what he should do to occupy his time. He could go and have a ‘me-day’; go to the spa, get a massage, redye his hair, all of it. Or he could head to the park and have a little picnic for himself, enjoy his break away from filming and schedules. Sipping on his iced coffee, the teen let himself get lost in thought as he set about finishing the rest of his breakfast. Food came first.

Making his way to the spa, Sunoo didn’t forget to make a stop by the library, buying one of the notebooks they had on sale. Y/n would definitely like it. The gift tucked away neatly in his satchel as he walked through the doors of his favourite spa, Sunoo went ahead and booked a massage for himself, a grateful a smile on his face as he took the clothes handed to him and went to the locker rooms to change.

A sigh of relief fell from Sunoo as the masseuse worked on his back, the knots in his shoulders finally being relieved after a long week. Feeling the urge to sleep getting bigger, the faux-blond let his eyes shut, the next thirty minutes passing by like a blur. Next thing he knew, the massage was over and he was being gently woken up by his masseuse.

“Mr Kim...?”

“Oh-oh, I must have fallen asleep. Thank you for the massage!”

“Oh no worries, you must have had a long week. Have a good day~”

“You too!” Bowing after he collected his things, Sunoo left the room, heading back to the locker room – where his clothes were waiting for him. Taking a seat and unlocking his phone, the teen scrolled through Twitter for a while before an – arguably cute – idea struck him. Opening KakaoTalk and recording a voice message for y/n, he sent it, a pleased smile on his face. That pleased smile soon turned into a wide grin as y/n replied almost instantly, cute stickers being sent his way. Snapping a quick picture and sending it, Sunoo put his phone aside as he changed, his heart beating as he anticipated his girlfriend’s reaction.

Y/n’s equally cute picture-reply on his mind as he sat in the salon chair, Sunoo had been getting his roots done, his hair layered between sheets of aluminium as he waited for the bleaching to work. His black roots had started to grow out, and he was due for a redye before it started looking like he had dip-dyed only half of his hair. Or before he started looking like a poorly designed manhwa character. Calling y/n, he asked about her day, listening to her speak with an endearing sense of curiosity on his face.

“I may have good news~” Y/n teased from the other line, watching the scenery pass by from her seat on the coach.

“Oh? Tell me~!” Sunoo replied, a light-hearted whine in his voice as he egged y/n on. He could just about hear the sound of steady traffic in between the momentary silence. “Are you driving Noona?”

“Hmm, kinda? I’ll see you later sunshine! Make sure to eat dinner~”

“I will!”

Returning home that evening after spending the rest of his day with his members, Sunoo opened the door to his shared apartment, a gift bag in hand. The sound of shuffling feet from the bathroom alerted him as he treaded slowly towards the front room. He wasn’t expecting any company, and y/n wasn’t due to return for at least the next day. Snapping his head to the sound of the bathroom door opening, Sunoo’s features brightened almost instantly, leaving his bags on the sofa as he ran over to y/n, engulfing his girlfriend in a hug. A laugh coming from the slightly older woman as she returned the hug, y/n cupped Sunoo’s face in her hands, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Y/n Noona! When – when did you get home? I thought you were coming home tomorrow?” Following y/n to the sofa, Sunoo pulled y/n’s hand into his own, playing with her fingers while she spoke.

“Ahh, the translator my sunbae was originally going to call made it to the location today. Most of the work was already done, so I managed to get home early. I did well, didn’t I?”

“Yep~”

Cuddled up together as they caught up on their drama, Sunoo paused the scene on screen when he realised that y/n was fast asleep on his shoulder, her subtle comments on the characters no longer accompanying the sounds of the romcom playing on TV. Resisting the urge to take a picture, Sunoo gently lifted y/n’s head, carefully holding her up while sliding a cushion underneath. Tiptoeing to the bedroom and returning with a blanket, he chuckled and covered y/n’s sleeping frame. Tucking in the edges and brushing a stray hair out of y/n’s face, he placed a kiss on her forehead.

“You’ve worked hard Noona. I’ll give you your gift tomorrow. Get some rest~”

[mari-writes]

📱⭐️💕

Akaashi hadn’t thought it was a big deal when he bought a Black Jackals #12-themed phone case.

He’d just needed a new case, and he’d heard that the team was selling them. That was it. There was really nothing more to it. 

Or so he thought.

Of course, Bokuto had to go and make it into something. 

They were meeting up for the first time in two weeks. Bokuto had been training in Osaka; Akaashi was busy with work. The anticipation of finally seeing his boyfriend again had been building all day, and when they finally locked eyes, Akaashi couldn’t help the flutter in his chest. 

“Keiji!” The man smiled broadly as he hurried towards him, trying his best to weave his tall, bulky frame between the small chairs and tables in the cramped Tokyo cafe.

“Koutarou.” Akaashi returned the smile, rising from his seat to embrace him in a tight hug and peck his cheek. 

After settling into their booth and ordering, Bokuto launched into a uproarious account of Miya Atsumu embarrassing himself at a recent fan event.

In the midst of the retelling, Akaashi’s phone chimed. “Crap, sorry Kou.” He whipped it out as fast as possible, switching off the ringer and laying it down screen-first on the table. Bokuto gasped. 

“You have a—that’s—oh, wow!” He snatched the device. “You got one of my phone cases!”

Akaashi blinked, confused at Bokuto’s intense reaction to something so trivial. “Uh, yeah?” His boyfriend turned the phone over in his hands, staring at the black, white and gold design with wide eyes, as if it were a precious jewel. 

“This is awesome! I hadn’t seen one yet!” Bokuto grinned, fingers brushing over the golden number 12 and his name that sparkled under the light streaming in from the window. “You got it from the online shop?”

Akaashi nodded, smiling at the other man fondly. “I wanted to show support for my favorite player.”

Bokuto squealed, a high-pitched sound, hilarious coming from someone of his size. “Keiji!” He collapsed forward onto the table. “I love you so much!”

Embarrassed, Akaashi just rolled his eyes. His boyfriend was ridiculous. Getting so excited over a piece of plastic… A phone case, of all things! Absolutely ridiculous… 

“I wish I had one with your name on it.”

Again, Akaashi blinked in confusion. “Huh?” Bokuto had taken out his own phone, examining the simple blue case disapprovingly.

“This is boring. I want a case that says ‘AKAASHI’! Or maybe ‘KEIJI’? Hmm…”

Akaashi barked out a laugh. “Kou, I’m just a tired manga editor who eats way too much onigri and meat buns. I’m not a star athlete, or a celebrity. Who would want merch of me?!”

Bokuto frowned. “I would!” He sat back in the booth, arms crossed. “I want your merch!” The man’s lip jutted out in a pout. Amused, Akaashi propped his chin on his hand.

“All right, love,” he chuckled, sarcastic. “I’ll get right on that.”

A few weeks later, Akaashi learned that his boyfriend had been dead serious.

He was enjoying lunch, munching on a bao bun in the break room when Udai Tenma strolled into the office and beelined to him. The smirk on his face just spelled trouble. 

Akaashi raised an eyebrow. “Please tell me that look means you’ve completed those chapter pages early.”

Udai grimaced, but recovered quickly. “Forget that! You’ll want to see this.” He held out his phone. Wiping his hands clean and straightening his glasses, Akaashi took the device and looked down at the screen.

It was a photo of Bokuto. At first, Akaashi only noticed his attire—or lack thereof. Bokuto was turned away from the camera slightly, as if someone had snapped the photo as he was walking by, and his team jacket was open… over his bare chest.

Akaashi couldn’t help but soak in the sight. Damn, he really hoped Bokuto would visit again soon. Those abs were just begging for Akaashi to…

Wait a second. What was that? Akaashi squinted, bringing the screen closer. Bokuto was holding up one hand in a peace sign, along with his phone…

And scrawled across the back of the black smartphone: Neon purple letters spelling out KEIJI, and the outline of a heart.

Akaashi’s jaw dropped. 

Bokuto had posted the photo on his Instagram account. The caption simply read: “Post-practice shot, taken by @miya_atsumu ! Stay cool guys!” 

People were freaking out in the comments. Akaashi scrolled through them, finding an equal amount of people drooling over his boyfriend’s muscles and speculating about what, or who “KEIJI” was.

“What the fuck,” Akaashi breathed. Udai was cackling, but it was just background noise as Akaashi hurriedly scrambled for his own phone. He opened Instagram and immediately sent Bokuto a direct message:

akaashi_k  – You’ve got some explaining to do, Bokuto Koutarou.

Bokuto must have been on a break too, because he replied almost instantly:

bokutokoutarou12 – Oh! Did you see my new phone case? 😘♥️😁 Isn’t it neat? I’m supporting my favorite editor!

Akaashi groaned, falling forward, almost landing in his lunch. He could still hear Udai laughing in the distance. Another coworker had arrived too, asking what was going on, if everything was okay. But how could Akaashi even begin to explain how he was feeling, without sounding like a total sap?

“That’s some man you’ve got there, Akaashi-kun,” Udai said, finally coming down from his giggle fit. “Where’d he get that, anyway? It must be custom made.”

Akaashi shrugged, turning to open Bokuto’s account again and ogle the photo. His name was right there, next to a symbol of love, for thousands of his boyfriend’s fans to see. 

“This is the silliest thing that’s ever happened to me,” Akaashi muttered, cheek still pressed to the table. He sighed, resigned to the fact that he was madly, deeply in love with Bokuto Koutarou—and that his boyfriend was the most ridiculous, embarrassing, cutest, most caring, wonderful person on the whole planet.

“I’m doomed.” 

//

Happy Bokuaka Week! This is literally the only thing I’ve had time to write. Special thanks to @45_kk on Twitter for their art that inspired this fic! Please, if you enjoyed, help me out with a comment and/or qrt. I always appreciate feedback and support. Cheers! —Mari 💕

[liquidheartbeat]

Rainy Dinner For Two

Iris grabs dinner from her and Barry's favorite diner on a dreary, rainy day.

Iris steps out of her car, underneath a dark gray covering of clouds.

They hang low in the sky, rippling past her quickly to the north. She hopes they’re signs of a passing shower, because she has a nice outdoor dinner with Barry planned tonight — and nothing will get in her way.

For the past six months, this has been their routine every Friday. She gets off work, then heads over to their favorite cafe and picks up their dinner. Usually, the weekend crowd has the place packed elbow to elbow, but the impending storm has run everyone indoors.

Everyone but her.

She takes in a deep breath as she walks, reveling in the earthy smell of incoming rain. The diner is nearly empty, except for the older gentleman in the booth, near the back. For as long as she’s eaten at this diner, there’s never been a day he didn’t occupy that spot.

He’s always orders the same thing. Two pancakes, three strips of bacon, an egg and Black coffee. And each time she walks into the diner, he greets her, tipping his hat forward.

Today is no different.

Iris smiles and waves, in return, then heads to the counter.

It’s a rare sight to see it completely empty, and she would take the chance to actually sit at one of the stools, but she’s already running a little late.

And Barry’s waiting for her.

At the counter, Karla, the evening waitress looks up from her phone, surprised to see a patron in this weather. Still, she smiles warmly. “Hi, Iris. What can I get for you today?”

“The usual, please.”

Karla’s nods as she writes it down by memory.

Steak, salad, potatoes au gratin. Fresh rolls. An entire pan of lasagna. And to top it all off, brownie sundaes, ice cream on the side — all of her and Barry’s favorite foods.

“Coming right up.” The woman smiles and heads to the kitchen to alert the cook that his quiet evening at work won’t be so quiet after all.

Iris is sure she hears him groan, but she doesn’t care.

She always leaves a generous tip, so he’ll live.

As she waits for her food, Iris pulls out her phone to pass the time. Her go-to app of choice is Instagram. It hasn’t always been this way;  as a journalist, she used to prefer Twitter to stay up on the news and gossip within her industry. But lately, Instagram has taken up special stock in her heart, serving as a living, breathing archive of her and Barry’s relationship.

So many beautiful milestones captured on film forever.

She finds herself scrolling through their years of pictures, at all hours of the day. Late at night when she should be sleeping at work.

Of course, her iCloud holds thousands more pictures than Instagram does, but what Instagram has that her phone doesn’t are Barry’s comments. His weird inside jokes, gentle mocking of her burnt food pictures, his excessive use of heart emojis on the rare selfies she posts, self deprecating jabs on their couple’s photos.

Invaluable expressions of their relationship through his eyes.

She smiles as she scrolls, grateful that her obsessive picture takING has served her well.

When Karla returns, Iris is deeply entrenched in her phone. “Iris?” She grunts as she lifts her huge order, tucked neatly into takeout containers. “I have your food.”

Iris looks up. “Oh.” She laughs and shakes her head, digging into her purse for cash.

The order always comes out to just under $50 bucks, another reason to love this diner. Not only is the food delicious, it’s dirt cheap. Iris always pays with a $100 bill. “Keep the change.” Her usual mantra.

Karla trades the food for the money and smiles. “Appreciate the business.”

“Of course.” Iris slides off the stool gathers the food.

As she turns to walk away, Karls says: “Give my best to Barry — he hasn’t been by in awhile.”

Iris pauses, stops dead in her tracks. “I will.” She smiles brighter glancing back at Karla, then heads for the door.

She steps outside and makes note of her surroundings.

The sky is darker, more menacing. The wind has picked up too. Iris walks in haste towards her car and packs up the food in the backseat, then rounds ducks into the driver’s side just as the first drops of rain begin to fall. Revving up her engine, she leaves the parking lot,and heads towards the sight of her and Barry’s weekly’s dinners. Her fingers tap along the steering wheel as she drives, her building anticipation fighting with her nerves.

It’s dumb to feel nervous. This is her husband, afterall. Her best friend. But the venue unnerves her. A large open plot of land, no dinner tables, no guarantee of privacy. Plus, the weather feels especially foreboding today. As she creeps down the road, the sky continues to darken. “God, this is going to be some storm, huh?” She says as she stops at a red light. Rolling her window down, she pokes her head out.

The temperature has dropped considerably and in only a few minutes at that. She glances at her backseat, checking to see if her jacket is still there.

She smiles as she realizes it is. If only she’d remembered to bring her umbrella.

For a moment, she considers texting Barry and asking him to run by the loft and pick it up. But she knows he’s occupied, so she refrains.

By the time she arrives, it’s drizzling slightly. But nothing too terrible. Her hair will be good as ruined, but she doesn't care. Her husband is waiting for her.

She gathers the food and her jacket, which she throws on her shoulder, and heads over to Barry. Thankfully, there’s no one else out, so they can have a private dinner. As she walks, she remembers that she forgot the picnic blanket to lie on the ground.

But it’s too late to turn around.

Guess she’ll have to toss these clothes once she gets home. Grass stains and mud do not mix. Still, she pushes forward, walking over the large plot of land.

“Sorry, I’m late,” she says as she sits the bag of takeout on the ground. “I got a little tied up at work.” Hands free, she slips on the jacket that’s cast across her shoulders, just as lightning illuminates the darkening sky.

She flinches slightly, but kneels to the ground in front of a large tombstone.

It reads: “Here lies Barry Allen. Born March 14, 1989. Died April 7, 2021.”  

She shakes her head to herself. Such a piss poor summary of a rich, varied life, full of service. Absolutely no mention of the sacrifices he made as The Flash, the same sacrifices that promised him an early demise.

But she knows that he gave his life for the city. So that the people he loved could live another day. She presses a hand to her heart, eyes welling up with tears.

His death had hit her like a ton of bricks.

But in the months since, she’d forced herself to hold things together and try to get as much out of life as she possibly could, so his sacrifice wasn't in vain. To keep living, to keep running. But once she’s in front of him, it’s hard to keep the promise she made to him.

These dinners are hard on her stomach, and not just because she’s eating enough food for a small family. But because there’s no goofy laughter at the end of her rant about her boss, no consoling breath when she expresses her insecurities about her position at work, no seductive crooning that foreshadows the next part of the evening, once they return home. It’s just her and the fresh air, and wilting flowers and Barry’s gravestone.

Thunder cracks overhead like a whip, pulling her from her thoughts. Lightning blazes across the sky. It’s a terrible day for an outdoor dinner. But then again, every day without Barry is terrible, when she really thinks about it. At least here, she’s closer to him.

The rain picks up, huge droplets pelting the ground. Iris pulls her hood on her head, and lays lengthwise in front of his gravesite. On a clear day, she’d trace his pitiful engraving with her fingers, but the weather has her seeking shelter inside her jacket.

She draws her arms inside her sleeves and holds the fabric together from the inside.

The food she bought is getting absolutely ruined, but truth be told, she doesn't have much of an appetite. Today, a conversation with her husband is the only thing she needs on her plate. “So, Barr,” she says, “I have so much to catch you up on…”

[gutmeats]

[FIC] Earthquake Prank (GONE WRONG) (GONE SEXUAL) (I DIED???????!!!!!!1???) | Part Two

AO3 Link | Previous Chapter (AO3 / Tumblr) | Next Chapter (currently not available

Fandom: Hollywood U

Pairing: Thomas Hunt x Avalon Hammond (M!MC)

Length: 5,643 words

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Teacher-Student Relationship, Fake Death, Canon Atypical Cursing

Summary: How do you apologize to your boyfriend after faking your death for a prank? Whatever your answer is, it's incorrect.

A/N: special thanks to my beta readers, @lame-kid-on-couch and @spacepumpkins ily smooch <3 they also beta read chapter one

Thomas Hunt watches in horror as Avalon falls through the open skylight and vanishes in the fog. “AVALON!” He screams, rushing to the edge. “Avalon! Avalon! Quickly, Ethan, downstairs! We have to--”

Ethan puts a hand on Thomas’ shoulder. “Professor… It’s too late..”

Lisa shakes her head sadly. “There’s no way Avalon survived that fall…”

“No…” Thomas stares into the smoke, kneading Avalon’s cardigan into a ball with his hands and pressing it to his chest. “I- I-” his voice breaks as he tries to speak. “I never told Avalon… how much I-- why didn’t I ever say…”

“Say what, Professor?”

Thomas whips around to see Avalon leaving the library, followed by Spencer and a few other students. “Avalon!” Relief floods his face. “You’re-! How?”

Ethan grins. “Do my eyes deceive me, or did Avalon successfully prank the Thomas Hunt?”

Lisa bounces excitedly. “We! Pranked! Hunt! We! Pranked! Hunt!”

“Is this the proudest moment of my life?” Ethan grabs Lisa’s arms and bounces with her. “Yeah! Yes, it is.”

Thomas looks in disbelief at the two bouncing happily, then at Avalon, who’s smiling- albeit somewhat sadly, and can’t meet his eyes. Slowly, he scowls. “No! You did not prank me! I never actually thought-”

Avalon tips his head to the side. “Come on, Professor. Accept defeat with a little dignity.” But even his gloating is a little flat.

Thomas stews silently for a moment, then throws Avalon’s cardigan back at him. “You may have won the day... but mark my words, I always have the last word.” And with that he turns and storms off.

Avalon reaches out to Hunt. “T-” He sighs and shakes his head, dropping his arm. After a moment, he pulls his cardigan back on and looks at his friends. “You guys owe me, big time.”

“That’s fair.” Ethan shrugs and pats Avalon’s back.

The five of them stand silently around the open skylight for a few seconds.

“So…” Lisa looks at the others. “What now?”

“I think we should clean up the screening room. We made that mess after all.” Avalon catches Bianca’s arm as she tries to slip away. “Nope. You too.”

Bianca huffs and frowns. “Isn’t that what the custodial staff is for? Why should we have to clean it up?”

“No. I’ll let the custodial staff know there’s a broken skylight out here so they can do something about the hole, but we’re cleaning it ourselves.” Avalon turns to the main building on campus. “You guys get started with the shelves and reels. I’ll be back with brooms for the broken glass. Crash, keep an eye on Bianca so she doesn’t try to get out of it.”

An hour and a half later, the five students lean against the walls and lie on the floor of the screening room. With the exception of the broken skylight, the room seems to be pretty much back in order.

“Ugh, is that it? Are we done?” Bianca moans. “Can we go home now?”

Avalon sighs and looks around the room, running a hand through his hair. “I think so… I mean, unless y'all wanna help me reinstall the skylight.”

The other four groan in response.

Avalon nods. “I thought you might say that.” Stretching, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns it off airplane mode. Instantly, he gets flooded with notifications. “What the hell-” He unlocks his phone and turns twitter notifications off before scrolling through them.

“What do they say?” Ethan looks over his shoulder.

“Well… it looks like a few are congratulating us for pranking Hunt…” He clicks his tongue. “...And the rest are condolences for my loss?” He squints, confused, and scrolls faster. “...Oh. Jenni tweeted that I died.”

“Oh my god!” Bianca laughs. “What did she say?”

Avalon finds the original tweet and reads it out loud. “‘OMG, just saw ‘@avasham’ fall through a skylight! Don’t think he survived. Sad days, he’s one of my close friends-’ with a frowny face, and the hashtags ‘RIP Avalon’ and ‘you will be missed’... since when was I one of her close friends?”

“Since tweeting about your death would get her a bunch of sympathy likes. Look.” Ethan points at Avalon’s phone.

Avalon rolls his eyes and types out a reply to her tweet. “‘Thanks for the condolences. Stop tweeting that I’m dead.’” He hits send and slips his phone back into his pocket. “Whatever. Since we’re done here, I’m gonna go talk to Hunt and apologize for all of us.”

“What, apologize?” Lisa jumps up. “What for?! Pranking him?”

“Yes,” Avalon says flatly. “Honestly, I think we took it way too far.”

“Well, you’re the one who jumped through the skylight!”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m going to apologize.” Avalon waves his hand and starts heading out of the room. “Y’all do whatever you want, I’m doing this.” He leaves before anyone can say anything else.

Crash watches him go, then looks at the other three. “Hey… do you guys think the professor will notice if some of his dried fruit goes missing?”

Avalon knocks gently on the door to Hunt’s office, then lets himself in without waiting for an answer. He locks the door behind him. “Hey…”

Hunt scowls. “What do you want, Avalon?”

Avalon sighs and takes a seat across from him, not meeting his gaze. “To apologize. We took our prank way too far, and that was even before I let them convince me to fall through the skylight. What we did in the basement was dangerous and stupid, and what I did after was even moreso.” He shakes his head sadly. “Most importantly, I’m sorry for putting you through that, Thomas. I was devastated when I thought you were knocked out, I can’t imagine what thinking I was dead must have been like for you.”

Hunt doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then he slowly stands up, putting his palms flat on his desk. “Don’t you ever-” he growls, but his voice quavers in a way that betrays his emotions- “scare me like that, ever again.”

Avalon looks away, ashamed, biting his lip. “I won’t. I promise.”

Hunt pulls the blinds on the window closed, then slips around his desk to grab Avalon’s hands and pull him out of the chair. He wraps his arms around Avalon, holding him close. He presses his face into the juncture between Avalon’s neck and shoulder. After a moment, he whispers, “Stay at my house. For the rest of the week. I don’t think I can let you out of my sight again after that.”

Avalon nods, turning to kiss the side of his head. “I will. I am so, so sorry.”

Hunt lifts his head, pressing a tender kiss against Avalon’s lips, and the two men stay like that for a while, holding each other in their arms.

Eventually, Hunt breaks away from the kiss and places his forehead back against Avalon’s neck with a sigh. “How am I supposed to get you home? You didn’t drive today, did you?”

“Fuck, no. I fucking hate LA traffic; Ethan gave me a ride so we could finish setting up…” Avalon gently strokes Hunt’s hair. He hums quietly in thought. “I do have an idea, but unfortunately for you, it does involve us spending about an hour with my friends.”

“Great.” Hunt grimaces and looks up at Avalon. “But I don’t think that’ll help to keep our relationship private.”

“It will if we play our cards right, but leave that to me. You should just think of it as getting to know your partner’s friends.” Avalon kisses the side of Hunt’s head, just above his ear. “Like the Spice Girls.”

Hunt sighs. “...Like the Spice Girls.”

Avalon leads Hunt to the common area of Lisa’s dorm where she, Crash, and Ethan are recounting the events of the day to Addison.

“--and that’s when Avalon fell through the skylight!” To emphasize what he was saying, Crash tosses himself over the back of a couch.

“I thought you said he didn’t die!” Addi exclaims, dismayed.

“He did, but he’s fine now.” Crash pops back up, leaning over the couch. He points to where Avalon is standing with Hunt, at the edge of the room behind the other three. “He’s right there, actually.”

“Oh! Ava!” Addi lets out a squeak, somewhere between surprise and relief, and rushes over to wrap Avalon in a tight hug. “I’m glad you’re not dead!”

“I’m also glad I’m not dead!” Avalon responds cheerfully, returning her hug. “That’s a whole thing I would prefer to keep y’all from experiencing!”

“Hey, quick question,” Lisa interjects, “what the fuck is the professor doing here?”

Hunt frowns. “Language, Miss Valentine. I know classes are over for the day, but I still expect a certain professionalism from my students while on campus.”

“Oh, sorry.” Lisa rolls her eyes. “What the fuck are you doing here, sir?”

Avalon lets go of Addi, but keeps his arm slung casually across her shoulders. “I’ve invited him to get dinner with us. As an apology.”

The other students look at each other, then at Hunt- who seems slightly startled himself- and then at Avalon.

Lisa speaks up first. “Why?”

Avalon tips his head to the side, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. “...As an apology. I just said that. Apology dinner!” He wiggles his fingers. “It’s the least we can do.”

Ethan stares at Avalon for a few seconds, then shrugs and stands up. “Well, we were planning on getting dinner already so I don’t see why not.”

“Well for one thing, he locked us in a basement,” Lisa retorts.

Avalon snorts. “We locked us in the basement, Lisa. He just took the key.”

“I just don’t see why we have to apologize at all! Especially since you already did a few minutes ago!”

“You saw his reaction. I don’t think a single, verbal apology is good enough.”

Lisa frowns and crosses her arms. “Wednesdays are supposed to be the nights where we hang out and pretend we don’t have unstarted homework due. How are we supposed to do that with one of our professors sitting with us?”

“Lisa… are you not doing your homework?” Avalon asks, concerned. “I can help you if you need it.”

Lisa’s face flushes and she scoffs. “Uh- of course I am, dad! I was just saying, you know, hypothetically if we didn’t have our work started…” She shakes her head and storms for the door. “Whatever! Let’s just go get this stupid apology dinner over with!”

“Right, well, we should get going before the dinner rush hits.” Ethan glances at Hunt and Avalon. “Crash and Lisa, you’re with me. Addi too, if you’re going to join us.”

“I’d love to!” Addison winks at Avalon and shoots him a thumbs up before following Lisa, Ethan, and Crash out.

“Wait- Ava didn’t drive, how’s he going to get there if he’s not coming with us?” Crash asks as Ethan herds him toward the door.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ethan looks back at Avalon one last time before leaving the building.

After a moment of silence, Avalon turns to Hunt. “Ta-dah!” He jazz hands. “An alibi.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“It’s better than nothing!”

Avalon sits in the passenger seat of Hunt’s sports car as they speed through LA, following Ethan in his porsche.

“Just as a heads up,” Avalon begins, gripping the inside of the door frame as Hunt zips through traffic. “This place we’re going, it ain’t exactly Michelin rated. It’s nice, yeah, but it’s one of them somewhat-cheap-but-high-end-feeling type places. Outta the way enough that we don’t gotta worry about paparazzi swarming us when Lisa is around, but still nice enough that TMZ or Dirty Hollywood ain’t gonna say anything stupid about us being there if someone does get a picture.”

“Thank you for the warning.” Hunt glances at Avalon while they’re paused at a red light.

“Mhm,” Avalon hums in response and turns to look out the tinted side window. They sit in silence for a moment before Avalon speaks up again. “By the way. Addison knows about our relationship. I think Ethan does too, but I haven’t told him.”

“What?” Hunt brakes a little too hard.

Avalon grips the doorframe tighter. “That first night we spent together, Addi and I had brunch planned for the next morning.” He shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t really think we were gonna see each other again so soon, much less because you’d turn out to be our teacher, so when she asked how the evening before went, I told her I went home with a cute guy named Thomas, and after that first day of classes she was able to put two and two together.”

“She hasn’t told anyone?”

“Of course not! Don’tcha think there woulda been tabloids and… I don’t know, weirdly invasive slash fiction on Tumblr by now if she’d told someone? Word travels fast, and gossip even faster.”

“I suppose…” Hunt sighs. “And Ethan?”

Avalon shrugs again. “Like I said, I haven’t told him, but he’s a smart guy so I’d be more surprised if he didn’t know. I mean, he figured out Janey and I have been each other’s beards since highschool without me saying anything about it. Besides-” he pokes Hunt’s shoulder- “You told Chris.”

Hunt waves Avalon’s hand away. “I was drunk! He didn’t even know I was talking about you until you told him your side.”

“Well how was I supposed to know you were also fucking him? You didn’t talk to me outside of class for, like, two months!”

“Because you’re my student, Avalon!” Hunt makes an exasperated noise and shakes his head. After a moment, he quietly says, “Do you know how hard those two months were for me? Having you so close, but just out of reach?”

“I know,” Avalon sighs. He gently places a hand on Hunt’s thigh. “It was hard for me, too.”

Hunt tightens his grip on the steering wheel and keeps his eyes locked on Ethan’s car ahead of them. Slowly, he lowers his right hand and places it on top of Avalon’s, lacing their fingers together.

He keeps Avalon’s hand firmly in his grip until they turn off the road and into a small parking lot, next to a smaller restaurant tucked away between the city and the suburbs. He puts his hand back on the steering wheel as Avalon moves his own back to his lap.

“It’s… quaint. I didn’t know this was here,” he says, quickly finding a parking spot.

“That’s the point.” Avalon smiles and taps the side of his head. “Not many people do.”

“Right…” Hunt sighs and looks at Avalon. “Let’s get this over with, then. I’d like to take you home as soon as possible.”

Avalon snorts and laughs, touching Hunt’s arm. “Dirty old man,” he says, fondly.

Hunt’s face flushes. “I didn’t mean it like that-” He frowns. “And we’re the same age.”

“I’m just teasing you, darlin’. I gotta get it all out of my system before I slip up and say something in front of my friends.” He begins to lean in to kiss Hunt on the cheek, but stops a few inches away and pulls back. Instead, he hooks his pointer finger around Hunt’s and gives it a gentle squeeze before letting go and exiting the car.

The two men walk toward the restaurant, where Avalon’s four friends are already waiting by the door.

“Took you long enough,” Lisa says hotly.

Ethan lets out a small laugh and opens the door, holding it for the others. “They were right behind us the entire time.”

“Whatever,” Lisa grumbles, following Crash and Addison inside.

Avalon laughs and shakes his head, stepping up onto the curb. For the second time that day- only this time by complete accident- he puts too much weight on his twisted ankle and begins to fall. For just a second, his body goes into panic mode. Instead of just catching himself, he braces for impact.

Which never comes.

At least, not in the way he expected.

Hunt pulls him upright, arms wrapped securely around his waist and concern in his eyes. “Are you alright?” He asks quietly.

Avalon’s face flushes. “Yeah,” he breathes. “I just tripped, that’s all. I could’ve caught myself.”

“It didn’t look like you were going to…” Hunt tucks some of Avalon’s hair behind his ear.

“Then I’m glad that you did…” Avalon gently places a hand on Hunt’s chest.

The two men lean towards each other, lips parted slightly.

Ethan clears his throat, still holding the door open while pointedly looking away from them.

“Hm.” With that, Hunt lets go of Avalon and enters the restaurant.

Avalon stands there, dazed for a second before shaking his head and following Hunt inside.

As he passes Ethan, Ethan grabs him by the elbow and says quietly, “Hey. Be careful.”

“I am being careful.”

“Ava, that wasn’t careful in the slightest. This is the kind of scandal that could ruin your entire career if it got out. As your agent-- more importantly, as your friend, I can’t let that happen to you.”

“Gah-- I know, it’s just...” Avalon takes a deep breath and sighs. He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s hard to be careful around him sometimes. I have to spend so much time around him every weekday pretending that I don’t-- that I’m not in a relationship with him. When he gets too close, all of me goes a little bit crazy.”

“I can’t say I know what you feel. But at the very least, please try to keep your hands to yourself in public.” He starts to enter the restaurant, but pauses and turns back to Avalon. “And maybe stop screwing around in his office. That’s a guarantee you’ll get caught.”

“Huh- wh- uh-! We weren’t--! We don’t--!”

Ethan laughs and shakes his head, and the two of them enter the restaurant together.

Try as he might, there was no way for Thomas to see the dinner as a way to get to know Avalon’s friends, not in whatever way Avalon had meant. They were his students, first and foremost, and the only things he could think to ask them about were class related. So, instead he opted to sit quietly and sip his water.

As did everyone else at the table.

Thomas couldn’t exactly place it, but something felt off. He’d had enough one on one time with Avalon that he felt rather comfortable in figuring out how Avalon felt most of the time, but the same could not be said about his friends. Conversation died out as quickly as it started, Avalon’s friends glancing oddly at Thomas every time. It was easier before the waitress took their orders, he just pretended to be as invested in the menu as everyone else seemed to be.

He did find that a little odd, considering he was sure Avalon had said they’d all been there multiple times.

“So,” Ethan says, finally breaking the silence that had fallen over the table since the waitress left. “Ava. How on earth did you get $30,000 in property damage?”

Thomas nearly drops his glass of water. “You… what?” He stares at Avalon in disbelief.

“Like I said the other day, prank went awry.” Avalon shrugs nonchalantly and sips his margarita. He was the only person at the table who had ordered an alcoholic beverage; Thomas realizes with a start he had no idea if Avalon’s friends were over the legal drinking age or not. He knew Avalon was, but he typically didn’t care to know the exact ages of any of his students.

“But how?” Spencer- Crash, Thomas reminds himself- presses, leaning across the table. “And how come we haven’t heard anything about this?”

“Because it was forever ago- literally, not like last week or something- and also in Texas. It happened when I was in high school. Senior prank gone wrong.” He takes another sip of his drink.

And doesn’t say anything else.

Thomas glances around the table, trying to gauge the reactions of Avalon’s friends, before clearing his throat and speaking up. “Yes, but how exactly?”

“I’d tell you, but we took a blood oath never to speak the details.”

There was a pause.

Then Lisa started laughing. “Good one, Ava.”

“I’m serious. Look.” Avalon sits up and holds his right hand out, palm up. He points out a thin white scar that ran across it, barely there anymore. “It hurt like a bitch and I couldn’t use it for a while. It still hurts sometimes, honestly. They don’t ever bring that up when characters do it in movies.”

More silence.

Ethan took a deep breath, rubbing a hand across his face. “Wwwhyyyyyyyyyy. Why would you do that.”

“To make sure we don’t talk about it, obviously.”

“Yes, but why?” Addison asks.

“Why do teens do anything, ever? Edgy bullshit is usually the answer.” Avalon shrugs again and waves his hand. He picks his margarita back up and goes to take a sip, but stops. “Hey. T-- Professor, you said you were a production assistant on Battlefield Earth?”

Thomas frowns. “Are you really using that to change the subject?”

“Yup. That must have been interesting, huh? That movie was made by some… interesting people, wasn’t it?” Avalon leans a bit closer to him, eyes wide.

Beautiful, beautiful brown eyes.

Thomas clenches his fist under the table, digging his fingernails into his palms to keep himself from reaching out and tucking that strand of hair back away. “If you’re talking about John Trevolta, I don’t know if he’s homosexual. It was 1999 and I barely interacted with him.”

Avalon let out a laugh- loud and beautiful- and that weird offness around the table seemed to dissipate, at least a little. “No! I didn’t mean John Trevolta-- well, I guess I kind of did? But not for that reason!” He suddenly turns serious and slaps his hand down on the table, staring intensely at Thomas in a way that makes him feel… something. Something enjoyable. “Scientology. That’s the reason.”

Thomas blinks, chasing away those lingering thoughts. “Oh.” He scrunches his face and shakes his head. “Why do you want to know about that?”

“Honestly, I wanted to know if you believed that cr--” Avalon cuts himself off, looking like a deer caught in headlights for a second before shaking his head and returning to normal. “But your expression kind of answered that.”

Thomas scoffs. “The only way I would be in a cult is if I was the head of one, and I already deal with enough people who can’t think for themselves.”

Avalon’s friends share a look, and Avalon himself takes a particularly big sip of his margarita.

Thomas furrows his brow, confused for a second, and then realizes what he just said. “Oh, not-” He frowns and glances over his shoulder. “This doesn’t leave this table at all, but you five are the least intolerable of my students this year.”

“Wow,” Lisa says, flatly, “That was almost a compliment.”

“Don’t let it go to your heads.”

“I mean, we can try, but we're bound to end up with inflated egos if you keep sucking us silly like this.”

Avalon chokes on his margarita.

“Anyway, Professor,” Ethan says, leaning forward to put himself between Lisa and Hunt.“I wanted to know how you found out about the prank if Avalon didn’t tell you. I spent four years working on it!”

“Perhaps you should have taken another four years,” Thomas responds.

Avalon gives him a look.

Thomas sighs. “As much as this… pains me to say, you did put a previously unseen amount of effort into your prank.”

Lisa scoffs and begins to say something, but Avalon reaches across the table and shoves a complimentary breadstick into her mouth. “Quiet, child.” She glares at him, but eats the breadstick, slumping back into the booth seat with her arms crossed.

“If you must know,” Thomas continues, ignoring them, “there was a variety of things that tipped me off. Did you really think transporting a machine big enough to simulate an earthquake of that size onto campus would go unnoticed?”

Ethan frowns at Avalon. “I thought you were distracting him during that.”

“I was,” Avalon states. “In some ways.” Then he chugs the rest of his margarita to avoid elaborating.

“Your second mistake,” Thomas says, “Was allowing Miss Stone to, ah, help. Not only am I well aware that none of you like each other, but she tells her friends everything she does, and in turn Miss Whitman tweets everything she says.”

“Hey, why did you invite her?” Addison asks. “I could have helped.”

“Because she overheard us talking about it,” Ethan answers, “and I got the feeling that if I didn’t let her join, she would do everything she could to ruin my plans.”

“She did that anyway.”

“Yes, but not as bad as she could have.”

Lisa scrunches her nose. “I liked it better when we were talking about anything but Bianca.”

“Well, the good news is, we don’t have to talk about anything now,” Avalon says, gesturing at the approaching waitress.

Although the conversation had all but died down again, Avalon was glad to note that the silence was considerably more comfortable than it had been when they first arrived. On one hand, Crash and Lisa still seemed a bit uneasy to be sitting with their professor, but on the other Ethan and Addison had quickly realized that this was a perfect opportunity to grill their friend’s boyfriend-- nothing too invasive or inappropriate for students to be asking their teacher, of course.

During a lull in the questioning as they ate, Avalon discreetly- unconsciously, almost- shifts his leg to press it against Hunt’s. When he notices Hunt looking at him, he smiles innocently. The corner of Hunt’s mouth twitches upward slightly for not even a half of a second before he presses it back into a line.

Once the food is eaten and the bill is paid, the group quietly files out, no one really wanting to extend this apology dinner for longer than necessary.

“So,” Lisa begins, hopping once in place and turning to her friends when they reach the parking lot. “Apology dinner is over, we don’t have to spend anymore time with the professor, I think we should go clubbing! Just the five of us. No offense, but I don’t want some old jackass tagging along.” She pauses. “Actually, no. Full offense.”

“Avalon is the same age as I am,” Hunt mutters under his breath.

“Yeah, um, actually-” Avalon stifles a yawn. “I’m kinda tired. Y’all go clubbing without me if you want to go. I think I’ll head home.”

“Aw, what? I wanted to celebrate our prank. We couldn’t have done it without you!”

Avalon sighs and rubs his face. “Lisa, it’s Wednesday. We have class tomorrow.”

“So?”

“So we’ll take Avalon home and then we can go clubbing,” Ethan states, cutting in.

“But it’s not as fun without him!” Lisa whines. “Plus, I’m 100% sure Ava is going to love this club.”

“I’m sure I will, on a day that I don’t need to work on a three page essay for one of the harshest professors I have a class with. Honestly, I think you should go home and get started on your assignments as well.” Avalon gives Lisa a pointed look.

“Ew, no, I’m still going clubbing. We’re just going to have to party extra hard this weekend.”

“We’ll see. If that's it, I’m going to call myself a cab and head home.” He glances quickly at Hunt.

“Don’t bother,” Hunt says. “I’ll take you home.”

Lisa raises an eyebrow. “Really? You seemed like you wanted nothing more than to get the fuck out of here and away from us. I’m surprised you haven’t left already.”

“Forgive me if I want to make sure the student I watched fall two stories into a basement gets home safe, Miss Valentine.”

Lisa turns back to Avalon, scrunching her face. “You’re not going to go with him, are you? I’d hate it if he knew where I lived.”

Avalon shrugs. “Hey, a free ride is a free ride. If he’s offering, I’m not going to turn him down.”

“Alright, but it’s on you if he eventually decides to break into your place to murder you in your sleep.”

“Yeah... something tells me he’s not going to do that. You don’t have to worry, I’ll be fine!”

Lisa pouts. “...okay. Fine. But you should check if he keeps any test answers in his car.”

“I won’t. And I’m sure he doesn’t.”

“Check anyway!”

“I will if you study tonight!”

Lisa scoffs and sulks off.

Avalon hugs the rest of his friends, then climbs into the passenger seat of Hunt’s car. As Hunt starts the car up, Avalon turns to him. “Hey, can we actually stop by my place? I know I’ve got enough at yours that I can stay there for the rest of the week, I just…” He sighs and lightly touches the spot on his neck where a gold band usually hangs from a chain. “I left my necklace at home because I didn’t want to lose it, and you know I hate not wearing it.”

Hunt nods briskly and begins the drive to Avalon’s neighborhood.

While Avalon changes into his pajamas, he can’t help sneaking glances over at Thomas, who has turned away. His partner was attractive, he couldn’t deny it, but currently he was focused more on how unusually quiet Thomas had been on the drive back from his house. The guilt from earlier that day had come back and was beginning to gnaw at him again.

He peels off his T-shirt, tossing it into the hamper and grabbing his sleep shirt from the nightstand. He slips the new shirt on, leaving it unbuttoned as he crosses the room to wrap his arms around Thomas's waist, pulling him close.

He gently kisses up Thomas’s bare shoulder and neck. “Hey, you…” He says quietly.

Thomas puts his hands on Avalon’s arms, leaning into his embrace with a soft sigh.

Avalon strokes Thomas’s hip lightly with his fingertips. “I know that it won’t make up for today at all, but…” Avalon kisses Hunt’s jaw. “Let me take care of you tonight?”

Thomas closes his eyes, sinking farther into Avalon’s arms just for a second. Then he stands up straight and shakes his head. “Go to bed, Ava.” He pulls away.

“...Okay.” Avalon lets his arms drop to his sides as he watches Thomas leave the room, turning the light off as he goes. “Okay.” He buttons up his shirt and crawls into bed, lying so he faces the door. He grips the gold band on his necklace for comfort, grateful for its reestablished presence.

A few minutes pass before Thomas returns. He barely glances at Avalon as he makes his way across the room to the other side of the bed. He settles down under the covers, his back to Avalon.

Avalon shifts, turning slightly. “Would you like me to-”

“No. Not tonight, Ava.”

He nods, swallowing hard. “Right. Okay.” He lies back down, hugging his pillow. He takes a few deep, steady breaths. “Toma, I… I’m sorry.”

There's a pause.

“I know, Ava.”

Normally, it didn’t take long for Avalon to fall asleep.

Normally, he could just shut his brain off as soon as he got comfortable.

Normally, he wasn’t fighting with Thomas.

That’s what this was, wasn’t it? He had upset Thomas, and now he was mad and they were fighting. He just wished he knew what to do to let Thomas know exactly how sorry he was and how much he regretted what he did. He sifts through idea after idea trying to figure out something- anything- that would work.

And then Thomas rolls over and presses against Avalon’s back. He puts a hand on Avalon’s waist and rests his forehead between Avalon’s shoulder blades.

Avalon freezes, unsure of what to do as Thomas’ shoulders start gently shaking. He squeezes his pillow, and for a few minutes just lets Thomas cry quietly.

It isn’t until Thomas lets out a strangled half-sob that Avalon rolls over and wraps his arms around him, holding him close and stroking his hair.

Thomas hurriedly wipes his eyes, trying to even out his breath. “You’re--” He takes a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t wake me, I wasn’t asleep…” Avalon kisses Thomas’ forehead. “I couldn’t sleep. Not after today.”

“If I had known you were awake, I wouldn’t have…” Thomas trails off and shakes his head. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

Avalon frowns. “Don’t be. I understand why, Thomas. You don’t need to be sorry.” He strokes Thomas’ cheek lightly. “I’m just glad you’re not keeping it all bottled up.”

Thomas nods, turning his head and kissing Avalon’s palm. “I thought-” His voice breaks and Avalon can feel tears beginning to slip down his face again. “I thought I lost you, Ava.”

“I know.” Avalon kisses his cheeks before resting his forehead against Thomas’. “I know. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that…”

“I know we haven’t been together for that long, but I--” Thomas cuts himself off and takes a shuddering breath. “I care so much about you, Ava. I don’t know what I would have done if you had-”

“But I didn’t. I’m right here with you. I’m not going anywhere, Toma.”

Thomas nods and kisses Avalon before burying his face in Avalon’s shoulder. Avalon rubs Thomas’ back and runs his fingers through his hair, not unlike how he had earlier in the day.

And the two men hold each other.

Until they both fall asleep.

[lizbotw]

it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different—things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

[mingiswow]

Genre: smut, fluf at the end

Pair: sub!Chan x dom!reader (female)

Word count: +1,9k

Warnings: smut, sub!chan, dom!femreader, mistress kink, pegging, oral (f receiving), facesitting, slightly degradation, anal fingering (male receiving)

A/N: Hi! I don’t know exactly but I was talking to my friend the other day about Chan and OH GOD my mind went places... and ended up in here. So I hope you enjoy me being a filthy h**e about dominating this man. Also, I’m a bit rusty with English so pardon me if there’s anything wrong. I missed writing so much too, so yeah... here it is

You looked at your smiling boyfriend on the screen of your phone, his weekly live playing as you did your assignments. His bright smile was something you admired. As well as his loving persona towards his fans.

“I really love this song” he said as one of your favorites stopped playing. He always played one of your songs just to show you he remembers every song you claim as yours and his. “It’s very romantic” you laughed, knowing damn well that it was a very sensual song.

He scrolled through the comments, answering stays questions, thanking the compliments over the comeback. “I missed you... daddy” he read the comment, lowering his voice to say the word, but it was still possible to listen to his whisper “I missed you too baby stays” you chuckled to yourself, knowing his demeanor too damn well.

In a matter of seconds the internet was filled with videos, gifs and print screens of the phrase. Twitter going wild over it, thousands and thousands of girls commenting about being dominated by him.

You looked over your computer screen, it was past midnight and his live was still going strong, so you decided to let your assignments aside and prepare the bed for when your boyfriend decided it was time to come home.

It was around 2 PM when Chris opened the front door, his steps careful not to wake you up. He dropped his bag on the table and slowly walked to your room, finding the low light still on. “B-“ the words got stuck on his throat when he saw you sitting on the bed, still awake. Very much awake.

“Hi, sugar. I thought you wouldn’t come home today” the smirk on your face - and the toy in your hand - warned he was in for a long night. “Especially after your little show” you slowly walked over the man, his ears, neck and face getting red - and probably the tip of his cock too. “Why did you call yourself today, baby?”

“D-daddy” his voice just above a whisper, the stuttering getting the best of his confidence. Everytime you appeared near him dressed the way you were and with the whip in your hands he knew he did something wrong and was going to be punished. And he hated to admit that he loved.

“Interesting” Chan felt the familiar sting in his thigh, the muscle tensing underneath. “You think you’re daddy?” another sting, this time a soft whimper barely leaving his mouth.

“N-no” he felt your warmth close to his body and all he wanted was to hug you, to hold you close and apologize. But he couldn’t.

“No who?”

“No, mistress” the whip hit his butt this time, a soft moan escaping his lips and he could feel his dick throbbing underneath his sweats.

“Such a good boy, aren’t we? So obedient, so eager to please your mistress” your hands softly touched his toned abs, lowering to his bulge already very visible in his pants. He hissed as soon as he felt your touch, head thrown back in pleasure. “Always so sensitive. I love how my baby gets hard so fast. Who are you hard for?” this time your fingers wrapped around the volume and his lips left the most obscene moan.

“You, mistress. I’m so hard for you. Please let me give you pleasure” you wanted to just throw him in your bed and ride him until there was no tomorrow, but you had to punish him.

“Baby boy wants to give me pleasure?” he nodded eagerly, his lower lip stuck in between his teeth. “So why don’t you show me what those pretty lips of yours can do huh? Take your clothes off and lay in bed”.

Chan rushed his clothes out of his body, his dick springing free and hitting his stomach, a sigh leaving his lips. He laid his body in bed and you could see his chest that you loved so much rise up and down with his heavy breathing. You slowly walked your way to the bed, losing your lacy panties on the way.

You straddled his lap, grinding ever so slightly on his hard cock before moving upwards. “Be a good boy and put your tongue out” Chand gladly did, leaving the wet muscle on display. You gently sat on his face, your weight being held by your legs that almost gave out as soon as the boy gave your core the first lick. He placed his hands on your thighs, pulling you even more towards his face, a moan dying in your throat when he assaulted you needy clit. “Hm baby… that’s it… you’re doing so good for mistress”.

He quickly stopped his ministrations “I want you to cum on my mouth, mistress. Can I please taste you?” 

“Do you think you deserve it? Do you think I should give you what you want after being such a brat?” he moaned when you pulled his head closer to your pussy by his hair, the vibrations almost sending you to the edge.

“I’ll be a good boy, please. I promise I won't do it anymore. I’ll be mistress’ good baby” his voice was muffled by your skin and his needy tone was music to your ears. You loved when he begged. “So show me what you can do, make me cum” you could feel his smile in between your legs as he pulled you even closer to his, holding your legs like his life depended on it. His tongue was fast and skillful, almost rough against your pussy, alternating the pleasure between your entrance and your clit.

You could feel your orgasm building quickly as he kept playing with your clit, sucking the bud a few times. The moan that left your lips when you finally orgasmed sounded more like a groan and Chan licked your cum like you were his last meal, moaning with the taste of it. “Thank you, mistress” he thanked when you left his face, your juices dripping from his chin. The most beautiful sight you’ve seen.

“You made me cum but I still have to punish you, baby” Chan bit his lower lip when he saw you grab the strap and lube from your toys’ drawer. “Turn around sweetie” you came closer, lowering to his ear “I still wanna fuck your ass until you beg me to stop” you could see his dick twitch by your words.

The boy lifted himself, getting back to the bed, this time getting on fours. The soft and pale skin of his ass in display for you, the patch where you hit him with the whip earlier was still shining a pretty shade of pink, making you smirk to yourself.

You prepared yourself, putting the strap around your legs, the smaller dildo that was placed inside entering your pussy deliciously, making you enjoy the fun as much as the boy in front of you. Your hands caressed his ass cheeks, massaging and squeezing the skin, feeling him move his bottom towards you. “You have no idea how hot you are, baby boy” you landed a slap on his ass, a soft whine leaving his lips. “How delicious your body is” another slap. “How everytime I see you I want to grab you and fuck you senseless, make you whimper and scream my name like the little slut you are” his hips rolled themselves against your strap, his head hanging low. “You’d like that, don’t you?” Chan could only moan and whimper underneath you, his fists balled on the bed sheets. 

He hated to admit, but he loved the power you had on him, the way you made him feel every single time you guys had sex, either it was loving, caring and slow or it was dirty, rough and got him seeing stars. “I couldn’t hear you, princess” you added when you heard a mumble, his words barely forming properly with the anticipation. The tip of the dildo touching ever so gently his rim. “Yes, mistress. I’d love that. Please, fuck me, please” his whines where the cutest and he knew you were weak for them.

You smiled and lubed the dildo and your fingers as well. His breath got stuck on his throat when he felt you gently invade his hole with one of your fingers, stretching him little by little, soon adding a second one. Chan’s moans were music to your ears, getting louder by the time you started pumping your fingers in and out of him, his body coming back to meet with your fingers. “M-more… please… I need your cock so bad… I will be a good boy, please, mistress” you cooed at the way he was begging you. “So needy my princess” you took your fingers out and he hissed at the sudden emptiness but soon being filled by the toy, his body jolting forward but soon coming back to meet your hips, the dildo completely buried inside him. The sight before you making your own walls clench around the dildo inside you. 

Your hips slowly started to move, letting Chan get used to the feeling but soon enough your hips were pistoning inside him, his hips meeting yours halfway, your moans mixing deliciously together and you were sure your neighbours could hear everything perfectly but neither of you cared. “Mi-mistress…. agh…. I’m so close” the boy moaned underneath you, his torso already thrown in the bed, his head pressed on the pillow. “You can cum, baby. Come for your mistress, show me how of a dirty baby slut you are for me” your words combined with the fast motions of your hips made Chan come all over the sheets without even having his dick being touched. The sweet whimpers and moans leaving his lips taking you close too, the scene of him shaking underneath you with the tip of the dildo hitting his prostate over and over again, overstimulating him was a sight to behold and soon enough you came too, slowing your thrusts as you rolled your hips against the dildo inside you. Your hands holding yourself on his hips as you rode your orgasm.

Chan hissed when you left his ass empty, suddenly feeling strange with not having you deep inside him. You went to the bathroom, taking off your strap and leaving inside the sink to be cleaned later and cleaning yourself. You grabbed a wet warm towel and cleaned the wasted boy on the bed, soft giggles leaving him as you rubbed over some extra ticklish parts. You left the towel with the strap on the sink and joined your boyfriend on the bed, hugging him and pulling his body next to yours, his head laying on your naked chest while he mindlessly drew circles on the skin of your tummy. “I love you, Y/N” his voice was low and hoarse from the previous actions. “I love how comfortable you make me feel with my own desires. Thank you for being my girlfriend” he kissed the muscle of your breast and you could feel your heart swell at the sweetness. 

“I love you too, Channie” your lips left a kiss on the top of his head, hugging him closer. “And I’ll give everything you wish as long as you behave and be a good boy” he nodded giggling and kissed your lips. “Now go to sleep, princess, you must be tired” he snuggled against your body and soon he was fast asleep.

You played with his hair, a smile on your own lips as you fell asleep with the love of your life in your arms.