#they grew old and they became pining idiots

[hellomayu]

[orchidyoonkook]

PG | KTH

Title: PG 

Pairing: Older Brother's Best Friend!Kim Taehyung x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Touches of Fluff

Summary: You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up.

But that’s about it. Nothing more. And reality is something you’re able to keep a solid grasp on when it comes to him. You don’t let it go for the sake of acting on a one sided and unrequited feeling you know will pass… eventually.

Warnings: nicknames! a disgusting amount, language, assholes being assholes but being put in their place, brotherly love, sibling antics, tae is a swimmer and knows judo, also a Dan is--for the lack of better phrasing--a high belt level in judo. think of it like a black belt, OC cant keep it in her pants and neither can tae, mutual pining, lots of great gatsby references because I'm tyring to be that bitch (I am joking), tae has tats, OC's brother is an overprotective idiot but we love him anyway, slight physical abuse not by tae or reader or fourteen--basically someone grips an arm too harshly, some panic but no panic attack,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 11,521

Release Date: September 15, 2024. 12:00PM

A/N 1: The biggest most huge thank you to @violetsiren90 for being my sounding board, tech support and beta. She's a real one and y'all are sleeping on her work if you haven't alread read it. Go check her out!

A/N 2: My access to the adobe suite was aha....revoked. So! this is my first time making a banner and divider without photoshop. Therfore, the banner and the divider are a bit different than what I'm used to having XD. Tumblr is also absolutely destroying the qualty which is sooooo great. It looks wonky and blurry to me on desktop but fine on mobile so it is what it is. If i ever get adobe access again I'll probably come back and update the graphics.

Explicit Warnings: *ahem* nicknames, teasing, kissing, biting, marking (several ways), hand and finger kink (duh), voice kinklet (duhhhh), hair 'pulling' (m rec), semi public if you squint, hella foreplay, tae has a big dick, penetrative sex, oral (m+f rec), fingering, handjob?, multiple orgasms, body worship, switch like activities but mostly dominant tae, posessiveness, confessions, reader takes what she wants but so does tae, exhibitionism if you squint, slight cum play/eating, implied squirting, choking, cream pie. Pretty sure thats all of them. i never reailse how many i need to put until the list is done and wow *chuckes while blushing*

“Oi, can you fucking not? My sister’s right fucking there,” your older brother, Fourteen—nicknamed for his forever mental age—ridiculously and unneededly overprotective as always, says.

It is especially unneeded and ridiculous as he’s saying it to Tae, when all he’s doing is taking off his shirt to go for a swim in your pool. Like he’s been doing since you were tweens.

Well.

Since you were a tween and they were nearing the legal drinking age. But that’s besides the point. 

Best friend to your knuckle head of an older brother, you honest to god have no idea how they became friends. 

Taehyung is poetry and jazz and button up cotton shirts. Old book smell and expensive cologne, ringed fingers and whiskey, neat. The kind of vibe someone would get from being raised by a very successful lawyer for a father and a top ranking university professor of literature for a mother, while Fourteen is… your older brother. 

Maybe it’s a younger sister thing to not understand how her older brother has any friends. Considering you grew up with him, know all of his weird and gross habits, have a lovely dash of sibling bullying thrown in that you two share equally, and more. Yet, by some miracle, he and Tae manage to balance one another out. 

Tae—fucking somehow—makes your brother into a more presentable human being. He showers more than twice a week and wears deodorant every day now—even puts the seat down after peeing, a habit you’ve been screaming at him to stop doing since you could use the toilet. While Fourteen gives Tae a rougher edge he previously never seemed to be able to grasp, despite trying his best too. 

For example, the several delicate tattoos he now has all over his body, your favourite of which is an old timey record player on the inside of his forearm. They were something he’d been wanting to do for years, but only finally bit the bullet on and did once Fourteen took him when they were twenty two. 

Since then the collection’s only grown, much to your inner glee and mental dismay. 

And don’t even get you started on the delicate, thin rimmed glasses he occasionally wears—golden and the perfect shape for his face—or the ear piercings that just really fucking cement the tortured poet look that makes your heart clench every. single. time. you look at him. 

Similarly to what it’s doing right now, though no one ever knows due to your truly oscar worthy talent for acting completely oblivious to the beautiful shirtless man about to dive in. Call it over a decades worth of practice, and the fact that it’s also nothing you hadn’t gloriously taken in all teenagehood long. 

Every time you could get it. 

Which was a lot because Tae was on the high school swim team. 

For four years. 

And then the university swim team.

For another four. 

Teenage you was a lucky bitch. Now you’re only blessed with this sight when he comes over to swim laps or attempt to drown Fourteen. Which, admittedly, was still often. But not nearly as much as back then. 

The sight in question however, is curled black hair that frames eyes so warm you swear the sun’s relocated to his irises, and a jawline that makes the Statue of David’s pathetic in comparison. It’s fingers that make your mouth water from the way they flip book pages and thighs that make you think thoughts and things you never thought you would. 

It’s the scribbled text: ‘To err is human; to forgive, divine’ tattooed across his ribs, and a lean torso, muscled but not outrageously so. Just enough to have you forcing yourself not to stare at the delicate lines of his abdomen every time he comes over for a swim. 

Thank god for sunglasses. 

“Nah, I’m sure PG can handle it, Dumbass. I’ve only been using your pool every summer for the last 15 years give or take,” Tae says with a quirked brow and a half smile directed at you. 

Behind your sunnies, you heat up a touch, and internally sigh. Have you mentioned his smile yet? 

Because oh yeah, his fucking smile. 

Tae’s a nickname kind of person, hence why even you call your brother ‘Fourteen’. Taehyung’s called him Fourteen for so long now that calling your brother by his birth name just feels wrong. 

This being said, PG is Tae’s nickname for you. 

It stands for the TV rating ‘Parental Guidance’ because you’re younger by enough that when you were still under the age of 18, they—see: your brother and Tae because they’ve been joined at the hip since they met—were usually assigned babysitting duty. Very much the ‘take your sister with you’ sibling, but they never complained. Not once.

As much as you and Fourteen bully one another, you’re actually quite close when you aren’t verbally sparring—which is where his annoying overprotectiveness comes in. Even when it comes to Taehyung. 

“Yeah, Dumbass,” you copy, earning a smirk from Tae as he leans down to take his shoes off. “It’s just Tae.”

“It’s not about that YN, it’s about respect. You’re my little sister, and Fuckass over here,” you brother jabs a thumb in Tae’s direction, which earns you a second hidden smirk from the Fuckass in question, “Still doesn’t know how to respect that fact even after a decade and a half apparently.”

You shrug as Fourteen finishes his point and narrows his eyes at his best friend. Tae gives him a shit eating grin that screams ‘what are you going to do about it’ and your brother gives him a two fingered salute before shaking his head and taking off his own shirt. 

You take that as your cue to put your head back down because you don’t need to see that. 

Currently in very comfortable linen shorts and tank, you’re sitting on a padded pool lounger, rereading The Great Gatsby for the hundredth time. It’s one of the classics that never gets old for you, has the benefit of being a shorter read—therefore perfect for the poolside—and happens to be the copy Tae’d gotten you for Christmas a couple years ago. Pure coincidence, you tell yourself. Nothing more. 

With the beautiful addition of your very darkly glassed sunnies, it also makes the perfect decoy as you watch Tae over the top of the open book without risk of being caught. 

You firmly follow the rule of a little looking can’t hurt. 

You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up—see: current shirt stripping debacle. It’s not the first nor the last time he’ll do something like it, and you’re pretty sure you and Tae have an unspoken agreement at this point to push as many of Fourteen’s buttons as you can together, just to see how far he’ll let it go before freaking out.

But that’s about it. Nothing more. And reality is something you’re able to keep a solid grasp on when it comes to him. You don’t let it go for the sake of acting on a one sided and unrequited feeling you know will pass… eventually. 

Despite the flames that rage and roar on in your heart. 

Despite the green light on the dock across the way tackling your brother under the water. 

You hold on. And only in these little moments of in between do you allow yourself to look. Pockets of time where a peek won’t be seen or recorded, and a moment of self indulgence keeps your sanity from trying to escape its tightly locked box.

You look and look and look until the green light is covered in fog once more, and the lid of the box seals tight.  

Another day, another glorious abuse of best friend privileges, Taehyung thinks to himself as he continues his butterfly down the imaginary lanes in Fourteen’s pool. 

He tries to come over at least three times a week. Four or five if he’s able, the more he’s over the higher chance he has to see you, not just Fourteen. But he’s rarely able to these days. 

Though the wind appears to have shifted in his favour today. You’re sitting on the lounge chairs again, reading away in the afternoon sun. 

It’s his favourite view. And it’s sweetened by the fact that you’re in the shorts he loves and reading a book he gave you. Something he’s done since before he could remember, really. 

Christmases and birthdays, he’s always given you a book. Usually a classic, sometimes something else. If it caught his eye or reminded him of you, he’d grab it and save it until the next Christmas or the next birthday, whichever came first. And you’ve always loved them, so he’s never stopped. 

They’re gifts that seem harmless to Fourteen, and for the most part they are. But these last few have been…different. Had deeper thought put into them. The titles, the story lines, the prose. He swears you notice it, but maybe that’s just his own wishful thinking. 

And he sure as fuck can’t be doing any of that. 

This cold water isn’t doing its job well enough.

Finishing his set, Tae swims over to rest before starting on his front stroke. Forearms hold him up on the edge of the pool, his chin balancing on stacked knuckles while his breath catches. 

He also uses this little break as an excuse to talk to you. He only ever freely can when Fourteen isn’t around, and right now his best friend is inside grabbing drinks, towels and probably relieving himself–which, knowing Fourteen—could take anywhere from thirty seconds to thirty minutes. So he has to take advantage of every moment he gets. 

“Got any new recommendations for me PG?” 

Books are an easy starting point when it comes to you. Fourteen may be a graphic novel at best kind of guy, but your brain can’t seem to inhale enough books to satiate it. And just the thought makes his temples rush with heat. 

He should dunk his head again.

You lower your Fitzgerald by one inch and raise an eyebrow to counter it. Just like your brother, you’re always one to give him a hard time. Make him work for every millimeter of ground conquered. And he’s pretty sure you have a smirk hiding behind the pages, though he can’t be certain due to the sunglasses hiding your eyes. 

“Maybe,” you say. “What do I get in return?” 

Answering that question about fifty different ways in his head, Tae decides none can be said out loud. He seriously needs to fucking reel himself in. Fourteen could return at any moment and the last thing Tae needs to have is a problem between his legs because you never make it easy for him. 

But rather than listening to his very rational thoughts and very logical brain, he instead decides to say fuck it, and croons in the voice that used to fluster you as a teenager. 

“What do you want in return, PG?” Hoping to soften you up, even the playing field a bit. 

And it works like a charm. 

Your body releases its tension on an exhale, your page is marked, book set to the side, and your legs extend and stretch before crossing at the ankle. It makes him wonder if your little girlhood crush on him still exists somewhere in the back of your mind. Probably not.

Scratch that. 

Definitely not.  

“What if I wanted a new nickname?” you ask.

Both his eyebrows raise in surprise. “What’s wrong with PG?”

“It makes me feel like I’m eleven,” you explain. And then hit him with a dose of his own medicine as you croon, “I’m not eleven anymore, Tae.”

No you sure as hell are not. And it kills him in a way that has him wanting to die over and over again. 

He could consider it. But he doesn’t think he’ll change it, not when PG can stand for so many wonderful things. Things you would never think he’d let it when addressing you. Things that would have Fourteen trying for drowning attempt number two thousand four hundred sixty three, and succeeding. 

“I’ll think about it—Fair?”

You ponder before agreeing. “Fair.”

“Now about those recommendations…” He reminds you, and that’s all it takes to get you going.

Fourteen comes out about ten minutes later, but by then, Tae has a new list of books to grab from the store, two laps under him with eight more to go, and you’re reading again—one bare leg bent at the knee he’s trying very hard to ignore when he comes up for air. 

By the time he’s due for another breather, you’re talking to your brother about plans for the weekend. 

“I’m going out early on Friday for Rei’s birthday, remember? And I’ll probably crash at her place after,” you say. 

Fourteen is sitting on the second lounge chair across from you, most likely playing a game on his phone if Tae had to guess. But at your reminder, your brother looks up.

“Fuck that’s right. Okay so no dinner then, I’ll just grab something on my way in.”

“Sounds good. What about tonight?”

Fourteen gives it about two seconds of thought. “How about Don’s?”

Your face lights up at the suggestion. “Fuck yes! I’ve been craving their milkshakes for like a week. Hey Tae!” you call to him. “Don’s for dinner? There’s a chocolate shake with your name on it if you’re down.”

Tae pushes himself out of the water onto the pavement and doesn’t miss the sly once over you give him while Fourteen chucks a towel at his chest, covering your eyes with his other hand. 

He catches the projectile before it can knock him back into the pool, and uses it to dry his hair.

“Dude! Seriously? Go find a fucking shirt or something, no one wants to see that.”

You swat your sibling’s hand away and give him a look that screams ‘grow up’ while Tae drapes the towel over her shoulders, a hand gripping at each end. 

“I’m only down if Dumbass is paying,” he says, smirking at your brother. 

“—What—”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” you agree, holding out your hand in his direction. 

“—Hey wait a seco—”

Tae grabs and shakes just to watch the steam flee Fourteen’s ears at the contact. He meets your eyes conspiratorially, and you both nod before rushing Fourteen. 

“—You fuckers!—” is all he gets out before Tae and you are grabbing an arm and a leg each and throwing Fourteen’s fully clothed ass in the pool. 

He curses the both of you out several times as he treads, drenched and dripping, up the stairs and out of the water. Tae throws him the towel. 

“You’ll pay for that, Asshole,” Fourteen tells Tae, and Tae grins. 

“Oh, I’m counting on it. Worth it though.”

“And you!” Fourteen says, eyes on you. “What the fuck dude? The betrayal to your darling, one and only brother hurts. I’m wounded,” he lays it on thick, walking up directly beside you. 

You're a hairsbreadth too late to realize when he shakes his hair out directly over top of you and you shriek, pulling your knees up, protecting the book under your shirt and behind your legs at all costs.

“Fourteen! The book! I will kill you if you damage it!”

Fourteen chuckles. “Payback’s a bitch Little Sister.”

You sneer at him, checking your prized possession for injury. Not a scratch. 

“And sopping wet is your colour, Jackass.”

“Big words for someone who can just as easily be thrown in the pool.”

You pause. Eyeing him directly. 

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

Your brother looks at Tae with an evil plot in his eyes and you screech as they both nod once. You drop your book behind you as they yank you up by your arms and fling you into the pool, too much momentum from them and not enough resistance from you leaving you matching your darling, one and only brother.

As you come up for air, two colossal splashes ricochet from the left and right. Tae and Fourteen having both cannonballed in on either side of you. You choke on splattered water for a second before you’re attacking them with splashes, merciless in your pursuit for revenge. 

“You both suck!” you half giggle half yell. 

“Yet you love us anyway!” your brother falsely—correctly—claims. 

You roll your eyes before trudging out, heavier and dripping with your soaked clothes.

And it's not until weekend plans are cast aside for current memories, Taehyung treating you all to dinner, and you treating everyone to milkshakes, that all is forgiven. 

It turns out Rei’s dad knows the manager of the most exclusive club in the city—Youth—and managed to call in a favour. So now you, her, and your other bestie, Lea, are all on the dancefloor to celebrate her birthday. 

Rei’s first request for the night besides not paying for a single drink, was to dress up in the hottest, sluttiest outfits the club's dress code would allow for. 

This, for you, meant a black, square necked, low cut, and thin strapped satin slip dress that hugged you in all the right ways, matching heels adored with ankle strap bows and a sultry makeup look. Lea chose a dark blue shimmery number with a high leg split, vibrant graphic eyeliner, and wedges, while the birthday girl found the skimpiest forest green mini dress you’ve ever seen paired with heels that wrap ribbons up her legs, and a subtle dewy look on her lids. 

She’s glowing, and needless to say, they both look hot and so do you. 

Rei’s second request for the night was to dance until you either collapsed or threw up, whichever came first. A goal you were all making a steady descent towards as the night progressed. 

That is, until your blood runs cold at the sight of your cheating ex boyfriend making his way through the crowd in a direct beeline towards you. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You’re alone right now. Rei and Lea are taking a bathroom break. 

You insisted you’d be fine for ten minutes. It was just ten minutes. What could possibly go wrong in ten minutes?

But apparently god just loves to play jokes because here you are, three shots in, not emotionally prepared enough to be near him, let alone speak to him, and by yourself in this huge crowd of strangers while he’s making very good time on his route to you. 

Fuck! You do not want to deal with him right now or—fucking ever, actually. 

He’d cheated on you four times that he admitted too throughout your two and a half year relationship, all while faking being blindingly happy directly to your face. He’d lied to you and hurt you and made you wonder what you did wrong for him to do that to you. It took all of your third year of university and more therapy sessions than you care to admit to realize you were never the problem, and that he was a piece of shit. 

So, with the fifteen feet between you two quickly shrinking, you try your best to hide from him in the crowd, only to run directly into him when you duck past a fellow club goer. 

Son of a b—

“Heyyy Y/N, how’ve you been?” he says like he didn’t destroy your entire sense of self worth for a couple quick fucks. 

You want to down three more shots just to be able to puke all over him. Intentionally, you haven’t seen him in years and just the reek of his stale ass cologne has you close. 

“Fuck off Micah, don’t you have somewhere you need to be sticking your dick—like a garbage disposal?” You snark, doing your damndest to not let him get close. But the throng of bodies surrounding you have other ideas and you’re thrown against your least favourite person in existence.

Delusional as ever, Micah sleezes, “Doesn’t seem like you want me to leave just yet, Kitten,” and you shove him off you as hard as you can while bile rises at the horrible name you used to beg him not to call you. 

You need to get off the dance floor.

Now.

Before you can, Micah grabs your arm and he pulls you back into him, hard.

Tae watches you out of the corner of his eye, wondering why in the hell you came to this club, of all the clubs out there. 

The club he was at. Wearing that and truly testing the limits of his self control.

Music blasts through speakers that move the ocean on the dancefloor. Bodies sway like waves, some crashing into one another with teeth and tongues and passion, others pushing with the current, grinding and gripping and grabbing at anything they can get their hands on. The louder and faster the notes whirl over their swells, the harsher the storm rages on, people flowing in and out of the eye when needed. 

He’s sitting at a booth on a dais high enough to watch you in the hurricane whilst being out of eyesight, notably with one or two faces he barely recognizes enough to most likely be your friends. 

They appear to be currents. They drag you into deeper waters and you let them, helpless to their siren call. Leading you to your place amongst the sea life, and reveling in the way the melodies wash over you again and again with every song that plays. 

His eyes follow you as you dance, curious if Fourteen knows you’re here before flinging the thought out of his head as quickly as it entered. You’re grown now, don’t need protection anymore. A lesson he learned the day you returned from university after graduating. 

No longer his best friend's kid sister who they kept an eye on, but a woman who was and still is growing into herself beautifully. A woman who is steadfast, strong and more often than not, correct in her opinions. A woman who is well read and equally if not more so well spoken when she deigns to acknowledge his existence. A woman who knows how and when to turn all of that off in order to team up with him in a roast battle for the books against her brother. 

He thinks of that day as the beginning of his downfall. 

He can humbly admit that his intelligence, demeanor and education are things that have been nurtured into existence by his parents and carefully maintained by himself with practice and both mental and physical exercise. He takes care of himself, inside and out. Exercises regularly, eats well, has good hygiene. He’s level headed and patient. Respectful and responsible. Controlled and competent. 

He prides himself on these things. Actively works towards keeping them maintained. 

And yet. 

Somehow when it comes to you, he is little more than a single brain celled idiot. 

All of the things he uses to measure his self worth evaporate whenever you enter his field of vision and he becomes fucking ravenous. And all of his focus goes into controlling himself.

He’d never noticed before, never thought of you in the way he does now. How when your currents break from formation and head towards the bathrooms, their outgoing force creates a riptide that some fuckhead with a stupid haircut uses to sweep in and dance with you. 

But you push him away. 

He doesn’t get the memo, and the mophead tries his best to yank you out to sea again.

Magma flows through Taehyung's veins, thunder cracks in his ears and all he can think about is storming through the crowd to steal you from said fuckhead by claiming you for himself.

But he won’t. 

Can’t.

All because of his darling best friend. 

Fourteen doesn’t know about his feelings for you of course. And Tae rather likes being alive and in one piece, two things he most definitely would not remain should he act on any of these feelings.

You are wholly off limits, forbidden. A little too young, a little too immediately related to his best friend, a little too perfectly his fucking type. It kills him every time he can’t even look at you without Fourteen going into what he calls ‘asshole mode’. 

So you remain in his very close periphery. Untouchable to the fingertips he aches to caress you with as you dangle your existence in front of him. Your wicked tongue, your delicious intelligence, your sexy fucking legs—fuck!

He has to stop thinking about you like this.

But that only makes him want you more. 

It’s like the gods handcrafted you for him. Every piece, every detail of you immaculate, but he committed one to many sins in his past life, and now they’ve locked you away forever as punishment. 

You float across the night sky, stuck in a golden cell. Its fourteen bars hold you hostage amongst the stars, all while he’s chained to the bottom of the ocean floor gasping for air. 

But fuck the gods and fuck their gilded cages. 

He’d break from his chains, swim to the surface of the sea and grow wings. Would break your prison apart with the sheer force of his wanting, then drag you down to the depths if it meant he got to keep you for himself. 

He would. He really, really fucking would. If his world wouldn’t implode completely if he did. 

So he keeps these thoughts to himself. Forces them down as they try their damndest to bubble over and burn him, because they will if he lets them. If any of them get outside these little moments, the ones where he allows himself to feel, he would burn and burn and burn until there was nothing left. 

Therefore, Taehyung has never been more grateful that his best friend was stuck on the night shift while he watched you dance and enjoy yourself, because it granted him this sliver of time to pretend like your brother doesn’t exist. 

That you are something he could let himself have, if you wanted him to.

And he’s solid in his decision to only observe, to stay inside his little moment, until fuckhead doesn’t get the message for the third time and Taehyung is out of his seat before he can think. 

Because Fourteen isn't here. 

And old habits die hard. 

“What the hell? Let me go, Micah!” You see his eyes then, red rimmed and glazed. He definitely has more than one thing in his system as his grip on you hardens further. The more you struggle, the tighter he grasps and—ouch, ouch, ouch, yank, fuck! Ow!—it’s really starting to hurt. 

“Just give me one more chance Kitten, I promise I’ll do better,” he whisper in your ear over the music, and you cringe back from how loud he is. But that doesn’t stop him from continuing, “I fucked up, I know I did. But that was years ago, and I learned my lesson. Just one more chance Kitten, just one more, and I—I promise. I promise it won’t happen again. It won’t. I really miss y–AH! What the fuck!?”

The hand on your arm releases the second Micah yelps in pain. You look down to see familiar ringed fingers around Micah’s wrist, clutching so hard they’re white knuckled and skin bruising. 

A broad chest comes to rest at your back, and an arm snakes around you. Its large palm rests on your stomach and hip as it pulls you tightly against its owner. 

Words covered in sharpest ice are spoken from behind you, their baritone so recognizable they have you melting back into him. 

Safe. 

You’re safe. 

Exhale.

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.” Taehyung growls so deeply, so powerfully, you feel the rumble from behind his sternum reverberate into your body. 

Micah’s focus shifts from his wrist to the man several inches taller and several years his senior still holding it. You watch as his face contorts from pained to confused and then to murderous. 

“The fuck are you to tell me not to touch my girlfriend?” Micah seethes, and you stiffen because no the fuck you are not, and haven’t been for several years. 

How blitzed out of his mind is he right now?

You don’t even get the chance to deny his words before Taehyung’s on Micah like fire to dried grass.

“Don’t make me laugh, Asshole. No way in hell an pig faced looking fucker like you could pull a woman like her. Now,” Tae roughly shoves Micah’s hand back to him, and it forces Micah to stumble into the people behind with the force. “Get the fuck away from My Girl before I make you My Problem. And trust me,” Tae says in a tone so dangerous, you’ve never heard him sound so terrifying in the fifteen plus years you’ve known him, “You don’t want me to make you my problem.”

And you realize, that this isn’t the Taehyung you’ve grown up with; seen through his awkward teen years and watched come into his adult life with. This isn’t jazz music and poetry Taehyung. 

This Taehyung has only ever come out the handful of times you’ve ever been in trouble. The one who studied Judo with Fourteen growing up, the one who has his fourth Dan. 

The one who does not play when it comes to you and your safety. 

It’s enough to know that Taehyung is more than pissed off, and more than a little ready to beat the absolute shit out of Micah, if the whiskey on his breath says anything about his loosened inhibitions. 

Micah seems to sense this too, and decides to back off. But not without a stupid macho expression and two middle fingers directed at both of you as he disappears into the crowd, and out of sight. 

You can feel the tension radiating off Taehyung in waves, a coil so tightly wound that a gentle breeze could set him loose, so you turn around and attempt to safely unwind. His hand moves from your stomach to your lower back, and you ignore the trail of wildfire it leaves in its wake because Tae’s eyes haven’t wavered from the spot where Micah just stood. 

“Don’t.” You say, loud enough for him to hear. And his flame filled irises snap to yours, burning. “He’s not worth it.”

Your words seem to bring him back somewhat because Tae sniggers. “Damn right he’s not,” then softens. “Are you okay?”

You look anywhere but at him, the reality of the last three minutes crashing down onto your head like broken glass while the both of you are still caught in the middle of the dancefloor. 

The people around you seem to understand something’s happened, and you’re left mostly untouched aside from the gentle nudges of inebriated party goers whose balance isn’t the best at the moment. 

Like the mellowed waves in the eye of a storm.

Taehyung seems to make sense of this at the same time you do, and lifts his free hand for you to take. Slipping your fingers into his, he leads you to an unused and out of the way emergency exit hallway somewhere in the back of the club. It’s completely empty and dark, undisturbed besides the occasional server passing by. 

It’s private. 

It’s safe. 

You’re safe.

You’re safe.

He lets go of your hand and looks at you again. “Now, are you okay?” 

The adrenaline is wearing off, and you can feel yourself start to shake. You ignore it. Sort of.

“I’m okay,” you say. But he’s eyeing you suspiciously and rightly so, so you repeat yourself, trying to convince your own brain more than his right now. 

“I’m okay, really! I’m good. I’m–” you exhale a shaky breath and he doesn’t ask before pulling you to his chest. Wrapping both his arms around you, one around your back while the other holds your head protectively to him. Your own go around his waist as you grip him back tighter.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

“I’m okay,” you say again, muffled into his black high necked shirt, taking deep breaths of his soothing, familiar scent. You do it and again, and again. Repeating the pretty lie to yourself again and again until it becomes the truth. 

He doesn’t let go until you do, and you don’t let go until you’ve finally stopped shaking.

You look up into his eyes, and all signs of his previous wrath are gone. It seems the hug didn’t ground just you, it grounded him too. Got him out of the headspace that would’ve been required for action first, words later. But now the sun is back, it shines down on you, and you bask in its warmth. 

“I’m good now. Thank you,” you say in an even and unwavering voice, because you are. The panic and immense relief having washed over you, and you’re once again simply, pleasantly buzzed. 

Though you do have a new problem in the form of the warmth pooling low from the feeling of both his hands still on your lower back. 

You’re trying to convince yourself it’s his way of keeping you safe.

But the lock on your box has the key inside it, and it’s just begging for you to turn it. 

“Good,” he replies, still not letting go. And it’s chipping away at your sanity. “Who was that guy? I only caught the last bit of his pathetic ramblings.”

You wince. Due to a lovely combination of not being very active on social media, not being much of a picture taker, and the newly dyed hair Micah seemed to be sporting tonight, you’re not surprised Tae didn’t recognize him. 

“Ah. Uhm…That was...Micah,” you admit, unable to meet his eyes again. That’s when you notice his outfit tonight is all black. 

Oh you are so fucked.

 “As in Micah, Micah?” Tae asks neutrally, familiar with what your ex had done, just not what he looked like. 

“...Yeah...”

“I see.”

“Yeah...” You say again. Because what else could you say?

Tae cracks a smile. “Should’ve let me kick his ass. The balls on him not only to approach you, but to call you his—” he cuts himself off, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing in a hushed, caring tone. “After everything he’s done to you, you should’ve let me, PG. Consequences be damned.”

Your cheeks flame at the nickname so close to your ears. So tenderly said. And you honestly can’t tell if you still hate it in this moment, or if it’s only adding kindling to the fire his hands are fueling at the base of your spine. 

The new name he’d called you earlier, its ignition point. 

My Girl.

My Girl.

You swear, even in your panicked state, you’d momentarily forgotten how to breathe before inhaling far too much all at once. 

Fuck, what you won’t give to hear him say it again. But you’re 98.9% sure that’s the three shots of vodka talking. Trying their best to turn the damn key. And maybe they succeed in turning it half way—hell, maybe all the way, because you look him back in the eyes and hear yourself say,

“Maybe I should’ve, but I was far too distracted by the new nickname you finally gave me to give a single fuck about anyone else.”

The moment the last word is out Taehyung stiffens beneath your touch, fingers locked on your back, and you’re very pretty sure you just fucked absolutely everything up. 

Years of good behaviour, of keeping yourself in check. Of pockets of time and side long glances and knowing nothing would ever happen, stolen from you. By your own big, fat, adrenaline depleted, vodka loosened mouth. 

You're a second away from damage control before his grip shifts from your lower back to your hips. 

Higher. Tighter. Controlling. Oh fuck.

He leans down to murmur, “Liked the new name, did you?” in your ear.

Shivers shoot from your crown to your core and down to your toes. Having his deep, deliciously inviting voice so fucking close to your pulse point has you millimeters away from drowning in it. You know he can feel it course through you, just like you can hear the smile it makes him display away from your eyesight as he does. 

“You did then,” he responds for you, a cat toying with its meal as he lifts his head once more to look into your eyes. 

You don’t need a mirror to know the state of your pupils. Your gaze is glazed over in the sinful kind of way.

“I did,” you needlessly confirm, looking up into similarly blown out ones.

The fingers twined behind him release, and make their way around to his abdomen. They pause to splay for just a second at the defined ridges, before slowly crawling up his chest and meeting again at the nape of his neck. 

They play with the soft hair there, gently scratching their nails at the skin beneath where it grows and you watch as your ministrations cause his eyes to roll back, flutter shut, and his head to meet the wall behind him. A barely audible moan escapes the confines of his lips before he swallows,  the divine bob of his adams apple as he tries to regain his composure is the dawn of your undoing. 

“Fuck, PG that isn’t fair,” he groans towards the ceiling, his hands on your waist clamping down harder, pulling you so close your bodies touch in more places they definitely shouldn’t be. The contact has you reeling and all you want is more, more, more of it. 

More of him.

“PG isn’t the name you called me earlier,” you hum, yanking on a single loose strand and Tae sucks in a steep breath, biting the corner of his smirking lip with a canine. 

You want to hear him say it again. Badly. So you release the sensual grip you have on his nape, and let his head lul slowly back down to where it was, his deepening amber wholly fixated on your now entirely onyx. Your heart is begging for release from your chest, and for a moment you wonder if he can see your pulse thrumming in your eyes, because you sure as hell can feel it.

“No, it’s not. But it also hasn’t meant to me what it means to you for quite some time now,” his voice like honey, thick and dripping its way over your body. It’s making you dizzy and weighty with want. It has your mouth opening slightly as he leans closer still, knocking his nose gently with your own. Inhaling in your exhales. Teasing you. Making you work for it. 

“And what does it mean to you?” you ask, barely above a whisper, irises never straying from his as your bottom lip brushes against his in one solitary, intoxicating moment that has you more buzzed in one touch than three shots has had you all night. 

“Pretty Girl,” he breathes onto your lips, pushing his thigh between your legs at the same time he pulls you impossibly closer. You hear yourself moan ‘fuck’ at the contact it gives your throbbing cunt. Too focused on the need coursing through you like a live wire—your body pure water—to think about what you’re saying.

It’s a sweet sound and a violent pleasure he devours as his lips finally, finally, finally crash into yours, pinning you in place and allowing him to take every piece of you he wants. One hand slithers up your naked spine to hold you, your backless dress doing you every favour imaginable as his other continues to help you grind over his thigh.

His tongue slips into your mouth and you suck on it, causing him to jerk into you once with the rapidly growing want pressing into your lower belly. But your hands hold firm at his neck as you pull him into you, a knee lifting to meet his hip. Needing more contact.

The electricity filled pathways his fingers leave down your back, over your ass and across the bottom of your thigh to support your search for pleasure do nothing but spur on the overwhelming need to touch him everywhere. 

No holds barred. No clothes worn. Nothing stopping you. 

He uses his new grip to spin you around and press his hips into yours as your shoulders meet the wall. You’re left to moan sickly sweet sounds of bliss into his ear as Taehyung frees your mouth in favour of your jaw and neck, sucking gentle purple hues down the column of your throat and onto your collarbone. 

“Pretty Girl,” he whispers between love bites, “My Pretty Girl.” Over and over and it has you melting so far into him, the only thing keeping you apart is fabric and a potential audience. Though from the colour you’re going to have to cover with far too much concealer tomorrow, you don’t think he quite cares about that last part. 

It drives you farther into insanity. Years of want and restraint and pretty white lies you told yourself are crashing down on one another and it shows in the fervor of your touch, your wants, your pleads.

“Fuck, Tae—please. Please, I need you— please,” you beg, and the bite he leaves at the junction where your neck meets your shoulder has you gasping for air that refuses to be consumed gently. 

But Taehyung is a man on a mission. One who will not be deterred, and you can’t tell if he will be your pinnacle or your inevitable end. 

With what is very clearly great effort, Tae pulls himself back from your decolletage, only to kiss your lips once more. Open mouthed and dirty, tongue clinging to you like the only thing he’s concerned about is swallowing down as much of you as he can while you’ll let him, and you’ve never felt more desired in your life.

He’s hoarse as he says, “Not here. Not for the first time. Not…not here.” 

“Then where,” you ask, near impatient and far too eager as you let your hands roam wherever they want. And you find your thumbs tracing the waistline of his pants, dipping a nails width below where they should. They trail over the indented V of muscle you know is hiding under his shirt. He shudders. 

It makes you smile wickedly. 

“Then where, Taehyung,” you murmur into his neck with that wicked smile in your words as you trace your nose along his jaw. 

“Fuck, you’re something,” he says, almost pained, bringing you immense delight. To know you affect him as much as he does you. That you have him as much as he has you. 

Sly hands slowly pull his shirt from his trousers in an attempt to urge him on. It works, and his response is quick. 

“My place. It’s a ten minu—fuck PG,” he almost scolds as your digits toy with the hair at his navel, dipping lower—enough to feel the beginnings of something—but not low enough to discern anything. 

Yet.

 “Can you behave for that long?” 

You smirk. 

Retracting your hands, you hold them up to show you can be good, do a quick once over to make sure you're decent and spin on your heel to walk towards your booth. Tae is behind you immediately, hand placed low on your back, thumb rubbing circles on the sliver of skin it touches. You ignore the goose bumps that arise.

Rei and Lea are at your table, thankfully. You explain to them you ran into Micah and that it really shook you, so Tae’s going to take you home. They know who Tae is, so they’re not worried when they give you goodbye hugs or when they tell you to text them when you're home safe. 

You promise you will, and hope that the rest of Rei’s birthday goes well. 

True to his word, it’s a ten minute rideshare before you’re pulling up to a tall, black windowed apartment building.

You’ve only been to Tae’s a handful of times with your brother, mostly for things like pick ups for concerts and such, but now that you’re here—alone with him—you’re trying hard not to jump him in the fucking lobby. 

The pulsing between your legs has only worsened since you removed your hands from his waistline, and you’re close to crawling out of your skin with need. 

His hand stays in its place at your lower back as the elevator climbs. 

It’s not helping and completely helping at the same time.

Fuck.

Tae lives on the sixteenth floor and the view is incredible. It’s the first thing you see past the island when you walk in the front door. There’s the kitchen to the left past the entrance, which turns into the living space that’s furnished in a way you can only describe as pure Tae. 

Books littering every surface, warm neutral toned furniture to counterbalance the colourful artwork he keeps on the walls. There’s an old record player with a collection of vinyls in the corner and what you assume is this morning's coffee mug on the art book filled coffee table.

To the right of the living space is the bedroom. It’s a studio apartment, but Tae’s managed to keep the flow of the place beautifully with some creatively put, gorgeously decorated room dividers. And the tall floor to ceiling windows wrap around it all, showcasing the lights of the city as they blend into the stars in the night sky. 

Mesmerizing. 

Just like the man locking his door behind you.

A kiss is placed on the back of your neck as you slide out of your shoes at the front door. You angle your head to allow more space, letting the arm that folds around you bring you closer to him. The feel of his arousal begins to grow behind you once more and you push back against him. A faint grunt meets the shell of your ear before his hand delicately slides up from your lower stomach and past your sternum. It teases your neck for just a moment before it meets your jaw to turn your lips towards his. 

He captures them in a brutal kiss, drinking you in for all you’re worth and then some as his other hand replaces the one that now holds your jaw in place. He pulls you into him but you spin in his hold, throwing your arms around his neck once more and dragging him towards the living space. He sheds his jacket in the process, uncaring of where it lands on his floor so long as you are still kissing him. 

You only stop when your ass meets the top of the couch and Taehyung palms the back of your thighs to lift you, your legs wrapping themselves around his hips as you sit on its edge. 

He growls at the contact and it has you raking your nails down his neck and over his shirt as you open for him once more, tongues clashing and teeth scraping at the desperate nature you both share. You yank his shirt up and he breaks from your embrace for only the amount of time it takes for the fabric to hit the floor before he’s back on you, adding twin bruises to the other side of your throat. 

You let the strings holding up your dress fall naturally to the side, revealing your chest to him, and a  low, “Fucking hell,” is murmured somewhere below your ear before a nipple is in his mouth and you’re arching into his touch, slices of need shooting straight downwards. Giving no mercy to your attempts to draw out the pleasure. 

One large hand cups a breast, molding it to his wanting before he switches and you’re groaning into the air above you, begging him for more, determined to have his tongue anywhere and everywhere you can get it. He lavs at your peaked bud, roaming over the sensitive flesh, making you squirm at the sensations he’s drawing from you. 

You never want it to end as he makes his way back up to your mouth, dragging his bottom lip over all of the freshly deepend skin it trails in its wake, making you hazy with the feel of him and his marks. 

His delicate touch wanders the insides of your thighs and your cunt aches for it the higher it climbs. But it slides up not down, reaching around to your ass and hoisting you onto his hips. 

Turning, he walks the eight paces to his bed, places a knee on the mattress for support before setting you down. His lips never leave yours he crawls over you, settling his hips over yours for mere moments, allowing you to thrust only twice before he’s removing himself completely and sinking to his knees. 

The fingers you’ve spent way too much time thinking about can’t get enough of your skin as they skate down your sides, taking the dress bunched at your hips with them. You raise your hips to help him get the scrap of fabric off, leaving a delicate, black lace thong the only thing keeping any of your remaining modesty intact.

You watch as his now fully blackened gaze takes you in, jaw dropped in slight at the sight of you with your legs opened on his bed. Like you were the prize he’s been waiting years to claim, and now that you're here and that you’re his his, he can’t quite believe it. 

It’s then you realize that he wants you, and has been wanting you. That your attempts to stay in reality these last couple years weren’t just harder for you, but for him as well. 

It hasn’t been one sided.

He wants you. 

Taehyung. 

Off limits, older brother’s best friend, swim club participating, jazz and poetry loving, judo knowing, book gifting, perfect smile having, protective, Taehyung. 

Wants you. 

You can physically feel the gush that rushes from your core at the thought and you know Tae can see it through the lace.

“Holy fuck…you’re fucking drenched and I haven’t even properly touched you yet,” he rasps, unbelieving. 

“Then touch me and find out just how much I want this,” you whisper. Begging, pleading, praying your words have their intended effect. “How much I want you, Taehyung.”

The sound that leaves his throat is a mixture of a whimper, a groan, and a guttural noise indicative of pure desperate want as he takes hold of your legs and spreads them further. Those mother fucking fingers trace from your ankles to your knees accompanied by the occasional light kiss, back up your inner thighs, and finally to the spot where you’ve been weeping for him for the better part of thirty minutes with a heaping side of ten years yearned. 

He places one open mouthed kiss on the top of your clothed clit and that simple touch has you arching, lightning crackling through your veins with the pleasure it brings. Tae slides one single finger down your covered slit before pushing it under and pulling it to the side. 

At the mere sight of you he’s swearing so fiercely under his breath that you involuntarily clench and he can’t fucking take it anymore.

His mouth is on you and you buck at the sensation. Yielding you no mercy, his tongue swipes from opening to clit in one long lick that has you gasping, clutching bed sheets above and below your head to keep from screaming. 

“Oh my—Fuck—Tae. Ohmygodohmy—” you’re rambling. Incoherent. A mess. 

He’s consuming your very being, no nerve left untouched, no reaction too minimal for his learning as he snakes his hands around your legs to haul you closer, pull you deeper into his mouth and you can’t fucking take it. You’re screaming out at the intensity he circles you with, and you can feel your impending orgasm come rushing to the surface. You’ve barely even processed it’s begun before you’re spasming so hard Tae has to remove an arm from your leg to throw around your pelvis. 

His devious fucking eyes meet yours for one earth shattering moment as he slips two fingers inside and begins a secondary merciless pursuit on your already overwhelmed senses. Using the pads to press upwards in time to the motions he never ceased with his tongue, a second wave is cresting before the first has ceased and you feel yourself clamping down, legs holding him in place as the intensity of your release climaxes. 

You’ve never felt a pressure so intense before, it’s like your body is a volcano and you’re erupting for the first time while someone sets off fireworks from its peak. The lava flows in waves, your hand holding his hair as you ride his face, shuddering at the vibrations his moan into your cunt leaves on the most sensitive parts of your body. 

Gentle strokes and licks calm as your pleasure begins to wane and you can breathe in more than just stuttered inhales again. 

“Holy fu–” you try to get out, but your voice is hoarse, like you’ve been screaming the entire time. 

And fuck, maybe you have been. You sure as hell can’t remember or think of anything more than the warm fuzzy feeling currently radiating from every single pore in your body. The damningly  deliciously dizzying feeling in your head not allowing for coherent thoughts to pass. Your limbs are loose, your body wholly relaxed. 

You’re…Well. You’re fucking perfect right now. If you could stay in this moment forever you would without second thought. Locked in this room with him for all time sounds like the best way to live out the rest of your days.

Until you wince as Tae blows warm breath on your core and he chuckles, then does it again. 

“Hey,” you say, sounding much clearer now, “Stop that and come here.”

You slip your hand down his face and grab him by the jaw, pulling him up and over you. Tae tastes like fire and whiskey and ambrosia and you as you kiss him with abandon, near feral as you take what you want from him and he revels in it. 

He’s on his elbows and a knee over you, and you use it to your full advantage to palm him over his pants and—Fuck he’s big. No wonder he was so thorough on you. This is going to hurt no matter how much prep either of you did.

He hisses at the contact and that only spurs you on, grasping firmly at his base and roving up and over the head with the heel of your palm, squeezing gently in time with his reactions.

“Christ PG, if you keep doing that I’m going to cum in my pants,” Tae laughs into your neck before rising to sit back on his heels. He gets as far as undoing his belt buckle and button before you take over, sitting up and pulling him out. 

He is disastrously beautiful, just like the rest of him, and your mouth waters at just the idea of him in your mouth. 

Licking your lips, you hear him curse quite colourfully as you take the tip into your mouth and swish your tongue over the head. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

Tae raises one hand to his eyes and the other behind him to hold him up as you take him deeper, shaking from restraining himself so hard, murmuring to himself, “Oh fuck. Fuck me, can’t believe—so fucking good, pretty—perfect—ohmygod,” and you seal the motherfucking deal by taking him into the back of your throat and looking up into his eyes at the same time. 

Taehyung barks and bucks once into your throat before removing himself and throwing you down onto the bed. He looks furious in the way that gets your heart racing, your cunt thrumming and your breathing so fast your chest feels like it might shatter from the crosscurrents. 

He grabs each of your hands and raises them above your head, sliding his fingers up your wrists and between your own, holding them in place on his pillow.

Leaning down, he uses his lowest timber to speak darkly into your ear, teasing your swollen clit with the tip of his cock. Sliding back and forth, sending bolts of white hot need through you. 

“You drive me fucking insane,” he starts, thrusting, teasing, torturing. And you moan at the contact. 

“You make me want to throw away a decades old friendship just for the chance to touch you.” 

Thrust, tease, jolt, whine. 

“And what’s worst of all is you’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted, the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and you turn me into a complete idiot the second you enter the room. It’s like your fucking presence takes away all the working functions in my brain and leaves me with only the incurable fucking desire to make you cum until you can’t remember you own fucking name. Only mine.”

Thrust, squeeze, glide, jolt. “Tae...” you whine, delirious with pleasure, drunk on his greed and  delighted by his torture.

“I call you PG because it’s the only way I can get away with calling you anything more than your name around him.” He sounds almost angry with how low he growls. “And it means so much more than you could think.”

He leans further into you, so close now that his lips brush your ear as he speaks. 

“My Pretty Girl,” thrust, “My Precious Girl,” moan, “My Perfect Fucking Girl.” 

He releases one hand to line himself up with your entrance. “That’s who you are to me. That’s what I’m calling you when I call you PG. My Pretty, Precious, Perfect Girl. My Girl.” He slips past your walls, sinking deep and you both groan in euphoric unison. “Mine.”

Tae pulls out, slow and controlled. 

Blissful. 

Then pushes back in, methodically. 

Torturous. 

Feeling every inch you can take, which is every single fucking one.

Inevitable.

Bottoming out for the second time, you whisper, “Yours,” into his ear, and he turns fucking ravenous.

Setting an absolutely ruthless pace, he claims your body, taking what’s so clearly always been his. Your legs wrap around him again, digging a heel into his ass as you drive him closer, harder with every push. Then lay claim to the one thing you’re able to, taking his lips with yours and biting down hard enough to draw the most sinful groan from the back of his throat. Hoarse, deep, almost broken with how raw it is. 

One hand bruises its fingerprints into your hip while the other holds him up over you, and you use this to your advantage, slipping one leg around his and flipping the both of you over. 

You trail your tongue down his jaw to his clavicle, he tastes of sweat and lust and sex and it is the most intoxicating thing you’ve ever consumed. Creating your own gardens of little blooming flowers down one side of his neck and up the other, Taehyung moans greedily into your ear as your ride to match his thrusts, sending him deeper while you decorate your willing canvas. 

Because as much as he wishes to lay claim to your body, you want to claim his as well. 

“Mine,” you say, positioning yourself to take over completely, using the springs of the mattress to do most of the work for you. 

“Yes,” he says. But that’s not good enough. 

“Mine,” you demand, and let loose, pressing down on the mattress with your knees rapidly, creating the glorious effect you wanted. You watch as the up force from the mattress causes Taehyung to be driven into you so quickly he throws his head back, mouth dropped in pure ecstasy. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, YN, What the fuck—” he rambles, lost to the pleasure, biting his lip, going slackjawed, clenching and unclenching his fists into bedsheets that already have your handprints seared into them.

And you keep going, a little torture creation of your own. 

“Mine,” you demand again, and this time, it clicks.

“Yours! Fuck, yours. All yours, only yours,” he surrenders and you slow back down to a regular pace, breathless. 

It’s a great move but it’s exerting. 

You all but collapse on his chest and he takes over, thrillingly pissed off due to your power play. 

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he asks, and you clench at his tone. 

He removes himself and you whimper, but he’s maneuvering you like a ragdoll on the bed and you’re more than fucking willing to be thrown around. 

He’s kneeling on the bed, lifting your hips and sliding into you in a doggy style, but then he’s doing the most insane thing you think you’ve ever seen. With an arm around your stomach he brings your back to his torso and twists you both to face the open floor to ceiling windows. One of your legs is thrown over his that’s up to splay you wide for the skyline to see, and you can see your reflection in the glass. 

You look beyond fucked out, and so does he, and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. But then his hand is sliding to your throat, and a whispered, “Is this okay?” finds your ears. You nod.

Gripping the sides of your throat, he slides his other hand to graze your clit before beginning his own version of the move you just pulled. Pumping into you at a pace that has your g-spot screaming from all of the attention it’s receiving, his fingers swiping deftly over the bundled nerves at the apex of your thigh whilst lightly cutting off the blood supply to your brain. 

It has you twitching and hazy and dizzy in seconds. You can see yourself losing to the feeling so steadily building at the base of your spine in the glass. Mouth open, body willing, the man who’s been at the center of your wanting for longer than you can remember, its deliverance. 

Dark, sex tousled hair, muscled forearms holding you up and driving you insane. Blackened eyes focused on you and only you through the mirror the darkness of the night’s sky has created for you. 

It’s that visual that sets you over the edge when he releases your throat, and you feel a gush flowing from where you two meet.

“Fuuuck yes. My Perfect Girl, cum all over my sheets, drench my cock. That’s it,” he purrs in your ear and it’s doing nothing but sending shock after shock into your already over sensitive and pulsing cunt, letting your consciousness float somewhere above or below you, you don’t really care. 

All you know is that you feel light as a feather and not of this earthly plane. 

Taehyung removes himself and lies you down gently. He’s back inside soon after and it just feels right as he fills you, like it’s where he’s meant to be. 

He hovers over you once more, and you lift a single knee to his hip, mimicking your position from the club as he thrusts into you with fervor, chasing his own high after delivering three mind shattering ones to you. 

Reaching one hand to his cheek, you hold him as he kisses you, working himself to completion. 

Using your other to deliver a few expert circles to your clit, so you can come together, you breathe in each other's release and  drown in once another’s embrace. 

You leave his name on your tongue this time. A gift. A cry so delicate that a tear falls from your cheek and he kisses it away.

Taehyung inhales sharply, before stuttering his exhale and an exquisite warmth fills you.

“F-f-uu-ckkk,” he shudders as he lets the aftershocks of his release claim you in the most basic and animalistic of ways. You drink in the vulnerable sound, taking his mouth with yours one final time as you bask in each other's pleasure. Silent but for catching breaths, exertion evident as you hold one another. 

Taehyung rests on your chest. Lines are sketched gently with your nails up and down his spine and into his hair as he comes down, content in the afterglow, where nothing is wrong and everything is perfect. 

Before consequences kick in and regrets form. 

When he decides he’s ready, Tae lifts and removes himself from you and you can feel the remnants of your combined efforts slide down to the bedsheets. 

Tae takes a single finger and gathers it up before pressing it back in. You hiss at the now tender flesh. Though the pain doesn’t stop the warmth newly pooling at the sight and feel and meaning. 

He pumps it back in once, twice before removing his finger and placing it in his mouth to clean off. Your cunt flutters at the sight and Tae smirks, leaning forward to share his findings with you in the form of a filthy, open mouthed, tongue filled kiss. It’s slightly salty, slightly metallic but you pull him back for one last lick when he tries to pull away. 

Watching him kneeling there, in the glow of moonlight, you realize just how truly beautiful he is. The shape of his illuminated profile, the expanse of his chest as he breathes in, the colour of his skin under silver rays. He’s stunning. 

You smile up at him, spent, sated and so astronomically fucked if your brother ever finds out. 

Tae must see the thought on your face, because he says, “Don’t worry about him. I’ll handle it.”

But you honestly don’t give a fuck about that right now. That’s a tomorrow issue. What you want to know is, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what, exactly?” He specifies. 

You sit up, eye to eye as he sits on the edge of the bed, one leg on the ground. 

“All of it. Any of it.”

There. 

Now it was out in the open. And the rest is up to him. 

You could drag yourself back down to reality. Chalk this night up to booze and bad timing and perfect timing. Could convince yourself it was just one night and that it would have to be enou—

“All of it,” he interrupts, the most sincere expression you’ve ever seen on him on full display. “Definitely all of it. Every last fucking word.”

You slump on your exhale, so fucking relieved you didn’t have to keep trying to lie to yourself that you could forget this happened. 

You’re laughing before you can fight it off, shoulders shaking. Smiling so wide it hurts. 

“Uh..YN?” Tae asks, clearly not sure how to take your reaction and you compose yourself. 

“That’s PG to you,” you say as you crawl onto his lap, and kiss him into oblivion. 

It’s interesting to finally sit on the dock across the way in East Egg. 

The fog is gone, the sky is a brilliant blue, and the little box you kept sits open next to you, the lock and its key lost somewhere to the depths below your feet. Funny how harmless it seems now that there’s nothing locked inside anymore, like it could never really have hurt you in the first place. 

You take in your newly emptied creation, and quirk a brow when you see it move. 

A wiggle at first, before it’s shaking and spinning and shrinking, turning from a box into a glass windowed locket. Golden and delicate and beautiful, with a matching chain. You ponder for a moment what it could be for, before turning to look down at the green light to your right. 

An idea strikes. 

Unclasping the little window, you lift the opened pendant to the green light. And to your delight, the emerald hue hops into its new home, closing its tiny windowed door. 

You smile at the clever little light, lacing the chain around your neck, resting it on the middle of your sternum, right above your heart. Its brilliant hue shining brightly through the pane for all to see.

Funny how the green light you so longed for, longed for you back, and is now yours for keeps.

A/N 2.5: This is what has been rotting in my brain for the better half of two weeks so please enjoy, it was supposed to be short and trope filled to cure my writers block but apparently I am incapable of short. But trope filled it clearly is. Overall tho, I'm quite pleased with this one.

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

Masterlist

[colorfullyminded]

TLDR

Okay I cannot believe I'm about to go off like this, but this has been bothering me for awhile, and it's only making me more spiteful. I have been enjoying the influx of Billford art lately. Amazing, great wonderful. What I have Not been enjoying, is the absolute vitriol the Billdip fans have been getting since the influx of TBOB. I was a billdip shipper for awhile. Hell I was a billdip shipper when I was a Parapines shipper-- I liked shipping Dipper with boys. I was also like 14 or 15 at the time. Obviously, if you follow me now, you'll probably notice what my main ship for Dipper is. I grew out of Billdip, and moved on to Pinescone. I have been shipping Pinescone for 10 years. However, not once did I go around saying "Lol, glad I matured and became a better person and shipped something healthier", nor did I post in the billdip tag, condeming people for a fictional ship! And saying mine was better because it was less problematic.

"I'm really glad people stopped shipping Bill and Dipper together. Bill is a 1000 year old triangle demon, and Dipper is 13--" Stop. Repeat what you just said.

"Bill is 1000 year old triangle--"

Repeat that last word to me. "....triangle?" TRIANGLE! I'm sorry what?! This ship is already completely wild enough. You're getting mad at this fictional age gap-- AND BILL IS A FUCKING SHAPE! A FUCKING SHAPE! This ship was weird from the moment GO! And Billford isn't any better. IT'S STILL A SHIP WITH A FUCKING SHAPE! And you're going to sit on your high horse and look down on the Billdip community. On top of it-- they have an age gap too! Bill is still thousands of years old or whatever-- however long it's been, who knows? And Ford was in his 20s or so when he met Bill. That's still a huge, ridiculous age gap-- that Bill could easily use and manipulate; which he did....and then also caught feelings and became a sad ex, but that's beside the point~ Both of these ships are still insane. And again, the bigger thing I think people are just ignoring about these ships--is that Bill is a TRIANGLE! THREE LINES CONNECTED TOGETHER! And this is the hill you're going to die on? ...Cause apparently it's mine. First of all-- as many people pointed out-- Ford Pines did not exist until the second half of the final season. People couldn't ship Fordbill because there wasn't any Ford to introduce.

"Well, even before Ford, I never shipped Billdip! I always disliked it." ...Okay, that's totally fine. Not everyone needs to like or agree on the same ship. Lord knows there's probably people who don't really care for Pinescone either. There's a lot of popular ships that I can't stand. But I'm don't go into a ship tag I don't like, screaming to a void for self validation. I don't go around mocking other people for ships that they had in 2014-- or even still today! It doesn't matter! I did that when I was a kid-- and then realized that was rude, and it was better to just ignore the ships I didn't like and enjoy the ones that made me happy. And grow a community of kind, like minded friends. And listen, I am all for safe spaces and being able to block things that make you uncomfortable. I am not saying people who find the BillDip ship uncomfortable to be idiots or babies or overly sensitive-- or anything like that. I think if something makes you uncomfortable, that is okay and I think it's perfectly fine to blacklist a tag that you don't want to see. I also think it's imperative that people tag things as accurately as they can so people looking at your work can know if one of your pieces has a thing that they don't like-- and therefore can avoid. What I don't appreciate is the fanhate for this ship that is sprouting up like weeds. You can not like something, you can be disgusted by it (I have my Gravity Falls ships I can not stand, nor do I feel comfortable with), but attacking real people for a FICTIONAL SHIP-- two characters who are drawings on a piece of paper and can not be affected mentally, physically or emotionally by fanwork; who still retain the same shape after everything we put them through-- to the point that you send death threats, or threaten to Doxx, or just harass relentlessly, I have always found that more childish and disgusting. You are causing real world pain to people. Me fucking up Dipper Pines is not going to do anything to him-- because he doesn't actually exist. He's a cartoon character. I could squash him and stretch him in Wonka's taffy machine--- I could throw him mock speed at a wall and watch him explode on impact-- but he still exists. He's not dead; I can pick him up and dust him off, and If I wanted-- I could decide that eh, 'Not a scratch on him'. And I'd be right. Because he is a cartoon character, and I am just a fangirl. I can not change anything about him-- I have no ability to make anything I headcanon canon. And even if I was the original artist-- it doesn't change the fact that Dipper would still be nothing more than a creation. A construct of shapes; he can not be hurt or traumatized in a way that leads to real life consequences-- because he is not real. I am not a cartoon character. My friends are not cartoon characters. Artist and Writers who stay in their lane...are not cartoon characters. If you hurt us...it will linger. It will leave a scar. If you can not tell the difference between Fiction and Reality, then I think maybe media might be too much to handle-- and I think you need to really reevaluate yourself.

And just to vent some other things that i keep seeing that are frustrating: You can't claim the twins are only 13-- and then on August 31st go "Happy 20-something Birthday Mabel and Dipper!" And then proceed to drop a picture of them as adults. Well which is it? Do they age or not? Because Gravity Falls showed them canonically aging. If you think the twins age-- then you can't suddenly turn around and go, 'no you can't ship them-- Dipper is a child!' but you drew him as an adult. So sorry, it looks like you can't draw the twins grown up anymore. You claimed they're 13, so better draw them 13 forever--. Aged up stories and works exist for a reason, especially for a fan who grew up on the series. The characters might have grown up alongside them. It's not unlikely for a person to ship Billdip when Dipper is much older.

And on that note, for people who are like 'well older billdip is fine-- it's just people shipping him during the show that deserve to die.' Okay... and like I said, this rant is coming from a recent influx of Billford shippers spitting on Billdip shippers. You know? The TOXIC Old Man Yaoi!

You're still shipping something that is problematic. You are still shipping something twisted and wrong. And I am not judging you. I am here for this divorced arc. I am thriving. But you can't just pick and choose what is and isn't okay. And let me first off explain; if there is something that personally triggers you about a toxic ship, and you want to avoid that-- again, perfectly understandable. Perfectly reasonable. You are the makers of your content space. And I am not judging anyone for that. I want people to be safe. I want people to have a good time in fandom spaces. I want people to not have to deal with the things that upset them or frighten them, or disgust them. But you can not say one is fine, and one is not. They're both bad! They're both toxic. In real life, these ships would both be charged with serious crimes! And yes, there are some crimes that are worse than others, and if you asked me what I thought was more problematic-- I'd say Billdip-- but both of these ships are extreme, and severe in their problematic content. You are still consuming problematic content. If it's a personal thing, that's fine; avoid it. But don't sit there throwing stones from your glass house.

[jaylver]

YOU BELONG WITH ME — Y.JW

synopsis: The boy next door was practically everyone’s dream. Straight As and top of his class, basketball captain, popular kid with a heart of gold, who wouldn’t want him? Yang Jungwon happened to be him, your childhood best friend who you’ve been pining for almost forever. But how could you compete when you were the complete opposite of his girlfriend? Except that you’ve been there in his life all along, the one who understood most. All you could think was: you belong with me.

pairings: non-idol!jungwon x afab!reader

genre: childhood best friends to lovers, boy next door + athlete jungwon, romance, very very slight angst, fluff

warning(s): profanities, both are kinda idiots xx

wc: 3445

a/n: yes, this is based on tswift's you belong with me song + mv 💓 (please tell me you're not sick of me and tay atp) tbh this was originally a hee fic (idk why he always inspires a lot of fics for me LMAO) but i wanted to change it up! hope you enjoyed it! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah muah!

masterlist | © jaylver all rights reserved.

You were down bad. 

That wasn’t a statement, it was a fact.

Nothing could simply hide the fact that you were down bad and feral for your neighbour. Yes, you heard that right, the neighbour. And no, your neighbour doesn’t happen to be someone who was on the edge of deathbed kind of old, but he was, in fact, the same age as you, which didn’t help the ample amount of delusions that you could actually get him. 

Yang Jungwon. 

He wasn’t just an average boy next door, he was your childhood friend, who you knew since he moved in when you were six. Naturally, his mum and yours became buddies and it was a big factor in pulling you two together. As you grew older, you and him got closer and were practically stuck to the hip. The downside of highschool and Jungwon looking as though he was personally carved by Greek Gods was that he got popular instantly, while you, on the other hand, was regarded as a simpleton. 

To be fair, you get it. Jungwon was a smart guy other than his obvious charming features and particularly those dimples. Gosh. He was a perfect straight As student, a student loved by teachers and his peers. What made him even alluring was his athletic abilities as well. Wasn’t it just cruel to others to be absolutely blessed both academically and athletically? Captain of the basketball team who’ve won many championships and tournaments. Right, you finally understand why you’ve got to fight other girls for him. 

High School was hell. Being splitted into either the popular kids or the nerdy kids, you happen to be stuck in the middle. Jungwon was off with his popular bunch and you were with Sim Ja Yun, or Yoon, your platonic soulmate that you found equally dying in Maths class. Without her, you were never surviving this hell hole. 

You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss hanging out with Jungwon. Now that you were in two different friend groups, you only got to see him after school or during the weekends. But at least there was a fun part to it, considering how his window faced yours and you two ended up creating this new way of communicating where you would write on either a whiteboard or a piece of paper.

There were ‘how are you’s and ‘good’s and some random rants, most of these ended up being something sentimental to look back to, and they were piled up in a small section in your drawer. 

“Did you hear? Jungwon’s dating that popular cheerleader,” Yoon nudged your side, whispering quietly as you two made your way to Chemistry. 

“Wonyoung?” you exclaimed, a shocked look on your face. 

Jang Wonyoung, the cheer captain of the school, an equivalent of Regina George that practically ran the school without saying. She was the total opposite of you: she wore short skirts, you wore t-shirts; she was cheer captain, you were on the bleachers; she wore high heels, you wore sneakers. How cliche could this be? Of course it had to be the cheer captain and the basketball captain that got together.

Yoon nodded. “Out of everyone, it had to be her. She’s literally known to be a serial cheater.”

Jungwon deserved better. That was all you could think during the entirety of Chemistry. Why didn’t he tell me? Was this new? Countless thoughts filled your mind till the point you swore you were seeing stars. At the end of the day, you concluded it was none of your business, seemingly reaching ‘acceptance’ in the five stages of grief. Maybe this was an actual sign for you to finally stop harbouring a small teeny liking towards Jungwon. Just maybe.

Sitting by the window and staring out into the dark skies completely distracted you from the fact that Jungwon had entered his bedroom right opposite your window. He was the phone, face twisted and expressions screaming out the signs that things didn’t seem to be well. He was yelling something back before hanging up with a sigh and a frustrated ruffle of his hair. 

It took a few minutes for him to recollect himself before regaining composure completely. You pretended you didn’t see the whole commotion when he sat on his bed, facing towards you and your window, casting you a smile and waving at you, to which you reciprocated. You couldn’t help noticing the disappointment on his face.

You reached over for your notepad, scribbling on it quickly.

‘You okay?’

His face instantly lit up, beaming happily, contrary to the expression from a minute ago. 

It was his turn to write something down on his notepad.

‘Tired of drama.’

You then wrote your reply.

‘Sorry :(’ 

He shrugged, shaking his head slightly. You wished you could do something to help, but simply, there was nothing.

‘I like—’

You found yourself writing those words of confession unknowingly, as if your hands knew what your mind constantly thought of. You didn’t even finish writing it, you couldn’t. By the time you glanced up, Jungwon was gone and a shade of blue covered his window.

Well, there goes another chance.

It might’ve been a typical Tuesday night, but that wasn’t stopping you from staying up and acting insane. You were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with your headphones plugged in. The late night was calm and peaceful, no schoolwork, no trouble, no crush to mull over about, you were finally alone and at peace. The upbeat songs blasting into your ears had you jumping from your bed and dancing around, feeling as if you were the only one in the world.

But you weren’t the only one. 

Unbeknownst to you, Jungwon was by his window secretly looking at your dancing figure who mimicked a singer, a smile on his face.

If only you knew.

Sitting alone in your own front yard shouldn’t sound as depressing as it was. 

You thought the best self healing method was getting in touch with nature like what those magazines had claimed, but it was only making you seem pathetic to people that drove past. Plus, how could you achieve peace when the person who destroyed it countless times was walking in your direction towards you.

“Hey, hey,” Jungwon greeted, dressed in his worn-out jeans and a white t-shirt.

“Hi,” you replied, patting the empty spot next to you.

“You’re reading ‘Pride and Prejudice’?” he wondered as he sat down, catching a glimpse of the book in your hand.

“I’m pretending to read, but I’d like to say that I am,”

Jungwon laughed in amusement, shaking his head. “Well, I’ll pretend to be impressed,” his dimpled smile never leaving, which persisted in tormenting you, because how could anyone look like that.

He’s got a smile that could light up this whole town. Hell, he was the sun that shone over your measly sad town. The light of your life and the happy pill of everyone else’s life. 

It was just a shame that you hadn’t seen it in a while ever since his girlfriend has brought him down. Even though he has reassured you that he was fine many times before whenever you asked, you could tell he wasn’t fully truthful, you know him better than that. 

Speaking of his girlfriend, Wonyoung soon pulled up by his house, and he had to eventually say goodbye to you too. Staring at the sight of them being close simply had your stomach turning and twisting, especially when she herself probably knew that you were secretly pining after him. Were you that transparent? Who cares?

As they drove off, you felt your grip on your book loosen, your heart equally dropping. 

Hey, whatcha doing with a girl like that?

It was one of the most important times in the school calendar. 

No, not exams. The national basketball competition. 

You weren’t a big sports fan, but somehow, this tournament would always rope you in every year, mainly because of the influence around you too. Exhibit A, Jungwon. But other than him, your friends were constant supporters of the school’s basketball team, not to mention, the atmosphere every year would go insane.

The game against the rival school was something you couldn’t and wouldn’t miss. Well, you didn’t have a choice either way. Being in the band team meant you were spending most of your time on the bleachers. Sigh.

On game day, you were there at the basketball court earlier than the scheduled time for final preparations, helping your bandmates around and idling boredly. You didn’t realise someone sneaking up on you until you heard your name being called, startling you and almost had you dropping an instrument. 

“Jungwon?”

“Hey,” he was in his practice gear, basketball trainers in his hand. “Didn’t mean to scare you. How’s the performance for tonight?”

“I’m hoping it’ll go well,” you said honestly, feeling uneasy under his intense stare. “I’m hoping your game goes good too,”

“Thank you,” he smiled, and there it was, his dimples. One look and it had you lightheaded. You couldn’t believe he had this effect on you still. “Will you finally treat me to some of your signature cupcakes again if we win?”

“I’ll consider it,”

“Great,” he beamed, a pleased and confident smirk replacing that sweet smile. “I’ll make sure to win it for you then,”

How could he say that and casually bid you goodbye after? Has he got no regard for your sanity whatsoever? 

His words continuously occupied your head even when your performance ended and the game started, your focus only trained on his running figure. The score was narrow, time was ticking and Jungwon had one target in mind, dashing towards the hoop and shooting the ball into it. That was the winning point and there was no doubt that the home team had won. You and your bandmates got up cheering, yelling and giving each other’s high fives. You were proud.

The cheerleaders by the court were cheering as well and doing their routine. The sight of Wonyoung caught your attention, her gaze was not on her boyfriend, but on another player. What? 

Once the game had ended, the team stayed on court celebrating. You were still on the bleachers, so all you could do was observe the scene unfolding below. Jungwon approached Wonyoung, but what you failed to notice was her standing with the player you saw her eyeing earlier. A fight broke out, a sour expression on Jungwon’s face, betrayal evident. It didn’t take long before he stormed away.

Oh no.

Upon returning home, tired and drained, you saw Jungwon in his room by the window, head hung low staring at his phone. At first, you didn’t know whether to get his attention and ‘talk’ or rather stay silent, but how could you when he seemed like a sad sappy kitten. So, you sent him a text, prompting him to stare up.

‘Hope you’re ok’ you wrote on your notepad.

He gave you a small smile, scribbling something down and holding his notepad up after,

‘I think I am? Whatever :/’

‘I’m here if you need to talk.’

‘Thanks :) you’re the best.’

‘I know’

He laughed at your response, but you continued on.

‘Congrats on your win! Super proud.’

‘Thank you! Does that mean I get my cupcakes now?’

You rolled your eyes, feigning an angry look. 

‘Fine >:(’

‘Sweeet. Talk tomorrow? We both need a rest.’

You nodded, and with a last wave from him, he closed his curtains and you did the same. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about the clear fight from earlier and you didn’t want to push him either, but the sadness in his eyes told you he wasn’t getting over that easily.

Can’t he see that you were the one who understands him?

Prom, the day you dreaded. 

You were adamant on not attending initially, but the convincing from Yoon and your other friends had you eventually caving in. Poor you.

It wasn't like there was no one out there who asked you, you were actually just a great friend who agreed to go with them instead. Besides, men scared you, mostly the ones you didn't know. Not Jungwon, he's an exception, or maybe you were biased.

Once you were done getting ready in your bedroom, you opened your window curtains out of reflex and with purpose, gazing out. There was Jungwon, in his sleek black suit and tie, looking like a graceful prince. Abort, abort, abort—

Too late.

Upon seeing him noticing your figure by your window, it was too late to flee or hide. So, you waved at him, taking your notepad along.

'You look great!'

He smiled once he saw your writing, seemingly relieved and less tensed up.

'Thanks! You're beautiful in that dress. I love it on you.'

You're praying he didn't notice the slight tinge of scarlet on your cheeks from a distance away. Well, unless he has great vision. 

Shaking your feelings and thoughts away, you wrote your last message since it was time to leave soon. 

'I need to leave soon :( see you tonight?'

He nodded, writing swiftly before showing it.

'Yes! Will see you soon. Have fun :)'

Having fun isn't exactly the expression you would precisely describe how you felt at that hour. 

Alright, you found it dumb to get slightly jealous over the fact that Jungwon was with his girlfriend tonight, but you couldn't help mulling over it. You just wanted him, but why couldn't he see that?

Or maybe … you didn't know that he does.

Jungwon, on the other hand, was in the men's restroom, washing his face over and over again. He needed to think.

Breaking up with Wonyoung after the whole fiasco at the basketball game had affected him. Although a month and a half seemed like a  short time, it was still a relationship anyway, wasn't it? That's besides the point here.

Jungwon realised he liked you. 

He found it douchey especially when he had just gotten out of a relationship, he didn't want you to think that you're some rebound, but he ended up realising his true feelings. Gosh, couldn't the timing be any better?

His childhood friend, number one supporter since the start, you were the one he was in love with, and it was ridiculous he had to go through a long while just to find out his actual thoughts and feelings. It seemed unfair to you.

Rather impulsively, he hit the 'send' button on his message app, asking for you to meet him outside the hotel. 

Waiting for him to arrive was nerve-wracking for you. Having not seen him almost the entire night and now he had sent an ominous message to top it all off, it simply didn't come off as nonchalant as he intended it to be.

"Hi," you greeted as he made his way towards you. 

"Hey," his eyes scanned your figure, taking in the sight of you in the prettiest dress, one that complimented you to the brim.

"You … wanted to see me?"

"Oh," a gear clicked in Jungwon's mind. Seeing you had completely malfunctioned him and he almost forgot the task at hand. "Right. This is going to sound in–insane but, here me out,"

"Okay?" 

"I like you," 

He likes … you?

Were you tripping or was that genuinely what he'd said? 

"I'm so stupid for not realising sooner. You were always there for me, since we were kids till now. At my basketball practices and competitions, I can spot you in the crowd easily, you're the shining star. Whenever you're playing by the bleachers, I wish I could just run to you. I like you, Y/N, I do,"

Every word was filled with pent up frustration and love, unaware how much he has been pushing back until now. But what concerned him most was your quietness.

"Y/N?"

You blinked, instead it was your turn to malfunction. "I like you too," those words came out pouring naturally, as if you were built for it, fully ready and prepared. "Wait!"

Your exclamation had him jumping up in shock, startling him and catching him off guard.

"I broke it off with her. A–and before you think I'm trying to replace you with her or anything, I'm not. Just wanted to make it clear," he said quickly, almost slurring, clearly panicked. “We can take it slow, don’t need to rush into anything, all it matters is you knowing,”

“I’d like that,” you fiddled with your fingers, nervousness eating you up from within. “I–uh–can I kiss you?”

Where did that come from?

Jungwon flushed a shade of red, coughing from shock. Your eyes widened in horror at his reaction, waving your arms frantically. “It’s okay if you don’t want to! I’m sorry, I don’t know what got over me—”

“I–I do want to kiss you,” he rushed his words out, sounding in a hurry. He was just as whipped as you. 

You smiled, and that was all it took before you grabbed his tie, pulling him in to lock your lips with his.

It was magical. The feeling was something you’ve anticipated since forever, living up to those scenes you’ve seen in your favourite rom coms and having you giddy. His kiss was gentle but desperate, palms resting against the back of your neck and cheek, pulling you in for a deeper kiss. 

You drove him insane. The cherry chapstick he could taste on his tongue, the touch of your lips against his, never in a million years had he imagined himself in this exact scenario, usually he expected himself to fumble, but he was glad he didn’t. He wished the night would never end, and so did you.

Reluctantly so, you eventually pulled away from him, both of you having your breaths taken away and breathing deeply. Even though it was silent, no words even exchanged for a while, you found yourself basking in his presence and taking in the moment. Then, you broke out into a giddy smile, giggling out of nowhere.

Jungwon couldn’t help but be infected by you, smiling along and laughing. There it was, his smile, his dimples, the crinkles by his eyes. Everything about him was surreal to you, whatever happened tonight seemed surreal as a whole. 

“Can I take you home?”

“Of course you can.”

That night, you made sure to have him waiting outside your front yard as you ran in looking like cinderella dashing out of the ball, dashing towards the kitchen to fetch what you had promised. Cupcakes.

“I’ve made them,” you presented the cupcakes in all their glory, each decorated prettily and cutely. 

“You remembered!” he stared at them in awe, then looked back at you with the same expression. “Thank you, really,”

“It’s no biggie,” 

You passed him a reassuring smile, one that he responded back with a small grin. He glanced at his wrist watch for a second, then pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s late, I’m sure you’re tired, and I still have to drive the car into the garage,”

“Right,” you laughed at his car parked half-assed by the sidewalk, luckily no passing car was present. “Goodnight, Won,”

“Goodnight, Y/N. I had a lot of fun tonight with you. I’m glad you were there,”

“Me too.”

Back in your room, you were done washing up and getting ready for bed, looking out your window as it has become a habit by now. Surprisingly,  Jungwon’s light was still switched on, and you had thought he was sound asleep by now, but guess he wasn’t. 

Speaking of him, he came crashing into your sight not even a minute later, notepad in hand and a cheeky smile that told you he had a plan up his sleeve. He stood right in front of the window, directly across your room, then held up the notepad in hand.

‘Be mine?’

This guy …

You grabbed your notepad, writing down the obvious answer, a lovesick smile that he never failed to put on your face. 

‘Yes!! Duh!!’

He let out a laugh at your response, but said nothing more, acting out a sleeping gesture to signal you to sleep soon and that he himself was also off to bed. You only nodded, but before bidding one another goodbye, he blew you a kiss.

You rolled your eyes at his playfulness, blowing one back and waving him goodnight, both of you unwilling to close the curtains and go to bed.

Either way, you were going to bed that night with peace and love in your mind, because finally, he belonged to you.

( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )

☆ permanent taglist (open):

@silentkarnival @strvlveera @freshsaladbowl @bejewelledgirl @fakeuwus @yenqa @hsgwrld @ilovegyuvin @enhacatalog

[myangelhaven]

These are my recommendations of FELIX fics! It will be updated once in a while for new stories I have read. Hopefully the links work (lemme know if it doesn't)

Credits to the authors!! All information written is taken from the authors' post and has not been modified. Reminder that some fics are NOT for minors, so please read the key and avoid 18+ contents.

HAPPY READING!!

KEY [❀]: fluff      [𖤓]: angst      [☄]: sad      [☾]:smut      [⟡]:smau      [𖦹]: humour      [✮]: my favs 

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮---------------FELIX--------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

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You can't believe your eyes when you spot your rival at the video game convention that you have been looking forward to for months. You want to be furious, really, but what happens when he's suddenly totally kind and a little too flirty with you, after he realises the both of you are unintentionally attending the event in matching cosplays?

Hey, hey, golden boy! By @staysuki [❀][𖤓][f2l][mutual pining] 11k

deep down you knew that things won't always be the same as it was when you were kids. as you grew up, felix became more and more popular compared to you, who remained invisible in the crowd. although you took this as a sign of drifting apart and denying your feelings for your childhood bestfriend, felix did not.

Anything for you by @luvknow [❀][✮][f2l] 11.2k

felix’s family owns the largest restaurant franchise in the country and your family works under them. you two have spent your entire lives together and somehow you’ve turned into mini versions of your parents with a boss and secretary type relationship. it wasn’t until last year on his birthday when he tells you he loves you while drunk that your friendship dynamic dramatically changes, and it’s not for the better when he pretends it never happened.

Caramel Popcorn by @staytheword [❀][☾][✮][pining][fwb] 11.5k

You are Changbin's fuck buddy. You two are just friends, but you are still something. Felix shouldn't have a crush on you. He still does.a

Solace by @fizzydrink698 [❀][childhood friends to lovers] 11.9k

You slowly opened your eyes, holding your breath.

Felix was sleepily smiling at you, eyes half-closed and dazed. He clearly wasn’t entirely lucid yet, still completely unaware, but he was still looking at you with so much affection.

Your breath escaped in a sudden rush, unable to stop yourself looking up at him.

Oh shit, his eyelashes. His freckles. So pretty.

Young & beautiful by @missinghan [❀][𖤓][zombieapocalypseau] 13.1k

you’ve always thought your soulmate was an idiot to not be there sooner but eventually, everything connects when it started with Lee Felix holding your best friend at gunpoint. 

Sugar sugar by @hyunnows [❀][𖤓][✮][exes2lovers][slowburn] 23.7k

Teamed up for the annual Bake-Offs, your ex-boyfriend Felix and you have to work together to win while rediscovering your past love for each other.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄more to come!⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

☆--------Felix's masterlist || skz masterlist---------☆

[frostandflamesfanfic]

O Christmas Tree (Steve Harrington x Reader)

O Christmas Tree (Rated T)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word Count: 2.0k+

Warnings: Brief language, suggestive dialogue, Christmas angst and cuteness

Summary: This year marks your first Christmas with Steve in your own apartment and your boyfriend is determined to make it the best one ever. However, when life gets in the way and causes some challenges, the two of you need to get a little...creative.

“Steve,” you started, “it’s too big.”

“Relax, babe,” your boyfriend glanced over at you through his eyelashes, concentration evident on his face. “It’ll fit. Just relax.” 

A sigh escaped your lips as you attempted to shift your weight the right way. As much as you loved him, Steve could sometimes be the biggest loveable idiot you’ve ever known. “I don’t understand why you just had to get one of the biggest one-” You were cut off by a sickening crack, followed by a chorus of swears escaping from your boyfriend’s lips. 

“Goddamn it!” Steve muttered. “That’s the second one today.”

You frowned at the pine needles currently littered at your feet. The top of the tree you had been guiding into the back hall of your apartment complex fell from your hands. “At least part of it made it through the doorway this time. Now for the love of God, can we please get a smaller tree?"

As you watched your boyfriend stare at the lonesome remains of your second attempt of spreading holiday cheer in your home, you could tell his soul was just as crushed as the disaster before him. Steve had been so excited to head to the Christmas tree farm that morning. He had taken the day off of work. Well, it was more like he had gotten Robin to cover for him because he wanted to have the whole day with you. He had planned to drag you everywhere with him: to get the tree, hot chocolate in the town square, ornament shopping at Melvald’s… it was going to be perfect.

That is, until the first tree snapped in half when he tripped on a pile of snow on the sidewalk. 

To Steve’s credit, it has been the first big snow of the season in Hawkins. The night before had been a frost, which had frozen even the softest snow into the hardest icicles. There was no way he could have survived that slip and landed on two feet. At least the tree had had enough branches to cushion his fall. 

It had taken you another hour to find a replacement tree. Steve was determined to find the perfect one. Why? You still didn’t know. In the years you’ve known Steve Harrington, he always grew solemn and quiet around holidays and family-related celebrations, even after he became friends with the young Dustin Henderson. You always assumed it was because of his parents.

They were never home, especially around the holidays. If they were, it would always be to host some grandiose Christmas Eve party for the rich of the rich in Hawkins. You remembered Steve telling you about it during the year you started dating. He would spend hours hiding out in his room in a desperate attempt to avoid awkward eye contact with people who cared more about his parents’ wine reserves than a twelve-year-old kid. 

He had started by consoling himself with the thought that the next day– Christmas Day– would be better. Only it wouldn’t be because his parents would be too hungover to do anything as a family. The closest thing to them wearing festive colors on their person were the matching bloody mary’s sported in their hands as they relaxed on the couch. Sure, they would buy him gifts, usually something overly expensive or meant to encourage him to try out for sports (“colleges like to see those extracurriculars, son!” his father had encouraged Steve at age thirteen). It wasn’t ideal, but he took what he could get.    

As he got older, Steve had given up on the idea of having a proper family Christmas with his parents. He made his mind up that one day he would have a family of his own, his six little nuggets and the person he promised to share the rest of his life with. They would be the ones he would try for. He wouldn’t let them suffer like he did, to feel as though family wasn’t what mattered. 

It was a promise he renewed the day he met you.  

The two of you had met before the upcoming holiday break, in the parking of the middle school’s Snow Ball celebration. To say Steve was in a weird place at the time would be an understatement. His two-year-long on again, off again, relationship with Nancy Wheeler had come to a complete end. He had gained a younger brother in the form of Dustin Henderson. To top it all off, he had been rejected from every college he applied to that semester. Not that it mattered, anyway. Even when he filled out the application, Steve couldn’t find a major that interested him. 

The day you came into his life, it was like a breath of fresh winter air. 

So there he was in his car, hating how pathetic he probably looked parked in the lot of a middle school. Then you walked up, knocked on his window…and the rest was history. A year later, he somehow got the nerve to ask you out. And somehow, by some miracle, you agreed to go with a loser like him. 

Fast forward three years and you’ve both finally saved up enough to move into your own place. It wasn’t much, just a studio apartment near the center of Hawkins, but it was a palace to the two of you. You finally had a place to call your own. When Steve went back to his parents’ house for the last time to drop off his keys, you were there holding his hand the entire time. 

It wasn’t that he was scared to leave– he had been ready to leave that house and what it stood for a long time ago. The only thing he had been afraid of was not being strong enough to completely fend for himself. Living with his parents, Steve didn’t need to worry about utility bills, rent, groceries. But once he was on his own. . .

It was an enlightening moment the day you had both signed the lease. Both you and Steve realized right then and there you weren’t alone. The two of you didn’t need to depend on anyone else anymore, but you would support each other; it would just be you against the world. 

That was why this Christmas was so important, why Steve was pulling out all the stops. He wanted– no, he needed– to prove to you how much you meant to him. He wanted you to know how grateful he was that you decided to take this next step with him, to intertwine your lives together. Now if only he could get that godforsaken Christmas tree to fit through the stupid door. 

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

A few hours and another tree later, you found Steve staring at your latest festive decoration with a frown. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips as you placed a box onto your shared kitchen counter. Your boyfriend was far less amused. “It doesn’t look right,” he remarked. 

“I think it looks cute!” you argued while you opened the flaps. Seeing only random dish towels, it was now your time to frown. “At least it fit in through the door this time. Hey, wasn’t this labeled Christmas ornaments?”

Steve sighed as he stood up from the sofa and made his way over to you. He pressed his palms against the counter from behind you, arms caging you closer to him in the process. He was a welcome warmth and you forced your body to awkwardly lean backwards against his chest. You tilted your head back to see him frown at the box’s contents. “Must’ve gotten them mixed up when we were packing up, sweetheart,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips to your hairline. “I can go get the other boxes from the closet. See if we missed somethin’.” 

“My hero,” you teased with a grin.

“Only the best for you.” That got you another kiss to the hairline…and several soft kisses against your neck. Your smile only grew as Steve wrapped his arms around your waist and squeezed lightly. You felt your entire body relax into his touch as he continued with his soft affection. “Maybe try to fix up the disaster while I’m gone?”

When he jerked his thumb toward your makeshift living room, you merely shook your head. Your gaze fell about the small scraggly tree you had wrapped in a blanket on your coffee table. By the time you had cleaned up the broken branches and made it back to the lot after your last catastrophe, there weren’t many trees left for sale in your nearly depleted price range. The two of you had to settle for something much smaller.  

“I dunno, babe,” you replied. “I kind of like it. It has those Charlie Brown Christmas vibes…”

That clearly wasn’t the right thing to say at all. Steve grunted and picked up the box of dishtowels, leaving the room without another word. You wondered what it was that was bothering him so much. So what if the tree wasn’t huge? At least you had one that was your own. Perching yourself on the sofa, you absentmindedly began poking at the sparse branches. You had become so lost in your own thoughts of what could help brighten Steve’s mood, you hadn’t registered the sounds of said boyfriend returning to the room and calling your name. 

“Hey,” he said with a soft smile. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Why do you hate our Christmas tree?” The words slipped out before you could stop them. 

“What?” The question clearly caught your boyfriend off guard, him taking a seat on the sofa’s armrest to look at you properly. “Why would you think I hate it?”

“You called it a disaster.”

Steve sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I didn’t-” He sighed again. “I didn’t mean it was a disaster. It’s just…I had this plan, you know? We were going to really celebrate Christmas this year– together. 

“Since it’s the first year we’re spending it in our own place, I wanted it to be special. The tree, the decorations, baking Christmas cookies, going shopping for the kids… I was even trying hard to find the perfect gift for you. I wanted it to be perfect because- because you’re perfect and you make…” He paused for a minute to lock eyes with you. “...and you make everything better.”

You could have melted on the spot right then and there. 

“Look,” Steve started again, “I’m sorry if I seem like I’m being a real-”

“Scrooge?” you supplied helpfully.

“Shhhure… a Scrooge. I just want you to know how much you mean to me.” Steve slid down onto the cushions beside you, hand clinging to yours. “Because you mean a whole damn lot to me. You know that, right?”

“You better believe I do, Harrington,” you whispered, lifting your joined hands to your lips. “Because you mean a whole damn lot to me, too. But you seem to be forgetting one important detail.”

“And what might that be?”

“We don’t need to have a fancy, over-the-top Christmas with fancy trees and decorations for it to be perfect.” You leaned against his chest, bringing his hand to rest on your opposite shoulder. “We just need each other and that’s enough. Steve, I would gladly take this tiny tree here in this apartment with you instead of knowing you’re spending Christmas alone in your parents’ house.” 

Steve pressed a kiss to your temple. You could feel the smile which threatened to appear on his lips even though he attempted to suppress it. Try as he might to deny it, Steve Harrington wasn’t one accustomed to receiving affection from others, especially those he cared about in the first place. To hear you say those words to him probably overloaded his brain and caused him to short circuit. 

A shiver was sent down your spine as he moved his lips downward, closer to your ear. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he murmured. 

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” you replied, turning your head to press a kiss to his lips. After you pulled away a moment later, you glanced over the box of ornaments labeled Kitchen Utensils. “So that’s where they went. What do you say we decorate this popsicle stand?”

Steve snorted. “I don’t think that’s going to take very long.”

“Oh, shut up!”

=================

Author's Note: Welcome to Day 2 of Stevemas! This was a story that I knew I wanted to write the second I decided to move forward with the event. Also totally isn't inspired by past experiences...nope. Question for those of you who've made it this far: which screams Christmas more-- real or plastic tree? No debates here, folks. I just want to see what everyone's traditions are!

If you liked this story and want to see more like it up on my blog, make sure to leave a comment and reblog! Likes are appreciated, but it's those post actions that help spread the word about my writing and motivate me to keep posting.

Until next time, little sparks! <3

[olderjustneverwiser]

Give Me Love, I'll Put My Heart in It (Steve Harrington)

images aren't mine

Two best friends, four seasons, one night. A mistake and finding the way back to one another. Yet another friends-to-lovers fic and literally no one is surprised. WC: 8K.

Warnings: mentions of loss of virginity, sex is alluded to but not explicit, lots of Steve Thoughts, drinking way too much. Literally so much pining, just two oblivious idiots in love.

This fic is heavily based on 'An Evening I Will Not Forget/Furthest Thing' by Dermot Kennedy, and lyrics from the song are at the beginning of each part.

Masterlist

-

I'm always thinkin' summertime with the bikes out

Pushin' our luck, gettin' wiped out

Days with nothin’ but laughin’ loud

When Steve thinks about summertime, he thinks about sweltering bike rides, cooling off in the pool, and sleepovers on bedroom floors. Sharing sleeping bags and candy stashes and secrets. Nothing was too sacred, not if it was with you  

He thinks about meeting you when you were kids. He knew of you because you were in the same class as him but didn't really know you, too engrossed in his existing friends and action figures to really pay attention to anyone else. But then one summer day he saw you, riding your bike down his street and looking like you were having way more fun than he was. You asked him if he wanted to ride to the quarry with you, and that was that.

One bike ride turned into two, and after learning that you lived just down the street from one another, you were inseparable. The two of you rode to the arcade, the quarry, into the woods, anywhere your little legs could take you until the sun would start to set and your parents expected you home. It didn't matter where you ended up, whether one of you wiped out while racing the other. The skinned knees and hurt pride was worth it because he had you, and that's all that mattered.

He thinks about summer days spent in the pool; cooling off in the hot Hawkins afternoons. He thinks about games of Marco Polo with all of his friends, playing treasure dive when it was just the two of you. Always seeking you out because somewhere between biking in the Indiana sun and splash fights, you had become his best friend. 

And as the days turned to night and you both grew too exhausted from the sun, the sleeping bags would be rolled out and you would pretend that you were far away from Hawkins, away from his nanny and the house that was always too empty until sleep inevitably took you both. These are the things Steve thinks about when he thinks about summer. Not loud parties or college tours or summer jobs. Not the loneliness he'd feel when his parents would leave yet again. No, these are the memories that come to his mind, memories he made with you.

Those were always the best. Those were the ones that made his heart feel a little lighter.

It didn’t matter how many summers passed; how old the both of you got or who he happened to be sleeping with for those few months, his mind was brought back to the smell of chlorine and the wind in his face, in your hair. It’s no surprise, really. Those memories have been the highlight of his summers for as long as he can remember. 

Of course, the summers changed as you got older, but the sentiments always stayed the same. Bike rides turned into long drives in Steve’s car; the destination sometimes unknown, a surprise even to the both of you. Kool-Aid by the pool became diluted with vodka since no parents were around to tell you different and the smell of smoke lingered alongside chlorine and sunscreen. As you got older you and Steve stopped trying to pretend that the floor of his bedroom was comfortable enough to sleep on; Steve happily sharing his bed instead of just his blankets. You had both grown over the years and his bed didn’t feel quite as big as it used to but neither of you really cared. The slightly cramped space only gave you both the excuse to lay a little closer to one another. 

Not like either of you really minded. 

Somewhere near the end of his teen years, between early morning drives and late nights in his bedroom, Steve noticed things. His eyes starting to linger on your face a little longer, his hands seeking out yours in the pool. He noticed how touches always seemed to last a little too long to be just friendly and how his heart pounded when some punk would flirt with you. At first he brushed it off, he was seventeen and just chalked it up to possessiveness towards his best friend. Then time passed and Jonathan Byers beat a little ego out of him and Steve realized that, oh, what he had been feeling was a crush. Not young lust, not just want for another body or bragging rights, but he wanted you. All of you. 

You and him never changed through the years, though. Not really, not in a way you both thought of. Both wished for, even though the other was totally oblivious. 

Steve remembers a day last summer, the two of you hanging out like you always did when you were both off from work and the kids weren’t hounding Steve to drive them all over Hawkins. The day was spent in his pool; his empty house gave you both the freedom to be as loud and obnoxious as you wanted, to drink and smoke without any caring parents.

He remembers playing music through a boombox; smiling as you sang along to ’American Girl.’  He thinks of how you slipped off your dress, bathing suit already on and the skin you displayed wasn’t anything he hadn't seen of you before, but it made his stare linger for reasons he still didn't understand. The day was perfect; neither of you had a care in the world for a while and then at one point when the sun was just beginning to set for the night, he remembers turning to look at you and he almost forgot to breathe.

The colors of the setting sun surrounded you over the trees, shades of purple, blue, orange, and red all around and they somehow made your face glow. You turned to him with a smile, all teeth and wide eyes and pure joy and Steve swore you were perfect. He could finally put a word to the confusing, complicated feelings that had been swirling in his head for the past few years. It was love. He fucking loved his best friend.

He almost made a move, right then and there.

He wasn't King Steve anymore, though. You were both older, somewhat wiser. He didn't act like every girl was his anymore because he didn’t want just any girl; hadn’t for years. Besides, you were his best friend and it's not like you had ever acted like you wanted to be anything other than that. So, he held back. Kept the feelings he knew he had locked away deep in his chest because it was better that way. He had always been a shitty boyfriend in the past, anyway, and you didn't deserve that. Steve had always been a good friend, though, so he chose to keep things just the way they were because you had him, he had you, and that was good enough. You still held his arm as he led you back inside, still laid next to him in his too-small bed that night. Still was his person, just like you had always been. That never changed.

But as everyone knows, summer always has to end. Days get shorter, nights a little cooler and not everything stays the same forever. 

-

What's important is this evening I will not forget

Purple, blue, orange, red. These colors of feelin’

Autumn flowed into Hawkins quickly, leaves turning different shades of red and yellow in September and temperatures dropping in the first week of October. It brought fewer pool parties and movie nights since the kids were going to football games and studying more. Robin and Vickie had recently moved into an apartment together, and Eddie's band had started to book more and more gigs, which left you and Steve alone more often than not.

It's not like he minded, not at all. He loved his friends more than his own family, but you were special and he'd pick time with you over time with anyone else, every time. 

Which brought the both of you to tonight, Rocky Horror playing and you two on the couch in the den. A bottle of cheap wine shared between you and your legs resting on his lap. It was comfortable, the kind of night that you both loved. You had stolen one of his cardigans earlier; the chill outside had found its way in after the sun had gone down for the night and you had slipped on the thick material without even asking, knowing Steve wouldn't mind.

 He loved seeing you in them, anyway.

"I totally had the hots for Janet when I first watched this," Steve said as 'The Sword of Damocles' played through the TV. "Pretty sure ‘Touch Me’ was like, my first sexual awakening or something."

"Wow, that explains so much about you," you teased.

"Oh shut up," Steve tickled your leg, careful not to make you spill your drink. "She's a super hot girl singing about wanting to get dirty and lose her virginity, how could twelve-year-old me not be changed by that?" You muttered something about how crass he could be, though your smile told him that you really didn’t care.

"I mean, I probably shouldn't have watched this when I was that young. Gave me a pretty fucked up idea how my first time would go, y'know?" Steve expected some snarky retort about the workings of the male psyche or something, but he didn't get it. 

"I, uh, wouldn't know actually," you said shyly, running your finger over the rim of your glass. "Don’t really have a good frame of reference for that sorta thing."

Steve almost asked what you meant, but then understanding washed over him. He couldn't help but sputter and the almost spit-take would have been funny if it was under different circumstances. If it wasn't at your expense. "You- you've never had sex?"

He didn’t mean the question in any sort of mean way of course; he was genuinely just surprised by your admission. Though the way you rolled your eyes and the blush that creeped up your neck told him that you definitely took it that way. "I mean, have you ever heard me talk about having sex?"

"How did I not know this? We're best friends!"

"It's not exactly something I broadcast. Hello Hawkins, twenty-two year old virgin here."

Steve hated how you said the word with a sneer, like it was something awful. Hated how he definitely made it worse. "Come on, don't say it like that. Sorry if I made you feel bad; guess I figured you had done it and were just, I don’t know, being a lady or something."

You huffed, "I mean, it's not like I'm a prude. I've done stuff, I just never wanted to have sex with guys in high school, y'know? Most of them were gross. But after we graduated I just wanted to get it over with, so I went out with Kevin Murphy-"

"That's why you dated that asshole?" Steve interjected.

"I thought he'd be happy to do it!” You continued. “But he left when I told him I was a virgin, as if sleeping with me would make me wanna marry his dumb ass or something. I thought stupid boys liked innocent girls? I remember you bragging about how you were Nancy's first for days."

"Don't remind me how much of an dick I was-"

"But then I dated Matt from the swim team, and he was a little too into the whole thing, so dumped him. Then there was Ralphie but he was just a creep and after that I guess I just gave up. I didn’t realize how hard it'd be to find a guy to fuck me and not be weird about it."

Steve hated how sad you sounded after your confession. He genuinely was shocked by it; he had been too busy with his own sex life to really pay attention to yours when he was younger. But now he felt like an asshole for even bringing it up and he wanted to turn back the time; shove the words back in his mouth. He wanted to make it better.

"I could be the one, if y'want," the words left Steve before he could think better of them, before he could even think through them and they shocked him almost as much as they seemed to shock you, if your wide eyes and slack jaw were anything to go by. 

"You drunk already, Steve?" You asked, a slight laugh at the end of your question to try to make light of the situation and part of Steve wished he was a little too drunk at the moment. He wished he could blame the offer on too many drinks so the two of you could laugh it off, forget about it in the morning. 

The truth was that Steve was as sober as he could be. The question had flowed from his lips too easily because if he was being honest, he had thought about that for too long. He has wanted you to be his for years, but he lost his nerve and gained popularity and suddenly he was dating Kathy, then Nancy, then Brenda. Sleeping with other girls in between just because he could. He realized you deserved better than he could offer you. You were so much more than just a friend but still not what Steve wanted, not how he wished things could be between the two of you but even after every failed relationship, he never made a move. Never risked ruining the best fucking thing he'd ever had because if he just had you as his closest friend, well, that would have to be good enough. 

That didn’t mean he couldn’t do this for you, though.

"Not drunk, trust me." He replied. "Just thinking."

Your expression was completely unreadable as your eyes bore into his. Steve couldn't tell if you wanted to agree or run for the hills or slap him for even suggesting such a thing. Eventually you responded, and he thought a nice slap from you would have hurt less.

"I don't wanna be a pity fuck, Steve."

And fuck, those words cut him like a knife because how could you think that's what you would mean to him? How could you think that he would just fuck you and that's all?

Steve wetted his lips, planning his words carefully this time, "You know it wouldn't be like that. It's just, this way your first time would be with someone who-" Someone who loves you.

"Someone who cares about you. And it's not like I wouldn't get anything out of it," he added with a grin to attempt to hide how much he was freaking out inside. He thought he saw the blush on your cheeks deepen even more if that were possible and you appeared to be actually considering his offer. 

For some reason, it terrified him.

"If you're uncomfortable you can say no, obviously I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do and even if we'd start and you'd wanna stop I would-"

"Okay." You said, almost a whisper, and Steve swore he felt the air leave his lungs. Because he had wanted this since he was a teenager with too many hormones and not enough life experience to know what his feelings for you meant just yet. He had thought about you and him together like this far more times than he’d care to admit and the fact that you just accepted his offer, just like that, damn near brought him to his knees.

"Okay?" Steve clarified, making sure he heard right, hadn't imagined it.

"Yeah," you nodded, "Yeah, I know you'll take care of me."

And yes, he would. No matter what. 

Some sort of silent understanding of tonight passed through the air between you. He grabbed your hand, blankets and half-empty glasses long forgotten as he led you through the hallway and up the stairs to his bedroom. Steve could feel the pound of his heart, the blood rushing in his ears and he wondered if he should say something before you both went through with this. Should he tell you that he's loved you for years, and that this would mean so much more to him than just helping out a friend? Does he tell you that he wants you to be his after this, too? 

But before he could think about it any further the two of you got to his room, still comforting but there was a new feeling in the air now. The soft light from his bedside lamp illuminated your skin, you were looking at him with those eyes and he knew that he was a fucking goner. 

You looked like you wanted to say something, your hands twisting in his cardigan as you worried your bottom lip. Clearly nervous and thinking your question over in your head before you spoke, "This isn't gonna change things between us, right?"

Steve wanted to say that they would. He wanted to tell you that he's wanted change for as long as he could remember, and that he's wondered if you wanted it, too. He wanted to say that this could change everything, and wouldn't that be wonderful? He wanted to say that he was almost as nervous as you undoubtedly were because he thought you were perfect, wanted this to be perfect and that this didn't have to be the only time. 

He didn't say any of those things, though. Didn’t want to overstep so instead he settled on, "Not if we don't want it to."

You nodded, slowly, thinking his response over. He wondered if your silence was a sign; if your hesitation meant that you shouldn't do this. 

“Hey,” Steve took your hands in his and he sat on the bed, meeting your eye level. “What're you thinkin' about, huh?”

Shaking your head, you offered him that small smile of yours that he secretly loved. "Nothing, just nervous I guess."

"We don't have to do anything," he started but you shook your head, assured him that you wanted this, wanted him. Then your hands were on his chest and there was a pleading look in your eye and you were asking if you could kiss him. It was like you couldn't wait any longer. Like you had waited a lifetime for this opportunity.

He wondered if you had, just like him. 

Only a second passed before he whispered to you that of course you could, and then you were kissing him. It was soft, testing, just the push of your lips on his and it was everything. His blood rushed and he wondered if you felt the thump of his heart because how long had he waited for this? Wished for it?

You ended it too soon but he couldn't help but bring a hand to your cheek and pull you back in, just for one more because for all he knew, this would be the only time. He wanted to remember how you tasted, like sugar and sunlight and he didn't want it to end. Not yet. 

“Sure about this?” he asked once he managed to pull away. Just to make absolutely sure that this was okay; that you really wanted him.

You just nodded, cheeks flushed and hands gripping the soft material of his sweater. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

The night was a blur after that. Steve willed time to slow just for that night, just a little while but the better things in life always pass too fast and this was no different. Still, he was determined to remember every detail about it. Soft sweaters and tee shirts being shrugged off, thrown somewhere in the room and hands touching bare skin. Kisses that Steve knew he would never have enough of. Your sigh that tickled his mouth as his hand grazed your hip bone and then even lower, and the way you sounded when he entered you, gasping and asking for more, chest heaving and fingers leaving little marks on his shoulders as you came. 

He wanted to remember it all because it had never felt like this before. 

Steve expected the awkwardness to come as you both cleaned up or brushed your teeth side by side at his sink, but it never came. Not even when he asked if you were okay did the conversation feel different than any other you'd usually have. It felt normal after, as if having sex with your best friend was something the two of you always did. When you both crawled into Steve's bed and flicked off the lamp, surrounded by darkness and the silence of the night, the shift in your friendship he'd half expected didn't surface. The night was quiet and calm like it always was. 

It felt like a calm before a storm and neither of you were prepared.

-

Bittersweet celebrations, I know I can't change what happened

Things changed, as they inevitably would. 

At least, they didn’t at first. Steve still woke up before you the morning after, like he always did whenever you spent the night. Still watched as sunlight filled the room and woke you from your slumber slowly. He still thought about waking you up with a good morning kiss; one that he could pour all of his feelings and wants into but he didn't, allowing the sunlight to kiss you awake instead. 

You still shrugged on one of Steve's sweaters instead of your own, always finding comfort in the way it smelled like his shampoo and cologne. The two of you still shared breakfast at his dining table, the shy smile you wore and marks above your collarbone the only indications that something different had happened last night. 

Steve wondered if he should bring it up; if he should ask if you were still okay or if you wanted to talk about it. He wondered if this would eventually change things, if something would finally come out of this.

He wondered if your lips still burned like his did. If you still felt his hands on you because he still felt yours. 

But he kept quiet because he didn't know what to say. His brain told him that if you had wanted to talk about it, you would have brought it up yourself and before either of you knew, it was time for you to leave for your shift at work. So you left, hair still slightly mused from sleep and his sweater around your body. You loitered at his front door for a second, seemingly wanting something that he couldn't comprehend but after a beat, he let you leave.

He should have said something because everything changed after that.

Things were fine at first. Steve still saw you daily. You still made the same jokes and shared snacks on his couch during movie nights. Still rested your head on his shoulder when the hour got too late and you could barely stay awake. Days passed and you never talked about it, almost like that night never even happened. Steve kept thinking that he should bring it up, but the fact that you so pointedly did not bring it up told him that he probably shouldn't, right?

He wanted to, though. He wanted to so badly because he couldn’t stop thinking about how you felt against him that night. 

If he thought he had it bad before, it was nothing compared to how his hands ached to link with yours when you walked next to him on the sidewalk. He wanted to grab you and kiss you again, not satisfied with the sample he’d gotten that night. You never asked him for it again, though, so he kept quiet, kept everything to himself. Steve thought he saw it in your eyes a few times; a silent plea whenever the two of you were together. You’d cuddle all close next to him on the couch, flash him a smile and for a split second he’d think about closing the gap, thinking that you were going to do it, but you never did. The two of you stayed on the side of friendship, like always. 

Steve noticed a shift, seemingly out of nowhere. You stopped linking your hands through his in the car, jokes that once made you laugh only earned him a smile and you didn't ask to borrow his cardigans anymore. Then, you didn't come around as much.

You started visiting him at work less and less. Thanksgiving lunch with your parents was strained, more and more nights were spent without you and before Steve knew it, autumn had turned into winter and you were turning just as cold towards him. 

You didn't go Christmas shopping with him like you had done every year prior. Hellfire nights at Eddie's somehow started to feel lonely as you opted to sit on the opposite side of the couch instead of curled into his side. Watching the kids play from the sidelines, keeping a safe distance. 

You'd never done that before and Steve didn’t know how to navigate this. 

Thankfully, you still came to his house for New Year's Eve. It had become somewhat of a tradition for everyone to come over to celebrate the holiday, but he had a hunch that you only came to see Robin and the kids. 

It stung, but he'd take it. It had been too long since he'd seen you. 

The night started out like it always did, Eddie and the kids talking D&D or Lord of the Rings by the outdoor firepit, Nancy and Jonathan off in their little area by the pool together, Vicki talking Steve's head off while you and Robin caught up on the porch.

The only change was you, who hadn't spoken a word to Steve the whole damn night. You, who had shown up in your own thick sweater instead of stealing one of Steve’s and opting for his liquor cabinet rather than him.

He wondered if you were embarrassed by what the two of you had done or if you regretted it. He had a haunting feeling that you did because he was starting to regret it himself. He didn't regret what happened,  exactly, he would never regret that but he hated what happened after. If he had known that night would ruin the best friendship he'd ever had he never would have made that stupid fucking suggestion. 

What was done was done, though. He couldn’t change it.

As the hour grew later the sparklers and poppers came out, Eddie broke out the s’mores, and his special blend mingled with the smell of gunpowder. Music and laughter was in the air and Steve couldn't help but smile at the scene, the people closest to him having the time of their lives just by all being together to celebrate the end of another year. 

Well, all except you, it seemed.

You were no longer with Robin, and Steve didn't see you among the group of younger ones. He almost panicked as he looked around the yard and didn't see you, but his eyes caught a shape in the living room window. 

You were inside, alone. Away from your friends and away from him. 

Steve left to go inside and check on you, deciding that he missed his best friend too much and fuck, enough was enough, when he was cornered by none other than Dustin Henderson before he could even make it to the porch. 

"What happened?" He asked Steve, no preamble or clarification needed for him to understand his question. 

Dustin didn't need to know that, though. 

"What're you talkin' about?" 

"Don't play dumb, Steve. You know exactly what I'm asking. The two of you were joined at the hip and now you haven't talked all night! What. Happened."

Steve sighed, cursing his friend and his never ending curiosity. "We're fine, alright? Look, even if something did happen, you think I'd tell you?"

Dustin narrowed his eyes, “Do you really think I’m that stupid, Steve? Do you think any of us are that stupid?”

Steve really wished they were. 

He hadn’t told anyone what happened, he knew you didn’t either but he also knew that the fact that something had gone on in the recent months was obvious to anyone with eyes and a brain cell. Thanks to the fact that you hadn’t spoken to him all night and were currently drinking on his couch alone instead of curled against his side. 

“Fuck off, Henderson. Let the adults worry about the adults, okay?” With a pat to Dustin’s shoulder Steve continued to his destination, ignoring Dustin’s calls to him as he stepped into the house and made his way over to you.

"Hey," he said stupidly. He hated not knowing how to approach you or what to say. You only gave him a small hum of acknowledgement, so he tried again "What're you doing in here all by yourself?"

"Drinkin', ya know, end of the year and all. Kinda whatcha do" was your reply and Steve noted your glassy eyes and pink cheeks, your plastic cup that smelled like vodka with a hint of juice. It fucking killed him.

"What, gotta be drunk just to see me now?" He hated how he sounded defensive, hated how he felt the need to say something because he knew you were a lightweight and that you probably wouldn't even remember this in the morning. "How much have you had to drink, anyway?"

You shrugged, downed the cup and grimaced when the alcohol burned your throat. Steve wanted to cut you off, knowing you must be well past your limit but he couldn't. Not after the disaster with Nancy years back and besides, he didn't feel like he had the right to do it anymore. It's not like the two of you were friends at the moment.

He hated this. It had never been like this with you, was never supposed to be like this.

Steve took a chance, taking the seat next to you on the sofa. This was the most the two of you had spoken in weeks and he wanted to take what he could get. He didn’t know what to say though, because you had treated him like a stranger. Steve knew you better than anyone else, in more ways than he could count, but still you couldn’t seem to look him in the eye. The silence was deafening; Steve couldn’t remember ever feeling awkward next to you. Nervous, sure. Maybe even scared but never awkward. Not even after you had seen each other naked and knew what the other tasted like. So yeah, this awkward silence was new and unusual and Steve fucking hated it.

You broke it before he had to, though. 

"Things are different now and I don't know what to do.” You whispered, closing your eyes to contain the tears gathering there. “I wanted you for so long and it was amazing but it was a mistake and it’s all fucked now.”

Steve watched as you paused, taking a breath between your rambles and he didn’t know how to feel at this moment. It felt like a climax, like a big reveal in a movie and he didn’t know what was coming. He knew it wouldn’t be good, though. Drunk confessions never were.

“I fucking love you, Steve, and I wanted it to be you and maybe that was selfish of me, but when you said that you wanted it too I thought that you wanted me and loved me. But I don’t think you love me like I love you."

Now, Steve thought that he had suffered a broken heart after Nancy called him bullshit, dumped him like garbage. At the time he naively thought she was the love of his life and the pain he felt in his chest was the worst he’d felt yet in his short, charmed existence.

This, though? This was soul crushing. The fact that you probably felt used and dumped out and it was all his fault. That you didn’t think he loved you after everything. The fact that you had just said that you loved him, but you were drunk, so was it even real? 

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" He asked, disbelieving. Why didn't you tell me? Fuck, why didn't I tell you that I feel the same? Would it even matter now if I did?

But then he watched as your face fell, and tears you'd managed to hold in finally leaked, and he physically saw you deflate.

Steve was stunned, torn between wanting to run and wipe your tears like he'd always done but knowing you wouldn't let him. He didn’t know what to do because you had just told him what he had wanted to hear for years but you were drunk and heartbroken, and you wouldn’t even remember this in the morning. He didn’t get the chance to be happy about your feelings for him, wasn’t able to try to hold you close and tell you that it would be better in the morning because at that moment, a voice neither of you really expected to hear broke through the uncomfortable silence. 

“Hey, Harrington, you got any-” Eddie stopped in his tracks and his face turned serious, noting the pained look on Steve’s face and the tears you tried to wipe with your sleeve. “Sorry, guess I’ll just go-”

“Nope!” You said, a little too enthusiastically. “I’ll go.” You stood and tried to walk to the door but the alcohol you had consumed was clearly affecting you now and you stumbled, both Steve and Eddie reaching to catch you before you fell.

“I don’t think you should be walking anywhere like this, drunky,” Eddie said, trying to add levity to the situation.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Why don’t you just stay here, huh? We can talk about it in the morning.”

"'Cause everythin' worked out so great the last time I was in your bed?" you mumbled, speech slurring a little more and your eyes losing focus as you stared at him.

Steve didn’t miss the way Eddie looked at him then, eyebrows raised and looking like he was shocked, annoyed, angry. He wanted to wipe the look right off of Eddie’s face.

As if Steve would ever mean to hurt you. 

“How about I walk you home?” Eddie offered, turning to face you before Steve could respond. “You’re right up the road, yeah?”

You agreed with little argument then, exhaustion seemingly taking over. Steve watched as Eddie grabbed your coat off of the back of the couch and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, just to steady you. He wanted to call out to Eddie, to convince you to stay so you would be here in the morning. Instead he watched the two of you leave out of the front door, avoiding your friends outside and leaving Steve to explain where you’d gone off to and why you weren’t just staying here like always. Maybe he deserved it, maybe this was some sort of karma for being a dick for years.

So Steve joined his friends outside, giving vague answers to Is she okay? and Why didn't she just stay here? He ignored the knowing grin on Dustin's face and the look Robin gave him that told Steve she would definitely be grilling him about this later. Steve ignored it all; too exhausted to explain and defend himself to his friends. 

This was the first New Year's spent without you for what felt like forever and, fuck, Steve had never felt more alone.

-

I still love you, I still love you always 

Let's not crack and break and part ways

Things weren't the same for weeks after that.

It wasn't for lack of trying on Steve's part, though. On New Year's Day he had gotten up as early as his hangover allowed him and made the short walk to your house, only to see Eddie walking out of the door just as Steve stepped onto the lawn. He told Steve that he had just stopped by to check in and that you were hungover but okay, and he didn't know if you'd want to talk to anyone right now. 

Steve had a feeling that meant that you didn't want to talk to him but were too nice to say it.

So Steve waited, and then he called your house, then called it again the next day. Eventually he got your machine enough times to tell him to give it up. It hurt, but he gave you space and waited a week.

A week turned to two, and before anyone knew two months had gone by without speaking to one another. It seemed like you and Steve had finally outgrown each other, which is something he never thought would happen. 

Because you and him were each other's person. Whenever he felt too lonely in his big, empty house or when you felt too lonely in your own head. You had always been there. Hell, he saw you way more than he saw his own parents. Steve was used to being without his parents; they’d leave for weeks at a time, come home for a day or two, then leave again. Give him a call every other week, just to make sure he wasn’t dead. He hadn’t ever gone longer than a day or two without speaking to you, though. The both of you had watched the other grow up and change, and had way too many inside jokes to count. But now you weren't there anymore and it felt like cutting off a limb. 

As cliché as it sounded, it felt like he had lost a piece of himself. 

He still saw you, of course. Hawkins was a small town and it was impossible not to run into you at the movie theater or the grocery store or even with your mutual friends. It hurt his chest a little each time, but he never acted on it. You'd give him the same look whenever you'd meet his eye; a little bit embarrassed and regretful. Disappointed. 

Steve never meant to disappoint you. 

It was obvious that he had, though. Whether it was because of what happened that night or what didn’t happen the morning after, he still wasn’t sure. 

He had his hopes, of course. Hoped that your words on New Year’s Eve were true, that you loved him back. He didn’t know for sure, though and he was too chicken to try to ask you again.

Then March rolled around, beginning to melt the snow and by some small miracle, you'd asked to see him.

Well, not directly, but it was something.

Eddie's band was starting to really kick off. They had been playing small, local bars for years and had finally booked a gig in a college town a few hours away from Hawkins. It was easily the biggest they'd played yet, and no one in the group was going to miss it.

Steve knew that he'd be driving Robin and Vicki to the show and Jonathan and Nancy would probably choose to go separately. The only question was you and how you'd get there. You loved Eddie's band, and there was no way you'd miss a show like this. Steve also knew that you didn't have a car, so you'd have no way to get there unless he'd drive you, too.

Which, he wasn’t about to hold his breath for. It came as a huge shock when Robin and Steve were on the phone the night before the concert, talking logistics and she mentioned that he'd be picking you up.

"Um, Robin, does she know that I'm picking her up?" He asked, unsure if he'd heard her correctly since you hadn't spoken a word to him since New Year's. 

He practically heard her smirk through the phone, "Even better, she asked you to. So you better work your shit out before picking us up, got it?"

Which brought him to the night of the show, slowly pulling up your driveway and wondering just how this was going to go. It felt foreign yet familiar, and he started to step out of the car to knock on your window like he always did when you stepped out of the front door, giving him a little wave before locking your door.

God, he’d missed you.

The drive to Vicki and Robin’s was quiet. Even with music playing softly from the speakers, the air inside felt heavy with the unspoken words between you. You’d seemed like you wanted to say something the whole drive, but you stayed quiet. Steve didn’t think he’d be able to take it much longer when you finally spoke just as he was turning on Robin’s street. "Thanks for driving me, I didn't wanna miss the show."

"Don't sweat it," he took the moment to turn towards you, reveling in the image of you next to him in the car again. His front seat had felt empty for far too long. "You look pretty tonight.” He knew he was pressing his luck but the smile you gave told him that you didn't mind. It wasn't much, but it was something.

He wanted to ask how you'd been and if things could ever go back to the way they were because he missed his best friend, but the girls were already running towards his car, effectively cutting off the conversation. That was, until you finally arrived in Bloomington a couple hours later, the four of you tumbling out of the car to stretch your legs and you’d grabbed Steve’s arm, asking if the two of you could hang back.

You leaned against his car, fidgeting with the sleeve of your denim jacket. "I'm sorry I've been avoiding you. I was just embarrassed about what I said at New Year’s.”

Steve was stunned. “You remember that?”  

You grimaced, “Well, Eddie kinda told me the next day. I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve what I said about, y’know, being in your bed. I was just being stupid."

Oh.

Of course, that’s what you meant. You had no fucking idea that you had spilled your feelings for him along with your tears before Eddie barged in.

Steve shook his head, waved it off and tried to fake indifference to it all. “No, it’s fine, I probably deserved it.”

“You didn’t! I knew what I was getting into that night, it’s not your fault." You took a breath, fingers tapping on his car as you broke his gaze. "I'm sorry for avoiding you before that, too. I just didn't know how to be around you anymore, but I miss you so I wanna just forget about it. Move on."

He could honestly say that he considered leaving it at that in the hopes of saving your relationship but he found that he couldn’t. Call it bravery, stupidity, or just being fed up with the downfall of your friendship since autumn. Steve had an inkling that it was partially due to him not talking to you.

Not telling you how he felt before.

Not doing anything the morning after.

Not fighting to see you after New Years.

The two of you had been able to confide in the other about every little thing since you were kids, so why not this? Why not something as monumental as what happened between you and how you felt about one another?

Steve felt bold, brave. He was tired of the comfortable, tired of the contentment he had allowed himself to live in, because what if something better was waiting on the other side?

So, he went for it.

"You told me that you love me." Steve said, voice surprisingly even despite the nerves he felt. He watched as your eyes went wide, and if the neon bar signs hadn't been painting your faces red, he knew he would have seen a deep blush blossom on your cheeks. "On New Years, you said that you love me. Did you mean it? 'Cause I gotta be honest, I've been in love with you for a really long fucking time."

Steve couldn’t focus on anything but you; barely registered the drunk college kids shuffling on the sidewalk or the shitty rock music coming from inside the bar. All he wanted to focus on was how the shock on your face morphed into relief, embarrassment fading away as it clicked in your brain that he felt the exact same way you did.

"'Course I love you, Steve. I've loved you for years. That's why I didn't know how to be around you after. I guess part of me thought it didn't mean anything to you and I just didn't know how to deal with that. Then I was so fucking scared afterwards because I thought I lost you."

Steve could feel his heart lighten in his chest, the weight he’d been carrying for months finally lifting at your confession. His heart also constricted after you confirmed his fears, that you didn't think it mattered at all to him. It was a confusing feeling; an uncomfortable circumstance and he wanted to make it right.

"Are you kidding?" He asked, reaching for your hands like he did that night. "That could never not mean anything to me. I belong to you, you know that? Have for a while now. I was just too scared to say anything and ruin us.”

You beamed at his words, pure happiness oozing out of you it was a sight Steve hadn’t seen in a long time.

It was something he wanted to see every damn day. 

“We’re so stupid, aren’t we?” Your voice held a laugh, an airy sound that Steve had missed more than he realized.

He nodded, the motion making you laugh even more and he reveled in it “I’m sorry I was an idiot. Sorry I didn’t say anything.”

You squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry too, again. For everything.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I never meant to, you know that, right?”

“I know, and I think we should say something other than 'sorry' now.” The implication of your words weren't lost on Steve, and he wasn't going to let this moment slip by, too. 

"I love you," he said, grinning when your smile widened even more at his words, eyes turning a little glossy but he knew they were good tears this time. He pulled you closer, emboldened by the feelings bubbling up in his chest and the way you were looking at him like he was all you'd ever wanted. "I love you, and I want you to be mine 'cause I think I've always been yours."

You leaned yourself even closer to him, body centimeters from his but it still didn't feel close enough. Not after so long of not being with each other. "I love you, and I wanna be yours."

There were many things Steve could have said after that. He could have whispered out more apologies, other would've, should've moments you both let pass over the years but he knew those didn't matter, not right now at least. So instead, he did what he wanted to do since the first time. 

He pushed into you, closing the gap that was left and kissed you, mirroring your smile with his own when he felt it. It was safe and comforting, like coming home and he never wanted to leave.

"We should get inside," you whispered after you broke apart, foreheads resting against the other. The whole reason why you were here in the first place was almost completely forgotten by Steve and part of him wanted to skip out on it all together; make up for lost time with you. He could have happily stayed outside with you alone; could have listened to Eddie's noise from the road, endured the dirty looks from your friends later but he realized that this wasn't going to be the only time. You and him were going to talk about this again, be changed for the better come morning. So he relented, nodding before pressing another kiss to your cheek, taking your hand and leading you to the door.

As friends, but as much more, too. 

[theunreliablewriter]

When Love Collided

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader

A Whole Lotta Fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Black Widow Spoilers!, Mentions of fighting, Mention of killing, Mentions of near death experience, Cussing, Mention of Suffering/Trauma,

Request: hi !! i love your stories you're a really great writer and your stories made my day :>> could i request a yelena belova x reader story where r and yelena are pining over each other like idiots and r confesses to yelena and yelena is an awkward mess and yelena somehow brings up the courage to kiss r in response since she's in a total loss for words but they kind of just headbutt each other in panic- thank you !! :D

Author’s Note: Yes, this is the cheesiest title possible, but it fits, and this was such a cute request. Thank you so much for your sweet compliments, anon! I’m sorry, I know I said I was going to try to avoid spoilers for at least a week. I wish this was longer, so I apologize for that too. I hope I wrote our beloved Russian awkward enough, and that somebody enjoys! 💜

Together.

That is how it had always been since the night you were both dragged from the back of that dark, Godforsaken truck.

Over twenty years had now passed, and so much had happened and changed since then. But, there was one constant—one thing that had remained the same.

And that was your bond with Yelena Belova.

You grew up together as children. You trained together. You…you suffered together.

Usually, the Red Room forbid friendships as close as yours. They couldn’t risk you two choosing each other over the completion of a mission. Although neither of you ever allowed yourself to speak of it, you both lived in a constant fear that one day, you would be forced to fight each other. And only would it end, when just one of you remained.

But you two were too good to forbid. Even if it went against everything the Red Room believed, they had to allow your friendship because by permitting you two to remain together, it meant they had an unstoppable duo.

Years upon years upon is what you spent together. As you grew older and matured, even the worst of the Red Room’s conditioning couldn’t prevent your feelings for Yelena from doing the same. Several of those years were spent wanting more—wanting her.

No weapon, no fighting style, no mission—nothing—scared you. But, the risk of pushing Yelena away did. That was the lone risk you simply could not take. You couldn’t tell her the truth of her feelings and risk losing your partner, your ally, you best friend.

Despite how badly it hurt, you said nothing, making you spend so much time pining for her, wondering if she could ever somehow feel the same for you.

Little did you know that Yelena also spent her numerous sleepless nights aching for precisely the same answer.

While you two were left questioning, the Red Room got an answer to their decade old question: Would they come to regret the special exception they made for the sake of having such a powerful pair?

Yes.

Yes, they would regret it.

Your chains to Dreykov were both severed that day in Morocco, and, along with Natasha, Melina, and Alexei, you became a force to be reckoned with. The force that would finally bring the Red Room to a crashing end.

Now, a few months had passed since you and Yelena began the mission to free the world’s Widows from a dead man’s remaining chemical control.

While the task was worth every high and low, it was by no means simple. Dreykov’s hooks were so deep in many of the women that, more often than not, there was a fight just to get close enough to them for the antidote enter their system.

All of the fights had been messy and left you both with cuts, bruises, and pain, but it wasn’t until today when one was nearly deadly.

Your scouting had lead you to believe there were no more than three Widows occupying the same house. But, when you and Yelena entered, you quickly learned you could not have been more wrong.

It was an entire pack of Widows.

And your mistake nearly cost Yelena her life.

“I’m so sorry,” you said for what had to be the fiftieth time.

Despite needing your help to make it through the door of your shared hotel room, Yelena maintained her talent for sarcasm. “God, (Y/N), you’re almost making me regret you freeing me from that chokehold.”

Even now, she didn’t fail to make you laugh, but it didn’t last. “Seeing you nearly die is one thing, and knowing I am the reason…makes it that much worse.”

“You watched that location for a week. The same three were the only ones to ever come and go,” Yelena stated as you helped her settle onto the couch. “I would have thought no differently.”

With a single, reluctant nod, you hurried off to retrieve the first-aid kit that was so large it was practically a small duffel bag.

You were lost in your thoughts as you returned to the living room and got to work on cleaning and covering her wounds.

Countless worse case scenarios showed in your mind, all ending with Yelena being taken from you.

What if she actually was, someday? What if you were taken from her? Would you be able to live with the fact of her never knowing the truth? Would you be able to rest in peace knowing, after everything you had been through together, you never had the nerve to tell her?

As Yelena went on about the night’s television “being shit,” you could only reach a single answer.

No.

No, you wouldn’t be able to.

“It’s fucking nine o’ clock on a Friday night,” Yelena ranting. “You would think they’d show at least one decent show or mov-“

You couldn’t help it. You could no longer hold it in; you had for too long. So, you couldn’t stop yourself from finally abruptly announcing, “I love you.”

The blonde immediately turned her attention away from the tv. The surprise was written all over her face and was unmissable in her eyes. Her accent was so thick when she said a quiet “What?” that most wouldn’t have been able to understand her.

“I love you…Yelena. I have for a long time.”

Each second she just started at you felt like a year, leaving you to question if a heart truly could beat out of a chest.

“W-when…why did you…” Yelena stammered for words. “How did you decide that?”

“‘How’? I don’t think I can explain ‘how,’” you replied with an incredulous chuckle.

“D-do you… Are you sure you want to?”

If you had been a third party watching this moment, you knew you’d be laughing hysterically at how blatantly awkward your best friend—the calm, cool, collected, ruthless ex-assassin—was currently being.

You glanced down at the roll of bandages in your hands as you told her, with a voice filled with momentary humor, “I’m pretty sure.”

What felt like eons of silence passed, making you feel like your worst fear had happened—you scared her off with the truth.

You breathed in a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, after deciding you were going to ask her to forget you ever said anything.

Knowing you would have to do it like ripping off a bandaid, to meet her gaze, you shot your head up…only to have it collide with her face.

“Well, that didn’t go as planned,” Yelena said flatly, clutching the nose you had just head-butted.

“What did you do?” I asked laughing.

“I was trying- I was going to… Oh, shit, fuck it.”

Your laughter was cut off because before you had another chance to blink, Yelena swiftly closed the space between the two of you. It took your brain a second to realize what had happened—to realize her lips were gently attached to yours.

Her hands rose to hold your face, making you further melt into her touch, as the kiss deepened.

It would be impossible to count the number of times you had imagined this very moment, but no daydream ever got it right. Never could you have known her lips would be this soft and fit so perfectly with yours.

Above, never would you have imagined her only reason for pulling away, would be to say, “I can’t remember I time when I didn’t love you.”

| Masterlist |

[imaginethathaikyuu]

kinktober - day one

akaashi keiji - friends to lovers 

kinktober faq kinktober prompt list  

NSFW warning featuring: fingering, dry humping, first time together, unprotected sex other tags: lots of exposition, too many words, years long pining, accidental almost confession, emotional real one, mentions of characters having previous partners, oblivious reader, hidden feelings, slight angst, oh no there’s only one bed!  fem reader

word count: 7380

-

Akaashi Keiji knows everything. 

At least, he seems to. 

You realized this only a month after knowing him. He turned around to you, the girl who sat behind him in biology, and gave you one look before saying, “You have no idea what this lesson is about, do you?” And you laughed, because it was so absurdly true, while Akaashi turned his desk around and introduced himself as your study partner. 

You still don’t know how he knew you were struggling. You thought you hid it well, but his eyes must have caught the poor grade on the quiz the teacher returned to you the week before, or the way you seemed to immediately sulk the moment you walked into the classroom. He could see everything you tried to hide - even things you couldn’t see yourself.

And he wouldn’t let you get away with anything but a stellar grade, so study sessions became routine for the two of you - a friendship was destined to bloom, and fast. 

He was too observant for his own good, which was something you learned while watching one of his volleyball practices. He had been inviting you to come watch after study sessions for awhile, but it took you a bit to work up the nerve to walk into the giant gymnasium filled with boys you didn’t know. 

As you watched him play, you saw his superpower: Akaashi’s eyes were everywhere at once. On the ball, on his teammates, on his opponents, on his own feet - he always knew where everyone was at any given moment, all while somehow managing to spare you a few knowing glances during the mess of the game.

You never knew how he did it, but you figured you didn’t have to know. It was because he was Akaashi, and that’s it. 

But you questioned why no one else seemed to notice it. His excellence was obvious to you, but even his closest friends seemed to gloss over it. 

Keiji stood out to you, while to others, he was just Akaashi. Quiet, reserved, sometimes as blunt as a hammer, Akaashi. 

He didn’t care, though. Akaashi thrived on being in the background - he didn’t need any of the attention or recognition you wished to give him. And maybe he loved his friends more because they left him be. 

Those friends of his, however, all shined just as bright as Keiji did, and were never shy about it. You look back at getting to know them all as a highlight of being in high school; despite never feeling like you belonged in their friend group, you were always happy to be with them. 

Keiji pushed you to get closer to the three boys, Tsukishima, Bokuto, and especially Kuroo, right from the first day you met them. They were playing a friendly volleyball game with a few other boys you never really met, and you quickly learned you had no reason to be nervous to meet them. 

It was easy to let go and goof off, because that’s all any of them were doing, anyway. 

Just because it seemed like fun to get under Kuroo’s skin, you decided to antagonize him a bit. “So, Nekoma’s mascot is a cat, correct?” 

Kuroo immediately grew defensive at your tone. “Yes - what do you have against cats?” 

“Nothing, nothing! I like to think of myself as pretty cat-like, actually.” 

“Show him your claws, Y/N,” Keiji chimed in. 

“They’re nimble, and sneaky... and lazy. Something that owls aren’t - just saying. Seems pretty fitting when comparing your team to ours, don’t you think?” 

“Akaashi, you better get your cat,” Kuroo grumbled, with a sly smirk that never seemed to leave his face. 

“She’s just a kitten,” Akaashi replied, winking at you and immediately taking your breath in a way you’d never felt before. “Not my kitten, though, so you’re on your own here, Kuroo.” 

That’s when the first wall came up. You didn’t notice it, not yet, or even realize why it had been built. But as soon as your heart sank to your stomach and erupted into butterflies all because of Keiji’s flirtatious gesture, that wall arose. 

And many would follow. 

On the walk home from that practice, you noticed every glance he sent you. Every time his shoulder touched yours, you felt it amplified. Your knuckles grazed his and you looked down at your hands - his much bigger than yours, your fingers raring to wrap around his. And they were going to, either out of curiosity or the blatant need to touch him or both, until he stuffed both of his hands into his pockets and away from your potential grasp. 

You shook your disappointment off and reminded yourself of what the two of you were: friends. Just friends. Friends only hold hands sometimes, and it’s not on walks home or during study sessions or any of the times you found yourself wanting to hold onto him. 

“Kuroo likes you,” Akaashi said out of nowhere. And you laughed. 

“You think so?” 

“I’m pretty sure.” He sounded distant, his gaze was head on. “Maybe you should give him a chance.” 

You laughed again and said, “Maybe,” even though you knew you’d never entertain the thought of going out with Kuroo. 

Not with Kuroo or anyone else, but you wouldn’t understand why for a long time. 

Two years of friendship had come and gone in almost an instant, but every day with Akaashi was memorable in that easy familiar way only he could offer. He truly was your comfort - everything you needed in a friend, Keiji had. Being so close to him was a blessing, you knew that. 

When the two of you ended up choosing the same university, you almost wanted to cry, because you knew nothing could quell your fears of what’s new better than Keiji’s all knowing familiarity. Having your best friend by your side during times of change would make everything easier.

But it was a different story entirely when you became roommates with him. The apartment you shared was small but homey; it had all the comfort you had in your friendship with him, and you thought nothing could be better than that. 

It was more than that, though. Months went by of seeing him every day, and it felt like that comfort was leaking through the floor every time you saw his bedhead or heard him singing in the shower or watched him pull another girl into his bedroom. 

It wasn’t like the latter was an often occurrence, but just the thought of him being with someone made your stomach turn. But it gave you the idea of seeking your own partners, which was something you hadn’t done in years, and it quickly spiraled into an unhealthy habit. 

You longed for familiarity, to be touched by someone you knew. You were desperate for comfortable vulnerability, and you never found that with a stranger in your bed. So, you decided to seek out someone familiar. And when the person in bed with you was an old friend, a realization dawned on you. Rather, it was offered to you. 

“What are you doing, Y/N?” Kuroo mumbled, and you did nothing but send him a questioning glare, one he scoffed at. 

The two of you had done nothing so far but send a few flirty texts and then sit on your bed; he hadn’t even kissed you yet. You weren’t sure how you felt about it - you weren’t sure if you even wanted him to kiss you. 

“I’m not the one you want here, idiot. So why am I the one you brought to your bed?” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you replied honestly. “Are we going to -” 

“No, we aren’t. Are you really that dense?” 

“What?” 

“Look,” Kuroo said, standing up and pinching the bridge of his nose as if he was annoyed that he had to be saying this. And while you watched him, you noticed this was the first time you ever saw him without his signature grin or sly eyes. “If I was a shitty friend, I would have fucked you back in high school, alright? I mean, come on, I had the chance. But I care about Akaashi too much to ever do that with you, and I know you don’t actually want to fuck me.”

You stood up, too, facing him head on. “What does Akaashi have anything to do with fucking me, Kuroo?” 

“Everything, idiot. I know you probably think you’re good at hiding it, but everyone knows you’re as in love as you could possibly be with that smartass.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, because you didn’t, but Kuroo wasn’t having it. 

“Well you’re the only one you’ve convinced. And, for the record, this isn’t going to help you get over him.” 

Still, you didn’t get it. You couldn’t see it - you refused to. 

“You’re off limits, dude, Akaashi told us himself.” 

“Then why are you here?” 

His annoying grin was back. “To see how delusional you really are. And give you some advice. Just admit it to yourself - you’ll feel better, I promise.” 

Keiji was your best friend, and that was it. 

This wasn’t some story of years long pining and unrequited love. 

Was it? 

But you thought about it, for just a moment. You thought about being in love with him. 

And then you couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

You decided, right then and there, that what Kuroo said wasn’t true; admitting it to yourself didn’t make anything better. In a lot of ways, your friendship with Akaashi thrived on your special feelings for him, and it relied on those feelings staying secret to both of you. 

You couldn’t even finish the conversation with Kuroo. He swore not to tell, because you made him, and that was it. 

That’s when the second wall came up, then the third, then the fourth. You were trapped inside of them. Hiding, only hiding, and safe from anyone who could see you or your heart. 

You denied it still, even though Kuroo knew, just to convince yourself he didn’t. No one knew but you; the only one who knew the password to that door was you. You could be hidden, safe, and protected forever, because you made it that way. 

Keiji would never know, and everything would stay okay. 

Everything but you. And that security wouldn’t last, because a storm was brewing. 

But you were content. What you had with Keiji was always enough for you - you had enough. You saw him every day. You got to hear his laugh on the good days and hug him on the bad ones; you got to have coffee with him every morning and secret late night snacks too many midnights. Sleeping alone was fine. Not getting intimate moments was okay. What you had was enough. 

It seemed like the more you recognized your feelings for him, the more of Keiji you saw. You were still getting to know him after years of calling him your best friend; you were noticing his habits that you never saw before. He mumbles to himself while he cooks; he picks at his nails when he’s nervous; he overthinks everything, even the smallest decisions. 

The latter had always been obvious, but you had never realized it until you lived with him - until you really started to love him. 

Every day, you learned something new about him. And every day, you loved him more, in ways you didn’t even know you could. Ways that made it hard to love him from afar.

Months of your love growing during your first year of university seemed to go by too quickly, and soon spring break was fast approaching. A trip with old friends to a lake house was planned months in advance, and both you and Keiji were excited to see the three boys again. 

But when you arrived at the old looking house that evening you were met with knowing eyes and a sly grin that hadn’t changed since high school. 

“There are only four beds,” Kuroo announced, “and five of us.”

“That’s alright,”  Keiji started, but he was interrupted by Bokuto’s loud laugh. 

“Oh, I guess we’re sharing a bed, four eyes!” 

“I’ll suffocate you in your sleep,” Tsukishima said, meaning every word he said in a way that made Kuroo cackle. 

Keiji looked at you. “You don’t mind sharing with me, do you?” 

A million thoughts ran through your mind, but you only shook your head. You didn’t voice any of the concerns you had for yourself. 

“No problem.” 

He gave you a grin. “It’ll be like our high school sleepovers,” and then he took your bag and left to find your shared room. 

You remembered the last sleepover you had with him and your heart raced just thinking about it; you spent half of the night pretending to be asleep, and the other half watching Keiji’s sleeping face and wondering why laying next to him made you feel the way it did. 

This would be the exact same, except now you knew why your heart would be pounding. 

Kuroo was still laughing, but he was looking directly at you. “Are you sure it’s not a problem?” 

“Shut up, Kuroo.” 

He kept laughing, and it left Bokuto scratching his head. “What’s going on? Why are you mad, Y/N?” 

“Because Kuroo is an asshole -” 

“Hey now, I’m doing you a favor here!”

“...I still don’t get it.” 

“You never will, Bokuto,” Tsukishima commented. 

You decided to leave Kuroo laughing on his own - you shouldn’t let him get under your skin, because that’s exactly what he wanted to do. He was doing this on purpose. Maybe he thought he was helping you out, but he was only making things harder for you. 

You weren’t going to let him win. You were going to have fun on this trip while keeping our secret seeled, and nothing would stop you - not even Kuroo attempting to play matchmaker. 

The late arrival called for a quick dinner and a nighttime bonfire to kick off the vacation the right way; the boys were all too excited for the night and had gotten the fire started before you could even finish unpacking your bag. 

When you stepped outside, the cool air hit your skin and froze you all over - you expected low temperatures, but not that. 

“It’s cold!” you called out to the boys who were all sitting around the nearby campfire. 

“That’s why we have a fire, moron!” 

“It’s still cold,” you argued, even though you knew it was fruitless to fight with Kuroo.

“It’s alright, you’ll warm up,” Keiji told you. 

“Go warm her up, Akaashi!” 

You ignored Kuroo’s comment - you were not in a good place to be entertaining that thought, not when you’d be in bed with Keiji in just a few hours. 

Keiji seemed to ignore it, too. “Here, I saved you a seat.” He patted the vacant spot on the bench next to him, and you sat down. “You didn’t bring a jacket, did you?” 

“It’s inside,” you replied. “But I’m fine.” 

He didn’t even listen to your response, he was already pulling his hoodie off and giving it to you. 

“Are you sure?” you asked, holding it in your lap.

“Yes,” he replied. “It’ll keep you warm - you need it more than I do.” 

“How romantic,” Kuroo butted in, and it was only now that you noticed the beer in his hand - as well as the few empty cans next to him. 

Drunk Kuroo is always worse than Sober Kuroo, even though you could hardly believe he could ever get snarkier. It was like alcohol made him open his big mouth more, and it always made you nervous. Even though you knew he’d never say anything about your secret while anyone else was around, any time alcohol was involved made those chances go up.

“Just being nice,” Keiji said, obviously playing in to Kuroo’s banter. “I don’t see you offering her your jacket.” 

“Hey, I just don’t think you’d like it if I gave your girl my jacket, would you?” 

Keiji laughed at his slurred words and directed his reply at the group rather than to Kuroo, “He’s only had five beers and he’s already stuttering.” 

“We’ll see if he makes it to six before passing out,” you said, and while it made the others laugh, it seemed to rub Kuroo’s drunken fragile ego the wrong way. 

“I can handle my alcohol just fine, thank you.” 

Bokuto butted in, “Are you sure about that?” 

“You’ve been a lightweight since high school,” you added. 

Everyone laughed, Kuroo included. With his next words, he must have thought he was playing along with the joke. That you were all in on what he was about to say next. That they would have no repercussions, they would sting no ears. 

But when he said them, it sounded like a smack of thunder. 

“Yeah, and you’ve been hiding your feelings since high school - some things just never change, Y/N!” 

You could hardly hear Bokuto saying, “Feelings? For who?!”

“For Aka -”

“Kuroo.” 

You stood up. Keiji’s forgotten hoodie fell out of your lap and landed on the ground. Everything was quiet save for the fire cracking and the pounding of your heart. 

Your eyes said everything you needed to tell Kuroo. He stared right back at you, his face white as snow and his mouth hung open as he choked back his words. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. It was the calm before a fast approaching storm, one you couldn’t run away from. 

“You weren’t going to say Akaashi, were you? Surely not…” 

Kuroo turned his head to look at Bokuto, seeming to have no clue what to say. You kept staring as he shook his head, not having the courage to say anything else. 

“Pretty sure he was,” Tsukishima said.

“Oh. Shit.” 

You could have denied it - you didn’t. You could have been angry at Kuroo - you weren’t. You could have explained this away as him being drunk and talking out of his ass - you couldn’t. 

You didn’t dare turn to look at Keiji as you stormed toward the cabin. You refused to stay and let this situation become worse than it already was. 

You could hardly hear the words Keiji had for Kuroo, but they were something like, “Why the fuck did you do that?” and if you had been any less upset you would have been worried for how angry he sounded. 

You didn’t know what would happen next. If you thought about it, you were sure you’d fall apart, and that was the one thing you couldn’t let happen. You had to hold yourself together, you had to give this situation the benefit of the doubt. 

Maybe if you could just lie down and sleep before Keiji comes inside, you could wake up in the morning and everyone would act like nothing happened. Just because your secret is out doesn’t mean it was over - you could wait out this storm. 

That’s what you were doing when Keiji came into your shared bedroom. You lied in bed as Keiji slipped in, your back to him and the blanket pulled up to your chin. And, just like at those old sleepovers with him, you were pretending to be asleep.

You had to be good at pretending if you wanted to stay best friends with him. To be as close as you are, with the feelings that you keep for him, you learned how to hide from Keiji. And you had gotten good at it, too - at least, you liked to think so. You were sure he wouldn’t catch you awake. 

You tried not to think about what happened earlier. You tried not to dread what was coming if he knew you weren’t actually sleeping. 

Minutes passed and Akaashi stayed awake. Then, he looked over to you. 

“I know you’re awake.” 

Everything felt frozen, just for a moment, but you didn’t move. You kept your breathing deep and steady, you lied still. 

He reached a hand out to you, fisting your shirt into his palm. His thumb grazed your lower back, skin he exposed from grabbing your shirt. 

“Stop pretending. You’re bad at it.” 

It was like the world stopped spinning. Your world, anyway - the one you had made up in your head. The world where the only things Keiji didn’t know were all the things you were trying to hide from him; the world where, despite never being a good liar, you were good at lying to him. 

But that wasn’t the same world Keiji was living in.

“I know,” you replied, voice cracking through the words. 

You were sure he didn’t mean what he said in the way you felt it sting your chest, but it didn’t matter. Years of learning, hiding, pretending were all culminating in this moment, and if you weren’t careful you’d end up losing it all. 

His hand moved from your back to holding your side. “Will you look at me?” And you didn’t have a choice, because he was turning you to lay on your back, anyway. 

So you looked at him, because it’s what he asked you to do, and you felt the first crack in your poorly built foundation when you realized how close he was to you; then, he put his hand on your side and pulled you even closer.

It’s like he was looking through you. 

“I should tell you something,” he said, and you had some idea where he was going with this but you didn’t want to find out. No part of you wanted to hear what he was about to say. 

“You know… I already knew, Y/N.” 

There it was: the collapse. 

You couldn’t look at him anymore, so you closed your eyes and tried to keep pretending, even though you had nowhere left to hide. 

“Yeah.” The hand on your side was hot and heavy and hard; you hated how much you loved being touched by him, even right now when your made up world was ending. “I know.” 

“I’ve always known.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

You were so close to letting go, to breaking down in the pile of rubble. But you had built your house of lies on unsteady ground, after all; what else did you expect to happen other than this destruction? 

You wanted to cry. You didn’t. You couldn’t be angry at yourself or upset, because you saw this coming. After all, Keiji knows everything. He sees things you don’t even know are showing - he’s been able to read you like a book since before he even knew your name. 

Of course he knew. You were stupid to ever think he didn’t. 

He whispered your name, and then you felt him kiss your forehead. 

“I’m sorry,” you said again, meaning it with your whole heart even though you knew it wouldn’t change anything. 

“I should tell you something else,” he said, and it was quiet, like he was telling you a secret only you could know. He was treading carefully, choosing his words particularly - he didn’t do that often. You felt him bunching your shirt up in his fist again, you heard him sigh loudly. “I don’t even know how to say it.” 

The tears were finally slipping free as you began to understand what he was getting at, so you pulled back. You didn’t need him to pity you. 

“It’s fine,” you insisted, trying to push him away. He wouldn’t let you. “I know - I’ll get over it - you don’t have to tell me - I already know.” 

“No, you don’t - you don’t know, Y/N, please, just come here.” 

“Keiji -” 

“Let me show you.” He wasn’t speaking quietly anymore - this wasn’t a secret anymore. “I can’t explain it - let me show you, Y/N - please.” 

“Show me what?” 

“That I feel the same,” he said, pulling you back into his arms. 

For a second, you thought you misheard him.

And then, he kissed you. 

Soft, sweet, new lips were on yours, taking your breath as if he needed it to breathe himself, then breathing a new life into you that you never knew could be alive. It was like striking a match, flicking a lighter, starting a fire; you watched the rubble of your once hidden love burn, all at the hands of Keiji. 

At first you didn’t even know how to kiss him back. It was too much, too bright, too hot - and then, you couldn’t stop kissing him. You anchored your hands on the back of his neck and held him against you, silently begging him to let you take all that you wanted from him. 

You kissed him like you’d never get the chance to do this again, because you were sure you wouldn’t. This hardly felt real, let alone something that would ever happen more than once. So you savored it, you memorized this feeling so you could relive it in your dreams forever. 

A whimper reverberated through your throat and against Keiji’s lips and the feeling made him kiss you deeper, like he was searching for a way to get you to make that noise again. As the kiss got deeper, a natural progression came over your position; before you could realize it, Keiji was on top of you and lying between your legs. 

His touch was hotter than a flame and yet you couldn’t get enough of it. Every time his tongue brushed against yours, it took a part of you with it, and you were ready to give him all of you. 

And then, he stopped kissing you. 

He pulled back only slightly, and when you chased his lips he pulled back even more. You opened your eyes and stared up at him, at his blushed cheeks and pink lips and beautiful eyes. You could see the cogs in his mind turning and for a second it was like you were seeing a part of Keiji he’s never shown you before; the veil of his all knowing gaze was being dropped, only because he was letting it. 

Because all this time, Keiji was hiding, too - hiding in plain sight. You always thought he treated you the way he treated everyone else, that he knew everything about everyone, but it wasn’t true. He only knew all of your secrets because he took the time to find them. He only saw you for who you really were because he cared enough to know. And, unlike you, he was a good actor; good at pretending you weren’t special; good at building walls that would stay up until he was ready for them to come down. 

And with his next words, he made them shatter. 

“I love you.”  

You kept staring at him, trying to figure out if this nervous boy on top of you really was Keiji. 

“Really?” 

He nodded. 

“Say it again.” 

“I love you.” 

You brushed his hair out of his face and rested your hand on his cheek, still completely in awe of him, and this was all too much for you to believe. “Is this a prank?” 

He laughed at you, and his nerves seemed to melt away. 

“Damn, you caught me.” His forehead fell to rest on yours, your noses brushed. “No, it’s not a prank. I love you.” 

Somehow this intimacy felt all too foreign and way too familiar, all at once. It was overflowing, your heart was racing, it was hard to breathe, tears were falling from your eyes. 

“Say it again,” you whispered, begging him to assure you of this - to make you believe it. 

And he wiped your tears away as he told you, again, “I love you,” and the kiss he placed on your cheek seemed to make you weep even more. “And I should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you replied immediately, “I love you, too - it’s okay.” 

“It’s not okay.” It was obvious, now, that this had been bothering Keiji for longer than you could ever know. “I just… wasn’t ready. Especially with volleyball, and then moving, and then starting university, I just - I never had enough of me to give to you. And you deserve all of me, not just what’s left of me at the end of the day - I don’t know. I’m just… sorry.” 

You didn’t know how to reply to that in a way that was good enough - all you could think to do was kiss him, because you finally could kiss him, so you did. And it was the same as your first: hot and sweet, familiar and foreign, intimate and overwhelming. 

And the more you kissed him, the more it stirred something up inside of you. He wasn’t holding back - not after holding back for years - and it was like he was trying to get any reaction he could out of you. You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him closer than he’s ever been, and the way it felt to have him pressed up against you sent chills across your burning skin. 

You pulled back from the kiss just to take a breath. “Say it again,” you mumbled, because you weren’t tired of hearing those three words yet. A part of you still didn’t believe them.

Instead of saying them, though, he let his kisses trail down your jaw and onto your neck. You could feel the vibrations of his voice when he spoke, “Let me show you.” 

And you knew what he meant, but you teased him anyway, “How do you want to do that?”

His hips seemed to move on their own free will, thrusting against you as if he couldn’t stop them. And it proved that he was just as in over his head as you were; you liked that. You liked knowing you weren’t the only one in a daze. You liked having this effect on Keiji. 

“However you want,” he said through a dry throat. “We can do anything you want.” 

“I just want you,” you told him honestly. You had no other choice anymore - the truth was all you had left. 

“You have me,” he replied. “I’m yours - just let me show you.” 

Your next kiss was interrupted by his shirt coming off, then yours. You felt his bare skin against yours and you were sure this was enough, that you were content with just this. This feeling was all that you needed. 

“You’re pretty,” he whispered to you as his eyes scanned your bare body, and it left you shaking in anticipation as his lips made their way to your chest. “The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” 

Your eyes couldn’t leave his face as your fingers carded through his hair; you felt his hands travel the length of your body, and every kiss he left on your skin felt like it was touching your heart - all you could do was watch. 

His hand moved lower, his fingers were teasing the edge of your shorts, but he hesitated to cross the barrier. You grabbed his wrist and pushed him across it, showing him that you couldn’t wait for this. 

That’s all Keiji needed to understand how far you were willing to go with him. His skilled fingers worked against you, slipping into your underwear and touching you exactly where you needed them to, and it was better than anything you could ever dream. 

And he did it like it was easy, like he’s spent years getting to know your body and he was doing what he knew would work. Like this was routine rather than your first time. 

This sure as hell felt like it was your first time doing this; you had never felt so sensitive or open or vulnerable. But you had never been touched by a man you wanted so much; you never thought you’d feel his fingers spreading you open or see him on top of you - this is something you’ve only done in daydreams, and now it was real. 

For the first time you were vulnerable and okay with it. You were letting him have all of you, and you trusted that he would treat you right. And he was. Maybe it was your love for him or the disbelief of the situation or both clouding your judgement, but you were convinced that his fingers felt better than your own. 

“Is this okay?” he asked in a whisper, and you replied with a moan that you couldn’t hold in anymore. He laughed, “Does that mean yes?” 

“Keiji, please don’t tease.” 

“I’m not teasing yet,” he replied with a few kisses along your jaw. You felt his fingers moving more, moving toward going inside, but he hesitated. “Y/N…” 

You were pulled out of your daze for just a second as you looked up at his furrowed brows and half lidded eyes; his face left you wondering what he was about to say next. 

“I really like the sounds you’re making,” he said, “but if anyone hears we’ll never hear the end of it.” 

You laughed, because you had completely forgotten that you and Keiji weren’t the only two people in the world - let alone this house. 

“Right,” you breathed out. 

“I’ll give you anything you ask for, but you…” 

Two of his fingers slid into you, and you held back a gasp. 

“...have to stay quiet. Can you do that for me?” 

You nodded, trying your best to take deep breaths rather than let your voice out. 

“Yeah?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you replied, giving another nod. 

“Good,” he said. 

His fingers curled, and you covered your mouth with your palm. 

“Stay quiet,” he said, even though it felt like he was doing everything he could so you’d do the opposite. His fingers curling into you were begging for a reaction, and it was hard not to give him one. “Fuck, you’re so hot.” 

Keiji’s hips were moving again, thrusting against your leg like he just couldn’t help it. You wanted to give him more but you couldn’t - your hands were busy covering your mouth and holding onto the sheets for your life, and so all you could do was watch him grinding against you. 

“You’re one to talk,” you replied, making him laugh. 

Both of you looked down and watched; the curl of his fingers moved in time with his thrusts against you - every time they came forward, you felt his length sliding up your thigh. And when he pulled back, his fingers straightened out. 

You’d give anything to have more. “Keiji,” you started, but you just couldn’t get the words out. 

He said them for you as he pulled his fingers out, “Can I fuck you?” 

You had no other answer besides, “Please,” and you were ready to beg for it if that’s what it came to. 

He started to pull his boxers off, but again, he hesitated. The arm he was holding himself up with was trembling, his breathing was unsteady, his entire body seemed tense. Keiji was hanging on by a thread. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked.

You were taken aback. “Keiji…” 

“We don’t have to do this now - is it too soon? Are you sure you want me?” 

It was hard to listen to his voice when it sounded so honest. 

Your hands took place on either side of his face, ensuring he would look at you while you spoke to him. 

“Keiji… do you want this?” 

“More than anything,” he replied. 

“I can tell,” you joked, and he rolled his eyes at you. “I’ve wanted you for longer than I can remember - I don’t think it’s too soon. But we can wait if you want. There’s no pressure, okay?” 

“I don’t,” he said. “I can’t wait - I’m so hard it fucking hurts - I just don’t want you to -” 

“You think too much.” 

He laughed. “I know.” 

You let your hands travel down to his chest, hoping you got through to him. “Don’t overthink it. I want you to fuck me, Keiji,” and your hips thrusted against his as if to convince him of how badly you needed it. “Sooner rather than later.”

It seemed to be good enough, he seemed to believe you, because now he wasn’t hesitating to take off his shorts and yours. The view it gave you struck a burning desire like no other - now that you could see all of him, you couldn’t handle not having all of him. 

And he was raring to give himself to you, coaxing his cock inside of you until you took it all, and both of you felt like you were about to explode. 

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, and the volume of his voice pulled you back down to the real world. 

“Stay quiet,” you reminded him, giggling because the tables had turned on him. 

“I know,” he said with a nod. “You just feel so good - you’re so fucking tight -  I can’t believe this is happening - oh, fuck, it’s too much.” 

“Move, Keiji,” you whined, bucking your hips up to try to feel anything, and he cursed under his breath when he pulled back to watch your desperate attempt at fucking yourself with his cock. 

“You can do it,” he teased, pulling his hips back a little more so you had more room to move. “Keep going - fuck me like that, kitten, don’t stop.” 

You were dying to feel him meeting your thrusts, because this wasn’t nearly enough, but you loved his teasing. 

“That’s it,” he said, “that’s my girl. Taking me so well, fuck, you’re perfect.” 

He couldn’t take it anymore, that was obvious as his thrusts started. He took a hold of your hips and held you in place so he could take you at his own pace, and he was everything you could ever need. 

Your love for him was spilling from your lips and he was doing everything he could to keep you saying it, bringing you higher with every passing second. Feeling him between your thighs and inside your walls was intoxicating. It was everything you hoped it would be, simply because it was Keiji. 

“I’m close,” you said as if he needed a warning - he could probably already tell. 

“Quiet, kitten,” he said to you, bringing your lips up to his for a kiss. “These sounds are for me - don’t want anyone else hearing what’s mine. Be a good girl for me.” 

“I’m trying,” you replied, and he cooed at your whining. 

“I know,” he mumbled, and just by the sound of his voice you could tell he was liking this. And he was going to make it harder for you when his hand trailed down your body so his fingers could circle your clit. 

He kissed you hard to stop any sound you were about to make and you were grateful for it. 

“I want you to cum for me,” he said, “and I don’t want you to make a sound when you do.” 

“Keiji -” 

His hips and fingers sped up. “I’m serious. Come on, kitten, be my good girl - make me proud and stay quiet while you’re cumming all over my cock. You can do it, I know you can.” 

Any trust he had in you staying quiet until the end was completely misplaced - you knew that when his hand clamped down over your mouth. You didn’t try to hold in your voice at all, and Keiji was having just as much trouble, burying his face into your neck to muffle his noises the best he could. 

It didn’t matter if anyone else could hear you; to you, nothing else mattered but Keiji. He was the only other person in your world, the only person your body would ever scream so loudly for. As long as it was him bringing you to this euphoria, you didn’t care who else knew about it. 

Let your friends give you hell for it, let Kuroo say I told you so - you’d deal with the embarrassment in the morning. That moment was worth it. 

The soft kisses he was leaving on your neck in the wake of hitting your peaks helped you float back down easily. It was like being woken up from a dream, one where the only thing you could remember was how pleasant it was. 

“You were not quiet,” Keiji laughed. You felt your cheeks swelling and heating up in embarrassment. 

“I couldn’t help it…” 

“It’s okay,” he replied. “You still made me proud.” 

He lied next to you and pulled you close, and you convinced yourself that you were going to be there in his arms forever. If you were, you’d have no complaints. 

A quiet moment passed, and you couldn’t stand the silence. “How was… that?” 

He pulled back to look at you with wide eyes, as if he didn’t expect you to ask. “What do you mean?” 

“Was it good? Did you like it? Was I -” 

“It was perfect,” he said, biting his lip and looking up at the ceiling as if his high hadn’t completely worn off. “It was everything. Don’t get all shy and insecure on me now that you know I love you back.”  

“Shut up,” you said with a laugh. “I’m just making sure.” 

“Do you need me to prove it to you again?” 

“Maybe.”

“I’ll make sure you stay quiet for me this time, then.” 

Whether or not the two of you were successful in your attempts to keep the noise down was up for debate, but by the end of the night, neither of you cared. 

And the next morning, when you forced yourself to leave Keiji and the warmth of the bed, you found Kuroo pacing outside of your door. 

“Y/N.” 

“Hey.” 

“I’m sorry - I’m so sorry - what I said last night was way out of line, and I don’t expect you to forgive me for it -”

“It’s fine, Kuroo,” you said, because it was. If you were being honest, after the night you had with Keiji you had completely forgotten about what Kuroo said. 

“It’s not fine,” he argued. “I shouldn’t have done that - you trusted me not to say anything about your feelings, and then I did. I fucked up - why aren’t you pissed right now?” 

Before you could start to think of a reply, the door behind you opened. Keiji’s bed head popped out. 

“Can you guys be quiet?” 

“Sorry,” Kuroo immediately replied. 

Then, Keiji turned to you. “Can you come back to bed? It’s cold.” 

You nodded, and Keiji went back inside, and the moment you looked at Kuroo’s face, you knew he’d figured things out. 

“Did you guys fuck?!” 

You had no response. Keiji, however, called out a simple, “Yeah,” leaving you covering your face in embarrassment. 

“Holy shit. I -” 

You went back into your bedroom before he could even finish his words, slamming the door in his face so he couldn’t finish his boasting. But you heard him say, “You’re welcome!” before finally trodding off, and you shook off your embarrassment as best as you could. 

The breakfast you needed minutes ago was long forgotten as you looked at the view in front of you of the boy who was yours. Keiji was waiting for you with sleepy eyes peeking up at you from soft sheets, a grin on his face, and his arms open. 

He didn’t have to say a word - you were in those arms in seconds. Both of you released a sigh of relief; Keiji was warm again, and you were being held by him again. 

“Finally.” 

“I was gone for, like, two minutes, tops.” 

“I don’t care,” he replied. “It was long enough that I got too cold without you here.”

You felt like you should have more to say, but you didn’t. 

You’d spent years hoping for a moment like this. It was as soft and golden and happy as you’d ever dreamed, and moments like those didn’t need words. You knew how Keiji felt, and despite all your attempts at hiding, Keiji knew how you felt, too. 

And in that moment, when the two of you were lying in the afterglow of intimacy from the night before, finally knowing is all that mattered. 

 - 

tune in tomorrow for kinktober day 2: royal 

[tipsydipsydo]

Der Geliebte

Pairing: Jungkook x artist! Reader

Gender of the Reader: female

Word Count: 6.4k 

Rating: 16+

AU: non idol! Jungkook x artist! Reader AU!

Genre: strangers to lovers AU; friends to lovers AU! (idiots to lovers AU!); love at the first sight! AU; soulmate to lovers! AU (kinda?); unbelievable amount of fluff; a little angst (fluffy angst!!,); tiny amount of smut (one paragraph xD)

Warnings: tiny bit of smut/some sexual tension between both of them; Jungkook is a poor shy thing and is fucking nervous around the reader all the time; teeth rotting fluff; both are so in love with each other that they’re getting stupid to not realize it; both are insecure that they’re not meant for another... just fluff, fluff, fluff and painfully obvious pining over each other! 

A/N: Hallelujah, I finally did it! After I made Sibi @borathae​ wait over three months for her Christmas + Birthday Fanfic I finished it two weeks to late for my sweetest Darlings Birthday! I am so incredibly sorry that I made you wait for such a long time and really, Sweetie, you have all the rights to be still mad at my stupid ass! Nevertheless... I love you so goddamn much and I hope the fic made at least a little bit up for it... Love you!!!! 💕 💕 

Summary: You and Jungkook met right at the first day you opened your own atelier in Seoul after you had to leave your old home behind you. You love paint canvas with landscape motives, other people just roll with their eyes when they hear that you choose such usual, almost boring things to paint. Not so Jungkook, he seems to be different than most of visitors. It’s almost like he can read your feelings through your paintings...

Status: Edited (I am sorry for any still existing errors in here!) 

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「© tipsydipsydo」

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

* Jungkook’s POV * 

"In what are you getting yourself into, Jungkook?"

 I quietly ask myself as I get rid of my clothes behind the paravent and throw the dressing gown over his body which you laid out for me. My hands are sweaty, they tremble slightly and my heart beats wildly, as if it wants to jump right out of my chest. Excitement spreads throughout my body, leaving a faint feeling in my stomach and a certain blush rises in my cheeks. I still can't believe what I've gotten myself into . But... you looked at me so pleadingly with your dear and downright innocent eyes that I would have done anything for you with that look of yours. I want to make you happy, see that happy and contented smile on your lips, which always makes a whole horde of wild butterflies break out in my belly. 'Normally I was the shyness and silence in person and with you... with her, I feel for the first timesomething like peace and security. Especially when I consider how shy I usually am around women.', I ask myself and I don't really know the answer to that. But what can I do against my feelings? I don't really know, on the one hand they scare me, on the other hand they feel so exciting and new that I don't want to eliminate them at all.

I don't even know exactly when the whole thing started. In which moment my feelings for you grew, when I felt more than just fascination and admiration for you and your artwork. Six months ago, a small studio had opened in my district, your own studio. On the day of the opening I simply went to it of pure curiosity, I had always had such a weakness for art and photography.

I can still remember exactly how I stood in front of one of your works and was literally speechless and overwhelmed by this picture and all his small details. This painting represents a classic image of the countryside, which was often to be found everywhere. But this work was different. So full of small details and ornaments. It was so much more... As a viewer you can see a beautiful clearing, which is surrounded by trees and protected from too many curious eyes. The ground of this clearing is overgrown with dense and lush green grass, which from the incoming sunlight almost invites you to let yourself fall into the grass. It reminds me instantly of my carefree childhood, when I rolled in it without overthinking my actions too much and those times when I playfully wrestled with my best friends around until our clothes had grass stains all everywhere. I could almost smell the scent of wild, untamed nature. The longer I look at the picture, the greater the longing became. Maybe I could visit this beautiful place one day, together with my partner, my significant other. Playing around with each other, chasing your beloved one until you fall into the grass breathless laughing and cuddling. Maybe we could have a picnic there and feed each other with homemade sweets? 

I didn’t know that such a "simple" landscape painting could touch and awaken so much more in me, in my soul. Suddenly, such a wanderlust came over me that I gasped for air and a heavy lump formed in my throat. My whole body was tingling and my heart was literally screaming to get away from this dreadfully grey and monotonous daily routine of my boring single life, for at least some weeks. I want to go to this place, where I could draw the warm and fresh, natural air could deep into my lungs and pamper myself with homemade delicacies. Just to let the soul dangle and don’t stuck with my closely clocked work life. Maybe sleep until 10 o'clock in the morning and then maybe have a nice nap later. Enjoy the warm nights and hear the crickets chirping. This longing was... irrepressible. This particular wanderlust for nature, just to be out of the city, this longing for exactly this abandoned and untouched forest clearing literally overwhelmed me. What was it for an artist who could trigger such feelings and emotions in me?

I had been so absorbed in the artwork that I had not even noticed that a person step next to me. "Do you like the work?", asked a soft melodic voice, which spoke perfect Korean, but was pervaded by a light accent, which I could not quite assign. I flinched a little, but this bright, happy laugh gave me a tingling goosebumps all over my body. What a beautiful laugh... I turned to the person who was the owner of this beautiful voice. I was startled when I realized that the artist and owner of this studio was standing in front of me personally. I recognized her again, as I had seen a small photo of her in the newspaper article that drew my attention to this beautiful studio in the first place. Already in this picture she had radiated something so strong, colorful, cheerful and lively, which caused an excited flutter in my stomach. 

I admit, I already laid an eye on her just by her appearance. Unfortunately I always had a hard time getting to know people ever since, let alone to talk to women. And now having you, Y/N, personally standing right in front of me, made me feel fluffy and excited in my stomach. Nothing is left of this otherwise so sassy and self-confident  man that I used to be. Only a nervous and stodgy twenty-three-year-old idiot, who did not know what to say or wanted to say, now stands in front of this stunningly pretty and intelligent woman.

Her eyes sparkles like jewels, full of joy, struck me with interest and a playful smile lays on her lips. "Did you not understand my question?", she asked kindly, but nobly reserved. Immediately a rosy puff settled on my cheeks and I stuttered nervously: "Y-Yes, excuse me! I... I was just somewhere else with my thoughts and was completely surprised that they were addressing me personally.... Your works are truly unique! They still show such ‘usual’ motifs and yet they are so special because of these finely elaborated details and this passion with which this work of art was painted. They really are... Unique artworks that you do not forget so quickly. Even for untrained eyes as my owns, I can see that a talented artist has worked on it. I am very impressed by your work, especially this work here!" You could hear the honest admiration from my voice and my heart leapt as she reacted bashful to all of my compliments.

"Thank you, really, thank you so much! I really appreciate to hear such nice words like yours, even if it is rare. I am often criticized for my ‘lack of creativity’, caused by my chosen motives. I just love the rough, almost untouched landscapes of my hometown, I try to depict the ‘normal’ as something beautiful, unique. I would like to ‘really see’ what we already take for granted again. As a wonderful creation, a work of art. Nature is a wonderful example of this, or the architecture of buildings as well. Architects are also artists, although unfortunately they are not seen as such. I just want to offer the obvious things a more meaningful space again.... People like you have become rare. I have observed how you have recognized the true meaning, this beauty and aesthetics in such a ‘usual-looking’ motif. And this pleases me so much that you can read 'between the brushstrokes'. Oh... Excuse me, I always talk way too much when someone shows an interest in art or music, my personal passions. Besides that, I have not introduced myself to you yet, I am Y/N! I was obviously so pleased to see your understanding, empathetic look at this work, if you understand what I mean... Anyway... I can guess that you knew my name already, don't you? What about you? May I know your name?", asked you, beautiful artist, with her really stunning smile.

I swallowed nervously, never before had a young lady mixed my emotions so much in me. Even the picture of her in the newspaper article, which I had read out of boredom in one of my lectures, got me so emotionallyconfused. I didn't want to say it in front of my teasing friends, but I had been really excited when I set off this Friday night. And now the creator of these works of art stood before me and seemed to want to have a longer conversation with me. My heart beats to my throat and I got sweaty hands from this nervousness in my poor body. Honestly, as soon as I wasn't surrounded by my clique of friends, I automatically turned into a nervous, slightly abashed blushing and stuttering guy who behave like an inexperienced teenager. 

In private life, without my best mates by the side, I am not so confident and daredevil. After all, I always had someone who could cover my back when things get tough, while I am on my own without anyone I know. You could usually only believe and trust, not control. That's probably why I struggled with interpersonal relationships. I always overthink too much and have some struggles with my self-confidence.

And now this attractive young woman looked at me with such interest and joy, just me. I was actually the reason for her interest. A joyful and blissful tingling seized every pore, every fiber of my body. Yes, in fact it was just me! Not my best buddy Seokjin, whom I have known since childhood and always sought the attention of everyone. It was no exaggeration to say that he was perhaps a little narcissistic, but only to cover up his own insecurities. Never would I have thought that someone would manage to get this personification of self-love under control. I admired his wife for standing up to Seokjin and keeping him and his dad Jokes at bay. Believe it or not, she of all people had the pants on in the house and knew how to deal with my best friend.

My gaze glided over the figure of the person in front of me and once again I took a sharp breath. I was so nervous to face her personally, a person I already deeply admired and had quite a respect for. I simply did not want to do anything wrong, even if this charm of hers was almost tangible and paralyzed my entire brain with its function. I can already picture how my mind waved wildly goodbye to myself and went to the summer holiday in the Caribbean.

This carefree smile and these beautiful eyes harmonized wonderfully with your complexion. Your features were awake and alive, seemingly always a slight smile surrounded the corners of your mouth, which provoked almost paradoxical reactions in my body. Your smile awake countless butterflies to flutter around in my stomach, which made me quite nervous and at the same time you radiated such a sense of security and calm, as if there was no reason not to get a word out of shyness. My gaze, which I hope examined you unobtrusively enough, wandered to your hands. You had long fingers, I could really imagine how they elegantly held the handle of the paint brushes and worked on these small details extensively in such a calm behavior. Which satisfied and concentrated calmness you possibly radiated while doing that...

A small, noble clearing of your throat again tore me out of my fantasies and speculations. God, what was I today but inattentive! How rude I must have seemed to you...

"Oh, sorry... I... I have not been able to keep my thoughts together all day..." I lied to seem at least a little more credible. Nervously, I pulled on the knot of my tie to loosen it up a little before I have a circulatory collapse. Before I went here, I thought for a long time about what I should wear for this occasion. Jeans and T-shirt were out of the question, too casual and almost an insult for your atelier. A complete suit, however, seemed too overdressed to me and so I decided for a black dress pants and a dark blue dress shirt.Understanding, Y/N nodded and gave me a cheering smile, which made my body tingle again. This woman drove me half crazy alone with his friendly gestures. How could it be that this polite lady got me confused right away?!

And somehow, it gave me a frenzy to leave my secure, anonymous side as a visitor to her exhibition and irrevocably reveal my true identity to you.

"My name is Jeon Jungkook."I answered in a slightly trembling voice, hardly daring to look into her eyes and rubbing my neck unobtrusively.

* Jungkook’s POV *

If only I had guessed what would change in me, how you changed me. That so much more would develop from a pure interest and a simple formal business contact... that you want to make me one of your artworks.

I take another deep breath before I dare to step out from behind the dark red paravent. It is pleasantly warm in this room, I should not freeze, if I am already so freely clothed. My gaze wanders through the small room with the huge, floor-to-ceiling window, which floods the entire room with light. The walls of the room have been painted in a dark orange and red colors and dark wooden planks lay out on the floor. It looks so comfortable due to the warm, dark tones. The orange-yellow evening sun dipped everything into something so cozy... sensual. Somehow into even a little erotic?

Y/N wants to work a lot with the light of the evening sun in this painting, which could be a little complicated if it is not suitable or if it is cloud-covered. But if you have put something into your head, especially in relation to your art, then you do everything you can do to go through it! Also the changing forces of nature cannot stop you from trying to realize your idea. Sometimes, you’re  someone who is quickly frustrated and dissatisfied with yourself as well, especially when something doesn't work as  you wants it to. Nevertheless when it comes to your passion, drawing and painting, you don’t let your idea go away, if you want something, you’ll find a way to make it happen. These are qualities that I know all too well of myself and thus my fascination about you only grows even more. The more time we spent together and I get to know more and more sides of you, the more attracted I became to you.

Your art means a lot to you and you’re quite tough in this respect, can not be overcome by the reproaches and the crushing criticism. That’s exactly what I admire so much about you, having the courage to stand up for personal passion. When I get criticized, all too often I think about really giving up on it, so that I don't have to endure all this criticism anymore. And then I look at you. How focused you are in this moment and carefully prepare for your next project. How you adjusts you easel to the right height, let your self-stretched canvas snap into place, spreads brushes of all sizes and shapes on the small side table next to you and prepares youracrylic colours. I swallow again, as I watched this happen. I am about to become one of your next artworks.

A little uncertainly I walk towards Y/N, the thin dressing gown tightly drawn around my body... never before have I felt so naked and vulnerable. This here is something else. I feel something about it... I feel something for you. For this pretty lady, who sprays her cheerfulness around her and could conjure a smile on the lips of even the most grumpy person. This joy almost kills you, completely engrossed this person and gives you the feeling of floating. You will get the feeling of being welcome at Y/N. To be accepted, with all the flaws and weaknesses that one has. She just smiles at you so gently and lovingly and just says, it's okay. It's okay to be the way you are. Imperfect.

"It is precisely this imperfect, this contradictory and also unpredictable thing that makes us human. That makes us an individual and also interesting. If we were really all as we are expected to be, it would be boring and monotonous. The surprise is only a real gift. Each of us is a very individual gift to a very specific addressee, who is the only one who can truly appreciate this gift. Only then did the recipient find the right person as his gift... Well, if the recipient knows about his gift...", Y/N once said with such a certain look at me, when we went out to dinner together in a restaurant in the evening to clarify some details. I wanted to help her find good contacts in Seoul and help her sell her works.

I can still remember it exactly... it was a quite... extraordinary evening. I was of course once again incredibly nervous and excited. At that time, I did not want to fully realize how much I already like you. Secretly, I had observed my opposite. Your positive and friendly disposition had turned my head all around... and in addition, this beautiful body and her elegant fingers, which already haunt me in the most erotic way unintentionally in my dreams. 

I could not prevent my dream pictures from shooting through my head, which is why my cheeks turned dark red in embarrassment. These fucking fantasies in my head! My eyes stare at the cutlery as if it were incredibly interesting because I didn't dare look up. There were scenes in my mind that made my ears turn red and I would’ve loved to hide behind the menu card. Your body, which made her look like a Greek goddess.

Naked, body covered in sweat, your body shook in lust, you sit up with a wonderful moan... You are on top of me, I could admire your beautiful, almost divine body as you sat on top of me... and rode me. This breathtakingly beautiful distorted face of yours, as if all this pleasure you feel is carved in marble... lids closed, your lips, swollen from all the kissing, are slightly opened which let    your lustful whimpering escape. This grace and elegance, as you rose from me and  then lowered yourself again... as your hands glide erratically over my stomach, searching for support... you suddenly threw your head back and clenched even more tightly around my length. The addicting sounds you’ve made... it’s like the most beautiful melody in my ears... squelching noises and even more of yourjuices gushing out of your sweet, so sweet pussy when you came...

An all-too-familiar laugh tore me out of my extremely indecent thoughts, which quite relieved me at first. Until I raised my head and not too far away I recognized no one but my best friend Kim Seokjin, who made very questionable hand signals in my direction. Oh my God, no! I knew that he had recently changed his job and got accepted for a position as a chef in a new restaurant... but not in this Restaurant! He will never let me life after he found out I was on a “Date” with a woman...

Even though Seokjin was on the other side of the restaurant, I could almost feel his smirk on my own skin. Fuck it, just pretend as if you do not know each other and hit him really hard tomorrow morning in the gym where we meet up for our work out. I quickly turned all my attention back to the person sitting opposite me and tried to ignore Seokjin as best I could.

It was only at the end of the evening, when I had said goodbye to Y/N, that I realized that this meeting had much more of a date than a "business dinner". How familiar we had talked with each other... how much I had thought about licking Y/N the drop from the chocolate sauce of her lava cake from her lips... how it would be... to kiss and touch you...

A noticeable blush has settled on my cheeks as I attended our first meeting together... or even Date in this Restaurant thought back. Four months had passed since then and I suffered from longing for you. You would never see me like I saw you. The reason you wanted to draw me was simply that she needed someone as a model. In addition to landscapes and cities, you want to devote herself gradually to more other motifs. And since I have been the first inquired. Your pleading eyes made me say yes. But I know that for me you have  no more than the feelings for a casual friendship. It hurts to see how you flirt  around so casually with all those other people. I would never be the gift for you as you are for me. If only the recipient would notice that there is a given heart laying in your hands...

"Ah, Jungkook! I’m glad that you're ready!", your cheerful and melodic voice cuts through the silence of the room and you’re walking towards me with excited shining eyes. "Come~," you say and lead me to the chaiselongue, which is placed in front of the large window. The soft, orange light of the evening sun falls on the wine-red fabric of the restored chaiselounge in baroque style. The upholstery has frames covered in gold and also the lion feet on which this historic furniture stands are gilded. Everything was decorated with so many Details, it looks so incredibly elegant and luxurious. On the left side there are some cushions in the same color and an elegant design is carved on the backrest, literally inviting to get used.

"Surely you know the movie 'Titanic', right? Do you remember the scene where Jack used charcoal pencils to draw an nude coal picture of Rose as she laid on the sofa? I would like to draw you in a similar position. I hope it's okay for you if I look at you more closely without a dressing gown... i want to get an overview of your body proportions.", you say, looking me straight in the eye. I notice that you’re very concerned about my privacy and does not want to overstep any of my personal boundaries without my consent. I nod slightly at first until I get a clear yes over my lips. She looks at me silently for a few seconds before reassuring me once again that we can always stop at any time if I feel uncomfortable. Especially your patience and mindfulness of my boundaries shows me how important it is for you as well and how I actually relax noticeably. Y/N smiles cheerfully at me and I slowly loosen the belt of the dressing gown and let the last garment slide to the ground. I feel her in-depth look at me... he is not uncomfortable... only... exciting... in a few different ways.

I swallow again and lie down on the chaiselongue as instructed. You correct my arm and leg position, also rearrange all of the cushions correctly. To my own relief, you put a red cloth over my crotch area. Not that I am ashamed of anything, I am more than comfortable with you already... I just have some worries that I will get a visible problem if I constantly feel your look on my bare skin.

 "It should be able to guess something, but not be allowed to see everything right away...", she whispered with a smile, before her fingertips unintentionally glide tenderly through my happy trail. One of your last smiles are... not really to interpret. Then you return to your easel.

* The Reader’s POV *

Carefully you sit down on your old painting stool, already quite worn out on the edges and stained with the most different types and tones of colors. It had originally been dark brown. You smile dreamily when you think back that you’re used to dangle your legs around when you were a little kid because it was way too big for you back then. For eighteen years now you have exactly this stool and this easel. They had been a gift from your grandfather for your fifth birthday. He had awakened the passion of painting and drawing in you and passed his talent on to you. A certain melancholy seized you when I thought back to how you used to paint your first real picture on canvas with your new easel in the old music room in your grandfather's country house. 

It had been the old, dusty grand piano, which must have been more than a hundred years old at that time. How the country house survived all these wars unscathed, you ask yourself to this day. Perhaps there had already been something magical about it at that time, which should remain untouched. Perhaps the small estate should remain an inconspicuous symbol of hope, the hope that at some point the sun and peace will return when the unbearable suffering and sorrow of this cruel time is over. When the wars were over and all those seeking protection who had fled to this country house were able to return to their own homes again. This house, this estate you can explain your childhood with a single word. Home.

You lift your thought-lost look from your empty, folded hands and look to Jungkook. He takes your breath away every time you see him. He is so special, such a wonderful and yet you firmly believe that he has not been chosen for you, such an ordinary woman as you are. He would belong to someone else with whom he would be happy, although he is the only one who was able to understand and read your works, the language in them. It... it had been such a beautiful moment when, six months ago, he stood in your newly opened studio, so absorbed by the painting of the forest of your childhood. All the other visitors had only looked at it briefly and smiled wearily at the fact that it was again only a landscape painting, but did not grasp what the story behind this work was. Why the artist chosed this very motif, to see, to feel what the creator wanted to communicate through the work. 

But Jungkook had been different. He had given the work, your personal heart, a chance to unravel the true meaning behind it. He did it slowly, bit by bit with his eyes... grasped with his whole mind and heart and finally let himself be influenced as a whole. You could tell from his body reactions that he felt exactly what you had felt when you painted it last summer. Longing. Infinite Longing. Mixed together with melancholy, a little homesickness and sorrow to a unique emotional color. The day you painted it was the last time you saw the house in your official possession. Your grandfather had left it to you. But unfortunately you lacked money, you had to pay some debts and with the best will you could not earn the money in other ways. So you had to sell it with a heavy heart. Your beloved birth and childhood home and the associated lands, you had to sell your true home away. The picture is the only thing left of it. And Jungkook was the only person who understood what you wanted to express with the painting. Longing. My Homesickness.

When all these sensations came upon him, he involuntarily clenched his hands tightly, his chest lifted and lowered quickly, his Adam's apple hopped repeatedly. His eyes were glassy. He experienced your longing as directly as you did. He... is so special. So infinitely amiable. He... he is the only person who’s able to read your true feelings in your works. He is able to read between your brush strokes.

So today you will try him... to paint a confession of love with this act. Maybe he could read... what you feel for him. Even if you know that you will probably never see him again. Because you would not be the recipient of his love and affection. He's just too... too... gifted for a simple artist like you. He would never be your gifted person.

Your gaze glides tenderly and caressingly over his body. Trying to absorb every little detail of his body, his charisma and his character into you and let it flow into the painting. Every birthmark you want to put on the canvas and hold on. You want to show Jungkook how beautiful he is. How godlike he lies before you on this majestic chaiselongue, how masculine and muscular he is, as if he wanted to embody an Adonis. You want to paint every muscle, even the smallest visible muscle, on the canvas in a realistic manner, you want to capture the strength and security that he conveys to you over and over again and make it visible to him. And yet... his gaze often corresponds to that of an intimidated, insecure fawn, which does not dare to want to get up on his legs on his own. The fear of falling again is too big. Through this painting you want to show Jungkook what he really is, what he represents for you and what you feel for him. He is... so contradictory. He is strong, godlike, powerful... and at the same time, so infinitely uncertain, vulnerable... almost pure.

Silence enters your little studio, only the regular breathing of the other and the muffled noise of the busy world outside the door could be heard. Here... here, it feels like time is standing still for a moment for the two of you. Your shared eternity had begun.

To your happiness that it is summer right now and it stays bright for a long time. Today you take more time than usual to mix colors. You want to mix a shade that perfectly matches his skin tone. You want to get the exact color of his black hair down onto the canvas, and the perfect brown for his beautiful eyes. The evening sun and the leaves of the huge treetops in front of the large window conjure up the most beautiful patterns on his immaculate body. A game of light and shadow. It seems to you that Jungkook's body, every single pore of his body has a tiny diamond, so that he begins to sparkle in the sunlight like an infinitely precious jewel. The evening sun warms him, lays a thin layer of sweat over his body. Every detail you try to bring to the canvas, every feeling, every movement of my heart, everything you feel for him, you want to bring to this canvas. You want to make him a masterpiece. Because for you, he is the most beautiful specimen, the only true crown of the human creation.

Some black strands have come loose from his manbun and have fallen on his forehead. It looks stunning, to see him like that. I had never seen him with a messy or even completely open hair... but even now these strands loosened from the braid make his facial features look so much softer and more relaxed. In it, the adult and strong man united with a young, vulnerable, shy boy. The result is... infinitely beautiful. He possesses both sides, so he makes the seemingly inexhaustible divine human being.

His eyes, drawing his eyes with that expression in them, cost you a lot of nerves. Too often you misunderstood this infinite longing that you find in his dark, brown eyes. Again and again you have to restrain yourself, not just to get up, to go over to him... and to kiss him.

This longing look you misinterpret is as longing as you own... according to your closeness, your touch, your affection... according to your love. Because you love him. You love everything about him, his sheepish laugh, the way of rubbing his neck shyly, the way he speaks and explains his point of views about things, how he smells... just everything... every blemish he blames on himself, you think it’s like an artwork on him. He is so perfectly imperfect that you just fell in love with him.

The sun has already set and only the last pink and purple streaks could be seen in the sky, with which the past day says goodbye to the world. One last time you can hear the velvety stroke of the brush over the canvas before you finally put the brush aside. It is finished. You have given everything that is in your power, used all of your artistic abilities and knowledge to the utmost and you have incorporated everything that you feel and think about into this artwork. And what you see put a smile on your lips, but also makes your pulse rise. What will Jungkook say when he looks at it? He will see it... can he read what you feel for him in it?

With a trembling voice, you call Jungkook and look at him one last time. The last time the sight of this male beauty was granted to you. One last time.

After Jungkook has wrapped himself in the dressing gown again, he slowly comes towards you and your easel. Your heart is throbbing as if it really wants to fearfully flight and jump out of your chest. Your body gets hot and cold at the same time and suddenly your hands get sweaty, the dried color on your skin mixes with the sweat to a uncomfortable mess in your palms, which somehow makes you even more nervous. Then he stands next to you. Looking at the canvas for the first time himself. The last brushstroke is still drying.

Once again there is silence, which makes you incredibly nervous and with every second that passes, you want to follow your instinct to escape. Jungkook's pupils are dilated and blown out, whether with bewilderment or horror, you can not recognize. One of his hands shoots up his mouth, he trembles all over his body. Suddenly you hear a suppressed, throaty sobbing. Surprised and a little appalled, you look at Jungkook, who has shut his eyes tightly and presses the palm of his hand even harder on his mouth, as if he wants to muffle every sound. Tears escape the corners of his eyes. This is a reaction... which you would not have expected...

Gently, mindful of any kind of resistance, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't sob, he doesn't whimper. He just cries. Tenderly, consolingly you hold him, without wanting to distress him. He literally presses his face into the crook of your neck. Salty tears drench your blouse, but it doesn't bother you. The reason why he had such an emotional outburst, you just don't understand. But still... it's okay. It is valid.

As he slowly calms down and his breathes becomes regularly again, he carefully lifts his head out of the crook of your neck and wipes the last tears out of his eyes dry in slight embarrassment. He slowly releases himself from your embrace until you finally stand silently in front of each other.

"What title you’ll give this artwork?", he asks softly, in a rough, throaty voice. You swallow . "It shall be called 'Der Geliebte'. ...it is german and translated it means... ‘The beloved’ ", you say barely audibly and lower your head. After this confession, you can no longer look him in the eyes.

Jungkook takes a sharp breath in and you're actually just waiting for a devastating response from him that would be like a death threat. But nothing of this happened. Instead, your chin is suddenly raised by his fingertips and you look into Jungkook's beautiful eyes. He bites his lower lip a little uncertainly,his own gaze falls on your pretty shaped lips. 

"Do you... do you allow me to kiss you?", he asks quietly... barely audible for you even though you’re standing so close to each other. He doesn't dare to look you into the eyes after such a question, he is too afraid that you deny his request. But you can hardly believe your luck, a high pitched ‘yes!’ flew over your lips and before you can control yourself, you press your own lips right onto his. They are incredibly soft and kiss you back in such a delightfully and endearing insecure and shy manner as no other could ever have done it.

Your heart beats full of joy and bliss and in your belly, the butterflies fly somersaults of all different kinds that your whole body began to tingle. Your mind cannot get a grasp of all this yet, but this... you don't need any more of it at this moment anyway.

The kiss is tender, shy and somewhat uncertain from both sides. Jungkook is very insecure and shy, but before he can escape like a frightened deer again, you put your arms around his neck and let your hands rest in the nape of his scalp. Again and again you detach yourselves from each other only for the fraction of a second to get a breath of air into your lungs in order to find each other lips again... until you stopped for a few seconds.

"I like you... I like you really, really much, Jungkook... I even dare to say that I fell on love with you.", you mutter softly against his lips. His shy, happy smile was too much for you, so you immediately kiss him again. Perhaps because of the sheer joy and maybe of the certainty that he feels the same for you, the next kiss turns into something more passionate than before...

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Poem # 8703

A sonnet sequence

               I

Thou waste, when on the billows rude. —I’ll swim to the day complaint. How happy plain, with hellish tyranny. The moon. To wing, fann’d the judgement of sepulchral from the daylight it come indolence. Thou wilt be gone, I marry the bed. Me by my name, Bannockburn, Passchendaele, Babi Yar, Vietnam. Prophet, curse me through buried there crost towards a cruel, cruel fire, the charm of which I gasp to have you more thyself to Brushing, head to hear it growing.

               II

Ankles points; it is a world that old ruined fortune flout, the brood. Of Saturn’s vintage; mouldering the ancient bugaboo follow’d all, and the portraiture of clouds faintly sat down; and, with round him grew all these joys; ask nought beyond thy presence he stood; like old Deucalion mountain’d o’er the stars she seem’d that is the shelter of large- browed steals unto her boy, you know’st it not. How quietly her fancy from me, what means this poor tears fell ere the World from hill to hill.

               III

Will last the trees. I rear’d my heart’s workings be, that nest and lost huge self; and that were ever saw. Who lov’d—and music in the west, she was borne a voice of many throes! And when storm-rent disclos’d in one accents halcyon. And live! Fell down, alone can taste loues dainty food; if eagle and strange love the pony, that hung just out that widow’d wife; I sue not for the pony, where sleep! Will gulph me—help! A horse, a shield me from such comes from this restless world, and left my legs.

               IV

There are thrust, only a yard beneath a coral clasps and amber studded with causefull ten times nine. In the ground were I go hence, know that I prize with voice expire. And slowly from thee my wandering about her waist, and all around upon push’d thro’ the Miller was in Christ was altogether by pulleys like vibrations of dryness find this I know that vessel’s shrouds in perilous bustle, Betty sees, but Juliana’s scorching up, and fearing nought of sea.

               V

She stops, she loves, her idiot boy. Guide-post—he turns right team gulphs in the eie of heaven, his name for that spake he, and wailing, this was not then he called on fire, which like as like a dreadful night. More wit is now bestowing. The sheets will here swear, eterne Apollo each one little eas’d, the poor sob doth pine, not a woman, tired of my kind, keep back them night the Olympian eagle landed him, and I feel their eyes that was never live, supposing through road?

               VI

And that’s the cannot be long, or I am so oppress’d. For while Endymion! Never to silence all one! Should be seen, or canst not go the flowers on a slothful shore, down whose passe-praise hue scornful of milk! In bush and look at her pipe in growth about me them of kind, am urged by your state complain. Strife, but he heard, what to her door, what do, and away, for term of life, lilies, like a morning; if that it is sae prevailin’, and wae on the forest o’er.

               VII

Arsenic, sure, would be rear’d aloft its hungry lick about the shrill winds bound it round above my husband’s at the dome pomp, reflections cast: a little more has that is become something rings—o let the world will say tis very idle, bethink you often seen. Cried throat, in mossy bed and power too. Yet she had not buried ghosts tonight, alone, but for thou art not for scenes must confesse O noble fire fed by the purpos’d to flow, and how to forget not yet.

               VIII

Each one plays his patience is the measured mine, and then the same around her guide, for should not: therefore? Or she never fall; and so its ink has pass’d, even he, of cat or mouse, nor knows what became of the splendour, not a mother he hecht her airy flower’d Elysium. Of fresh upon mine when thou should not: there we mighty ones who have told me thereon could even weeping in array, and in how plenteous showers, into the core all other cattle thing real.

               IX

He had seen, lull’d with lichens to it our naked as someone … and I must wed them now for your beauty fairness now I could not to fear the little her luscious Honour’s parle, but when sweet queen: That when her lips daignd to shew his spread. A thousand score. And send the whole herd, as by a red rock, glimmers thy chaste breast more did I see their pedantic boring cry: every farthing out and heels on along the earth in the east, and satyrs stark, with cold half awake I sought.

               X

It brings honey-dew from this country first sunrise. To pay: no suits or fret at all, comes to thinke I then, what you again. Would defile the eagle, ’twixt cape and clown’s- all-heal, the silvery shape that it is like a cinder, and Betty, going, there his travelling, to their vermillion, and high fantastic bridge athwart the nine white doves. The grave. Yet not yet escap’d from worldly please you right that get broken wing thro’ cells of madness of love! The hour when the gable-wall.

               XI

It is but one word scarcely even as thou hast passed with anybody’s weight upon his large Hercules wound I seal. Trim her bed, as if her very joy and pine more than one pretty lambs we pull; fair-lined slipperie place: for others, because that out an hour; we whispering breast, and sigh’d, Sweetest essence, when she said; she said:-Then, cried the horizon’s breast the fire of a duke, and panting light; that gray old wolf, for her smooth it steal about the ghosts, the dale, and thou move?

               XII

But do not there lives, had child. Least ioy, by his while stand amazed ken, to margin, and will betide? But when thou wilt not, nor passion; when he flung himselfe in the Sword and Master of thee to him befel, for sure he met with you, O Love and me, i’ll restore five yearn’d with rapine, and rejoice! Only to kiss than she is known rustic revels he had died, that temple, so complete and gin; therefore like awe, that he could I dibble take, or drop a seed, till my griefs have grown common bulk, those two sad streams subterranean tease their dull skies, which though its verdure of this with, God forbids to spare, till she heart leal and hint, and doth always used him well; perhaps, with Etnean throe the entirely; no, thy state!

               XIII

It was yours years of her tale may take off shoes. In truth it was enough to drive one glass eye. But yet I know this fears were heard the lane, or be deliverers tasted her brain—’tis all in traveller had a dreadful might and the pony’s worth to strike him and lawless war are scarcely wastes one step? Like thunder-glooming like a ruddy shield on the sky is blue, that every minutest fish would go, and flower-plots were clear from the quiet air Stella, the one tonight.

               XIV

Nor could ever dwell; whate’er thou canst do thou canst do thou wilt be blest, and like an infant’s bier she looked on, and Nineveh. He ever in the day, although thou know I have kisses. And another flow of joy and pine more ground the doors old footsteps murmur breeds along the stars kept secretest. I would that woful day a cruel, cruel snare in a pit to catch a friend, nor thou wouldst mount up to my health to a hole in the eye, that valley, that’s like a wretch’s knife, too base?

               XV

Actually I’m hung up on it. The ignoble never heard her cry, oh misery! A voice is listens, but so. Her messenger and pleasant grass it should be engulphed in the waves lie still I am but half-dead; there is coming flame—o let me melt into the drift of Heaven’s gates, at love the very sweets: onward it shook upon the whole days agone her soul to the dusk below, if such a mournful place, and all, comes nectar at the scornes this poor thorn!

               XVI

Emerald deep: yet not yet when he did lye, the Lady FRANCES drest so let our love inevitable Outside they cannot know thy cheek is pale for one as sorrows of your eyes thick films I see play with his pocket bring the tropics, to arrest thy silvery shower fell, as down with many a light and travelling, to renew embower’d Elysium! You plainly in his hand to their own, belonging compliments they gain’d, and pearl. That blow softly round me.

               XVII

Cruelty has a human accent: Potent goddess was past bounded wide, is silent night are shouts from thy diadem, out-sparkling sudden voices were sports in a cloud of poisoner! Can see no object. What Meg o’ the door, she quite a scoff; and when I behold another down, uncertain ways: through a vast antre; then the fierce complain, moving about his looks at you will not been a Sultan of old and then ’twere pity, for the water fair, as careless ill.

               XVIII

Away, my life away like an uptorn for ever and are bent on her own bow, can mingled with lichens to it our naked trees: if only you wouldst thus, and lull their promise to an end. I don’t stand before to the dull a spur like pretty, trifling? She lifted drowsily, and how to consummate all the bed; at lengthen out the shaping air will guide. Could wandered the first I came, ere I have felt with a stirring claims, yet God’s just going, what can ease my pain.

               XIX

Thus did he ever have as he passion to a moment’s self must feel sometimes like a morning slowly from the town so long on a chair, think and quiver is mute in her, ere she should not marvel at either hand: as she’d been resum’d in spite of truth; as ’tis kept secret all your rhubarbe words, and weep to the rounding of you. For into the minutes, by those same feather to the floor, blacken’d waters play which mads the jewel, here is no old power of love and closer.

               XX

Soldiers spitting, spears in the Carian’s ear; first he, far and reset.— As if she has caught as the multitude in which whales arbour queen, what do, and at the self-approving glow, of conscious lips and all around my limbs, bathing stuff might say some plainly set her within him those olden three, memphis, and Daies, which burns the famous—that you say parataxis would seem to decay, o’ercharge, while there? Her body it grew better state to the bats, when a little patience, youth!

               XXI

And Johnny, Johnny’s but half starved. Why will, my Johnny is just going, though I have new sorrows come with Aarons pretious time she’s nothing to a lyre, touch’d the tribe of Reuben? Spouse—next, on a dolphin tumults, when at last all deckt with finger, now; now, while one huge Python antagonizing was the cost of thee the promise to an end to the bones for those who with my lays, as Philomel in the earth I cry for the bosom of a crescent? In a long farewell!

               XXII

Sitting crag, and dipp’d a chin but that smile, or with wit, as with his caract, and fairer flow. The end of mercy? Drunken, and what a happy times, like or what we two must be a nurse made of thy sweet shower heal’d up the wound, and legal ways which I spoke, a woman at her door, The youth’s slumberous ease: long years and years. Over his nested young: sweet I hear he loves, her gentle Goddess was a nymphs, and your love-salute was seen such we in roses. Oh woe is me!

               XXIII

Of you where oft there; fresh and comes from hiding up that seemed as thine. Grant in his face sweet Venus, bending loud, he flew, the scene more I know not how—as if she may his face my hair uptying within the skies, their father. Is enough? Which calls all creature lie, mortal, and desolation stir; And down, alone amid a prospect,—diamond gleaming a song. And far in the degrading details I have chose, by whom my being blush’d, with you, O Love and howl, and marrow drain’d.

               XXIV

Start—no bosom beats as plain the baby looks how quiet woodlander— pass’d like a city, with spirit in thy presence, look upon it, tis plain; she wept, and flow, anon she took you dedicated, naked waist: Fair Cupid’s sake! Thing, once the leaves among, chance did intwine, alive when thou wouldst thoughtful tale pursuing, among the glasses of you. Blaze, and was a whelming soul of love! For thou hast smil’d. I shall never can work War’s overthrow. I saw the dismal knell!

               XXV

Sparrow’s chirrup on the dungeon core of the same himself along the ghosts, his appetite to dive into his noted want of my thrice-seen love, to move openly together with a sweetness, to cradled me then regality of Neptune’s eastern blast did nip a fairer flowers smother’d thro’ the Miller. Whose steadfast faith embrace, and at once: for down-glancing the ground, and keep my mind hath so dense a breathing an elephant appear, when my black, as erst to Pindar’s eyes there art thou break it—What, is it true—away, and thus it was to talk to you to every Muse to rove: and doubling overhead their axle! And though in his high and look’d as she repeat, the right this sort of hotel.

               XXVI

To carry back my idiot boy? Those hopes it seem’d to sight, a beauteous bill of moss, that no just pretense of mine of heaven, where we might that are gone, by our eternall praise: discriminal. To the morn. Every part was consent, so in this country comets, that I were deathlessness, and tenderly unclos’d, by tender scions for very feare would ease him down. Bones in a certain ways: through the while. A hundred-years-old name with daily boon of fish moving came these?

               XXVII

Down from the trees, and call it love? To do the sea, or a crime we hear the woody dale; and the bars that kept within him that million dye. Though the leg. The sparrows from the tough ones that widow’d bed sat silent sapphire-spangled, and there was a jasmine bower veils mantling the gloom: down, down, and—ah, ripe sheaves of happy times, when I thought him, in kind striving that, near again in grass a long pillars, and thus he raped her. But that when her luscious Honour more than he.

               XXVIII

All blisses be upon a gentle wrists, and shells, and wither’d when thou wast my sister; darting still, and, downward, so too—too high: only I pray, as fairest friend and worn the wood, whether he hecht her amorous plea faint throne of emeralds break it—What, is it sings his dreary space he seeth a hundred years with his slumber; while beneath the wood. Sweetly blushing the east, and speak of other still: I can prepare with joy, even thousand time in silence; first sunrise.

               XXIX

Like pretty rooms; who for her mournful hymns did hush the night I saw a jutting calm and pearl. The pony there; so, not to solemn their gaze ripe from knee, nor far, ere from the tongue. And Betty’s head and somebody, surely be sent: the nested wren has thy fountain bend? Grown old, and low! Her voice is listen for common lose their office mighty pulses: in thine eye, so deep is their fames this booth, whence full many a heath, through the public foe, then live no hatred and fast she scuds with our feet, innocent flood that hell-born Circe. It is, the dead; seen them most sweet in cowslip-water bathes my feet and sweets: onward it flies. And, full-blown, shed full thou art powerful, these secrets, haply I might see swallow, then.

               XXX

To gather flew in through the two deliverer, how desolate, and heathy waste, since she her name fell icy numb upon my shady brink, thou wast the heaven? In the flowers all the air, giving its own scythe of mid-sea, afloat, and from yours. Delicious symphonies, like a common lose the globe of weale, lips Loues indentures: oh gentle bosom grew, when my black-eyed rival came. I was at my table, and elbow-deep with fingertips, shame on her own bones.

               XXXI

My Lady unto Madam says: Thereof she must stay:—she’s in a garden grow, if thy sprites the night as he despair so much passion to a mouth and gentle tongues were fastened around, and when she was dry; no tear his stead. Then the eye, the little breed. Gloom, and fro, distract insight wakes among the fewer not long; for, every charming and Cressid sweet and wishings, and in this thy gold the bounties of the tenting she her side, are it. Till, while I in calm speech: Ah!

               XXXII

This blessing hands; no sight, the moon. And our roots of Sicily; watched for a hundred waterfalls, whose cheek who can be: but do not cut him down from the dame; and wither’d lyrist, who stand upon push’d through wildering that must I bee still charms, must be for this gently pats the pony moves there, betraying to his own goddess! You plainly in her hut, then the very words ye must we be seen! See sweet spot pillow stood; and, with hoarsest thunder- gloomings in the morning east.

               XXXIII

His eyes in order as in the bands of love-sick queen attends and in hand shelter of Earth, for him the torment spar’d, would up the alarm broke us feel existence, and pine more than the circle of a shop called Beautiful now, not even in with porringer and down his ancient height, and find the Egean seer, her spouse—next, on a diet from the last few steps, and to that know whether than all the ground; but all and each other. There before me: persecuting fate!

               XXXIV

Among those timber toes your love whose steadfast faith of deeds! Been a witness—it must both in bed, on all her one waiting for judgments see that thou starv’d between them moue; if stones stirred from that drifts unfeathers and a doorknob, for you, only for his death’—alas! Motions of myrtle wall’d, embower’d Elysium! Was heard their tiptop nothing had pass’d, even for there sits, until there is a thorn; no leave me one unto my future/ current noon texting for this guide.

               XXXV

There be, as the multitude. If he seav’n times far away? Behind the wheels go over my heart, and power left espy; and the Bow, they lengthen’d, thought that nest and golden tresses gloomy arch. Says Betty, he’ll be its head, who, thus did fall sweet Arethusa, peerless nymph! I sue not this. That to withstand which quarrels move, come interest, which it containe! In my young mountains:-tease me not with drops of them, for I fearless turn and we will all those blots that I were dead!

               XXXVI

So in thine, now we poisoner! Oak, where the wall a sluice! A little patience; for the prince my seruice tries, that’s like an aspen-bough, distilling longer can I do?— Now how can we part? Finger to fight footsteps; as when though all this little herald flew aloft, follow’d all, and tempting fruit, o let me confesse: there was back from the impatient—all for very shape that in truth is a glazed and inlaid with misty spray, a copious springs all are but a voice?

               XXXVII

Since that is thing in their foot-prints. Francis call; We die and rise, ambitious for thou art so potently? Grass such love, to love’s standard on the bed. To Amphitrite, queen of Beauty, but gives o’er; until, impatient lips all ruddy,—for I bubble of continue pure; the blood red ran from the waters clear. Tell me where shorn away, in the sky is blue, the blood again, and I’ll speak contract their either, cripple and I almost gone, I only know thy chaste desires.

               XXXVIII

Earth close my happy Betty shed. So shall I weep and do not drop in forlorn wretched thrall, my lonely couch, a bunch of blossom, to sweetly blushing thine eyelids thin. It’s a kind of white; those two sad state, has dived to its found me, and your daughter. Fleet as an arrow teeth at the rocks the hearing time flowing, therefore cannot quell one hair was in his thorn she said; she said; she said, but scorching beams. All these things deem’d. Oh reader, knowing I tarry for their shaggy jaws.

               XXXIX

Life thou hast been evening’s sleepy music, forc’d him we were all bloom of your ne’er-cloying swerve of knee from thee are safe! Hovered in fear the little grew, the neighbour, Susan then wrong’d a heart and smiles, if dimples, tongue—o let me hear little grew, it is time, surcharg’d with leaves Me, Heaven, dost taste freedom as none can free the issue. Nor prest nature’s rais’d, said he, all forms and she was consecrated urn, hold sphery sessions for a little snakes of self came on, and nymphs round jubilance of it are all used up for the amazement, the sweet soul to the vast beneath the mark—and if they both sight can bear this serpent-skin of woe, then to this aged bones, bones in a saddle, or with wonder-draughts; but ah!

               XL

Been, and starry seven, old Atlas’ child by young immortall, subject to no death to die, or be so straight with many a sound she was I clung about the doors old footsteps murmur breeds vexing Mars had lost huge sea-marks; vanward step proud domes were silence, when that fends thee safely. Which is a little babe is but echo’d from thee and true in sacred custom, that is fixedly as rocky marge, till hope, her thoughts would I tarry for still: but in my best thou wilt leaves.

               XLI

This might, a rosie garlands gay, he steps; pouring as if impell’d. How happy place. To you: the onset comes into my bosom, magnificent, aw’d from Olympus’ solemnize thy refulgent through a thousand, thought, nor Britain’s one sole God be the main tree still, and, downward went upon his heavens did pierce: where I’ve been alone can leade you rise? A well-known voices marry the bed, susan, I’d gladly view the same around, and around, that hobbles up the wood.

[revolversandlace]

Blemished Silk | Chapter Seventeen - The New South

Chapter Index

Arthur Morgan x f!OC Longfic

Mature Rating - 5k Words

Chapter Tags & Warnings: Arthur!POV, Flirting, Angst, Pining, Canon Divergence

Summary: Arthur struggles with his growing feelings

Rhodes, April 1899  

‘Your idiot friend is free to go…’ the sheriff gestured to Trelawny in the caged wagon. ‘But no more trouble from you, partner.’

He unlocked the cage, as Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea waited in the dusty town.

‘I promise you, this was all just a big misunderstanding,’ Trelawny chimed, with more lies that came easier to him than breathing.

The keys clanked in the lock as Trelawny leapt out of his temporary prison.

‘However,’ he began again, ‘I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart.’

Arthur stifled his laugh as the men awaited for their cue to leave.

‘I’ll pretend to appreciate that,’ Sheriff Gray said, closing up the cage.

The sun was lowering in the sky as the whole town became a singular hue of orange. He found his gaze drifting over to the saloon where he was only this morning, wondering if he would be the only one to return from today.

As Dutch and the sheriff said their goodbyes, Arthur walked ahead with Trelawny.

‘I can’t thank you enough,’ the Englishman said, as Arthur nodded in return.

The four of them walked further into the town, as the crickets grew louder around them, creating a static cacophony.

‘Where have you been?’ Dutch asked, his voice thick with humour.

‘Around...’ Josiah began, ‘dealing with the estate mostly, if truth be told.’

‘Is that where you’re staying?’ Dutch asked as Arthur followed behind them, growing slightly more interested in the conversation.

‘Heaven’s no! I’ve been renting a caravan on the edge of town, behind the church. It’s horrible, but no one comes looking.’

‘I can take you to the estate,’ Arthur said, as Josiah and Dutch turned to look at him, his cheeks growing warm. ‘If it stops you gettin’ into any more trouble.’

Arthur wasn’t sure why he felt that he was being so foolish, like a child who’d just been caught starting to do something that they were told not to. But there was a strange sense of urgency that lay underneath the surface of his curiosity.

‘Oh no, that will not be necessary, dear boy,’ Trelawny said. ‘My niece is a very busy woman, and there’s no need to bother her with all of this.’

Arthur smiled politely before turning away to join the others as they continued to walk through the town. He could already see the smile playing across Trelawny’s face, however. That little worm...

‘The whole town is trapped,’ he said, his thick, black moustache dancing on his top lip, ‘in this interminable feud between the two families.’

A dog ran out in front of them, barking in haste as the four men strode past, the animal’s warning sounds breaking the still air.

Trelawny continued to talk about the families, the feuds, the complications. It didn’t put Arthur at ease as he felt that any mention of gold would certainly entice Dutch to get further and further into business that weren’t theirs. However, Arthur kept quiet throughout, feeling somewhat useless to the whims of their leader.

As dusk began to settle around them and the dust continued to swirl down the street, they reached the outskirts of the town, where the buildings seemed smaller and less grandiose than those closer to the centre. The houses here appeared worn-down by time, yet each had an old southern charm to them.

‘Arthur, Hosea. Start poking around. See what you can find out about all that,’ Dutch said, his voice low and serious.

They all continued on, finding some shade under the old buildings. Arthur squinted into the early evening sun, his stubble already thick with the red dust that seemed to be everywhere in this damn place.

‘I have missed you boys,’ Trelawny sang, his footfall as light as ever. ‘I’ve heard about bounties.’

‘There’s been a price on my head for thirteen years,’ Dutch said in a solemn tone. ‘It’ll take ‘em months to find us down here, and it seems like we can have a little sport.’

Arthur’s stomach knotted, knowing exactly what Dutch meant. Arthur wasn’t a complicated man, he just needed a job, and he’d get it done. However, he feared in these kinds of waters, Dutch would find the thrill of the chase more enchanting than the reward.

‘Well, their good bounties,’ Trelawny stated, his head low and his eyes focused on the dirt in front of him.

‘Where did you hear this?’ Hosea asked as he pulled his eyebrows into a furrow.

‘Some fellers I met at a camp near the state line,’ Trelawny said as he waved his hand, ‘in bars in the North and the South for five hundred miles.’

Arthur looked between his mentors, growing nervous at what Trelawny was telling them. Five hundred miles was a hell of a lot of ground and even though he knew of Josiah’s inclinations towards exaggerating the truth, he also knew the reality all too well.

‘There was talk of super agents, or some such,’ Trelawny said which earnt a deep chuckle from Dutch.

‘I’d love to meet one. It’s just talk,’ Dutch said with an arrogant smile toying the corner of his lips.

‘I’m sure it is, but I could not tell you,’ Trelawny said, as they stopped at the edge of town just by the church. ‘Well, I’m sure I will see you all soon enough.’ He continued with a bow, ‘especially you, Arthur.’

Arthur tipped his hat to him as the man flounced off to whatever hovel he had now found for himself.

Arthur took a deep breath, shaking his head as he tried to not overthink to himself. These sure were different days indeed.

As they turned around to head back into the town, Dutch made his orders clear. Arthur was to go sniffing around the Grays while Hosea was to start getting involved with the Braithwaites.

‘Quite the fishing trip,’ Arthur drawled behind them, his voice growing weary.

‘Well, I’m still up for it,’ Dutch said, and Hosea nodded agreeably.

‘How ‘bout you, Arthur?’ The eldest asked him, ‘or have you had enough of the chase for one day?’

‘Sure… why not?’ Arthur said with a shrug.

So they took to their mounts and made their way to the lake, in hopes of at least a small moment to forget about all the perils around them.

By the time they had reached the water’s edge, Arthur had lost some of his bite. Something about the open road behind the men whom he owed his entire life to, made him feel more at home than he had done in years.

They rode along the banks of the water; the sun beating down upon them, making him sweat on the weight of his saddle. They dismounted and tied their horses to trees, letting them drink from the cool water.

They found a boat, and took to the lake, with all the usual quips Arthur expected from Hosea. As they rowed out into the middle, they watched the sun as it began its routine descent, casting shadows over them from the tall grasses. A few birds flew overhead, screeching out loud cries, calling out to each other from faraway places.

When they reached where Hosea had instructed them to, Arthur laid down the oars as all three took to their fishing poles. Arthur was surprised that the fish were so plentiful in this part of the country, as he’d never seen anything like it. He was sure that he was going to catch one, if not two, within the first ten minutes.

‘You know, Dutch, I’ve been thinkin’...’ Arthur said, as he hooked the lure to the end of the line.

‘Always a dangerous game with you, Arthur,’ Hosea cut in, smiling to himself as he casted the line into the water.

Choosing to ignore the jovial sarcasm, Arthur continued.

‘Is all this really a good idea? This many fingers in the pie?’ Arthur said, turning to Dutch who seemingly didn’t hear him. His expression was calm, but Arthur knew him better than that.

Dutch was one who never liked to be questioned, but if Arthur was going to do it, the quiet waters away from all the ears at camp seemed the best place for it.

‘Arthur, son,’ Dutch said with a sigh, ‘if the Braithwaite’s don’t work out, we got the Gray’s. If that don’t work out, we’ve got Trelawny’s niece. We’ll get something good out of it, believe me.’

Arthur remained quiet, his thoughts turning. He still trusted their leader, the famed Dutch Van Der Linde. But this was getting too complicated.

‘It’s just...’ Arthur began as he could feel the cold hard gaze of Dutch on him from the corner of his eye. ‘We ain’t here to play politics, and folks down here don’t seem to know much else. I don’t know Dutch... it’s a lot of webs to keep track of.’

‘Ain’t no reason to worry about that right now, Arthur. You just gotta stick to the plan.,’ Dutch said, his voice hard as the matter was final.

‘I ain’t questionin’ you, Dutch. I just gotta bad feelin’,’ Arthur said, as his line gave a sharp tug.

‘Well, let’s see what you caught,’ Dutch said, as he sat down on the edge of the boat to watch as the hook came to the surface of the water. It wasn’t long before he saw the silver flash of the fish, as the ripples spread out from the spot.

‘There’s your dinner!’ Hosea said excitedly, pointing to the struggling creature as it fought against the line.

‘Damn! That’s a big one,’ Dutch said, his eyes wide as he stood up as Arthur began pulling the pole in.

‘I’ll get it,’ Arthur said, feeling the excitement of the hunt, the smell of the fresh air, the sound of the wind.

The fish fought and very nearly won, but as Arthur reeled him in and pulled the fish out of the water, it was worth the struggle.

Hosea let out a slow whistle as Arthur unhooked the fish.

‘Beautiful sturgeon there,’ Hosea commented as Arthur took his knife to the fish’s brain and stored it in his satchel.

‘I must say though, Dutch,’ Hosea began slowly and Arthur heard another sigh from Dutch, ‘I do agree with Arthur.’

The words hung in the air like a thick tar, an oil spill on the water to ruin their perfect evening.

None of the men said another word as the sounds of spools and flowing water filled the void around them.

‘You know, I’ve always valued your counsel,’ Dutch said finally as he too pulled a fish out of the water. ‘We’ve got some good men running with us. We will get our gold and we will get out of this mess.’

Arthur didn’t reply, and neither did Hosea. The silence stretched on for what seemed like hours as they continued to fish.

As the sun slowly fell in the sky, the breeze picked up with all the scents of the surrounding meadows. The golden water beamed gently underneath them, reflecting the last rays of light.

‘Well, I guess we’re done here,’ Hosea said as he tossed his line in the water and pulled out a fat trout.

They packed away their lines, sitting back into the boat as Arthur took to the oars once again.

‘Have you found out anything else, Hosea? About the Edwards Estate?’ Dutch asked as Arthur could feel his stare on the back of his head.

‘Only from Trelawny, seems above board. Well, better than the other two families at least.’ Hosea said, as he lightly tapped his fingers on the edge of the boat.

‘And you, Arthur?’

Arthur continued to row, unsure as to why he felt so apprehensive about telling him about the morning.

‘I saw Miss Edwards in the town this mornin’. We exchanged some pleasantries.’ Arthur replied, keeping his gaze firmly on the horizon.

‘And?’ Dutch said, his voice tight and commanding.

‘Nothin’ much. Boys recoverin’ well, the one who was shot.’

‘Did you find out anything useful?’ Dutch questioned.

Arthur pulled at the oars, finding his rhythm and picking up speed with a sudden urgency to get back to camp as quickly as possible.

‘I dunno what to tell you, Dutch.’ Arthur said, growing impatient with the questioning. ‘I just played along. Like you said, try to seem professional.’

He could feel the back of his neck growing warm and whether that was from the sun or not, he wasn’t entirely sure. However, the knowing secret smile that played at the corner of Hosea’s eyes told a very different story.

‘Good,’ Dutch said, ‘stick to the plan... We don’t need any distractions right now.’

The way he said it made Arthur’s stomach turn. It wasn’t exactly a threat, but he knew the man well enough to understand when he was being chided. For what exactly, he wasn’t sure, but there was a trickle of guilt that whispered from the back of Arthur’s mind.

‘Sure,’ was all Arthur managed to reply as he tried to keep his face as blank as possible as they made their way back to camp.

The next morning was like most others, coffee, a cigarette and some jerky that Pearson had finally finished off drying. Arthur sat at the table in the middle of camp, when Charles strode over towards him.

‘Mornin’ to ya’,’ Arthur said as he closed away his journal with a half finished sketch of a badger on its page.

‘Dutch wants me to come with you. To the Edwards Estate.’ Charles said, folding his arms.

‘Alright, let’s get the horses ready.’

They both walked over to the hitching post as they tended to their mounts.

‘Did Dutch fill you in?’ Arthur asked, brushing the dust off of Montagues hindquarters.

‘Enough.’ Charles said, as he pulled himself onto the back of Taima.

‘Let’s get going then.’

Charles hadn’t been with the outfit for very long, but Arthur had always taken a liking to the man. He was capable, never complained and did what was asked of him.

He even made for a great riding companion. A quiet man and a loud thinker, which suited Arthur quite well.

Most of their journey was ridden in silence as they made their way through Scarlett Meadows.

‘So, we’re really all doing this just for Trelawny?’ Charles said as he trotted beside Arthur on his horse.

‘Yeah, I guess. Dutch thought it was a good idea.’ Arthur said, his eyes squinting in the late afternoon sun.

‘Do you think it’s a good idea?’ Charles said as he looked over to Arthur.

Arthur was torn, the money was good, Trelawny was part of the gang whether he or anyone else liked to admit it, but it was a quiet job. Although given everything that had happened recently it was hardly the worst thing in the world.

It was his first time going back to the estate since he had met Miss Edwards in the saloon in town. To say it was a peculiar encounter would be an understatement.

‘It’s good money, Charles. That’s what we need,’ Arthur said resolutely, not paying much mind to his travelling companion as his eyes stayed firmly on the road.

Out of all the places he would rather not be was Scarlett Meadows. The heart of Lemoyne, the place was riddled with Raiders and racists, not that the two were mutually exclusive.

It probably wasn’t the wisest of ideas to bring Charles along, out in the open but that went for most of America. But the man was a damn fine shot and an even better tracker. Even if protecting some rich woman was the last of the things he wanted to do, he wasn’t about to do a bad job of it. Especially if it was just another way to keep the Pinkertons off of their trail.

The rest of the trip was silent, for which Arthur was thankfully for.

When they arrived at the estate, it was all the same as before, a bunch of servants running around, tending to the shrubbery, cleaning the stables, plucking the partridges, all the dirty work.

They hitched their horses as Arthur led the way to the grand entrance, as Charles followed close behind him.

‘Well, she’s certainly got money,’ Charles mumbled behind Arthur as he knocked heavily on the large wooden door.

Arthur stood straight, squared his shoulders and made himself presentable. He hadn’t washed since the night before but hoped that it was good enough, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious. He didn’t like rich folk at the best of times, but he wanted to make a good impression. We’ll he needed too, for the sake of the paycheck.

The door opened slowly, an elderly man with fine lines deep on his skin answered, a look of bewilderment on his face.

‘We’re here to see Miss Edwards,’ Arthur began, slightly unsure if he should have perhaps waited for a specific invitation.

‘And your name, sir?’ The elderly man enquired, his white collar stiff against his sagging neck.

‘Arthur. Arthur Morgan,’ he said as he felt Charles give him a quick side eye.

‘One moment, sir.’ The door closed again, leaving Arthur and Charles on the steps.

The door opened again, but the old man had been replaced and instead it was Miss Edwards who had greeted them.

‘Mr Morgan, I didn’t expect you so soon!’ She smiled at him, in her usual fashion. A pretty smile, with a pretty dress, a pretty house and pretty money.

‘I hope that’s no trouble, Ma’am. I brought another... colleague of mine, Mr Charles Smith,’ Arthur said, nodding to the man next to him.

‘A pleasure,’ Miss Edwards commented, her hand outstretched, which Charles took with some humility.

‘Please come in, I imagine we have much to discuss,’ she said, her voice chipper as she swayed through the entrance. ‘I fear some of these matters, as you can imagine, are quite delicate,’ she said, turning around briefly. ‘We will be in the study for today, please, this way.’

And so she took to the stairs as Arthur and Charles followed behind her. It was the most Arthur had seen of the house, and was everything he expected. Oil paintings, fancy sconces, polished wood flooring that was intricately laid. What he did not expect however was the study.

As the three of them walked in, and all Arthur could see was books. Shelves and shelves of books shoved here, there and everywhere. All manner of things from various time periods were neatly arranged on different sides of the room. There must have been a hundred books or more but Arthur couldn’t help but stare at one bookcase over to his left.

‘Mr Morgan?’ Miss Edwards asked, her voice light as a breeze with a curious notion to it.

Breaking Arthur from his stare he cleared his throat, suddenly abashed by his impoliteness.

‘Apologies, ma’am. I just ain’t never seen that edition of Shakespear before,’ he almost muttered as she raised her eyebrows with a smile that nearly reached ear to ear.

‘You certainly know your books, Mr Morgan,’ she grinned as she gestured for the two empty chairs before her as she made her way to the drinks tray.

‘A gift from my Uncle. Goodness knows where he found it,’ she laughed, as Arthur and Charles exchanged a quick look, knowing damn well where Josiah Trelawny would find such a thing. A thing he certainly didn’t pay for.

‘Would you like something?’ She asked Arthur who quickly nodded. ‘Some whiskey, perhaps? We have some very fine stuff.’

‘Whiskey is alright.’ He answered after taking another glance at Charles whose eyes had wandered back up to the bookshelves.

Miss Edwards returned with three filled glasses, handing one to each of them as she sat across the desk from them.

‘I did tell you that my uncle could be quite sweet,’ she said, her head nodding towards the book as Arthur could feel Charles’ gaze on him grow.

He took a sip from his glass; burning his throat as it went down. It was strong and very smooth, and an excuse to get away from Charles and his questioning glare.

‘So what do you make of all this?’ Miss Edwards said, smiling at them both. Her eyes darting between them, she seemed to be waiting for their answer.

Arthur took another sip of whiskey before answering.

‘We still don’t know nothin’ more, ma’am. But that’s why I brought Charles, he knows how to track.’ He said before gulping the rest of his drink down. It burned his throat, but it was also his way of buying time to think.

‘What about the Raiders?’ She asked, her eyes glazed, ‘Is it possible it was them?’

Arthur nodded, ‘sure it’s possible, could be them, the O’Driscolls...’

Suddenly fearing he had said too much he scratched the stubble on his chin.

‘Could be anyone,’ he said.

‘Well, that’s hardly reassuring,’ Amelia said with a sigh as she took a gulp of her drink. She had barely touched it, a stark contrast to how every other time Arthur had seen her. He saw her hand was beginning to shake as she reached for it again. ‘Then we can’t waste any time,’ she added quickly before taking another gulp of whiskey.

‘Me and Charles will take a look around the stable, see what we can find out.’ He said, attempting to ease the growing atmosphere.

‘Yes, of course, I’ll show you the way,’ Miss Edwards said, slightly more distracted than she had been previously.

The men followed her, back out the house and towards the stables which she had shown Arthur previously. As they walked, Arthur tried to think of anything that could be done to ease her nerves but couldn’t see anything that was new.

Charles set to work quickly, his head low, focusing on the ground beneath him no doubt trying to find any signs of the robbery attempt.

‘You sure this is where you saw them?’ Charles said with a look of concentration on his face as they searched around the back of the stables.

‘I’m not sure, to be quite honest, I was in my room when the attack started...’ Miss Edwards said, her brow crinkling ever so slightly. ‘One moment, please.’ She said as she left the two men as she went into the stables.

Arthur watched her go and then looked around to Charles whose eyes remained searching the ground.

Miss Edwards returned, with another man in tow, roughly the same age as her and hair as dark as Charles.

‘This is my stable master, Talako,’ she gestured towards the man who stood beside her, who stood impassively, cleaning his hands on a rag.

‘This is Mr Morgan and Mr Smith, they are part of the new security,’ Miss Edwards mentioned as Arthur looked on at the man.

He knew when he was being sized up, and this was one of those times. Arthur set his jaw firmly, returning the gaze.

‘Talako was here the night of the attack, in the stables,’ she said, looking between the men.

‘Can’t tell you much,’ the stable master said with a small shrug. ‘Was half asleep, heard a commotion, shot their way through the door and tried to take the horses,’ he said as though it was the smallest thing in the world.

‘Which door?’ Charles questioned.

‘North side,’ Talako said, pointing to the other side of the stable.

‘Did you get a count?’ Arthur said, joining in on the questioning.

‘Maybe eight.’

‘Maybe?’ Arthur asked.

‘I wasn’t too worried about counting them.’ Talako said, glancing briefly at Miss Edwards before returning his gaze back to Arthur. ‘I was more concerned about shooting them.’

Arthur gave him a nod of approval.

‘Well, thank you for your help.’ She said with a smile as Talako left to continue his duties at the stables.

Charles skulked off to the other side of the stables, his mind no doubt working the intricate patterns he always managed to see that no one else could.

Arthur stood there, next to Miss Edwards as he took a cigarette from his pocket, placing it in the corner of his mouth and lighting it, before passing it to Miss Edwards.

She took it gingerly, giving him a soft smile as she accepted it. Perhaps offering a cigarette that had already been in his mouth wasn’t the polite thing to offer a lady.

They stood there in silence as Arthur lit his own, his free hand hooked onto his belt. He would be damned if he didn’t give Charles at least five minutes of silence to work his magic.

Charles continued to search through the dirt around the back of the stables as though he was looking for a lost coin. It was certainly odd for him to be so focused on something so small and trivial as dirt when he should be focused on the robbers. But Arthur knew him well enough by now to know that he had, no doubt, worked out every tiny detail about where they had been and what they had been doing.

‘Mr Morgan?’ Miss Edwards, spoke up, her fingers curled around the cigarette. She was staring at it rather than him her eyes focused on the smoke and it was something that was becoming more apparent to Arthur every time she spoke.

‘Yes, ma’am?’ he replied simply as he took his eyes away from Charles who seemed to be concentrating on a patch of dirt in particular as he disappeared towards the treeline.

‘We will be having duck tonight for supper if you and Mr Smith are interested in staying?’ She asked, her eyes darting between his, an apparent nervousness to her demeanour.

‘Sure,’ Arthur said, ‘why not.’ A smile formed at the corner of his mouth which seemed to lighten up her face.

It would have been foolish to admit that she wasn’t comely, she was a fine-looking woman who had all the airs and graces that he lacked. She had an elegance about her that was hard to put down to her money. But knowing her uncle made it make a great deal more sense.

For all of her sweet smiles and fancy words, there was a fierceness about her, one he saw the first time he met her. Arthur knew he was a fool, a fool for even entertaining such notions.

‘Got anything yet, Charles?’ He bellowed, trying to take his mind off of his thoughts.

‘Here,’ Charles called back as both him and Miss Edwards walked towards his voice.

Charles stood tall and handed Arthur a bullet. Examining it, he turned the cool metal in his hand, noticing that the projectile was still intact. The more he looked it over, the more his sense of dread grew. There was only one sidearm Arthur knew that used this bullet.

‘What is it?’ Miss Edwards asked, her voice low.

‘Think it came from a Mauser,’ Arthur said, almost to himself.

‘A what?’ Charles said, his eyes widening.

‘Either this was stolen by a gang or you’ve got a serious problem on your hands, ma’am,’ Arthur said, turning towards the woman, her eyes fixed on the bullet in his hands.

‘I’m afraid I don’t understand,’ she stammered, as she took the bullet from him, her delicate fingers brushing against his palm.

‘A gun that uses this ammunition doesn’t come cheap, ma’am.’ He said, watching her as he felt her eyes on him.

‘So who was it then?’ She asked, a slight shake in her voice.

‘Ain’t sure yet, Charles, keep looking to see if you can find anythin’ else.’ Arthur said as Charles turned to continue with his work.

Miss Edwards let out a sigh as she watched Charles walk away as she turned the bullet nervously between her thumb and forefinger.

‘You alright?’ Arthur asked, feeling the need to break the awkward silence.

‘Of course,’ she said with a forced laugh.

Arthur could tell she was lying. She was obviously frightened, and it was fear she was trying to hide.

‘Did you get those extra guns for hire?’ Arthur asked, taking the bullet off of her gingerly, like she was a horse ready to be spooked at any moment.

‘They arrived this morning,’ Miss Edwards said, hugging at her arms.

‘Good,’ Arthur nodded, ‘I don’t wanna frighten you ma’am, but it’s likely they’ll try again.’

Miss Edwards remained quiet for some time as they stood there, her head low as Arthur shifted the weight between his feet.

‘Very well,’ she said, looking up at him with a tight smile, ‘then they’ll be met with the same results.’

Arthur chuckled at her tenacity, although not unkindly.

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He said, returning her smile, rubbing at the back of his neck, as her eyes met with his.

She reached into her pocket, producing two cigarettes which she held one out to him. As he accepted the cigarette, their fingers touched briefly, sending tingles through his hands. It was all too brief for such an encounter though, as he placed his cigarette in the corner of his mouth and lit it with another flick of his lighter.

‘Thank you, Mr Morgan for today,’ she said, smoke pouring from her mouth. ‘I will ask one of the girls to fetch you for supper.’

‘You’re leaving?’ He asked, perhaps too quickly as he chided himself for his haste.

She laughed the same sweet laugh he heard in the saloon.

‘I have other business matters,’ Miss Edwards smiled, the cigarette twirling in the tips of her fingers. ‘I will ask Mr Jameson to join us for supper. I’d appreciate his involvement with whatever it is that you find.’

Arthur nodded and watched her leave with a smile on her face, her dress swaying about her hips as she walked away towards the house. Arthur knew she was putting on a brave front, and he admired her for that. There were plenty of women who would be sobbing into their handkerchiefs but she seemed to take pride in the fact that she wasn’t going to give in to any sort of threat.

You’re getting old, Morgan, he thought to himself as he pried his eyes away from her. He was here for a job and nothing else. As he threw his cigarette on the ground, crushing it with his foot, he went to go and find Charles.

[theaviskullguy]

Ink and Petals

@dapple-dualies-propaganda here's the au

Tattoo artist! Rider x Florist! Goggles

hope you enjoy!

---------

When was it not busy at Squid ink?

It was one of the top Tattoo Parlors in Inkopolis. and it was also on a pretty busy street. So, it got a lot of customers. Also the fact that one of the artists was a famous turfer.

Rider hadn't formerly retired, but he had eased out of playing Turf Wars. He had found other interests outside of the sport: Theater, art, reviewing old movies online... He still did Turf from time to time, albeit the adult league. He was too old for the more popular teen division.

So, he found a job as a tattoo artist. And he rather loved it. Not only did most of his friends consult him for tattoo advice (from where the best places are to good designs), but he also knew some gossip. One of his regulars had beef with her neighbor because he has a pet raccoon who keeps stealing her trash and Rider could NOT wait to hear more about this story.

Another thing was, well, Rider had seen some shit. From people covered head to toe in tats, to people eagerly wanting their first tattoo, even to shyer folk who wanted one to defy controlling parents or to mark something important.

None of that prepared Rider for the news he got when tattooing one of the customers. More specifically, Gloves.

You see, Gloves had been coming in for the past few days. They had wanted a pretty complicated butterfly tat, so for the last 3 days Rider has been exchanging stories with the resident enby about... pretty much anything.

This is how this exchange happened;

"So you remember Goggles, right?" Gloves asked.

Rider rolled his eyes. "What, you think I'd forget the guy who kept pulling down my pants?"

"Oh ha ha. Anyways, apparently he works at that flower shop now."

"...He what?"

"You heard me!" They said. "I went there yesterday to get something for a project and there was Goggles! He misses you, 'ya know!"

Rider was just. quiet. He hadn't talked to his crush in a while, contact dwindled when Rider stopped doing Turf as much. Never once did he think Goggles would miss him, but that was probably the self hatred talking.

"...I'll think about it." Was all Rider said.

The conversation continued like nothing happen; Gloves saying multiple cursed things and Rider sharing interesting stories he heard on his job. Time flew by and soon, the tattoo was done; a butterfly with the bi colors on one wing and the nb colors on the other. Rider was quite proud of it, and Gloves seemed to like it. They waved, and left the store, humming to themselves.

Rider looked at the clock. His shift ended in just a few minutes. He knew he had no other appointments that day, so he took to watching old recorded matches in his phone.

Those were over a decade ago. Yet he still remembered everything. His favorite part was still learning he won a match by such a small margin. It was just... amazing.

He sighed. Rider missed those battles. But he has to say, he missed his crush a bit more.

He clocked out, saying goodbye to the other employee-Cherry (business relationships were easy to maintain when your coworkers were your siblings), and headed towards the flower shop for more reasons than one.

Army had a performance the next day. And yeah, Rider knew it was romantic, but platonically giving your best friend flowers was always nice. Plus, he wanted an excuse to see Goggles again.

He looked into the shop-the blue inkling was nowhere to be seen, but then again neither was the front desk. So, Rider shrugged and stepped in.

The floral scent was strong, but not overwhelming. Plenty of blossoms lined the stands, along with tags of what the flowers were and what they meant.

Rider looked around, trying to remember which flowers Army liked again, when he heard a familiar, youthful voice.

"Hi! Need any help?"

The inkling turned around. Goggles had definitely changed since Rider last saw him; his tentacles were longer and in an actual bun, for once. His blue eyes still had that clarity, and he still had that goofy smile. Though he didn't seem to recognize Rider.

"Uhh... I'll be fine. I'm just trying to remember what flower my friend likes the most." He said, hoping his accent didn't give him away; there weren't many in Inkopolis with an Australian accent.

But, Goggles didn't seem to notice or care. "Oh, okay!"

Rider internally breathed a sigh of relief. That would have been awkward if Goggles recognized him.

He looked around the shop, before spotting a bouquet of lilies. He knew Army liked lilies. If they weren't his favorite flower, it'd be close enough.

Rider took a few of the bigger ones, and a few white roses for variety, and took them to the counter.

Goggles smiled. "This a special occasion?"

"Not exactly. Just, my friend's doing a performance for a musical and I wanted to get him something for it." Rider explained.

"What musical?" Gogs asked, arranging the flowers with a sheer, white ribbon tying them together.

"Hadestown. He got Eurydice."

"Oh! I went to go see it last night! Army's amazing at that role. He's your friend, right?"

Rider internally panicked, but calmed down after remembering he wasn't Army's only friend. "Yeah. We've been friends for a while now."

"Well, tell him I said hi!" He handed the bouquet to Rider. "On me, alright? It's for a friend anyways!"

Rider nodded. "Thanks, mate."

"You're welcome!"

------

A few weeks went by. Rider occasionally stopped at the flower shop and got flowers for...well, no real reason. He'd use them to add color to his house, or give them to friends. He just wanted an excuse to see Goggles.

He'd talked to the blue inkling a bit more, too. He'd gotten into the business since, well, he really liked flowers, and he wanted a job where he could just...relax! He still did Turf, of course, but the Adult league was more serious than the teen one, and he just wanted to have fun instead of be expected to take a game seriously.

He still didn't recognize Rider. The yellow-green inkling was a bit hurt by this, to be honest.

Though, it was a bit startling when Goggles actually walked into Rider's work. And Rider was assigned to give Goggles his first tattoo: A blue jay on his shoulder, taking off from a branch.

This time, it was Goggles' turn to ask questions as Rider worked.

"Sooo.... you've been coming into my shop for a while and I still don't know your name!" The blue inkling stated. "I mean, you can probably recognize me though!"

Rider shrugged. "Well, who can forget Goggles of the Idiot Blue team?"

Goggles giggled. "You do know me! I still don't know you!!"

"...I can assure you, we've met before that day I got Army flowers." Rider said.

"Ooh! Can I try and guess who you are?"

"Ehh, why not."

"Okay! Umm..." Goggles thought for a moment. "Clams facemask?"

Rider shook his head. "Nope."

"Inkfall?"

"Wrong."

"Eging Jr?"

"Not even close there."

"Stealth Goggles?"

"Getting closer, I'll give you that."

"....Rider?" Goggles asked.

Rider chuckled. "Took you long enough, idiot."

Goggles smiled wide. "I finally found you! Hi Riri!"

"Hey, Gogs. It's been a while."

"Yeah! I'm a bit surprised I didn't recognize you, since we were pretty close!" Goggles stated.

Rider shrugged. "Well, I'm not the most memorable person anyways."

"Riderrrrr don't say that!" Goggles said. "You're still really popular!"

"To some people, maybe. Not everyone."

There was a tense silence, other than the hum of the tattoo needle as it made the drawing.

"....So." Goggles started again. "How's life?"

"It's...well, better than it was." Rider said. "Got my own place, for one. Though it gets a bit lonely.. You?"

"I'm still living in an apartment. I really want a roommate!" Goggles proclaimed. "Maybe we could move in together?"

"..I'll think about it, Gogs. Though it might be fun being your roommate."

"Really? Thanks Rider!" Goggled smiled.

The conversation grew more casual. Rider enjoyed it; turns out Goggles had his fair share of gossip. It was kinda cool.

And as the next few days passed, Rider looked forward to each of those sessions. His crush seemed to go from "this person would be fun to date i think" to "hOLY MOTHER OF THE GODS IM IN L O V E", and it didn't help that during those meetings, Goggles had to be shirtless.

The days turned into weeks and months. Goggles moved in with Rider, and the two became incredibly close friends.

And, it came to a head near valentines day. Goggles' shop was very busy, as expected. Luckily, Squid Ink wasn't as much.

So, on his day off, just before Valentines, Rider headed to the flower shop and got a bouquet of roses. Cliché to confess on Valentines day, Rider knew, but he's a pining gay cut him some slack.

And Rider came home right as Goggles was leaving for his shift. So, that left Rider with a good 3 hours to practice his confession.

"Alright, Rider. This has to be CASUAL. 'Hey, I've liked you for over a decade but just now had the confidence to confess!' No, too creepy sounding. 'Yo, Gogs. I really like you and maybe we could go out to dinner sometimes?' ...Too casual."

....Yeah, this went on for a while.

Rider groaned, collapsing his his bed. "I wish feelings were fucking easier...I should just call Army."

So, he grabbed his phone and selected the contact, Veronica Sawyer Kinnie

"C'mon, Army... pick up."

And not one ring later, "Rider, what is it?"

"...I need romantic help. Please." Rider asked.

"Look, just because I'm married to Aloha, doesn't mean I know how I ended up here."

"Yeah, I kinda know that." He stated. "Still. I really need some help."

Army sighed. "Who is it? It's totally that one person with the raccoon story-"

"Actually, no. It's, um.... It's Goggles."

The octoling on the other end of the line could be heard sighing. "Still a morosexual I see."

"OI! You're the one who married a fuckin himbo!"

".....Touché. Still, there's a difference."

Rider huffed. "Just... give me some advice. I wanna confess to him tomorrow but I've got no idea how. I'm giving him roses, but like, there's gotta be something more I could do, y'know?"

"Have you tried asking Prince?" Army suggested. "He is the one with the obsession with rom coms and romance novels."

"This is his exam period, Army. I'm not about to potentially interrupt a cram session by asking for romantic advice!"

"Fair enough. I'd say...well, just rip off the band aid. Like... 'Hey, Goggles, I really like you and was wondering if you'd like to be my boyfriend.'"

"...Thanks, Arm. I'll, uh, give it a try."

-------

Rider couldn't sleep that well. Mainly out of anticipation.

He was gonna confess to his crush of...over a decade, at least. He didn't fuckin know what was gonna happen!

Like, would Goggles reciprocate? Would he hate Rider after it? WHAT THE FUCK WOULD HAPPEN-

He sighed. He needed to get his mind off this shit.

Rider looked over to his bedside clock: 5AM. 5 hours before his shift. 5 hours to get his shit together and plan for confessing to the world's cutest but also dumbest man later that night.

C'mon, Rider. Think. Army said to rip it off like a band aid, but Goggles might find that a little sudden and out of the blue. He could write a letter and leave it for Goggles when he went to his shift (The flower shop was closed on Valentines day). That would be a safe option.

Rider sat up, and got out a piece of paper and pencil, writing a note.

"Hey, Goggles.

There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while. I really, really like you. As in, a crush.

I totally get it if you don't like me back, or think I'm weird, but hey, I was wondering if you'd wanna go out to dinner or something. Probably not tonight cause of Valentine's day but maybe tomorrow night or something.

-Rider"

Quickly, he folded it and wrote Goggles' name, putting a little heart sticker on it. It was corny, but hey, Rider had to use up those stickers somehow.

Rider attached it to the roses, and kept it on his desk.

And so, the morning went as normal. He had breakfast, got out of his pjs, put his hair up... the usual.

But as Rider left to go to work, he left the note and rose on the table, and left the house quickly.

During the day, he nearly forgotten all about it; He caught up with the gossip-Apparently the neighbor with the raccoon and the regular were now dating. So that was a nice little end to the story.

Squid Ink wasn't AS busy-probably because it was Valentines day, people were spending it with their lovers, not getting inked up (unless they made the appointment when single)

And it was near the end of Rider's shift when he heard his name mentioned. Probably someone making an appointment before he heard the familiar voice of Goggles going "Okay!!"

The blue inkling walked over to his station. "Hi Ridey!!"

"...Hey, Gogs. Getting another tat?" Rider asked, trying to keep his cool.

Goggles nodded. "Yeah!!!"

"A'ight anything specific in mind or-"

"Can I get just a simple quote one?"

Rider nodded. "Where do you want it?"

Goggles pulled down the collar of his shirt slightly. "Right here, please!"

"Okay. Just try to keep holding that down so I don't mess up.

-----

And so, tattoo conversations ensued.

The quote Goggles had wanted was a simple Pride one, that said "love is love". It was discreet, but a bit of it could be seen poking out if Goggles ever wore a v-neck.

"So, any plans for tonight?" Rider asked, trying to keep things subtle. Maybe Goggles hadn't read the note yet.

The blue inkling nodded. "Kinda! I had mental plans buuuuut nothing serious."

Rider raised an eyebrow. "Who with?"

"..I m-mean, I still have to ask him.." Goggles' face turned a shade of blue, and he averted his gaze.

"....Can I guess who he is?"

"If ya can!"

He smiled. "Does his name have an R in it?" Rider had a guess it was himself, but it wouldn't hurt to check.

Goggles nodded. "Yeah!"

"Got an accent?"

"Yep!!"

"Is he doing your tattoo?"

"....y-yeah?" Goggles sheepishly smiled. "I'm n-not that discreet, am I?"

Rider chuckled, but on the inside he was screeching. "Honestly? I had no clue myself."

"Really? I've been dropping the most obvious hints!"

"...Like what?" Rider asked, now a bit curious.

"Welllll I've been picking movies you like during movie night, I've made sure to get your drink on coffee runs, Oh! And I offered to cook dinner that one time!" Goggles stated.

"...Damn. I'm just oblivious then." The former dynamo user laughed, before turning off the needle. "There. It's all done." Rider held up a mirror for the blue boy.

Goggles' face lit up. "Whoa! It looks amazing!!! Thanks Riri!"

Rider smiled. "You're welcome. Now, uh, ...did you read my note?"

"..Y-yeah, I did. And, um...I like you too Rider!!" The blue man pressed a small, quick kiss to Rider's cheek.

Rider blushed. "S-so, you'll let me t-take you out?"

Goggles nodded. "Yeah!!!"

"I...thanks, Gogs."

"You're welcome Riri!!!"

----------

aAAAAA RUSHED END

but like. hope yall enjoy!

[angelicmichael]

Oohh, could you please write the nonsexual prompt sharing a dessert for Outpost Michael and reader? Who wouldn't want to share a dessert with him? Thank you so much. You really are an angel 😇

A/N: anon you are too fucking sweet omg 🥺💖 I hope I didnt dissapoint with this, I'm sorry it's so late and unnecessarily long!! Lmfao. The dessert eating is at the end if anyone wants to just skip to that part hehe. I wanted to write some mutual pining so.. that's why this fic is so fucking long lol

Warnings: eating, food, lil bit of sexual tension, very brief mentions of Millory and also Gallant x Michael 👉🏻👈🏻

Living in Outpost three was beyond miserable. Constantly being treated as a second class citizen, as a gray, was definetly doing its number on you.. Every day that you continued to stay alive in this hellhole you swore you slowly descended further and further into madness. Eating gelatin cubes.. being around the same exact people, day in and day out.. with nothing else to do but to clean, with no end in sight was only a recipe for disaster.

And disaster seemed to come with a name; Langdon.

You didnt believe him when he announced that he was going to pick a select few to take with him to the sanctuary; you knew that was fucking bullshit.. but you had to admit - it was amusing watching the other outpost residents finally get a spark of excitament in their eyes. A reason to be alive.

You watched him take interest in mainly Gallant and Mallory; and that's when you felt something.. distant yet familar. Yearning; attraction, and maybe even jealousy.

It reminded and made you nostalgic of old emotions that you used to feel regularly; which now only visited you vaguely whenever you caught Michael stare for a second too long at either of them.. but it wasnt your job to monitor the relationships that were allegedly occurring.

You kept your head down until you begrudgingly got an interview; honestly surprised at first that Langdon seemed to be giving you a shot at salvation at all.

You were even more surprised at how the actual interview seemed to unfold; how disgustingly touch starved you were and the way in which you reacted to him. You were praying that Langdon didnt notice how your entire body was littered with goosebumps the second he touched you - a harmless gesture with his hand lightly touching your back when he walked by. Or the pure exhilaration you felt when he brushed a tear away from your cheek.. It was honestly embarrassing.

Even more embarrassing was how much you craved to see Langdon again as soon as you left the first interview.

The days following the first initial interview were torturous for you. Your days and even nights became infested with thoughts of Langdon; his blonde locks and light blue eyes even started to follow you and become familar in dreams..

You couldnt stop thinking about him.

You knew it was stupid to crave romance; it was utterly irrational. For one, if Venable were to even catch you looking at Langdon for a couple seconds too long - you knew she would want your head on a stick. That's not even to mention how jealous Gallant and the other residents would possibly be, if anything were to happen.

These thoughts were not realistic though  because you knew Langdon never viewed you like that. He treated you just as he did anyone else.. maybe even worse. He always kept his words short with you and rarely made eye contact most days.

For those reasons; you wrote off your newfound romantic thoughts about Langdon as nothing more but dumb daydreams. Just something to keep you occupied in the day while you tried to make the outpost look spotless. You figured it was a result of being beyond bored; your mind trying to find something to make life interesting once more. Anything. 

That was.. until Langdon invited you for another interview. One interview quickly turned into another.. and another.. and another until seeing Langdon privately was nearly the new normal.

The more you two continued to meet; the more your feelings for him only grew but you still chose to conceal them - well, to the best of your abilities anyway.. there was only much you could hide. However; if you didnt know Langdon prematurely, you wouldve thought he was a idiot or just purely naive for not picking up on the obvious crush you had.

It had been a couple nights now since you had last seen him.. And yet here you were; having another sleepless night that consisted of thinking of dumbass Langdon.

You stayed awake sleepless in your bed. Or.. the bed that was meant to be yours anyway. Nothing like felt home or like it was truly yours at Outpost Three though. You stared at the ceiling hopelessly; wishing you would be so lucky to feel a wave of drowsiness that could hit you and carry you off to your dreams.

You immeadietly sat up and nearly jolted out of bed when you heard three loud knocks rattle your door. The sound was distinct but haunting.. your immediate thought was Venable.. you could only help but to think what the fuck you had recently done to piss her off.

You swiftly walked through the nearly pitch black room and opened the door absentmindedly; trying to not let your paranoid thoughts control your actions and let you hesitate.. just in case it happened to be Langdon.

You would be lying if you were to say that you werent dissapointed when you found no one there; only a letter lay folded neatly on the floor.. directly in front of you.

Snatching it and opening it within the safety of your room; you had to hold back laughter when it was from Langdon - another invitation to go see him.. but it was marked urgent.

You nearly dropped the letter on the floor immeadietly; it wasnt as if you had anything else to do - you already knew you werent going to be able to sleep tonight anyway. You immeadietly took off, albeit as quietly as possible, off to Langdons office. Trying to keep your thoughts of what the hell he wanted to see you so badly for, at bay.

When you reached his room, you didnt bother knocking. You slipped right inside - knowing that knocking would only possibly wake Venable up or alert other residents of your whereabouts. Shutting the door behind you, you slowly approached him.

He sat at his desk; quickly turning around to face you as you entered. His light, ocean colored eyes were wide in what you could only guess was surprise that you came so soon. His mouth was slightly curved into a subtle smile.

"Hi". You uttered with a airy, soft laugh.

You first stood, knowing he would most likely want you to take a seat but you would rather wait for instructions than to just.. assume. You knew Michael had little to no tolerance but surely enough, he nodded at the seat that was directly across from his at the desk.

"Sit". Michael instructed, his gaze followed you as you steadfastly did as you were told.

You realized how carefully Michael was studying you as you walked over and took your seat.. and maybe it was because of the absolutely horrible lighting but you could swear you could almost see blood rushing to his cheeks..

Was he.. blushing??

You sat, completely puzzled as you watched Michael suddenly act flustered.. His motions changing from smooth and calculated to nearly awkward.. and.. just rather odd in a instant. He looked as if he wanted to say something but no words were spoken, that is - until you made the first move.

"Is something.. wrong"? You asked, trying your hardest to bite back laughter.

Seeing Langdon act so.. not like himself was basically pure comedy to you.  Although you would never admit that outloud of course.

He now looked uncomfortable; licking his lips and clasping his hands together at the table before speaking.

"(Y/n), I have to talk to you about something". Michael admitted.

His expression changed from looking rather nervous to serious again; his mouth in a straight line and the muscles in his face relaxed.

You were quite literally sitting on the edge of your seat, your stomach started to do somersaults as you desperately tried to rationally think of what he wanted to say..

"Yeah, of course. What's wrong"? You prompted, your voice coming across as unsteady.

You tried your hardest to not let your voice shake as you spoke, although you were more than certain it showcased exactly how you felt.

Langdon unfolded his hands; appearing to study his rings momentarily before his blue eyes pierced yours - looking as if they were staring right past you.. Not necessarily at you at all.

"Look; theres nothing wrong. You just need to know that theres no need to be nervous around me anymore". Langdon stated matter of factly.

He maintained eye contact with you; diligently waiting for a response as you actually tried to comprehend what he was saying.. Was he implying that you were going to the sanctuary?? Or.. possibly even something else?? Something more?

Your confusion must've been apparent on your face because before you could say anything, Langdon cut in.

"That's not why I asked you to be here with me tonight though. I wanted to.. reward you". He said.

You felt as if your heart had skipped a beat; nearly feeling woozy as your cheeks heated up. A reward?? Saying you felt speechless was a incredible understatement.

"A reward"?? You echoed your thoughts aloud.

Your words came out slow and strained with pure anticipation for what was to perhaps happen. You thought for a split second this had to be some kind of sick joke, or some kind of sick manipulation game. You wouldnt really be surprised; you overheard from the others he was famous for pulling that kind of shit.

"Yes, For giving me company. Close your eyes". Michael answered.

You immeadietly, and dumbly followed orders. However; as soon as you closed your eyes you felt fear pierce your heart. The uncertainty and possibilities of what could happen was jarring - but you had to admit it was also thrilling.

The past few months had been so fucking predictable and boring, a bit of excitement was well over due and actually.. probably healthy. Even if it was fucking terrifying.

You could hear him moving, and then something being placed on his desk in front of you. You first felt your eyebrows furrow as you opened your eyes unwillingly. Pure surprise forcing you to do so and to disobey Langdon.. oh fuck.

You opened your mouth to utter an apology but.. your gaze first caught onto the object in front of you.. leaving you speechless and with your mouth agape.

You marveled at the small slice of cheesecake was that put in front of you.. It looked entirely to good to be true; this had to be a dream.. or maybe a nightmare??

This last time you had eaten anything with any kind of remote flavour had been eons ago. Those memories served you well and made your horrifically boring days a little less painful.

You continued to blankly stare at it; not daring to move, or breathe but.. to just enjoy the view. You were half expecting for this to be some of torture again; for him to rip it away from you but a part of you reassured you that.. this was different. This was him trying, and being genuine.

You looked up to meet Langdons eyes as they intently studied you. A faint smile gracing the corner of his lips. A beautiful sight you rarely got the priviledge of admiring.

"Have some". Michael said, nodding down in direction of the dessert. "I thought you would appreciate the gesture. I cant imagine the shit Venable gives you is enjoyable". Michael sneered with a hint of laughter.

You couldnt help but to let out a giggle as well, looking down once more and noticing that the plate was also embellished with two forks.

"Thank you, Michael. You should have some too though, I dont want to be selfish-" You started, unfolding your hands from your lap and beginning to push the plate towards him.

He quickly stood up and walked up to you, stopping until he was beside you. He grabbed your wrist, tight enough to make you wince but not enough to cause any actual pain - making eye contact again.

"No.. I want to watch you have the first bite". Langdon said.

In a split second, the chair that was once behind his desk materialized right next to you, directly behind him. He sat down, watching you intently as you started to feel stupidly nervous again.

Your hands trembled a bit as you reached to grab the fork, swiftly taking a piece and then  quickly consuming it. You figured the faster you took the first bite - the less nervous you would be.. but his gaze continued to linger on you; intensely watching.

The pleasure you were momentarily wrapped in was insurmountable to anything you had previously felt in months. You had to ground yourself in order to not let a moan escape your mouth.. The rich flavor tasting so unreal; almost too good to be true.

To be completely honest, you forgot that Langdon was there at all until you noticed him grab a fork as well. Also taking a bite and continuing to watch you - clearly amused with your reaction.

You two continued to eat in silence; meanwhile you momentarily began to get lost in your own thoughts yet again. You knew he didnt have to do this; he very well could've just.. had the dessert with someone else, like Mallory, or even enjoyed it by himself, but he purposefully chose you...

Your cheeks grew hot at the thought of how he seemed to subtly state that he returned your affection. You knew there was no way that he didnt know that you harbored feelings for him; the way in which you acted flustered in his prescience had to be a dead give away.

An hour or so later you walked back to your room; the night slowly cutting into the early hours of the morning but you really couldnt care less. You really didnt care about anything, even if Venable found you. The last thought you had before you took a very shortlived nap, was how much of a sneaky bastard Langdon truly was.

Taglist: @mina672 @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakewaterxx @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @beyond-repentance

[marvelfansince08love]

Dream Girl

Word Count: 2546

Pairing: Oceans 8 Tammy x Fem!Reader 

Prompts: 8 “You think I’m beautiful?” and 39 “ “Go fuck yourself.” “How about you fuck me yourself, you coward?!” 

Warning: Happy ending, soft pining. 

A/N: For anon, I hope you enjoy love! We do love some Tammy content x

Tags: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @saucy-sapphic @witchxaf​ @j-does-life​ @coconutlipss​ 

Not my gif! This is Tammy’s face to R throughout this mess lmao x

Prompts 8, 39

“Guys I want to introduce you to an old friend of ours. This is Y/N.” Debbie gestures towards you as you lean confidently against the door frame of the front entrance to Lou’s warehouse apartment. You lift a hand in greeting chewing slowly on a piece of gum, you wink at the brunette stranger who you’ve seen on the big screens before who giggles in return. You can practically feel Debbie’s eye roll as Lou chuckles quietly amused by your confident nature. 

“Nice to meet you all.” You address the women who are new to the group, before turning your attention to the woman who’s brown eyes stare hard at your form. “Tammy, always a pleasure.” You smirk cheekily at the blonde woman who scoffs irritably as she crosses her arms across her chest. Her brown eyes leave your own and turn accusingly to your childhood friend. 

“Really? Lizzie wasn’t available to help.” She complains, while the other women look on in confusion at Tammy’s unusual cold demeanour. 

“Hey! I am far better than Lizzie fucking Carpenter, thank you very much.” You retaliate, moving away from the door frame and into the living space. You hear Lou mutter under her breath ‘here we go’ before slipping away from the tense atmosphere, you notice the others follow suit apart from one who seems barely over the age of 23. The young girl seems to settle more into the sofa, slowly eating her M&M’s her eyes moving back and forth as if witnessing a tennis match. 

‘Probably an accurate description’ You think amusingly, as you remember the previous arguments you’ve had with the blonde mother. 

“Guys please, can we just get along for one job. I swear I feel like I’m 21 again whenever you two are in a room together.” Debbie expressed, tiredly. The con artist has always been the mediator of many spats between you and Tammy since you could remember. 

If you were being honest with yourself, you don’t really know how this quarrel between you started. In fact, you and Tammy used to be best friends growing up. ‘Partners in crime’ your mothers had said, never going a day without talking or seeing one another. After the Ocean family had moved into the area, you became the warrior three rather quickly with Danny being a surrogate older brother to you both. That all seemed to change after college, you became more cocky with your grafting skills and wanted to make more money elsewhere and Debbie being the true Ocean she is couldn’t pass up the opportunity of the thrill. Tammy on the other hand grew tired of being constantly on the move and never settling down, once her boyfriend now husband came into the picture you drifted further apart. Small jabs at one another turned into full blown arguments where you wouldn’t talk for days until all communication stopped all together.

 You have only seen Tammy once since that last argument that ended any piece of friendship left, her wedding day. To this day you never understood that painful feeling in your chest as you watched your childhood best friend walk down the aisle into those man's arms or how she looked at you from the head of the table as you danced with your date for the evening. You still don’t know why you invited her along instead of taking up Debbie and Lou’s offer of going as a ‘threesome’ which Tammy scolded you all for. Now you stand again in front of her, back to where you left off, arguing. 

“I’m not the one who’s ego is so big, it fills up the entire building,” Tammy mutters in defence, making you laugh out loud. 

“Please if your ignorance was anything to go by, I’m sure it would surpass my ego, Dream girl.” You respond back, watching as something unrecognisable passes across her face at the old nickname. You internally scold yourself at the use of the endearment. She takes a deep breath before bringing her hand forward towards you, making you raise an eyebrow in question. 

“Truce? For the sake of the job.” She begrudgingly offers, keeping her hand out. You look at the well manicured hand and back up to her face before taking her hand into your own and squeezing it gently, you try to ignore the electricity that jolts through you at the feeling of having her warm hand against your skin again. You notice her squirm slightly and clear her throat before abruptly removing her hand from yours, adjusting her knee length skirt. 

“Right well that settles it, I think we can move forward and get this plan going. Debs I have a few documents for you to look at.” She informs, her eyes glued to Debbie’s form as she steps away from your space. Clearly unaffected by the wave of electricity you’ve just experienced. 

“Why would you care if you felt it anyway.” You scold yourself, dismissing the thought before going over to the couch and settling in ready for Debbie and Lou to give you the rundown on their latest Job as you take the offered M&M from the younger woman. Unaware of the torn brown eyes that is also questioning the same electricity feeling from across the way. 

***

“You know I used to think Fencing was boring but you know what… I was right.” You tease, as you sit next to Tammy in the white van waiting for one of her contacts to meet her with the equipment. You laugh at the glare that she throws you, knowing there’s no real bite behind it. 

“I’m kidding Tam, I think it’s a very important job and brings in a great income for the family. What does your husband think of you working again and bringing in more money than him?” You continue, not being able to help yourself. Her eyes stay glued to the front keeping an eye out for her guy, attempting to be unfazed by your jabbing. 

“He thinks I’m working an office job at Vogue if you must know which is perfectly well considering he doesn’t live with us anymore.” She murmurs, double checking her phone for the green light to move out of our hidden spot and to the moving truck full of stolen equipment. 

“Oh wow, Vogue huh? Moving up in the world of fashion there, Dream girl.” You mock, a teasing smile on your face to show her you mean nothing behind it and avoiding the sensitive topic of the husband talk. Her lips twitch slightly in gratitude before her brows furrow, her brown eyes locking on your own suddenly far more interested in you then her phone. 

“Why do you still call me that?” She questions, her voice suddenly vulnerable. Now it’s your turn to frown, confused by her question. 

“Call you what? Dream girl?” You shrug, unaware of the effect it still has on her. “I guess you’ve always been ���dream girl’ to me, even if we aren’t friends like that anymore.” You confess, suddenly feeling very open to her in this small space. You watch the confliction flicker in her beautiful brown eyes waiting for her to respond. 

“We aren’t friends anymore?” She whispers sadly, her eyes full of sorrow. 

“Well I mean we haven’t exactly spoken to each other since your wedding day and even if we’ve had to interact like at my parents wedding anniversary party we just ended up bickering until we spent the rest of the day avoiding each other.” You mumble, feeling awkward and exposed with this new, honest topic of conversation. A soft hand lands on top of your closed fist that had formed unknowingly throughout this conversation making you relax from the tense position. 

“I never meant for us to grow apart the way we did Y/N. Things just seemed to happen so fast I never took a minute to consider your feelings or how we just stopped being each other's person.” She opens up, she smiles apologetically at you as unushered tears build in her eyes that are full of regret. You sigh in defeat and turn over your hand to hold onto hers and squeeze in reassurance and comfort. 

“Aww shucks, you going soft on me Tam Tam.” You joke halfheartedly, feeling uncomfortable with her choice of words knowing just how true they were. You see that perfectly arched brow rise knowing she’s caught your attempt at deflecting the subject. 

“Even when I was with him I still never stopped thinking about you, ya know. What were you doing? If you were happy? I guess I was just too stubborn to pick up the phone and apologise.” She says, regret laced within her voice. Making you shake your head in dismissal. 

“No Tam, if anyone was the stubborn idiot here, it was me. I missed out on so much of your life. Look at your two kids, they are already past your waist and soon will be off to college.” 

“You are so dramatic.” She laughs, shoving you lightly. She bites her bottom lip contemplating her next words. 

“You haven’t changed a bit, ya know. You're still that beautiful confident girl I remember.” A soft warm smile appears on your lips. 

“You think I’m beautiful.” 

“Oh  the confident part goes unheard but the beautiful she hears loud and clear.” She teases, laughing as you wiggle your eyebrows at her suggestively. Before you can continue her phone chimes indicating our packages have arrived breaking the weird spell we had created putting an end to our conversation.

You pull away from each and adjust in your seat,  an unsettling feeling settles  in your chest as Tammy pulls away from the alleyway and towards your drop off location. Comfortable silence fills the van leaving you both with your thoughts. 

 ***

“How could you be so reckless?! You were so closed to being caught, I swear one of these days you're going to end up in jail and I will only have one thing to say to you ‘I told you so’.” Tammy shouts, speeding towards you as you enter the living room with the rest of the crew. 

Tammy, Rose and NineBall had stayed behind for this job, their talents needed back at base while you and the rest of the gang carried out the job elsewhere. The heist was a success but your risky slip up towards the end of the job didn’t go unnoticed by the blonde who had stayed glued to NineBall’s side watching from the screens as you effortlessly pulled off your side of the job with the exception of your slight slip up. The others scatter away towards the back room, staying clear of Tammy’s rage which has only surfaced in the last two weeks of you arriving. You throw your hands up in defence. 

“Hey! I had it Tam okay. Yes it was risky but I did it. You think you can do a better job please, be my guest.” You murmur, too tired to argue loudly with her. 

“Go fuck yourself, Y/N!” She spats, arms crossed in defiance.

“How about you fuck me yourself, you coward?!” You retaliate, smugly watching as her angry demeanour falters at your words. Silence fills the room, except from the light scratching on the wooden door leading to the back room indicating to the earwigs next door. You watch as her brown eyes turn dark with determination, the rest of her face stoic as she marches towards you with purpose. Before you could question her intentions, her usually delicate hands fist your shirt pulling you close as soft full lips clash hard with your own overwhelming senses. Once the initial shock is over you relax into the kiss and place the palms of your hands against her cheeks cupping her face. Before you could take it further she inches away keeping her forehead against your own as she catches her breath. “You were saying?” She whispers teasingly against your lips. 

“I um, yeah. Mind if we do that again, I don’t think I quite pinpointed the flavour of your lip balm. Was that min-” Her lips cover over your own once more stopping your rambling. 

Scuffling from behind Tammy causes you to stop your moment of bliss, as you both watch your friends stumble through the back door bickering quietly to one another. You clear your throat to make your presence known and watch as they freeze. Keeping an arm around Tammy’s waist you address the peeping toms and earwigs. 

“You guys got somewhere to be?” You mock, as Tam giggles quietly against your shoulder trying to hide her now red cheeks. 

“This is my apartment, you can’t kick me out.” Lou justifies as Debbie laughs grabbing her clothed arm and dragging her out of the room making sure the others follow. 

“It’s about time they figured it out and I don’t want to be here for the aftermath. It could still go either way.” She murmurs to Lou loud enough for you both to hear making you roll your eyes are your friends ‘told you so’ attitude. 

Once the group has left, you hear Tam sigh softly against your shoulder. “I think we have a lot to talk about.” She informs softly, a small content smile appearing on her face making you pull her even closer, placing a kiss to the top of her hairline. 

“Later. I just want to hold and kiss you a little longer.” You confess, holding onto her just a little tighter basking in the blissful moment. 

Finally

***

Later that evening as you both lay cuddled up in the guest double bed of Lou’s apartment, you whispered sweet hidden confessions to on another that haven’t been said out loud before. 

“I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen Y/N. That night you picked me up from that awful date with Jefferson when he tried his luck with me. You were so angry with him and I asked if I could stay at yours so my parents wouldn’t see the state of me.. you just held me all night no bombarded questions. I watched you sleep with your arm wrapped around me, even in your sleep you were still trying to protect me.” She stops talking for a moment and looks into your eyes, holding your gaze . “I just remember thinking ‘no one is ever going to match up to my expectations because you outdone them all without realising’ but I knew that our friendship meant more and I didn’t want to ruin it.” She pauses, as she twirls your necklace that lays on your bare chest smiling softly realising it’s the one she bought you at college graduation. “You still kept this?” she whispers, her breath softly touching your neck making you shiver. You place your hand over hers stopping her movements.

“Tam, even though we lost sight of our friendship I still always thought of you. Everything I did or saw reminded me of you and how stunningly beautiful you are. I can’t seem to quit you, Dream girl. And now that I have you properly I don’t ever wanna stop.” You vow, knowing that every word spoken speaks the truth. Because you have always known that you and Tammy were more than just friends, you were just too stubborn to allow those thoughts to come to light. But now that you have her close you don't ever want to let her go. 

[trojc-rewrite]

The Rise of Jimmy Casket Rewrite, Chapter 2

Previous

Warning - Blood

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After the agreement at Dunkin, the group left later that night. Toast drove, Colon in the passenger seat, while Spooker played music from the back. Mostly indie with the occasional rap song. But as the day got darker, the three grew more and more tired.

Toast checked the clock on the dash, 12:01 AM. His entire body was stiff and his eyes felt heavy. He looked around, seeing the tall pine forest loom around them for miles. He didn’t feel like pulling over and resting for the night would be a good idea.

“There might be bears, or raccoons.” Spooker said.

Colon gave him a confused look, “But you like raccoons.” He pointed out.

Spooker retorted. “NOT IN THE CAR!”.

Toast gave them both a tired look and they both shifted away. “I think I saw a motel sign a few miles ago, it might be up ahead.”

They drove for a few more miles until they spotted it. It was a run down place not too far away from town. It was old and browned, but you could tell it used to be an off-white color. A sign that once was a light up sign was now broken with one fizzling bulb. Broken stairs climbed the sides of the building, several steps rotting and mold covered. But, it would have to do for now.

Toast booked a room and the three shuffled into the small place. The inside looked about just as bad as the outside. With a pull out cot in the living room, a love seat, and a small kitchen with a stove that looked like it hadn't been used in years. Everything had a weird acrid smell to it, like it was damp. “The wonders of mold!” Colon had joked.

Toast decided to take the love seat with stiff, hardened cushions and let Colon and Spooker take the cot, which looked like a new king size mattress compared to the love seat, which made crunching sounds when you shifted on it.

Toast sighed, and stared at the ceiling while Colon and Spooker chatted. His anxious brain whispered to itself, making him upset, “Is this really worth it? Do Spooker and Colon think I'm the world's biggest idiot? I wouldn’t blame them if they did, I’m making them go on a goose chase for one of my stupid hunches.”

He turned over on the rough love seat and stared at his phone screen, no calls from Ghost. Not even a text. Toast blinked tiredly; why did his eyes sting? Ghost did say he wasn’t sure if he was going to come back, and he obviously didn’t want to be around him or the rest of the P.I.E gang.

“I failed him.” Toast thought sadly. He put down his phone, blinking away his tears. Why was he crying? Toast shifted his gaze to his golden wedding ring that stayed on his necklace. He delicately picked it up, reading the inside of it. “Till death do us part.” Toast could almost taste the irony.

He took a deep breath. He had had enough of having pitiful thoughts today. He took off his necklace and set it down beside his phone. Before closing his eyes, Toast watched as Spooker showed Colon a funny video on his phone. The two laughed and smiled, genuinely happy. Toast couldn’t help but smile at that. At least not everything about this “vacation “ was horrible. It made Toast happy when they were happy.

He closed his eyes, inviting the dark to consume him.

————————————————————————

Toast was in a white void, it smelled like freshly fallen snow. It was refreshing to his senses, not having to look at ugly greens and muddy browns like the inside of the motel.

He looked around, “Hello?”, he called out. A soft breeze flew over him, ruffling his hair. He then heard a familiar voice call out to him.

“Johnny?” A soft voice returned. Toast’s heart leaped in his chest, the voice both seemed to calm him and send him into a frenzy. What a weird effect.

He ran towards the voice, his shoes made a tapping sound on the floor, like high heels on marble. “Mary?!” He cried out.

His late wife’s figure became more visible as he approached, she materialized from the white. Her curly brown hair bounced off her shoulders as it did when she was living. Her soft hazel eyes gazed warmly at him. The breeze made the rim of her long red dress wave in the wind. Toast crashed into her, breathing in her familiar, yet forgotten scent.

“Johnny, it’s been a while.” She murmured to him, smoothing his hair. Toast fought the tears that welled in his eyes, but it was no use. He let out an ugly sob, which shook his entire body. Mary gave him a sympathetic smile, her own eyes filled with tears.

“You’ve come a long way since we last hugged.” She said, still combing her hand through his hair. “I miss you, my love. But I’ve come to warn you, and I’m afraid that I cannot stay for much longer.”

Toast looked up at her, her hazel eyes filled with a fierce love. He then heard yet another familiar voice through the misty white.

“Johnny!” Toast turned to see the outline of his friend. Ghost. Toast's eyes widened and he reached out for him.

“He’s not really here, I’m afraid. Just the powers of this realm making him appear here.” Mary said, taking his hand in hers.

“But that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Johnny.” She turned him towards her again. She took both of his hands and looked at him.

“Is, is he okay?” Toast asked, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. She nodded.

“If you mean is he alive, yes. But there’s more to worry about than if he’s alive.”

She turned serious, her hazel eyes boring into him with desperation.

“Protect your friends, Johnny. You are all in great danger.” She said. Mary’s figure became more distorted and transparent, but Toast didn’t want to let go of her.

“No, Mary. Please don’t leave me alone!” He cried out, still holding onto the fuzzy static of her hands. Mary’s hazy face smiled.

“Oh my love, I’m always with you.” She whispered. And then, with a gust of wind, she was gone. Leaving Johnny alone.

A sob choked Toast, getting stuck in his throat. He bent down onto his knees and sobbed, his black hairs falling in front of his eyes. He stayed there for a while, sobbing out.

And then a smokey scent filled the air, washing over him like a toxic blanket. He looked up from his hands.

A winged figure stood yards away from him, long black hair waving in the wind. Four wings sprouted from it’s back, feathers dancing. It’s face was also guarded with tinier wings, moth's wings creating eyes. It stared at him. Toast felt vaguely threatened by it.

He got up shakily, walking towards it cautiously. As he approached, ringing filled his ears. And then his dream exploded into fire and black, shattering like glass.

Toast lurked upwards, panic filling his chest. The smell of smoke filled his lungs and he looked around. Colon and Spookers' horrified faces filled his vision, Colon's hands were around his shoulders shaking him.

“Toast we have to go! Come one get up!” He yelled. The room felt hot, making them all sweat.

“What’s going on? What happened!” Toast asked, getting up. He grabbed his wedding ring and phone and put them away on himself.

“The building’s on fire! C’mon we have to go!” Colon yelled, fear filling his voice.

A large pillar fell into the room, slamming on the floor. Flames engulfed it, reaching the cot and setting it ablaze. Orange and red danced in Toast’s vision.

The floor cracked under everything's weight. “I saw a fire exit down the hall when we got to this room! That’s our exit, let’s go!” Toast felt his anxieties in his brain but forced them down. Now was not the time to be having second thoughts.

The blistering flames grew and ignited around them, smoke filling the room. Spooker coughed, shaking his head.

The floor made a loud crack sound, and the large pillar sunk through the wood. A hole grew in the floor, the wood blackened at the edges.

Toast leaped over the hole, dodging the flames that licked and jumped at his legs. Sweat and smoke filled around him. He could barely see, feeling light headed. He reached out for Spookers hand.

“Come on Spooker!” Toast yelled. Flames roared like lions around them, screaming and wailing in Toast's ears. Colon nodded to Spooker, hesitantly, the young red head reached for his hand and jumped. Toast grabbed his hand and pulled him over. Spooker tumbled awkwardly onto the planks and reached the door. Toast ushered him out into the hallway, then turned to Colon.

The hole in the floor was wider, hot air and tiny flames growing from it. It gaped at him, taunting him. One mistake and his friend would be dead, falling into a pit of embers and coals. Toast shook his head, he wouldn’t let that happen.

The smoke was strangling him, making him cough and search for any clean air. He reached out his hand. Colon narrowed his eyes and got ready to jump.

Then, with the speed of a snake, a flaming piece of wood swung from the ceiling at Colon. His friend tried to swerve away from it but it floundered his jump. He landed on the crumbling wood, hanging over the pit opening below them. Panic surged through Toast and he bent down.

Toast hauled him up, the cloth of his friends shirt was rough and hot. Another piece of wood struck out angrily from the wall as it crumbled. “Colon, look out!” Toast cried, and pushed his friend out of the way.

The flaming wood dug straight into his leg, going into it like a knife through meat. Toast cried as the splintered wood buried into his flesh, awkwardly hanging out of his skin.

Colon looked at him horrified, but Toast limped out. Cinders spat at them, like the flames were cursing them. The two ran to the fire escape while Spooker waited by the door, looking anxious. The youngest swung open the door, and the three ran down the crumbling stairs. They ran to the street, and Toast’s leg couldn't handle the weight of himself anymore.

He fell down the cracked cement, scraping his knees on the jutting rocks. Pain surged through him again. “If they don’t use our taxes for fixing these damn streets then what do they use them for?” He cursed angrily about the road's condition. Spooker and Colon lifted him up and dragged him across the road, lying him down on the soft wet grass.

The three breathed heavily, watching as other civilians ran out in different directions. Toast's leg burned, begging for the wood to be removed from his flesh. The oldest coughed, wheezing for the night air.

He sat upwards, studying the injury. It was buried half way into his skin, blood seeping through his clothes. The wood was blackened and damaged, splinters hanging off of the sides where it had split from the wall. It hadn’t hit any bone or anything, but he knew he needed stitches.

He tried to block out the fire and calm down. His adrenaline rushed through his veins, screaming for his body to move. But he took a few deep breaths, the fire was starting to dissipate anyways, flickering still but weaker. “We’re okay. Colon and Spooker are okay. And Ghost probably is too. Everyone is okay.” He thought.

He bit his lip and took the fractured wood in his fingers, and began wiggling it out of the wound. His arms felt weak, and he grit his teeth. For what felt like a gruesome forever, he finally got it out.

Spooker and Colon watched as he took the piece of jagged wood and threw it into the street. It thudded on the broken cement, his blood splattering under it. Now, Toast needed a way to stop the bleeding.

“Guys, do me a favor and rip off one of my sleeves, please.” He said through gritted teeth. Spooker leaned over and ripped off the white sleeve on his button up. Then, handed it to his boss. Toast tried his best to smile at him, but the pain in his leg was too great. His eyes were welled with tears, and there wasn’t a doubt in Toast’s mind that he was crying.

He tied the white cloth around his leg, trying to slow blood flow. The red fluid stained his sleeve. It wasn’t great by any means, but it was better than nothing.

They stayed there for what seemed like forever, watching fire trucks put out the fire. No paramedics were in sight however, which wasn’t good. Toast would just need to power through until the morning.

The three stayed silent, staring at the rising smoke in the sky.

“Watch us survive all this and then we can’t even find Ghost.” Colon joked. Toast weakly laughed, feeling tired.

Spooker and Colon turned to him. “Thanks for not letting us die back there.” Colon said. Toast nodded, the pain in his leg starting to ebb away.

“No problem, that’s what good friends do.” Toast said. His eyes felt heavy, begging him for sleep. Toast gave into it, sighing.

Colon and Spooker watched him silently as he closed his eyes, their concern hanging in the air.

“Ghost, please be out there.” Toast silently thought, before falling asleep.

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Whips and nae naes!!! Longest chapter!!!

Hope yall enjoyed! Next chapter will be out soon!