#this has been in the drafts for a month along with ten other short things like it so im releasing one into the wild

[powderrblue]

don't be afraid to fall (cause i won't let you)

a/n hieeee again two am unedited angst writing :'D

-

Paislie didn't remember how they'd gotten to the bathroom or how long they'd been leaning over it, wave after overwhelming wave of nausea washing over them even though nothing came of it.

There was blood on their hands. Blood that wouldn't come off. The blood of thousands of nameless babies, the blood of their sisters, their brother, the twins.

And the last show back in Showfall added so many more names to that list. People who had taught them trust and given Paislie their trust in return, only to have it end the only way it ever could have.

They looked down at their hands, stained red with Ranboo's blood from the bandages being changed, and Paislie couldn't help but wish what she saw were anyone's hands but hers.

The blood wouldn't come off, it never would, there was no point in trying, those babies are dead because of you, your siblings might still be in that death hole knowing you never looked for them if they're not already dead too because of you-

Paislie broke down in sobs, all but falling to the floor in front of the sink.

Their thoughts were like screams as they leaned against the rickety cabinets. They couldn't think, they couldn't move, the blood wouldn't come off their hands no matter how hard they scrubbed-

Hands gripped their wrists, pulling their hands apart, and Paislie realized they'd been scratching at blood that was no longer Ranboo's, but Paislie's own.

Paislie let their hands go limp. They turned their face down as another sob escaped their aching body.

"Hey, hey," Charlie said, gently leaning down to try to see their face. "It's okay-"

"No- no, it's not, I- stop it, don't you remember what I-"

"If this is about those kids, then no. It wasn't your fault, okay? None of them could have survived. You've already made stuff- way beyond the technology there is outside- here," he interrupted them.

Paislie couldn't bring themselves to look at him. They'd hurt him, he was avoiding it, what if he was only doing this until Randy and Sneeg got back from the food drive, what if Randy was already back and didn't want to talk to them-

"Paislie, Paislie, stop," Charlie said, sounding scared himself.

"Let me."

Paislie grasped at Charlie's hands as he slowly untangled them, a throat-scraping sob making their entire body shudder.

Smaller, though still firm hands replaced Charlie's touch.

"Hal."

They looked up at the nickname, only to make eye contact with Niki.

"I've got you, shh," Niki told Paislie softly. "Just breathe, okay?"

Paislie leaned into Niki. Their chest hurt but what was new about that, they thought automatically. You should be dead.

"Niki," Paislie sobbed out, grasping at the older's sweatshirt in an attempt to ground themselves.

Niki's hand slipped behind their head, cradling them gently. "I know. I know."

They were quiet for a moment. It took everything they had in them not to curl up as close to Niki as they could and give up fighting to breathe.

Little by little, they tried to block out the words that were already on repeat in the back of their mind. Little by little, it became instead reminders of Sneeg's existence. And Charlie's. And Randy's. Henrik's. Niki's. Ranboo's. And maybe somehow Hadlee's, though Paislie hardly dared to hope for that now.

Even with Niki's guidance, it felt like hours later when he finally stopped shaking long enough to walk back out and to the corner of the floor he shared with Ranboo. Charlie was already there on top of his own sleeping bag, playing what looked like some kind of old handheld game that must have been in the RV for a while.

"Hey," Paislie managed out. "Sorry. About- all that."

Charlie only looked up for a few seconds. "It's okay." He paused to consider his next words. "Probably not the first time that's happened to someone anyway, given the fact we're all.. us."

"Fair point," they offered halfheartedly in response. "Still."

The room was silent for another moment while Paislie glanced over at Ranboo, who had slept through the ordeal- which Paislie couldn't have been more grateful for. They needed the rest anyway.

Paislie looked up after seeing Charlie's handheld in their peripherals.

"Wanna try?" he offered, holding the small device out to them.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Paislie could've sworn he saw the faintest hint of a smile on Charlie's face.

They nodded with a tentative smile of their own as they accepted the offered device and scooted closer to Charlie to let him explain the controls.

By the time Sneeg and Randy got a glimpse of the two next, they were dead to the world around them, having quietly but energetically invested themselves in the game.

Randy could have sworn that despite the exhaustion lingering in their eyes, it was the happiest Paislie had looked since before they'd escaped.

[edutainer2022]

As per usual, @janetm74 incredible insight into Jeff and Scott gave me a push to wrap up a little piece that has been in my drafts for a while. It's mind-numbing fluff. A morning talk-show with Jeff Tracy upon return to Earth provides grounds for some much needed revelations.

ONE WORD ANSWERS

As interviews were going these months, this was a smaller one. Done privately from the desk in the lounge via a holo-com. Ever since the dramatic return from Oort Cloud, already christened the "Rescue of the Century", every media outlet worldwide wanted a piece of him. Jeff didn't feel much like putting up with most of it - eight years in outer space on meager rations and slim hope was a brutal awakening once they were safely back on Earth. Besides, he'd rather not waste any more time than necessary on media coverage, away from his family. He'd done his fair share of that in his active duty days, and Lord knew he had A LOT to catch up with in his sons' lives. A lot! Some things he gleaned and pieced together in observations and a backlog of reports were more... thought provoking than others. But some visibility was needed and even expected. He understood that.

The interview for a morning show in a different timezone was to be short, capped up with a ten-questions blitz to lighten the mood. The outline of questions, as per usual, was screened by John and Tracy Legal, and pre-approved by Jeff himself. His only recommendation this time around was the order of points in a blitz.

If the boys were surprised he asked them to sit in through the interview, obscured by the sunken lounge, they didn't show it. Jeff made sure everyone was on the island, Scott back from NYC and the Tracy Industries Board full of questions and incessant worries as to the perspective changes in status quo, Alan back from campus orientation, even John planetside for the weekend (something that had become a frequent and welcome habit). They knew Dad sometimes struggled with social situations these days and needed some cheering along and support - which was provided with unreserved abandon.

The interview was running its course smoothly, as they neared the 10 questions section. The show anchor was all smiles - the mock-blitz questions were submitted by the viewers and the most frequent or special ones were selected.

- So, Mr. Tracy, you were the First Man on Mars, the Founder of International Rescue, you set multiple supersonic speed records. How would you describe yourself in one word?

Oh, that was an easy one. He would have used so many words years ago as applied to himself or others applied to him - some more on point, some vain. A pilot. An astronaut. An entrepreneur. A husband. A son. A hero. A Thunderbird. A man of the world. A friend. A savior. A failure. A legend. An idealist. A leader. A survivor. Jeff Tracy still was all those things, in different measures. But eight years of the endless night, with nothing but his thoughts, memories and dreams for company, have distilled his self-awareness to one point of absolute clarity:

- A father.

He could hear the collective breath escape his sons' lips and a soft glow washed over their features.

He smiled in response and the blitz went on.

- What are you most proud of?

That too was a no-brainer, but he might need more than one word to answer exhaustively. Never hurts to elaborate on global television:

- My sons. There are no words to express how proud I am of their accomplishments and of the incredible people they grew up to be: my youngest son Alan is a prodigy, the youngest rocket pilot in history, Gordon is an Olympic champion, an environmental activist AND an Aquanot for International Rescue, Dr. John Tracy, the Voice that Answers, holds multiple PhD degrees in Astrophysics and Computer Science, my son Virgil is an accomplished pianist, like his mother, and a recognized artist on top of being busy full time with International Rescue engineering.

Smiles were blooming on his boys' faces up to a point it became apparent he stopped his answer at four. Jeff could swear there was a sheen of tears in Alan’s eyes, whereas light brown and turquoise turned momentarily hard. Virgil's whole face was a shimmer of disbelief and betrayal. Scott's eyes, soft and understanding, and infinitely sad, would be enough to stop the interview right there and backtrack. But he needed to see this through just right. The news anchor was beaming, as they were down to the last question:

- That is certainly a LOT to be proud of, Mr. Tracy. I'm sure the whole world, anyone who has ever needed help from International Rescue, would agree. But our viewers want to know one last thing from the Hero of the Century. Do you know you're called that? That's a tough mark to measure up to! Well, who is YOUR Hero, Mr. Tracy?

The anchor probably would have never guessed how simple and ready that answer was in his mind. He didn't need a moment to think:

- My eldest son. Scott Tracy. Everything International Rescue is today, everything our family is today - we owe to him. I owe him my life. I know nobody stronger in the face of so much pain and pressure. I could survive in outer space, but I am not sure I could ever do what he did in my absence. I have never admired or respected anyone more. I am a better man for being his father. So it's simple as that, Scott Tracy is my hero.

The holo projector barely flickered out when he was barreled into midriff by a flurry of warm and blond, and fierce. Alan hugged him tight and mumbled "Thank you!", no doubt aimed at his words not only on all other brothers, but on Scott. He meant every one of those. Soon he was in a circle of strong arms and within reach of the most beloved young faces, incandescent with emotions and hope. All but one. Scott lingered behind, as he was disturbingly wont to since their first hug in the Oort Cloud - hence Jeff's little staged performance today, as a desperate measure. He held his eldest son's gaze unwaveringly across the lounge, aware of the tears streaming from still astonished blue eyes. It was an instant loss to step out of his boys' embrace even for a brief moment, but there was something he needed to do. He crossed to the couches in three big strides and held Scott as tightly to himself as the still recuperating muscles would allow. It hurt to know the boy would be this surprised to be acknowledged and appreciated. But Jeff was gifted a second chance to let all his sons know how cherished they were. How precious. He'd waste no minute of that. A tight hold of arms was soon around him and Scott again, more confirmations of affection all around washing over. There was nothing he'd rather do for the rest of his life.

[hopefullynobodyhasthisname]

Here, have some random, unasked for information about my (many) original stories :D

(Little note, my stories’ universe has seventeen different realms, so, if some stories have this -x- in-between them, just know that means they take place in a different realm)

The First Realm - main story, all others (technically) branched off it, has been in development for around six years and oh gods. If you looked at the original draft and how it is now, you would be so surprised that it’s the same thing. It is intensely complicated and even I, the one who created the thing, struggle to understand parts of it.

Legends of the Rose - connecting story to The First Realm, technically a prequel, giving backstory to certain events that are either mentioned or referenced during The First Realm, such as how the kingdoms came to be, what led to Fei (another name for the First Realm) becoming what it is now and also showing the founding of the Three Central Councils, plus much more.

Guardians of the Rose - connecting story to both The First Realm and Legends of the Rose, focusing entirely on the people known as the Guardians of the Rose, or just the Guardians for short. Takes place around the same time as all the stories from Legends of the Rose, showing the rise, reign and fall of the First Guardians.

-x-

Rain Showers - side story, one of the least developed, yet one of the oldest, around three years. Takes place in a different realm. Has a basic idea, plot, ending, and outline, yet the characters aren’t the best. Redesign season has long since passed, but is due to come back. Same with character rewriting. Has a sequel called Sun Showers, which takes place a year and a half later.

-x-

Friend - side/independent story, more developed than Rain Showers, not as much as Guardians of the Rose. Takes place in a completely different realm than both of those stories. Redesigned the main cast (five characters) a month or so ago. It was literally created because of a small scrap of paper taped on the bathroom wall that had ‘fren’ written on it. It is now one of my most treasured stories.

Running From CPS Is Harder Than It Seems - side/independent story, around the same amount of development as Rain Showers. Might take place in the same realm as Friend, might take place in a completely different one. Probably the former as the two realms are very similar and it seems like a waste.

-x-

Now the complicated ones. The following stories take place in the same realm, just at different times (it will be in chronological order). The realm is known as Mynxia, which isn’t exactly relevant but still.

The Veiled Lady of the Empire’s Court - connecting story, not that old, but not that long either. Only been around a few months since its creation. Focuses on an old legend of one of the monarchies in Mynxia, the Azalea Empire. The Veiled Lady was originally meant to be some kind of defender to the Empire, she is now more of an eldritch being that has many horror stories surrounding her. She is very real, however.

The Eternal Knight of Ancient Hollydale - connecting story, also not that old, also not that long. Created mere days ago, alongside the Veiled Lady’s new role/backstory. Hollydale is another monarchy of Mynxia, led (at the time of the story) by Countess Korra. The Eternal Knight, much like the Veiled Lady, is a kind of legend, less of a horror story, although it is somewhat horrific, and more of an example of humanity's greed, and the eventual consequences.

These next stories take place centuries later:

Along the Azalea - connecting story, no underlying plot, mostly just focusing on the relationships of the main characters (Kristen (although she is referred to as Kris during this), Time (but he is known as Mask), Krisi, Khan, Therios, and occasionally Jayne). Kristen, Krisi, Time, and Jayne are around ten to seventeen during this as it slowly moves through the years.

Witness the Wreckage - connecting story, definitely has plot, so much plot. The most gruesome story of all of these (by all of these, I mean all of these, even the stories from before). Takes place at least five years after Along the Azalea during the Abyssal War, which involved the Abyss Empire and the Azalea Empire. Many characters are vital to the plot, but the most important are Kristen, Time, Krisi, and occasionally Jayne. The Veiled Lady and the Eternal Knight are also involved, just not in the way you may think.

Weight of the World - connecting story to Witness the Wreckage, takes place around almost a year after the end of the war. Focuses on everyone trying to recover and move past all the trauma they were subjected to. Also some of them struggling to deal with their new situation left from severe injuries that they received during the war.

Ode to Fallen’s Requiem - technical main story, takes place a decade after Weight of the World. Kristen has adopted two children who she found on the side of the road (Ethan and Becca), Krisi is a lawyer in another realm (do not ask for context), Time is doing whatever, still working on that, Jayne is a doctor (and also an aunt), and that’s all I’ll say about this. It’s mostly just a lot of funny stuff and shenanigans with bits of angst/plot.

Kingdoms of Mynexia - side story to the end, completely different cast of five characters and mostly focuses on the other monarchies. Kind of an excuse to just world-build and stuff while also giving more backstory to the monarchies and their respective rulers. Such as Countess Kirin and how she became the monarch of Hollydale at such a young age, or Archidux January and how he maintained Stonehenge while also dealing with the loss of both his mother and best friend. There is also an underlying plot which leads to almost all the monarchies being overthrown.

Well, that’s it. I’ll probably write down some backstories later. Like for the Veiled Lady and the Eternal Knight. Archidux January maybe. Or some other character I haven’t mentioned. I don’t know. I don’t even know if someone’s reading this.

[sunsents]

The Cardigan - F.W 18+

My first ever post and it's a goddamn smut one shot. This has been in my Wattpad drafts for way too long (wrote it three-four months ago), it's not the best, and I'm not proud of the writing but et eez what et eez. I really wan't to start publishing my work and gotta start somewhere. Also the smut is shitty, and the dirty talk is just goddamn vile. Also I'm a horny mf.

Summary ---> "Is that mine? You look better in it than me, that's for sure." An intimate night with Fred after you guys find the house all to yourselves. This is just pure filth, like scroll if you wan't plot. 🌚

Pairing: fred weasley/fem!reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: smut / overstim if u squint / cursing / thigh tiding / dirty talk / fred being a horny little shit / an attempt at innuendos / hand-job / cum play (?) / like one ass slap

Rating: 18+

DON'T REPOST MY WORK

The bathroom at the Weasley's were quite cramped, but you didn't care. Your shower was more than satisfactory, the wavering smell of Mrs. Weasley cooking downstairs mixing with the wonderful scent of Fred's shampoo. The hot water loosened all your fatigued muscles - those extra hours out on the field playing Quidditch was worth it - your muscles were taut, flexing wonderfully whenever you lifted your arm to rinse off the products in your hair.

When you opened the door of the bathroom, clouds of hot air escaping and surrounding the small corridor, you were surprised to hear no footsteps, loud chattering of your friends and the usual plates clinking in the kitchen. You figured going downstair naked wouldn't be a good idea, and entered Ginny's room.

The disheveled bedroom was empty, and you looked out the window to the vast garden and wheat fields that got darker with the hot summer night approaching. There was no sign of anyone and you were starting to get anxious. Maybe it was because of the unusual silence - the Weasley household always had some kind of chaos happening - nevertheless, you quickly slipped on some satin shorts and a soft, white knit sweater to keep the evening breezes at bay. After swiftly drying your hair with a towel - you were letting it air dry, Cosmopolitan said Cindy Crawford did it - you applied whatever product was routine for your body and left the room.

Your magical radio was playing a soft jazz from the den and immediate relief washed over you when you stepped downstairs. The creams and perfumes that stuck to your skin wafted around the air and filled the rooms with delicious essences, and your soft socks slipped and slid across the wooden floor to the kitchen as you pushed yourself with ease. You quickly caught yourself with a chair and laughed, being alone wasn't so bad, you figured you could find ways to entertain yourself.

Until, a low chuckle from the den caused you to yelp and almost fall on your ass, merlin forbid. You couldn't bear another injury after George two left feet Weasley accidentally kicked you on the shin while playing Quidditch.

Speaking of Weasley, Fred Weasley was sprawled out on the couch, wearing only his boxers and a long, loosely knitted cardigan sitting on his exposed skin. You felt your mouth water, his head was lazily thrown back, exposing his curved neck and Adam's apple, his freckles more noticeable than ever. He was staring at you, his lips tugging a smile and enjoying the show you put on. Humiliation, is what it was. You were sliding around floorings like Madame Maxine on ice.

Your blood suddenly felt on like liquid fire, and you opened the cupboards to get yourself a glass of water. "Aguamenti," you casted, and from the corner of your eye you saw Fred's gaze set on your exposed legs, trailing up to your ass that was slightly exposed from the length of your shorts. They rode up more when you stood on your toes to place the cup back on the shelf after chugging the liquid down and muttering a cleaning spell.

"Is that mine?" you cleared your throat, finishing up in the kitchen and walking over to one of the rocking chairs. You didn't know why Fred was sitting around practically naked - you didn't question because he was Fred Weasley and you were tired. You weren't complaining etiher.

"Yeah," Fred said breathlessly. "It's surprisingly comfortable."

"You look better than me in it, that's for sure." You chuckled darkly, eyeing his provocative muscles. The hickeys you had left from a few days ago were slightly healed, soft reds trailing his nape and they weren't helping the growing desire between your legs. "Where is everyone?" you asked.

Fred quickly noticed your poorly hidden lustful stares and moved the cardigan away with a sly smirk, revealing more of his abs and flexed thighs. "They went out to Diagon Ally, won't be back until ten." he said. You nodded then took a deep, shaky breath and picked up a magazine from the coffee table. You settled in your mind that maybe looking through the new season Versace bikinis would calm your lust.

Fred let out a long, erotic sigh, allowing a soft groan to escape his lips along the way. Your hand twitched, you were still oblivious to his intentions and crossed your legs for some friction. "Hey ____," Fred called out, and you hummed in response, not looking up from your magazine. You seemed to have read the same line five times now. "I think there's something in my eye, can you blow on it."

Your eyes went wide, Fred was vulgar. This was no surprise to you after dating him for almost two years, but saying something so shamelessly, no hesitation still made your heart stutter. Your imagination was running wild now, you pictured every single thing you wished to do to him at this moment, in those clothes. You quickly put your magazine down, more of slapped it on the table. "Sure, yeah." you said in a shaky voice, then stood up and walked over to him.

Fred's arms were wide on the couch, and one of them pulled your hand down when he was able to reach you. Your heart stopped for a moment, you felt herself land harshly on his thigh and the impact on your core caused a groan from the back of your throat to slip out.

Fred was rather enjoying himself, his head lazily leaning back on the pillow as he rubbed your thighs up and down, digging the pads of his fingers into your skin and causing an embarrassingly load of your juices to flow to your newly worn panties.

You readjusted yourself so the heat between your legs weren't in direct contact with his thigh. You scooted closer and had to bite back a moan when Fred jerked his leg up and applied pressure on your clit. You were trying your best not to show his effect on you, "Which eye." you hissed through gritted teeth, still pursuing his obvious lie.

Fred's shit eating grin only grew wider, and he took your hand and placed it right on his crotch. He was hard beneath his boxers, swelling bigger the second and you were fighting the urge to palm his cock. You shot him a warning look to which he playfully frowned, then gestured to his right eye. You leaned in closer, maybe he really did have something in his eye.

Fred's breathing was heavy, fanning over your lips as you tried to take a closer look. Your inspection was cut short when he gripped your waist, riding up your sweater to touch you directly. You gasped and straightened up at his rough hands kneading around your stomach. Chills were racing down your spine, you didn't want to give in just yet, just for teasing purposes, but Fred was making it unbelievable hard with his tousled hair and hooded eyes boring into yours.

Your panties felt soaked and you hoped he wouldn't notice, but when Fred gripped your shorts and pulled them down, his eyes fell on the wet fabric that was stuck to your entrance. You were painfully aware of how aroused you were, and your heated cheeks weren't helping with your embarrassment.

Fred licked his lips - his expression lust crazed - then he gripped one of your legs and guided it around his thighs, making you straddle him. He held both of your thighs and pulled you in closer, and when your knee touched his boner, it caused him to groan lowly and attempt to close the small gap between your two bodies.

You marveled at the idea of being any more closer to him, the aching on your lower abdomen making you grind yourself on his thigh, whimpering at the much needed friction. The scene looked erotic to you, Fred's finger had slithered down to your panties and moved them to the side to expose all of you, flushed and swollen. He gripped your waist again and started rocking your body on his thigh, "Ride my thigh baby, wan't you to get off on me," he said huskily, "Slow and good~"

You didn't know what else to do other than nod as much agreeable a nod could get. Fred started guiding your hips at a slow pace, not letting you fasten it once. He tutted when you tried for the second time, "Stop being impatient my love." he crooned, straightening himself up to finally meet your lips.

But you barely responded.

You were slack-jawed, your clit swollen painfully, your hips swiveling to get more contact. Pathetic really, is what it was. Fred said few words of filth and here you were, panting and rutting, thanking whoever up there to have the opportunity to ride Fred's obscenely attractive thigh. A thigh shouldn't be this attractive you thought, his skin warm and comfortable, generous muscles teasingly helping you get off. Emphasis on teasingly, he wouldn't let you have anything that easily. It was heaven and hell all at once.

Fred was sensually tracing the outline of your mouth with his tongue all the while, then dipped down and feathered kisses on your jaw that was just as slow as his pace. "Fuck, you're so filthy for this. Who knew this is all it took?" he groaned.

"You have such a responsive cunt babe, I can do whatever I want and you just lose it. Fuck-"

You were growing more frustrated the second and Fred was getting rather talkative, he ran his nose down your collarbones, sucking the supple skin into his mouth and leaving crimson marks. "Freddie please - just, mmmh!" you cried out a strangled moan, you had finally gotten what you wanted. You knew Fred could never resist the nickname, and in such a tone too.

He had started to rub your clit, his other arm wrapping around the small of your back protectively. He groaned against your neck, sending shockwaves of pleasure trailing from your marked neck all down to your feet. But Fred wasn't stupid, he had caught on rather soon and chuckled.

"Bad girl." he mocked, then gave you a light smack on your ass, causing you to yelp and jump. You landed harshly on Fred's thigh again and the moan you let out was almost painful. You clutched onto his hair as he gripped your waist and continued to rock you on his thigh.

You let him guide your movement, your juices easily allowing you to slide yourself back and forth on him, and whenever Fred would pull you forward he would apply pressure on your clit by gripping your waist tighter and pushing you down. He fastened his pace with every grind, and every huff of air you let out when your hips would come in contact. "Oh fucking hell - yes," Fred heaved, your knee must've been grazing against his cock just right because he was letting out soft groans and curse words every other second, his hefty length visible behind the fabric.

You couldn't resist, he had such an attractive dick even after seeing it so many times. You started rubbing him from the outside of his boxers, digging the pads of your fingertips into his shaft whenever you could. Fred's head rested between the slope of your breasts, and his hips bucked up at your touch, rutting desperately into your fisted hand, causing you to loudly moan out when his thigh pressed on your swollen bud.

He was barely jutting your hips at this point, barely able to focus on your pleasure from the amount he was getting. Cocky attitude gone as soon as you touched him, you made him melt under your palm. "I love you so fucking much - ohhh...holy shit, keep rubbing me like that." he moaned against your skin, the intense vibrations making you shudder.

You started to move by yourself, quickly and desperately, your juices glazing the skin and soaking up your panties that was making it harder for you both. But it felt too good to stop and remove it, the heat in your core was growing and you closed your eyes to focus on the man that was letting out hot breaths between the valley of your breasts. His hand started playing with your nipple, squeezing it between his forefinger and thumb as the other gripped your waist and rocked you faster.

Your movement was getting sloppy, legs trembling and jerking whenever pressure was applied to your clit. You were whining the name of your lover, your voice almost pornographic. "Cum my love - fuck yes, cum all over me. Make a mess of me." Fred's hand left your nipple and guided your hips faster, the other pulling down on your thighs as you threw your head back. Fred started circling your clit to speed up your fast approaching release, but it wasn't even needed.

With a final, high pitched squeal, your vision went black, stars dancing around your lids. Your body shuddered violently, and you came hard all over his thigh. "You look so beautiful I-" Fred barely managed to let out before you gripped down his boxers and let his erection swing out. You wrapped your hand around the head and watched in amusement as pre-cum leaked out when you squeezed.

"What? Gonna milk me dry baby?" Fred chuckled darkly, his free hand running through his tousled hair while the other gripped and kneaded the side of your waist.

"I was hoping to do more than that, but for now..." you licked a long stripe up the base of his neck to the back of his ear, and bit. All the while, your hand started working around his painfully hard cock.  Fred was almost heaving now, unlike you who just recently came down from your mind blowing orgasm.

"I-...please, I wan't-" Fred gulped, and in the very rare moments he didn't know what to say. You started pumping his cock, the moment you squeezed him tighter he was coming.

"Fuck fuck fuck - ____!" Fred released all over your hand, his dick twitching beneath your fingers as he leaned his body on yours and let out strangled moans against your neck. You licked your fingers clean, then gently lifted Fred's chin. His eyes were slanted in a deep post-orgasmic daze, and you started to give him slow, wet kisses. "Look how good you taste." you whispered, swirling your tongue around his as he groaned into your mouth.

You were obsessed with how mesmerizing Fred looked. When he came, when he cried out whatever filthy thing came to mind, that blissful glow he had after orgasming. You wanted to repeat those moments over and over again, come with him yourself and touch yourself to his noises. And his taste, you could never get enough of it.

[misfit-fics]

Demon Rehab For Dummies

Summary: (Y/N) started seeing seven demons when she was 10. Through the years they all disappeared, all but one. Namjoon. A demon who has not so creepily, creepily, very creepily been in love with her for years.

Genre: fluff, crack, extremely minimal angst, idiots to lovers, romantic-comedy

Word count: 7384

Rating: Teen

Warnings: mentions of suggestive & kinky themes, a handful of cursing, a story with a plot but not doesn’t exactly have a plot, a stubborn (Y/N) who dismisses love confessions & genuine flirting, an unspoken confession

A/N: Hey! we're back, it's been a while. We're starting school in a while but it will be gamble if we'll be more active or not. Well... we ARE active but just not posting? Yeah, you know what I mean. This has been sitting in our drafts for a while now and we're posting it now... although it's pretty unedited, feel free to address any oopsies. Hope who ever finds this enjoys reading!

At the ripe young age of ten (Y/N) began seeing seven men. Which- would’ve (should’ve) freaked any kid out but you know (Y/N) is just kinda quirky like that so she didn't really mind much. The men were nice and played with her anyway, and the only weird thing was that sometimes they would bring her dead birds.

At age eleven (Y/N) noticed that one of the men was missing.It didn’t affect her much except for the fact that this particular one would help her find things and she’d lost almost all of her socks since he disappeared. Not to mention the increase of bug bites after he left. The darn things seemed like they multiplied exponentially after a month.

By twelve only two of the men had disappeared, at this point (Y/N) not only lived in sandals (she still couldn’t find her socks) but she also couldn’t explain why her hair was burning off every time she tried to straighten it (her lil demon friends didn’t want her to, you’d think after almost 3 years of having men following her around and telling her what to do she’d get with the program already.) Her dog her parents had given her when she was 9 started disappearing quite often after he left. He always came back with a single sock that would disappear the next morning.

By thirteen (Y/N) had developed a crush (more like unhealthy obsession) on one of the men, Namjoon. The third year was also the year when Jimin disappeared, taking all of her favorite shoes with him. That year she had prayed to whoever was listening because her parents really couldn’t afford to keep buying her socks and shoes, and because she definitely couldn’t afford to shave her head.

By fourteen, Hoseok, the man who had cheered her up whenever she needed it, had gone, leaving a tidal wave of bad luck in his wake. He had a great deal in keeping (Y/N) happy, although some of his antics made her want to punch him, it never turned out that way.

When she was fifteen no one left… except for the dog. Aside from that, the only thing that left was her social life (It wasn’t like she had one before but you know it was still a little rough). (Y/N) began to depend more and more on her demons. She had become great friends with the oldest, Seokjin, who cooked for her when her parents went on trips.

At sixteen Yoongi left and the nightmares began. And with the nightmares came the growth of (Y/N)’s relationship with Namjoon. Namjoon became her protector, along with sometimes Seokjin, who still cooked for her and cared for her altogether when she couldn’t.

At seventeen, (Y/N) was informed that when she turned eighteen Seokjin would be leaving, on account that they didn’t need each other anymore. (Y/N) had been torn up when he told her and even more when he left. He didn’t take anything when he left other than a piece of (Y/N)’s heart.

At eighteen, (Y/N) moved away from her parents house with Namjoon trailing behind her (He even had lil demon suitcases and everything,) following her every move.

“I really don’t understand why you had to follow me out of my parents house. I thought spirits are supposed to be attached to a general area…” (Y/N) took to unpacking a box in the small apartment she now lived in.

“(Y/N) how many times do we have to go over this, I'm a demon, DE-MON.” Namjoon clapped his hands with each syllable. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist at the self-proclaimed demon.

“Demon, ghost, same thing.” She shrugged her shoulders, “same thing as to-may-to, to-mah-to.”

“It is not the same thing!” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) like it was obvious.

(Y/N) snorted, “Okay Casper.” She continued pulling out the items in the box.

Namjoon looked flabbergasted, “CASPER!?” Namjoon put a hand over his chest and widened his eyes. (Y/N) looked up at the demon with a raised brow,

“Geez Casper, why are you so offended? I’ve called you Casper before, Casper.” (Y/N) struggled to keep in her laughter, trying to keep a straight face as she looked at Namjoon.

Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “I think I shall simply cease to exist in your realm.”

(Y/N) looked back down at the almost empty box, “You wouldn’t do that, you love me too much, my dearest Casper.” She said in a singsong voice, “Oh hey I found a sock.” She pulled out said sock from the box, it had yellow stripes. :]

“I think Jungkook took the mate to that when he left.” (Y/N) threw the sock at Namjoon with a loud ‘FUCK!’

“I mean we could try and summon him to see if he’ll return your socks.” Namjoon shrugged.

“I wouldn’t even try.” She started putting the random items in their new places.

“You should put Juno on the window sill rather than the coffee table, I mean cacti do need sun.” Namjoon looked at the little green prickle plant.

“I’m sure if i didn’t tell you how to parent your child, it would’ve been confiscated by child protective services.” Namjoon crossed his arms and looked at Juno who had been (rightfully so) moved to the window sill.

“Casper- Juno is a cactus. There is no CPS (Cactus Protective Services).” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon with her own arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised, “Now if you could- Can you please go unpack a few boxes?” (Y/N) shooed Namjoon away before her eyes widened and she added in, “NOTHING LABELED FRAGILE!”

“You know if we painted a wall or two in here, it would liven up the place so much…” Namjoon looked around the bland apartment, “Maybe an accent wall over here. A floor lamp over there. A new plant in the kitchen. It wouldn’t hurt you to give Juno some siblings.”

(Y/N) looked flabbergasted, “You want me to pop out another child?!”

“No I mean-” Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“-OUT OF MY WALLET?!? MY BARELY 21 DOLLARS!?” (Y/N) got her wallet out and zipped it open. She shook it in the demon’s face, about 26 pennies, 2 nickels, 1 dime, and a quarter fell out. It was followed by a single, folded, 5 dollar bill.

“I don’t think that’s 21 dollars, (Y/N)” Namjoon looked down at the floor, where one or more of the coins had caught onto his feet.

“I have a gift card.” She pulled out the cheap plastic, silver, $25 visa gift card (that didn’t have 25 dollars) with a bit of a struggle.

“How much exactly is on that gift card (Y/N)?” Namjoon eyed the flimsy silver object.

“You expect me to know- I mean probably more than 10 dollars!” Namjoon raised a brow at the statement. “Okay, maybe about 3.69.” Namjoon sighed, massaging his temples. (Y/N) bent down to put the money back into her wallet like a pigeon eating bread crumbs the old lady on the bench threw onto the floor.

Namjoon walked away from the pigeon-girl and grabbed a notepad and pen that was left on the kitchen counter. “We’re making you a to-do list.” He stated, clicking the pen.

“WE haven’t even unpacked all the boxes yet.” (Y/N) whined, pointing at the last large box in the middle of the hallway. Namjoon looked to where she pointed and shrugged.

“It says Christmas decorations.”

“EXACTLY! VERY. IMPORTANT.” she clapped her hands in between each word.

“It’s February.” He said.

“It’s still winter.” (Y/N) reasoned, finally done picking up the money. She plopped herself down onto the small brown couch.

“Okay so first off you need a job.” He wrote it down onto the notepad, the pen scratching being overlapped by a loud gasp from the human in the room.

“You dare ignore me?!” She yelled offendedly at the demon who glanced at her before looking back down at what he was writing.

“You also need to go to the supermarket.”

“I told you I barely have any money.”

“Your parents gave you some money.”

“Oh, you’re right.”

“And also, you should walk to the school and find a short route to get there.” Namjoon pulled out a literal map.

(Y/N) pouted, “I thought you were gonna walk me to all my classes to deter all the frat boys from coming my way…”

“I did say that,” he confirmed before continuing. “But I mean to get to the actual school grounds.”

“But we have a car.” She had drawnout the ‘but,’ trying to make her point that she didn’t need to walk.

“But you need exercise.” He reasoned, mimicking the way she had said her words.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No.”

“Yes you are.”

“(Y/N) i’m not.”

“Yeah you ARE, Casper.”

“Would you PLEASE call me by my actual name for once?”

“Sure thing. Rap Monster.” She teased, the ground started shaking. (Y/N) let out a loud screech looking up at the demon who’s eyes were rolled back. “OH FUCK YOU!”

The shaking died down, Namjoon staring down at the girl who was now underneath the coffee table. “This is why you’re still here!” she cried.

“You want me gone?” Namjoon questioned, offendedly. (Y/N) army crawled her way from her ‘safe spot.’

“I DIDN’T SAY THAT!” She yelled, returning the offended tone.

“I’m out,” Namjoon pivoted on his heel, walking to the front door robotically.

“Noooo!”

“Will I ever see my socks again?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon with hope, “I mean having shoes would be great too though.”

“What’s wrong with living in sandals? Birkenstocks are very comfortable.” Namjoon pivoted around with a candle in his hand.

“It’s winter.” (Y/N) frowned.

“You could always use mine?” He gestured to the shoes at the shoe rack at the front door. The ones that were closed toed…

“Your feet are too big.” (Y/N) looked over at the shoes, then looked down at her own feet, then at the demon.

“Size didn’t matter Last night with your sweaters?”

“That’s different, Namjoon.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“Size.” Namjoon smirked.

“Different.” (Y/N) stood confidently.

“You know, you could always just go buy new socks?” Namjoon looked at her oddly.

“I usually wait to get them for Christmas, you should know this by now.”

“Independence.” He stated.

“You’re a hypocrite.” Namjoon let out a ‘huh?’ and (Y/N) continued, “You said independence when you’re dependent on me.”

“That isn’t my fault.” Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“It kind of is though…” (Y/N) shrugged, Namjoon opened his mouth to retort but was quickly cut off, “I’m literally a rehab center for you.”

“Apparently you’re not a nicely rated one.” Namjoon shook his head.

“I’ve helped 6 other demons, Namjoon. You’re just being difficult.” (Y/N) poked his chest really hard before retracting her hand.

“Ouch,” he put his hand over his heart where she had poked him, “You shouldn’t be saying these things to your client.”

“I didn’t ask to get a client or even BE a rehab center.”

“The reason why you became a rehab center was because you decided that humans were ugly and disgusting.”

“The reason why you ended up with me was because you did something bad and you just now decided to be a good person and it’s not turning out well for you.”

“For your information, I could have left a long time ago.” Namjoon crossed his arms, with an audible exhale from his nose. He stared down at the rehab center.

“And why didn’t you, hm?” (Y/N) crossed her arms also with a raised brow. Namjoon kept quiet, debating how to answer, keeping eye contact as if it was an olympic staring contest.

“You.” He said. (Y/N) snorted, ready to insult the patient. “-would’ve starved to death by now if I hadn’t stayed with you until now.” He finished, (Y/N) gasped, reaching up and hitting Namjoon on the shoulder.

“You. Jerk. Get. Away. From. Me.” She hit him harder every word before waddling away into the hallway from the chuckling demon.

“No problem,” Namjoon disappeared with a veil of sparkles out of view.

(Y/N) thrusted open the door to her new bedroom. Continuing her waddle to the end of the full size bed. Facing the head board, she plopped the top half of her body onto the bed front first. Namjoon reappeared about 6 feet away from her with a loud poof and a burst of sparkles scattering around the room.

“Go away.” (Y/N)’s face was still shoved into the mattress, “Seriously shoo.” (Y/N) lifted her arm off the bed to wave him off.

“I won’t go. You can’t make me.” Namjoon walked towards the bed hesitantly, scared to get fucking murdered by his prison warden, “Move over. Give me some room.”

“Go sleep in my closet.” (Y/N) flipped the demon off.

“You’d prefer nightmares over your dearest Casper?”

“Yes.” Namjoon sat down on the bed, his knee almost hitting the girl’s head. “I thought I said in the closet.”

“And I prefer the bed.” Namjoon leaned forward and took (Y/N) by her hands and pulled her closer to himself with an annoyed groan from her. She was pulled until her head was laid on his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

“I hate you.” (Y/N) grumbled into her demon-pillow.

“I know.”

“You live because I allow it, and that is it to be my flesh pillow.”

“Okay, now sleep.”

“But why do you have to leave?” (Y/N) looked up at her bunk buddy, her chin was impaling the person’s chest.

“I have to. I'm ready to go.” Yoongi looked crestfallen, “They said I could have one more night. But then, when I leave, I can pass on my role.”

“Could you maybe not steal my socks?” (Y/N) pouted at Yoongi who chuckled in response. “This is a genuine request.” She said with slight seriousness in her tone.

“You don’t have any to steal anyways,” he rolled his eyes with an endearing smirk that replaced his dispirited look just seconds before.

“Ok just- don’t go stealing any of my clothing, I need it.” (Y/N) clicked her tongue, not denying the fact that she was sockless.

“I won’t. I don’t need your clothing.” Yoongi shrugged, “I might take your guinea pig though. Meatloaf is cute.”

“YOU wouldn’t DARE take Meatloaf from me.” She glared

“I can and I will.” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest and looked towards the cage that housed Meatloaf. (Y/N) groaned, unlatching an arm that was sandwiched between the bed and Yoongi’s back. She planted her palm smack in the middle of the demon’s face, covering his view of the poor guinea pig.

“No.” She patted his face, Yoongi’s eyes now squeezed shut.

“I can lick your hand.” he threatened, his voice muffled and jumpy from the wacky hand.

“You’re gross,” she moved her hand up, now only covering his eyes and revealing a gummy smile from Yoongi.

“It’s sleep time,” he declared. (Y/N) whined in response, “I’ll be here in the morning to say goodbye one more time okay?”

“Promise?”

“Never said that,” he hummed.

“You jerk,” she groaned, laying her head sideways. Her ear over his heart, engraving the sound into her mind.

Like a cliche love story, (Y/N) woke up to no one but herself on the bed. Through groggy eyes, she could see that poor Meatloaf was gone too.

“I tried to stop him from taking Meatloaf I swear.” Namjoon uncrossed his arms from over his chest when he noticed that (Y/N) was awake.

“Did you really?” (Y/N) sat up in bed.

“I did, I swear,” he said immediately, “I have proof.”

“By proof, do you mean you broke something?” Namjoon took a deep breath figuring out whether or not to say yes or no.

“I… never said that.” He decided on dying, his words drifting off in nervousness.

“So… you did?” She concluded, Namjoon nodded slowly, his eyes down on the floor.

“Yea…” (Y/N) sighed, trying to find anger to cover up a tsunami of sadness that was approaching.

“It’ll be okay. We can summon him every once in a while. Maybe while we’re at it we can try to get your socks back.” Namjoon smiled and hoped it would make her feel better while the reality of things had begun to set in for him. All of the boys loved (Y/N) with all of their hearts but he was the only one willing to stay for the long run.

“I don’t think people want to go back to a rehab center, Namjoon.” (Y/N) let the tears begin to pour.

“(Y/N) it’ll be okay…” Namjoon went over to sit on the bed next to (Y/N), “Seriously we’ll get through this.” Namjoon put a hesitant hand onto (Y/N)’s shoulder and began trying to comfort her.

“I know- I know but-” (Y/N) sniffled, “Hold on, my mascara will run.”

“You’re not wearing any?-” Namjoon raised a brow and looked at (Y/N) like ‘bih-’

“Shush.” (Y/N) shushed Namjoon before shaking off his hand and placing her head on his shoulder.

“You know you can’t prevent me from getting a boyfriend forever.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon before continuing to pack her bag for school.

“I can and I will.” Namjoon slung his own bag over his shoulder. He was definitely a professor.

“You can’t make me be single forever.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and slung her backpack onto her shoulders.

“Your preferences in men are horrible (Y/N), I'm not trying to prevent you from getting a man.” Namjoon said in a matter of fact voice, moving and opening the front door, letting (Y/N) pass through before he walked out behind her.

She scoffed, “maybe you should hook me up with someone, maybe then you can leave rehab.”

“I miss Meatloaf,” Namjoon said solemnly, changing the subject.

“Why do you always change the subject when I bring up my love life?” (Y/N) complained, stomping her foot as they walked down the hallway of the apartment building toward the elevator.

“Do you think Yoongi will respond if we try to summon him?” He ignored the question.

“Hey Joon? Is your dick ribbed? I heard all the demon dicks were ribbed.”

Namjoon stopped in his tracks, putting his feet together and staring down at the human with a face screaming ‘what-the-fuck?’ (Y/N) had a boxy smile on her face, waiting for a response. “Who the fuck did you hear that from?”

“A fanfic I read, it was a group called DTS,” she shrugged. “Is it right though?” she leaned forward slightly in high expectations.

“Well-” Namjoon paused, “uhhh…” his eyes darted around. “Mine… isn’t.”

“Damn- that’s really disappointing,” (Y/N) frowned, throwing down an imaginary hat onto the ground and continuing walking with Namjoon following behind her.

“Why is it disappointing? You’re a virgin.” Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

“Why would you think I’m a virgin?” (Y/N) looked offended. They stopped in front of the closed silver elevator doors, Namjoon hit the down button before responding.

“You literally had no social life in middle and high school and depended on demons who were attached to you by force in order to not lose your ability to speak in English.” Namjoon raised a finger, “Plus I’ve known you since you were ten and unless it was before that… I would know.” He slipped into the elevator, turning around and walking backwards. A know-it-all smirk plastered on his face while (Y/N) had an annoyed look on her own.

“Can we just- stop before we start arguing about my sex life?” She marched forward into the elevator like a preteen going into their room after an argument with their parents.

“How did you even become a professor?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon confused. “Couldn’t you have just you know… poofed yourself from people’s view when I go to school?”

“I need something to do while you’re in class. I might as well teach asshole frat boys how to do business math amiright.” Namjoon chuckled.

“I mean… you can just be the ghost you are and haunt me n’ stuff?” (Y/N) suggested, “I mean you already do that, Casper.”

“That’s Professor Casper to you.” Namjoon laughed too hard at his own joke.

“Ew,” (Y/N) cringed. “I’d rather call you Daddy Casper.”

“Only in the bedroom.” Namjoon looked at the human.

“Sex doesn’t always have to be private.” (Y/N) stared back at the demon, flipping her hair back. “Wait- are YOU a virgin then?” She asked, bringing back the topic from earlier, but this time about Namjoon.

“Classified.” Namjoon glared.

“So you ARE a virgin?” (Y/N) snorted a laugh, “And you call yourself a demon.”

“Not all demons are incubi or succubi, your demon-racist.” Namjoon accused.

“I am not demon-racist.” (Y/N) looked up at the tall demon, “I’m human.”

“You’re not a human, you’re the personification of the word ‘dumbass.’” He said, poking the proclaimed dumbass on the forehead.

“Rude of you to assume what I am, Casper.” (Y/N) smacked away his hand and pushed Namjoon not so gently on the shoulder.

“Now you’re the hypocrite,” Namjoon glared, “Professor Casper.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, “Daddy Casper.”

Namjoon frowned, “If you’re so persistent on not calling me Professor, then just Daddy works fine.”

The girl shrugged, “I’d prefer to just call you Daddy Casper, but without the Daddy part.”

“But what if I want to be called Daddy Casper.” Namjoon wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as they walked through the gates of the school, the walk soon enough would be coming to an end.

“Woahhhh down bessie.” (Y/N) lifted her hands and moved them in a downward motion, “Save it for the student who’s gonna try to fuck you for their grade.”

Namjoon laughed again, “You say it as if it won’t be you trying to fuck for an A.”

“I don’t get how an idiot like you got a job as a professor.” (Y/N) punched Professor Namjoon on the shoulder who was still laughing at the insult he pulled out his ass against the girl.

“I don’t know how an idiot like you got into college.” Namjoon rubbed his shoulder and then pushed (Y/N) back with a grin on his face. The bell conveniently rang, ending the conversation and forcing the pair to speed their way over to the classrooms.

“You know I saw one of the sorority girls eyeing you, I think we’ve found our fuck-for-a-grade person.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “You wouldn’t fuck her right?”

“I would never fuck one of my students.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “Plus I don’t like cheerleaders, I like depressed freshmen who can see demons and that double time as rehab facilities.”

“I am not a rehab facility. I am a struggling freshman.” (Y/N) clapped at Namjoon.

“No you’re not a rehab facility, you’re my rehab facility.” Namjoon smiled cheekily, “And the way I see it you are not a struggling freshman, you live with a professor that helps you with most of your homework.”

“Eh- The one thing you don’t help with is stress relief.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “The least you could do is let me go out and find a boyfriend.”

“You HAVE a boyfriend.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) seriously.

“WHERE? WHO?” (Y/N)’s eyes frantically searched the room.

“HERE! ME!” Namjoon pointed at himself and then widened his eyes.(Y/N) looked at Namjoon with a raised brow, her frantic eyes stopping and looking the demon up and down.

“I didn’t know you had a rental-boyfriend service?” (Y/N) said in genuine shock, “I don’t have any money though so-“

“You don’t have to rent me.” Namjoon scoffed, “I’m right here and I cost no money.”

“I don’t take charity work, sorry.” Namjoon groaned and covered his face with a hand.

“You’re literally the most stubborn person I know.”

“I’m trying to keep my single streak here, thank you very much.”

“Wait so we aren’t dating?”

“You thought we were dating?”

“You didn’t think that?”

“You like me?”

“You didn’t know?”

“I mean- you never said it-”

“I literally said it seconds ago, (Y/N).”

“Well yeah, seconds ago I guess but I mean before?”

“I literally confessed to you when we were looking for apartments to move out of your parents house.”

“When?-”

“What about this place then?”

“I like it.”

“More than you like me?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Are you questioning my love for you?”

“Bitch, maybe I am.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why shouldn’t I be questioning it then, hmm?”

“I’m literally helping you look for a home that we both will move into.”

“That proves nothing.”

“Bitch- If that doesn’t say ‘I LOVE YOU’ I don’t know what does.”

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe saying ‘I love you’ straight up?”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“I love you.”

“Nice.”

“Ohhhhhh.” (Y/N) smiled, “You meant that?”

Namjoon looked at her with a blank face. She stared back waiting for an answer that didn’t come.

“So… you do mean it?” She confirmed it herself. The demon nodded slowly, waiting for her to process it.

“(Y/N)? You good?” Namjoon waved a hand in front of her face.

“You know,” she started, finally having rebooted her system. “There’s a lot of things wrong with this relationship. First of all, you’re a demon and I'm a human.”

“Not the first time I've heard of that type of relationship.”

“Secondly, you’re supposed to leave soon considering you’ve delayed it enough. Even using my personified dreamcatcher as compensation to stay longer.”

“I’m pretty sure at this point, they’ve given up on trying to get me back.”

“Third of all, it’s weird that you’ve literally known me since I was ten.” She held up ten fingers, “How old are you again?”

“Not that old for a demon,” he shrugged.

“Exactly. For a demon, thank you for proving my point.” Namjoon went to retort but (Y/N) continued. “Fourth, teacher and student relationships are weird.”

“People roleplay it in the bedroom?” Namjoon shrugged once again.

“Exactly,” she said again.

“It’s technically not weird since you’re not my student though. You’re definitely not a business major so…” Namjoon weighed the pros and cons of being caught with a student even if said student isn’t even one of his.

“I’m an English Major- BUT that’s besides the point. You’ve still known me since I was ten.” (Y/N) poked Namjoon’s chest.

“Hey it’s not like I was creeping on you when you were a kid…” Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“No you just started creeping on me when I was around sixteen.”

“It’s more acceptable than pedophiles!”

“You’re like three hundred!” She exclaimed, she threw her hands above her head to

“Add about seven-hundred years to that.” Namjoon added with slight hesitation.

(Y/N) stood there, mouth agape, trying to do the mental math.

“You’re one-thousand?!”

“Give or take some.”

“I- I’m going to remove myself from this situation.” (Y/N) walked away.

[:] I ran out of image things, so we get text from now on. [:]

“Maybe I should start sleeping in the closet.” Namjoon voiced his thoughts as he was grading papers one night.

“You don’t have to sleep in the closet.” (Y/N) looked at the demon from across the kitchen table.

“The closet is comfortable.” Namjoon shrugged before voicing his concerns about the student’s work, “I’m pretty sure this student is gonna try to suck my dick for an A. This work sucks ass. How did she even get x=34? The answer is x=0!”

“I’m bad at math, don't look at me.” (Y/N) jotted a note down on her work before closing her notebook.

“But anyway- Back on track. Why do you want to start sleeping in the closet?” (Y/N) raised a questioning brow.

“Because the bed is awkward now.” Namjoon sighed before writing a bold ‘10/35’ down on the paper and circling it. (Y/N) glanced over at the paper that was marked red at every inch of it.

“You should put ‘see me after class’ on it. Maybe she’ll suck your non-ribbed demon dick.” (Y/N) suggests as she puts away her notebook. Namjoon’s fist hit the table in annoyance with a loud sigh that definitely said ‘i’m not getting some dumb bitch to suck my dick.’ The girl snorted, “Geez, no need to be so rough on the table.”

“Stop bringing up my non-ribbed demon dick.” Namjoon glared across the table.

“You admit that it’s not ribbed? That’s rough, man.” (Y/N) sighed sympathetically. “Some people are into that, you know.” Namjoon facepalmed, a bit too harshly, a loud smack echoing in the cramped apartment. “No need to be so rough, Casper.”

“You’d probably like it rough, and why the hell are you so bent on the fact that my dick isn’t ribbed?” Namjoon glared, moving onto the next student’s paper.

“We’ve taken the god damn BDSM test together, Casper. You KNOW I'd like it rough.” (Y/N) said in a smart-ass tone, knowing for a fact that they’ve done the test before.

“That shit lies,” Namjoon declared, “I’m not a bottom.”

“We know sweetie, we know. The test did you dirty.” (Y/N) weighed her options before ultimately deciding not to cross the room to comfort her demon. “But you know, the test DID have some direct questions-”

“You mean like the golden showers?”

“Ew, why would you even bring that up.”

“You said ‘direct questions.'” Namjoon shrugged.

“That question was traumatic.” (Y/N) shuddered, “But anyway, You can keep sleeping in the bed. It’s only awkward for you. Plus you can’t even be a demon dreamcatcher from a closet.”

“I can and I will. Now go get ready for bed. I'll join you in a bit. I have to email the kids' advisor.”

[:] Oh wow, another spliter [:]

“What’s awkward about this?” (Y/N) asked, ignorant to the fact that it was very awkward. Her legs were wrapped around the demon’s waist, who was laying down as straight as a log uncomfortably.

“Everything is uncomfortable.” Namjoon tried to push (Y/N) off of him.

“This is where you’re wrong,” (Y/N) states. “Your chesticles are very comfortable.” She furthered her point, by moving her head and weirdly nuzzling her cheek into his chest.

“(Y/N) get off of me.” Namjoon was now really uncomfortable.

“No.” (Y/N) pulled Namjoon’s log-body closer.

“Please?” Namjoon wiggled some more, “Seriously (Y/N) get off.”

“No…” (Y/N) held Namjoon tighter, “Imma go sleep now.”

“Ok (Y/N).” With that Namjoon pushed (Y/N) up and off of him and climbed out of bed and into the closet.

(Y/N) whined, “Nooooooo!” She looked at the closet through her eyebrows. “Are you hiding something from me?” She accused the demon.

“Excuse me?” Namjoon opened the closet door a bit.

“Oh my god- are you a closet gay?” She gasped loudly.

“WHAT?” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) from the crack in the doorway.

“It’s okay! You don’t need to use a fake confession to hide it from me.” She comforted the demon, “I will support you 1000 percent.”

“I’M NOT GAY!” Namjoon wiggled around in the closet before emerging from the space.

“Okay okay- but just so you know, there’s nothing wrong with being gay, Casper. Closeted or not.” She hummed, her words being muffled as she slowly put her face into the mattress.

“It’s been awkward since you basically called me a cradle robber, you stubborn piece of shit.” Namjoon blushed at his confession.

“I thought you didn’t care about that earlier.” (Y/N) looked back up, taking a deep breath of air after almost suffocating herself.

“Well I did.” Namjoon huffed out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Well that sucks,” (Y/N) said blandly, “I was thinking of saying I love you.”

“The fuck- wait,” Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“Night night.”

[:] Cockadoodle-Doo it's morning [:]

The next morning came around quickly for (Y/N), though I wouldn’t say the same for Namjoon. Having him overthinking the “postponed” love confession from (Y/N). Meanwhile, though the night was quick, the morning dragged the girl by the toilet paper stuck at the bottom of her shoe.

Frown plastered on her face, seemingly deep in thought. She was unmoving in her seat aside from her wrist moving to stir the half eaten cereal in front of her. Namjoon sat across from her, “You can stop thinking, you’re going to hurt your head.”

The insult snapped the girl out of her concentration, she looked up and clicked her tongue. “I was just thinking about you. You want me to stop doing that?”

Namjoon raised a brow, “Depends on what you were thinking about.”

“I was wondering if we could summon the boys,” (Y/N) smiled before continuing, “Maybe get my socks back…”

“Are you saying you’d enjoy the company of your socks more than you with me?” Namjoon asked rhetorically with a shocked expression. (Y/N) gagged and rolled her eyes.

“Namjoon…” she said with a honey coated tone. “Are you saying you don’t know that I know you’ve used MY socks before?” The accused had a shocked look on his face that looked like he was on the verge of throwing up.

(Y/N) started snickering, amused by the demon’s expression. “As if I'd use your cheap ass yellow striped socks,” Namjoon aimed his nose at the ceiling. The girl laughed harder, finding the insult to her socks a bit too amusing.

“Okay, back on topic,” she said in between giggles, “We’ll get back to this later.” Namjoon shook his head, unamused unlike the person across from him.

The offended sock insulter cleared his throat, “We should have enough time before we need to go to the school to summon one of them.” He said in a factual voice, (Y/N) nodded as she took a glance at the time that read 7:23 am.

“What did we need again?” She got up from the stool she sat on, abandoning the poor soggy cereal. Namjoon got up also with a hum of thought.

“Candles and a lighter are the main things, obviously,” He says. (Y/N) nodded going into one of the kitchen cabinets for the items. “And if we’re summoning all of them, we’d need offerings…” Namjoon drifted off.

(Y/N) put down the candles onto the marble counter and looked at Namjoon questionably, “So… we need another hamster and dog?” This made the demon pause before nodding slowly, the situation becoming a bit more difficult than it needed to be now.

“And then what about Hobi? What he took wasn’t exactly… a physical object?” She also put it into consideration and clicked her tongue. “I’m still mad at you for sacrificing my literal source of happiness and good luck for yourself.” Namjoon’s jaw dropped.

“I thought we were past this!” He threw his hands up in the air, (Y/N) flipping him off simultaneously.

“Maybe you were,” she sassed, pointing fingers with a half assed glare.

“Technically, it wasn’t a sacrifice, (Y/N).” He said, crossing his arms.

“Well-” She was cut off by the demon.

“Nuh uh, It was just him choosing to leave and wanting to stay,” he snapped, not in a harsh way though.

“But-”

“You know what, let’s just try and summon them another day. I don’t think it’d work anyways.” Namjoon said, dismissing the topic by waving his hand, taking a glance at the tree outside.

[:] Wooshy flash back time I guess [:]

“Why are you still here?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “I mean weren’t you supposed to leave this year?”

“I was supposed to leave instead of Hobi last year. I asked to stay.” Namjoon was sitting nonchalantly in one of the lounge chairs in her parents' living room reading the book she was supposed to be reading for school.

“Why didn’t you leave when you were supposed to?” (Y/N) looked at the demon, a look of confusion evident on her features.

“Who else is supposed to write your book reports for school?” Namjoon smirked while holding up the book before going back to reading said book.

“Then why did Hobi leave? Did he not want to be attached anymore?” (Y/N) began to tear up.

“It’s not that. I asked to stay because I felt I wasn’t ready to leave yet and Hoseok felt he was ready to leave. Most of the time, we leave when our time comes (Y/N). Hobi and mine were at the same time and I wanted to stay so I stayed.” Namjoon smiled at (Y/N).

“But why didn’t Hobi want to stay?” (Y/N)’s tears were flowing freely at this point.

“(Y/N)! Are you crying?” (Y/N)’s mom came rushing downstairs to investigate why her only child was crying.

“I’m fine.” Even (Y/N) wasn’t convincing herself, “Really Mom, I’m just over exhausted. I’m gonna go up to my room.”

[:] And back to the present :) [:]

“Are you almost ready to go?” Namjoon popped his head into the bedroom, “We have to leave soon if you want to be on time for school.”

“I’m almost ready, relax. And don’t you have a class to teach and a non-ribbed dick to get sucked by that one bitch for an A?” (Y/N) scoffed from where she was printing an essay that Namjoon had written the night before.

Namjoon started counting down from five, “Five- You better fucking get your ass in gear or you’re gonna be late. Four- Seriously (Y/N). Three- Professor Howard can’t give you another pass just because he likes you. Two-” Namjoon got cut off by (Y/N).

“I’m ready, asshole.” (Y/N) looked at him, “You better not let that bitch Brianna suck your dick.”

“I won’t let her suck my dick!” Namjoon raised his hands in defense, “What about my toes though?” (Y/N) looked at the demon with a face of disgust and looked at him from head to toe.

“Are you Namjoon or Taehyung?” She squinted, looking at his face.

“It was a joke!” Namjoon smirked, “But I'm sure she’ll do it for an A anyway.”

“I’m done with this conversation Casper.” With that (Y/N) slung her bag over her shoulder and left.

“Hey wait!” Namjoon grabbed his own bag before speed walking after (Y/N).

[:] Professor Casper or Daddy Casper? [:]

“SO.” (Y/N) sat down across from Namjoon in his office, “Rumour has it that you’re dating a cute english-lit major and are up for evaluation. What say you in your defense?”

“I mean I am dating a cute english-lit major. But I’m not up for evaluation, I used my demon charms to get out the punishment.”

Namjoon looked at (Y/N) seriously.

“Did you actually?” (Y/N) gaped at Namjoon.

“No. I explained that dating you is punishment enough.” Namjoon smiled, his dimples popping.

“Bastard.” (Y/N)looked at Namjoon.

“Bitch.” Namjoon smirked at (Y/N) before leaning over the desk and kissing her on the forehead, “I love you.”

“Good.” (Y/N) blushed.

There, through the window of the office, there were 6 peeping toms watching the couple.

“Adadada-uda,” Taehyung stuttered, “THEY’RE SO CUTE!”

“This looks like it’d turn out like a straight porn video on the hub,” Yoongi says bluntly.

Jungkook looked at Yoongi, “Ew straight.”

“Moving on,” Seokjin cleared his throat, “Does anyone remember when (Y/N) said I love you back?”

A series of “No’s” could be heard.

“Maybe we weren’t watching!” Jimin raised his hands, “But when were we not watching?”

“Oh I know!” Hoseok interrupted, “When they split up because of classes earlier. We left Yoongi hyung in charge just in case something happened.”

“I took a nap and must've missed it.” The guilty demon shrugged.

“No, (Y/N) definitely isn’t someone who confesses straight up.” Seokjin said, stroking his chin. The rest nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, that's why she didn’t have a man when we were still there.” Jungkook snorted.

“No JK, we all know the reason why (Y/N) was always single. Was because she was pining after Namjoon.” Jimin stated the obvious.

[:] Damn. Imagine having someone to kiss in public. Or at all. [:]

“So how do you reckon the staff caught onto us… I mean PDA really isn’t our thing.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “Who have you told?”

“I haven’t told anyone!” (Y/N) frowned, “Maybe someone saw us go home together? I bet it was that bitch Brianna. She gives off the stalker vibes.”

“I’m not gonna let her suck my dick.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “And she’s already failing my class so even if I did let her suck my non-ribbed punisher, she still would probably only have a D-.”

“Hey- I thought we stopped referring to your dick as non-ribbed.” Namjoon raised a brow, making a face that said ‘you’re-the-one-who-started-it.’

Reading his expression (Y/N) glared at the demon, “Technically you’re the one who started it because you freely admitted it freely.”

“What makes you find out the hard way that my dick isn’t ribbed?” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) suggestively before flopping namtiddie first into the couch.

“I think I would've preferred finding out the hard way.” (Y/N) flopping onto Namjoon’s hard back.

“So I can’t even have the couch to myself?” Namjoon groaned before realizing what (Y/N) meant by ‘finding out the hard way,’ “Are you saying you rather had found out in the heat of the moment after having prepared yourself for a ribbed demon dick?” Namjoon leaned his head up to bump (Y/N) who still had her fat ass on his back, “I can’t breathe, get off.”

(Y/N) rolled off of Namjoon before plopping herself down in front of Namjoon, “That’s exactly what I am saying.”

[:] Smh stalkers at every moment [:]

“And I got a big fat ass!” (Y/N) shook her ass while singing off-key.

“Your ass is everything but big, baby.” Namjoon passed (Y/N) to reach for the garlic from the spice cabinet.

The girl turned and looked at Namjoon with an offended look, “You know. As my rental boyfriend, you’re supposed to be nice.”

Garlic forgot, Namjoon turned to (Y/n) and grabbed her waist, “I’m not your rental boyfriend and you know that.”

(Y/N) laughed, “Okay go off I guess, not my rental boyfriend.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes before pushing Namjoon away.

“Woman,” Namjoon placed a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

(Y/N) turned around and smiled at her demon, “I could argue that you’re the one that wounds me.”

“I do not wound you.” Namjoon scoffs, “But I could very well wound you if you keep saying i’m a rental boyfriend, love.”

“Well we wouldn’t want you to wound me now would we,” (Y/N) smiled up at Namjoon before leaning in and placing a quick peck to his lips, “I love you.”

Namjoon smiled before returning (Y/N)’s peck with a chaste kiss, “I love you too, baby.”

*Meanwhile from the dining room 6 men were watching from not so afar*

“Hyung! Hyung! Did you see that!” Jungkook excitedly pointed towards the couple in the kitchen.

Yoongi groaned, “See what?”

“Le gasp! How could you have missed that!” Taehyung held a hand over his heart, “(Y/N) initiated affection for once!”

Jin smiled, “It really was adorable.”

[:] Oh look, you're at the end. [:]

“Every kiss begins with consent.” Namjoon wiggled his shoulders while grading papers at the table.

(Y/N) smirked before leaning over the table and planting a large whet kiss on Namjoon’s cheek.

“Rude.” Namjoon scoffed before pulling (Y/N) in for a proper kiss.

“You know that kiss didn’t have much of my consent in it.” (Y/N) smiled before leaning in for another kiss.

“I don’t think I consented to that either though.” Namjoon smiled.

“Get back to work baby.” (Y/N) nudged Namjoon towards his pile of papers.

“Yeah yeah.” Namjoon smiled before looking down and putting a big red ‘F’ on a paper clearly marked Brianna Simms.

“When will she just drop the class?” (Y/N) chuckled, “Dumbass.”

all rights reserved © misfit-fics

do not repost, translate, or claim as your own. :]

[princessphilly]

Hockey Fic Exchange: Second Chance in Chicago

This is for the @hockeynetwork​ winter gift exchange. I was matched with my friend, @texanstarslove​ and it was relatively easy to give her what she wanted. 

Title: Second Chance in Chicago

Player: Jonathan Toews

Genre: Angst, smut

Word count: 6410 words

 March 2007

“Wouldja look at that? There’s the future NHL star, looking like the dork he is.”

Lizzie stuck out her tongue as Rachel announced the presence of the asshole himself, Jonathan Toews. They were all sophomores at UND but he had gotten drafted third overall by the Chicago Blackhawks last year. Hockey ruled UND so the team already had a high profile. But this year’s team looked like it would do some damage in the tournament so all eyes were really on them.

Tonight, Lizzie and her friends had decided to go to a frat party at the Beta house. It was a cold early March Thursday night but she had been in the mood to party. Unfortunately, the party had been invaded by the hockey team.

Jonathan grinned, his deep brown eyes sparkling like he had already pregamed. “Hey ladies,” he greeted before grabbing Lizzie and giving her a hug.

“Ew!”

Lizzie pushed Jonathan away. He definitely had pregamed, he smelled like good old Vladimir vodka. He was going to have a fucking hangover tomorrow.

Jonathan pouted. “I thought we were friends, Lizzie,” he exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around Lizzie again

“When did you think that?”

Rachel and Bethany snickered. It was a bit of a running joke, this animosity between Lizzie and Tazer. No one quite knew how it really started except it had been a freshman year hook up that ended bad. At least, that was the rumor. Ever since, Lizzie couldn’t stand Jonathan and Jonathan did every thing possible to needle her.

Lizzie flipped her hair over her shoulder before elbowing Jonathan in the ribs. Giving him an angelic smile, she ordered, “Don’t touch me.”

Being the drunken asshole he was at the moment, Jonathan leaned down and murmured in her ear, “You didn’t say that last weekend.”

“Ugh!”

Lizzie pushed Jonathan away before stomping towards the keg. Jonathan shrugged as TJ and some of the other hockey players came in. She was able to avoid him for the rest of the night and even flirted with a couple of junior guys she hadn’t met. Of course, as soon as she went to get a breather from the hot party, Jonathan was already outside.

Shivering, Lizzie huddled close to the door, planning to ignore Toews. There had been a snowstorm the other day and there was a good ten inches of snow on the ground.  

“Supposed to snow again tomorrow.”

Lizzie let out a loud sigh. Of course, he couldn’t respect her silent plea to be left alone. “This is North Dakota. It’s always snowing.”

Turning to her left, Lizzie looked at Jonathan. For once, he didn’t have his cocky, self-assured, ‘I’m the one in complete charge’ look on his face. He looked slightly pensive and a bit unsure. “Here, have my hoodie.”

“I don’t-,” Lizzie started to say but she relented as Jonathan put his hoodie over her head, pulling it down. She was cold as fuck, shivering in just a short-sleeved shirt and her jeans. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“You’re welcome.”

They stood there for several moments, breath turning into puffs of icicles before Jonathan finally broke the ice. “Ridley, really?”

“Oh, you know him?” Lizzie tensed, UND wasn’t as big as other schools but she could at least have found someone that Jonathan didn’t already know. But then, hockey ruled here and he knew more people than her so yeah, just her fucking luck.

“He’s cool.” Jonathan shrugged, suddenly feeling nervous as fuck. It really wasn’t his area to talk, he didn’t really want to be a cock-block, but fuck it. “He’s not an asshole or anything. But we both know that’s not who you really want.”

“Oh really? Who told you what I really want?”

He hadn’t really planned to do it now; Jonathan had planned to go for it next month. But he already had told coach and his teammates that he was going pro after this season, so he might as well do it. “We have unfinished business, Elizabeth.”

Lizzie froze at Jonathan’s use of her full name.  He was the only one here at UND who ever used her full name. It brought back memories, those first weeks of spring semester of freshman year. Memories of doing things that would have had Momma reaching for her rosary and Papa yanking her out of UND to go into a convent. She bit out, “No, we don’t.”

“So, that’s why you called me last Saturday, asking me to come over after the game?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “I was drunk,” she very primly replied, staring at her nails. She thought to herself, ‘I need a manicure.’

“Then last weekend, you came over and you definitely weren’t drunk.”

Lizzie shrugged, pretending she didn’t hear what Jonathan said. She didn’t want to admit the truth; Jonathan made her nervous. She was 19 and every time she was with him, she felt like this could be something that could be forever. But Lizzie had plans; she was planning to go east for law school, get out of North Dakota forever. This wasn’t the time to even think of settling down with anyone, especially not with Jonathan since he was going pro. Even though, her traitorous pussy reminded her, Jonathan made her cum better than anyone else and wasn’t scared to choke, bite, or spank her unlike other guys.

Jonathan growled, of course Lizzie would be acting obtuse. He wasn’t looking to settle down or anything serious, he was just about to turn 19 and about to go to Chicago in five and a half months to start his pro career. Jonathan did really like Lizzie a lot and wouldn’t be against putting a label on what was going on. Then, Lizzie got cold feet last year and had been stringing him along for over a year. It would be nice if Lizzie actually admitted that they had something going instead of being nasty to his face but fucking with him late at night.

“Okay, since you don’t want to face reality, I’m just going to say it. It’s not fair that you like to treat me like shit in public but you want me to fuck you when no one is looking.”

Lizzie opened her mouth before closing it. From the tone of voice that Jonathan had used, it sounded harsh. Like she was using him like a whore. But Jonathan wasn’t done.

“Don’t worry about my hoodie, I’ll get it before I leave.”

Jonathan turned around and went back inside of the party. Lizzie stayed outside for several more minutes, pensive. Then she harrumphed and rejoined the party, resolute that she was going to ignore Jonathan once she gave him his hoodie back.

**

Twelve years later

Lizzie brushed her ginger hair over her shoulder. It was weird to be ginger for the first time since she was fifteen. The past years, she had been a very faithful blonde but it was time to do something very different.

“Not bad for a rancher’s daughter.”

Lizzie twirled in her full-length mirror, admiring the way the navy-blue dress fit her body, accessorized with her diamond hoop earrings, tennis bracelet, class ring, and the brand-new patent leather heels she had managed to score on clearance at Neiman Marcus. Very much the uniform of an intellectual property litigator who had just made partner, not the yee-haw who had went to UND. But right now, as she thought about tonight, Lizzie felt like the yee-haw she tried to suppress.

Tonight, there was a fundraising cocktail hour for her firm, Bradley, Lewis, and Cooper. This would be the first one that Lizzie attended since she transferred to the Chicago office from Atlanta. She was good at gladhanding and charming people, attending Penn Law had sucked the yee-haw from Lizzie’s accent. Now, she was Elizabeth Romanelli, ready to make connections while raising funds for the Children’s Miracle Network.

Only fly in the ointment was that this fundraiser was being held at the United Center. Not only that, it was rumored that the firm was able to get a couple of players for the Blackhawks to appear. Bradley, Lewis, and Cooper did some work for the Blackhawks, mainly with local TV contracts and sponsorships. Lizzie took in a deep fortifying breath. “It has been years,’ she told herself. “There’s no need to be nervous seeing Jon again.”

She turned around and grabbed her coat. It was mid fall but the temperature dropped enough at night that Lizzie wanted to wear her coat just in case. Before she left, she looked at her left ring finger. Taking a deep breath, she slid her old wedding ring off her finger. It was a new start, time to act like it.

**

The fundraiser went pretty well, in Lizzie’s eyes. It was her first firm social event in Chicago so most of it was spent shaking hands, exchanging business cards, and talking some shop. There were a couple of Blackhawks players there, none of that Lizzie recognized. She admitted several times while in conversation, that she was more of a college hockey than pro hockey fan.

Then, the one person she was hoping wouldn’t show up, showed up. Lizzie worked hard not to check Jonathan out but he had the kind of presence that commanded attention. His hair was cut short and the once lanky frame had filled out completely. Lizzie smirked when she saw one of her fellow attendees lick her lips but she couldn’t blame her. Jonathan looked delicious in a black suit with a pristine white shirt, no tie. He looked like casual, dominant elegance in a hockey player package as he made his rounds the room.

“You’re lucky that your department doesn’t work with the Blackhawks on anything,” said the woman who licked her lips. Lizzie looked down and looked at her name tag, it said ‘Elise’.

“Oh why?”

Lizzie took a sip of her pinot grigio, waiting for a reply. Elise didn’t disappoint as she whispered, “He’s single and my law school loans say he would be perfect for them.”

She couldn’t resist laughing at that statement; Lizzie totally understood where Elise was coming from. But as soon as her laughter faded, there was Jonathan Toews, right in front of them. Elise looked up at him, obviously starstruck. Lizzie put her best courtroom face as she stuck out her hand. “Hello, I’m Elizabeth Romanelli. You are?”

Jonathan blinked when Lizzie introduced herself as Elizabeth Romanelli. She was Lizzie MacArthur in the flesh, all these years later. Grasping her hand, Jonathan said, “Jonathan Toews, but you know who I am.”

Jonathan kept his best PR smile on his face as he processed his thoughts. This was Lizzie, the only one who got away. She was a redhead now, not a blonde, but those green eyes were still the same. Deep green eyes that always brimmed with an intelligence that had made Jon feel like he was an idiot when they first met at UND.

“Oh, how do you two know each other?”

Lizzie managed to keep her expression completely neutral while Jon reddened a bit. He dropped her hand as he said, “We went to college together.”

“Where was that,” Elise innocently asked and Lizzie wasn’t sure if she was truly curious or if she was being a bit catty.

“I went to University of North Dakota with Mr. Toews for undergrad,” Lizzie said. “Then I did Penn Law.”

Elise replied, “Oh. I remember reading that once.”

Lizzie refused to roll her eyes as Jon made small talk about the hockey season with Elise. Spotting a waiter, Elise raised her hand for another glass of wine. Tonight, was looking like it was about to be long. Before she could make her escape, Elise exclaimed, “Oh, there’s Mr. Schmidt, I need to talk to him! It was so nice to meet you and talk to you, Mr. Toews, Ms. Romanelli.”

Lizzie sighed as she scampered away, leaving her alone with Jonathan.

“Long time, no see,” Jonathan said, taking a sip of his water. Tomorrow was a game night and while he enjoyed drinking, he had no interest in doing anything that would keep him out of peak performance. But looking at Lizzie, he wished he had something stronger. The years had done her good; she looked curvier, stronger, hotter. He felt his pants tighten and Jonathan thought of his smelly hockey gear to deflate his hard on.

Lizzie stroked the curve of her new wine glass before replying, “I know. Wasn’t necessarily planned.”

“Romanelli?”

“I was married,” Lizzie’s smile tightened.

Jonathan quickly replied, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask anything that would make you feel- “

“It’s okay, let’s not go there, okay. Before you ask, I’m a widow.” Lizzie looked down at her wine. It had been long enough that she knew she wouldn’t break down but it was awkward to talk about it with her first college hookup/almost boyfriend. After all these years, Jonathan still had an affect on her. She felt a bit lightheaded but her once dormant libido had flared up as soon as they shook hands. It was as if her body had decided that someone worthy was nearby and it was time.

“I’m sorry,” Jonathan repeated, his voice low as he ran his fingers through his short hair. It was a bit overwhelming seeing Lizzie again but he was already damn sure that he needed to see her again. As they exchanged pleasantries, Jon moved on to another group at the fundraiser. But every now and then, he made sure to catch her in the crowd.

At the end of the night, he was finally able to get Lizzie alone, again. “Now that you’re in Chicago, why don’t we go out? As old friends?”

Lizzie laughed as she waited for her coat. “We weren’t old friends and you know it.”

“But who said that we can’t be at least friends now?”

Jonathan gave Lizzie a big smile while she scoffed, “I can tell by the way you’ve been looking at me all night that you aren’t interested in being just friends.”

“How was I looking at you?”

Jonathan leaned into Lizzie as he noticed that Seabs was nearby. While he loved Seabs as a brother, he didn’t want him to have any idea of what he was planning, yet.

Lizzie batted her lashes at Jonathan before replying, “Like you never seen a woman before. I have to keep the conversation business casual but we both know what I’d really like to say.”

“Then, you should let me have your phone number.”

“Smooth, Toews,” Lizzie commented. “Very smooth.”

“I try.”

Jonathan couldn’t help himself; as Lizzie received her coat from the coat check, he helped her put it on.

“Wow, I don’t know if you’re actually a gentleman now or if you’re trying to get points,” Lizzie quipped.

Jonathan gave her an aw-shucks grin and a shrug. Despite her better judgment, Lizzie figured that it couldn’t hurt. She didn’t really know anyone yet in Chicago and it would be nice to talk to someone who she at least knew from college. But she didn’t want to openly give it to Jonathan so she took the moment to turn and grab paper and a pen from a table. Writing her number and snap down, she slid it into Jonathan’s pocket.

“There, now you can never say I never gave you anything.”

Lizzie turned and sauntered away. Jonathan fished through his pockets and grabbed the paper, grinning and laughing to himself.

**

Lizzie had to give Jonathan credit. He knew how to attempt to get a woman’s attention. The flowers were a nice touch; not too ostentatious and he was smart enough not to attach his name to them. But Lizzie knew exactly who they were from because there were exactly nineteen pink and nineteen white roses in Monday’s bouquet. Yesterday’s bouquet was a set of nineteen purple flowers that after she looked them up, Lizzie found out that they were purple columbine. Today’s bouquet involved nineteen white camelias and nineteen red chrysanthemums.

“This guy must really like you.”

Lizzie turned around to see Peter, her paralegal. He was pointing at the flowers, a pensive look on his face.

“Really? He just wants my attention.” Lizzie dismissively waved towards the flowers but inwardly, she was loving it.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Okay, whatever you say. Anyway, I have five messages from the managing partners.”

“I already know what they want and I already reviewed the files and sent them to Kristin, Jacques, and Malik. They are working on the briefs for the arbitration and they should all be done by the end of the work day. I will prep my own opening argument myself for the hearing when we are done talking. You can quote everything I just said in your email,” Lizzie stated with a smile on her face. This was her first arbitration hearing at the Chicago office with her new associates working under her. But she knew it would go well.

“But the flowers. I’d look them up, Ms. Romanelli. He’s sending you a message with each bouquet. Especially that first one with those kind of pink roses, maiden blush roses? Oh, he’s definitely telling you something.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Lizzie brushed Peter off, her mind already back on work. However, she messaged Jon later, I like jasmine, lily of the valley, the most.

The next day, there was a bouquet with yellow jasmine, lily of the valley, and red pink flowers, the number adding to 19 and a note, looking forward to seeing you tonight.

**

Lizzie was still a mystery and Jonathan was desperate to figure her out. This was their sixth date and every time he felt like he was getting closer to her, Lizzie pulled back. Jon understood but at the same time, he was getting annoyed. He was also horny as fuck and trying very hard not to let his cock dictate his actions.

Tonight, Lizzie wore a little black dress with strappy heels to dinner and all Jonathan could think of was having Lizzie wear those heels while he fucked her hard and fast. It took all his willpower to keep the conversation light during dinner as his traitorous brain filled with all kinds of dirty images. Now, they were having post dinner drinks at a place Kaner had suggested. It was very intimate, the kind of place for seduction. Unfortunately, Jonathan thought, there would probably be no seduction tonight as he stood on the wall with Lizzie.

“I intentionally wore these for you.”

Lizzie fluttered her eyelashes at Jon’s dumbfounded expression. She wasn’t dumb; she knew exactly the kind of affect she had on men. Lizzie had to give Jonathan credit; he was doing a good job of not being a stupid hornball.

“I love them,” Jonathan drawled before taking a sip of his whiskey on the rocks. He told himself to be patient, as they continued to talk but after another half-hour talking about football, Jon finally broached the subject. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Are you,” Lizzie countered. She went out on a couple of dates with a couple of different guys when the Blackhawks were out of town because, in her mind, she was still a free agent. Doing that actually made Lizzie feel more comfortable with going out with Jonathan. Not that the other dates were bad but Lizzie had to admit to herself that there was still something more with Jonathan.

“No,” Jonathan admitted. His DMs were full on all social media so he could go out with anyone he wanted if he truly felt like it. But right now, he really was just interested in Lizzie.

“That’s nice.”

Lizzie twirled the straw in her cocktail. Jonathan thought about what to say but ended up blurting out, “I still think about some of the things we did.”

“Woooooooow.”

Blushing, Lizzie bit her lip. Some of those memories had come back since she had seen Jonathan again. Some of those things that had seemed extra sinful at eighteen and nineteen were mainstream these days. Plus, Greg had tried but he didn’t have that same aura that teenage Jonathan had. Adult Jonathan had that dominant aura in spades and it was tempting.

Lizzie added, “And?”

Jonathan moved closer to Lizzie, his big body bracketing hers, his monotone voice even deeper, “You remember when I tied you up the first time?”

“That was…. interesting,“ Lizzie replied. She felt flushed, that memory now in her brain. They had been fumbling around and Jonathan had tied her up before making her beg and scream his name. But the knot had got stuck and after he cut her out, Lizzie had chafed skin on both of her wrists. “It was an interesting experiment.”

Jonathan licked his lips. He noticed that Lizzie was flushed, her body leaning towards his. It was almost heady, the tension, he could taste it. So, he decided to press into the attack.

“We’ve both grown up now. I mean, I know what I love to do in the bedroom and I’m not a teen boy fumbling around.”

Lizzie resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Jonathan’s pronouncement. Steeling her face so that she looked impassive, inwardly she was freaking out a bit. Jonathan had been pretty good fuck in college, better than the rest of her boyfriends before she married Greg. But this Jonathan, three times Stanley Cup winner and hockey superstar Jonathan, he seemed lethal.

And he knew it as he gave Lizzie a little smirk and a wink.

“Don’t worry Lizzie, no one is going to judge you now if you like a little pain. I definitely won’t. You know I liked giving it to you when we were experimenting.”

Exasperated, Lizzie exclaimed, “You’re still so arrogant! I seriously doubt you’d have a chance to fuck me again.”

Jonathan moved closer and Lizzie backed up, backing into the wall. Jonathan got close enough that Lizzie could smell his expensive cologne but far enough that she could easily move away if she wanted to.

“I don’t know why you’re still lying to yourself all these years later,” Jonathan murmured, his dark brown eyes looking black. “But I’m patient, I can still wait. You still want me and I’ve always wanted you.”

Lizzie bit her lip and Jonathan resisted the urge to groan. He had thought that he had forgotten her but just meeting her again two months ago had brought back those old feelings. Now, he was getting tired of playing cat and mouse but from what he had learned from TJ and Ridley, Jonathan was trying to be careful and tactical with his advances. He at least managed to get her to go out with him. His cock could wait.

Of course, after telling himself that, images from a decade ago filled his head. Ignoring them, Jonathan instead taunted, “Nothing to say? I never thought lawyers could be rendered speechless.”

Instead of replying, Lizzie reached out and touched Jonathan’s sweater. It was super soft and felt like it was made from the finest cashmere. She finally replied, voice low and soft, “Why am I so attracted to you? This shouldn’t really be happening.”

“Fate.”

It was a very simple reply as Jonathan grabbed her hand and brought it up to his lips. He kissed her hand, just a brief touch of closed lips to skin. But it felt like electricity coursed through both of them. Jonathan recovered first before giving Lizzie a devilish smile. “Night, night Elizabeth.”

***

“He’s way too smooth.”

Lizzie took in a deep breath as she watched the first snowfall of the year through her office window. Rachel’s laughter at her complaint registered super loud over her ear pod.

Rachel commented, “Of course he is, he’s had over a decade of practice. I can’t believe he’s still interested; I think Jon has dated models and he could date anyone. You’re lucky as hell, Lizzie.”

Lizzie pouted as she moved away from the window. “I don’t know if I want to be lucky.”

“Well, I remember all of the sneaking around you’d did when we were in college. You had no problems fucking him in private.”

“RACHEL!! Oh, my Gawd, you knew that?!?”

Lizzie put her hand on her forehead, mortified. She thought she had been cautious.

Rachel chuckled before continuing, “No one else figured it out. But it was obvious that sparks were flying. And then Jon goes pro and you end up dating around until you met Greg. But you never were as happy as you were freshman spring.”

Lizzie sighed, feeling a headache beginning to start. “Greg, you know I loved Greg.”

“I know honey, if you hadn’t, I would have seriously considered stopping the wedding,” Rachel consoled. “And he did help you escape the ranch and your parents’ plans.”

“I’ve been a widow for 3 years and this is the first time I’ve been attracted to a man,” Lizzie blurted out. Her cheeks reddened as she realized her admission.

There was an extended pause before Rachel finally replied. “Then you should go for it. Greg wouldn’t want you to give up on sex because he’s gone.”

Lizzie flipped through the messages on her work phone as she pondered Rachel’s words.

“I gotta go, Alyssa is about done with school and the baby should be up any minute. Stop thinking and just fuck him. Just remember to put color corrector and concealer over any marks Jonny leaves on you.”

Lizzie exclaimed, “Rachel,” but she had already hung up. Checking her personal phone for messages, Lizzie grinned when she saw she had a snap from Jon. Opening the snap, she saw a photo of Jon signing jerseys and picks with a note of can’t wait to give you one.

Lizzie responded; too bad I’ll be too busy to get one for the next couple of weeks

Lizzie put her phone down, ready to focus on her work before getting a new message from Jon. I told u I can be patient.

**

Lizzie looked down at her list of pros and cons. All the pros were reasons why she should fuck Jonathan: get rid of all the unresolved tension from college, he’s an already proven great fuck, probably the best guy to be her first fuck since Greg passed away. The cons were that he was Jonathan Toews, he was famous, and he did have the ability to be an asshole. Her skeptical side told Lizzie that she probably couldn’t keep it casual but the other side was like, was that a bad thing?

Shaking her head, Lizzie pulled on a pair of jeans before putting on a sweater. The Blackhawks were back in town and last night, she went to the game courtesy of Jonathan. Lizzie had taken Elise with her and they enjoyed the Blackhawks winning against the Flames. It was actually fun as Lizzie explained some of the finer points of hockey, such as power plays, penalty kills, offsides, and the fact that all refs in all sports were absolutely awful. Tonight, she actually told Jon she would come over after they saw a movie.

Lizzie was curious about where Jonathan lived. She knew it was in an area called Lincoln Park; she lived in the outskirts of the North Side. Her student loans from law school demanded payment so Lizzie moved in the nicest area she could afford, in a gentrifying neighborhood. “Get a taste of how the rich live tonight,” Lizzie said to herself. However, she did put on a matching pair of underwear just in case she decided to do more.

**

Jonathan looked at Lizzie as the car pulled up to his place. He had been on his best behavior tonight; no sly comments, etc. after last time. But Lizzie had been cuddly during the movie and now, she… he couldn’t read her actions.

Jon entered his code and led Lizzie inside. “Very nice,” Lizzie commented as they walked through the first floor of his place.

“Oh wow, you have my favorite flowers,” Lizzie exclaimed as they walked into his kitchen. There was a vase with Spanish Jasmine flowers.

Jonathan shrugged even though he was inwardly pleased. He had ordered them this afternoon, a rush order when Lizzie said she would come over. Now she was here and he felt at a loss. His cock said to seduce her, his brain said to wait for her cues and see if she was actually interested. Jonathan grabbed two cups and got himself and Lizzie a glass of water before guiding her back into the living room.

“More movies,” Lizzie teased as she made herself comfortable on his leather couch.

Jonathan shook his head no, suddenly nervous as he cut on the TV. He didn’t want to fuck it up.

Lizzie smirked as she watched indecision on Jonathan’s face. Tonight, had been their first date since that conversation and it was obvious that Jonathan was still very interested but didn’t want to do anything that seemed pushy. Lizzie thought at first it was because they were out in public but she realized that if she wanted to actually go there again, she would have to bring it up.

“What are you thinking about, Jon,” Lizzie asked, intentionally shortening his name.

Jonathan put his arms on the back of the couch and mentally said fuck it. “Do you want to good answer or the dirty answer?”

“Dirty answer?”

Lizzie grinned as Jonathan gulped then groaned.

“I keep looking at your ass in those jeans and I want to grab it so bad,” Jonathan admitted. Lizzie looked at his big hands and she decided that tonight was the night.

“You can grab it, if you want?”

“Huh, what?”

Jonathan looked so dumbfounded that Lizzie giggled. “I said you can grab it. That’s another way of saying, you can touch me.”

“Are you sure,” Jonathan asked, locking eyes with Lizzie.

Lizzie rolled her eyes before grabbing his hand. “I came here with the full intent of getting fucked. But if you aren’t interested, that’s okay and we can hang out before I go home.”

“Oh, do you really want me to fuck you?”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow as Lizzie flung her hair behind her shoulder. “I want you to kiss me, eat my pussy, maybe I’ll suck your cock, and then fuck me, if you want to get precise.”

“Goddamn,” Jonathan breathed. “Fuck, then why don’t you sit in my lap?”

Lizzie climbed into his lap before locking eyes with Jonathan again. His deep brown eyes looked nearly black and he had stubble all around his jaw. She traced his jaw with her fingers before running her fingers through his hair. His voice a deeper monotone, Jonathan murmured, “I’m not going to bite, unless you want me to do that.”

Instead of replying, Lizzie brushed her lips over Jonathan’s, once, then twice. Then she leaned down and nipped his lip. “I like biting,” she whispered against his lips before kissing him again. Jonathan’s arms came around her waist, keeping Lizzie in place as he began to take over the lazy kiss. Need stretched through their kisses, tongues interacting as over a decade apart melted away. Then Jonathan pulled away. Lizzie reached to pull her sweater off but Jonathan stopped her.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, I don’t want to fuck you for the first time in forever on a couch, at least not this time.”

Lizzie laughed as Jonathan picked her up and nearly ran to his bedroom. She didn’t even get a chance to look around and admire before he was on her. Jonathan’s hands were all over her body as he desperately kissed her. Before Lizzie realized it, her sweater and bra were off and so was Jonathan’s hoodie and t-shirt. She could feel his rock-hard abs against her body as Jonathan rolled so that Lizzie was on top.

“Your tits are still fucking amazing.”

“Thanks,” Lizzie beamed as Jonathan gently kneaded them in his hands.

He murmured, “They are still so sensitive,” as her nipples hardened quickly in his fingers, watching Lizzie’s changes in expression. “So, you’ll tell me right away if I do something you don’t like?”

“Like what,” Lizzie asked.

Jonathan lightly grabbed her throat, something they had never done before but something he had learned that he liked to do. “Like that.”

“Mmmm, this is good,” Lizzie replied. Choking was one of the kinks she had explored with Greg and that she missed.

“Fuck, you got dirtier,” Jonathan stated before rolling Lizzie under him again.

“Why don’t you stop talking and undress me some more,” Lizzie ordered.

Jonathan laughed before idly replying, “Normally, I wouldn’t let you tell me what to do but we haven’t even negotiated that yet. And we aren’t, not tonight.”

Lizzie’s giggled as she shimmied out of her jeans. But those giggles were replaced with moans when Jonathan’s fingers brushed her upper and inner thighs before stroking her pussy through her panties. “So wet for me.”

He had planned to go slow but Jonathan was pretty sure that wasn’t happening, at least not for this first round. He needed to be deep inside of Lizzie, back where he belonged. Jonathan stood up and took off his own jeans and boxers, revealing his very hard cock. Lizzie reached up and ran a hand over his cock before pumping it with both hands.

“I’m not going to last that long,” Jonathan warned as Lizzie began to jerk him off. “I want to cum deep inside of your pussy, Elizabeth.”

“Oh my God,” Lizzie breathed. There was something in the way that Jonathan said her full name, it made her pussy drip even more.

Jonathan reached into his night stand and grabbed a condom. “Be a good girl and put this on me.”

Lizzie took the condom from Jonathan’s hands and opened it. Then she guided it over his cock with a wicked grin on her face. Leaning back on her elbows, Lizzie smirked at Jonathan before sucking her lip into her mouth. “Fuck me, Jonathan.”

Jonathan growled as Lizzie spread her legs, showing him just how wet and ready she was for him. Pulling a leg up and over his shoulder, Jonathan entered Lizzie slowly, making sure she felt every inch. Lizzie moaned, her hands grabbing anywhere they could on Jon as he fucked her, slow soft strokes turning harder with each thrust.

“Fuck you feel so good,” Lizzie groaned as Jonathan gave her a harder thrust, hips grinding with each stroke.

Jonathan managed to reply, “Your pussy still feels like it was made for me.”

He was already close and Jonathan couldn’t hold off even though he could tell that Lizzie wouldn’t cum with him this time. Jonathan’s lips found Lizzie’s as he kissed her while he came. Lizzie let Jonathan ride his high out, she could feel that she was getting closer but she wasn’t there.

Jonathan slumped against Lizzie for a couple moments before withdrawing from her pussy. He took off the condom, telling Lizzie, “Stay there.”

Dumping the condom into the trash, Jonathan pulled Lizzie to the edge of the bed. Spreading her legs, Jonathan knelt in between, fingers spreading her folds. Then his tongue licked her clit and Lizzie arched off the bed. “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you,” Jonathan cooed as he played with her clit. Then he dove in, licking her juices from her pussy before tongue-fucking Lizzie’s entrance. His fingers continued to roll her clit with light pressure, enough to keep Lizzie on the edge but not enough to get her to cum. Then Jon sucked her clit into her mouth and bit it very lightly, enough of a shock to get Lizzie to cum with a scream, fingers grabbing sheets to hold on for dear life. Jonathan muttered something in French as Lizzie rode out her high. Then she fell asleep with a light snore.

**

Lizzie laid on the bed, her hair fanned out around her head, body too depleted to move yet. But she peeled herself up as Jonathan was sitting up next to her, a MacBook in his lap.

“Wow, what time is it?”

“It’s a little after midnight,” Jonathan replied. He had changed into a pair of sweats and Lizzie licked her lips. He looked really good in gray sweats.

She shrugged. “At least it’s Saturday.”

“I cleaned you up after you passed out.”

Jonathan gave Lizzie a wicked grin as she blushed. “It’s been a while,” she replied.

Lizzie got up and Jonathan pointed to his left, indicating that was the way to get to the bathroom. Lizzie stepped inside of the master bathroom, still too tired to check it out. After taking care of business and washing her hands, Lizzie walked back into Jonathan’s bedroom. Jonathan handed her a t-shirt and said, “You’re too tired to attempt to drive home. You can stay here; I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“I like cumming so you don’t have to keep them to yourself.”

Lizzie gave Jon a saucy smile while he groaned.

**

Let yourself be happy. Find that guy again, the one who was before me. I just want you to be happy, don’t shrivel up and die because I’m gone.

Lizzie looked at the note, last note from Greg before he passed from non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Her wedding ring was on next to it, the simple gold band twinkling in the late winter sun.

Today was her seventh month since her move to Chicago, fifth since she met Jonathan for the first time in years. Tonight, she was going to the game, Elise going with her but this time, they were going to sit with the WAGs. Lizzie had met Jonathan’s closest friends and teammates and it was obvious that there was something happening between them. But Lizzie felt the need to look at this one more time.

“I’m going to be happy, Greg,” Lizzie whispered before putting her old wedding ring and the note in a box, setting it next to a vase of nineteen red tulips that Jon had given her. Then she pulled her hair into a ponytail, sent all work calls on her work phone to voicemail. Picking up her personal phone, Lizzie smiled as she looked at the text from Jonathan.

She wasn’t going to run this time. She was going to embrace a future with Jonathan.

[itspufflehuff]

Stay - Bucky Barnes Imagine

Summary: After a long war your brother and his annoying best friend will finally be coming back home. What will happen between you and Bucky now that you are both adults living under the same roof? 

MATERLIST // TAGLIST

Word Count: 4,990

~~~~

New York, 1945

It had been months since you heard from your brother. Then finally you got word that the war was won. A week or two after hearing the news you got a letter from Steve with a time, date, and place followed by the words, "We're coming home."

You jumped in excitement and ran into the room where Buckys parents sat. When your mother died you and Steve both moved into a house together, but when he left for the war you were unable to afford to live on your own. Sure you had a job but it was the 1940s, you weren't getting paid enough. Buckys parents invited you to live with them. You grew up with these people and they had an extra room. Plus it would be lonely without Bucky there with them and without Steve with you. It was mutually beneficial so you moved in.

Now they're finally coming back home. You were so excited to finally see your brother again and even though Bucky was always such a nuisance growing up you couldn't wait for him to come back. With your excitement for their return came one question, where would you live? The last few years living with the Barnes' were amazing. They were incredibly nice to you and never expected much other than helping out around the house. They even insisted you quit your job and live with them rent-free. But now Steve would be back and you were unsure if you would be moving back in with him.

The days leading up their return you spent unable to sit still. No matter where you were or what you were doing you were tapping your fingers, bouncing your leg, or even swaying side to side. You spent each night looking out your window gazing at the stars. Ever since you were little you were fascinated by the stars and its constellations. When you left for camp your mom told you to look up at the stars each night and remember that wherever she was she would be looking at them too. When Steve left for the war he reminded you of your mothers words, "When you're scared or you miss me just look at the stars, chances are I'll be looking too." So you did. Whenever you were upset or had a bad dream you would gaze at the stars and imagine talking to your brother, he always helped you feel better.

The night of their arrival you woke up extra early unable to contain your excitement. They wouldn't be arriving till late afternoon but you decided to get started on your day. You dressed in black high-waisted pants matched with a red long sleeve top then rushed downstairs to get started on breakfast for everyone. All-day you did whatever you could to keep yourself busy. You cleaned the house even though you and Bucky's mom cleaned the day before. Buckys parents silently laughed at how restless you were that day as you all waited for Steve and Bucky.

Finally, when the time came to meet them at the train station you were the first one in the car. The car ride to the station was quiet as everyone was filled with so many emotions of their own. You sat in the back seat silently chewing at your nails as the polish chipped off.

Steve didn't leave any specific instructions on where to meet so you all settled on waiting near the ticket booth. You bounced as you searched the area for any sign of your brother or his annoying best friend. You tippy-toed as you tried to look over mountains of people passing you by. Then you heard your name being called. Immediately you turned to the source. You had seen the photos of Steve and heard about the experiment but actually seeing how much he changed was shocking. You stood there for a moment processing that the tall buff man a few yards away from you was your brother. Snapping out of your shock a smile rose to your lips as you ran to him. He stopped to put his bags down just in time for you to crush him with a hug.

You squeezed him as the tears began to fall. Behind you, you heard the Barnes as they ran after you to meet their son. When you pulled away from Steve he wiped a tear from your face. Now you were able to get a closer look at him and through your tears, you laughed, "All of those girls are going to be so mad they dumped you." He laughed along with you, "I bet they're all going to come crawling back to me now that I'm Captain America." He said the name sarcastically.

A hand rested on Steve's shoulder ushering him away from you. Behind him, you saw Bucky with a wide smile, "Don't I get a hug too?" You rolled your eyes as you smiled. He walked closer to you embracing you in a warm hug. You had never hugged Bucky before, well maybe when you were children but you couldn't remember. Now feeling his strong arms wrapped around your body you didn't want to let go. It wasn't weird or awkward, it felt right. You buried your face in his chest taking in his scent. You hated to admit it but when you heard that Bucky was drafted for the war it felt as if your heart dropped to your stomach. You had been so worried about him then Steve joined the war and your worry worsened. Now that you had them both back it was like your heart could breathe again. You no longer had to worry about losing them in the trenches.

"I missed you small fry." He started calling you small fry when you were ten years old. For how short Steve was compared to Bucky you were always shorter. Even at your full height, you stood three inches shorter than Steve. You always hated that nickname but hearing it now made your heart feel warm.

"I missed you too Bucky." You couldn't feel it but his heart was beating fast. Just as you would never admit your worry for him he wouldn't admit how his feelings for you grew while he was gone. Growing up Bucky loved to poke at your patience. Even as teenagers and adults he would make it his daily goal to annoy you at least three times a day, but just like Steve he was always so protective of you. As children, he wouldn't care if another boy picked on you. He would just laugh and take notes, but the older you both got the more protective he got. You never knew this but Bucky was always scaring boys away from you. Girls would always get love notes from boys but you never got anything. Bucky made it a point to let every boy know that if they hurt you in the slightest he would not hesitate to punch them. They had all seen Bucky fight before, whenever he was protecting Steve, and since he was a few years older than you all of the boys in your grade were scared.

Bucky knew that as his best friend's sister he could never be with you so he started dating other girls. He was such a flirt and all the girls swooned over him. Even when he was out fighting the war he tested his luck with the European women, but he could never get past flirting with them. He could if he wanted to but something was always holding him back. It wasn't until he was out in the trenches fighting for his life that he realized all he could think about was you. He fought so hard to stay alive because he knew that once he came back home he could see you again.

Now here you were in his arms. He didn't want to let you go, it was like his mind was up in the clouds with you so close to him. Steve was the one to pull him back down to earth, "Ok give me my sister back now."

"Y/N there is actually someone I want you to meet." Steve started a bit nervously. You tilted your head and furrowed your eyebrows, "You want me to meet someone?"

He scratched the back of his neck, "Yeah. I met someone while I was away. She's a really great gal and we were planning on moving in together." You'd never heard of this mystery woman before so this was a shock for you to hear, "Oh." was the only thing you were able to say.

"Of course, you can move in with us I wouldn't want you to feel like you're not welcome."

Before you could say anything a woman approached Steve placing her hand on his shoulder. He turned with a smile, taking her hand into his, and placed a kiss on it before turning back to you, "Y/N, this is Peggy. Peggy this is my sister Y/N." The lady turned to you with a kind smile and reached her hand out for you to shake, "It's nice to finally meet you Y/N, your brother has told me so much about you."

"Same to you." You shook her hand, she seemed to be a genuine person unlike the woman from around here who always turned an eye at Steve because he was "weak".

"I'm sorry but we must get going, we'll be staying in a hotel until we can find somewhere to live," Steve said as he grabbed his and Peggy's bags.

He gave you one last hug whispering in your ear, " Think about my offer ok?"

You nodded, "I will thank you."

~~~~

The ride back was filled with talk and laughter. It was nice to have Bucky back. "You know Y/N you can stay with us if you'd like." Bucky's mom offered.

"Yes, it has been so great having you with us we don't mind if you stay a bit longer." His dad chimed in.

"Thank you, both of you you're so kind but I wouldn't want to intrude any-"

"Oh nonsense!" Buckys mom shouted. "You have never once intruded we insist you stay with us."

Beside you, Bucky laughed, "Yeah your room is right across from mine. If you go with Steve I won't be able to bug you in the middle of the night."

You rolled your eyes at him with a smile, "You know that doesn't make me want to stay."

He chuckled tilting his head to the side, "I'm joking! Well kinda." He whispered the last part.

You mimicked the way he tilted his head then raised an eyebrow. You didn't say anything as you just looked at him. "Come on, stay. I promise I won't bug you much."

So you did.

Steve wasn't too heartbroken over your decision to stay with Bucky and his family. It didn't take him long to settle into a new home either. Once people heard Captain America was home and looking for a house to buy the offers came jumping out at him. Within no time he was settled into his new home.

As happy as you were to have your brother and his friend back you didn't like how their presence scared men away from you. When they were gone you were going out on dates a lot more than before, which still wasn't much, but at least you were going out. Now with the return of Bucky, who was always chasing men away from you, plus the addition of your hero brother men were scared to even look in your direction.

That was until one man came along. He was new to town and knew nothing of your brother or his overprotective best friend. Whenever he would see you around the both of you would talk and flirt for a while before you had to part ways. Then finally after a few weeks, he asked you out on a date. You were so excited that finally, a man was other than Steve and Bucky was talking to you.

The day of your date you got dressed up real pretty and rushed downstairs to wait for him. As you exited your room you crashed into Bucky who was leaving his room. He grabbed the sides of your arms to keep you from stumbling. He was smiling ready to make a joke but once he saw the fresh face of makeup and dress you were wearing his face turned serious, "Where are you going?"

"Out." Was all you said as you tried to move past him but he kept his hands on your arms to hold you in place.

"Hm. Out? With who?" He questioned.

"A friend."

"Is this a female friend or a male friend?"

"Does it matter?" You tried to brush off.

He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, "Come on Y/N, you know the answer to that." You stood there silent. Of course you knew it mattered but you just wanted the conversation to end so you can go on your date. "So which is it? A female friend or a male friend?"

Sighing in defeat you answered, "A male friend." Bucky was about to speak but you didn't let him, "Please don't make this a big deal. I hardly get to go on dates, let me enjoy this." He pursed his lips then nodded, "Ok. I won't bother you about it but I expect to find out who this man is later ok?"

"Ok." You nodded happily.

"And you can expect your brother to hear about this little date of yours." He scolded. You rolled your eyes and laughed, "I kind of expected you to call him as soon as I leave."

"Do you need a ride tonight?"

"No, he should be picking me up any minute now so I figured I'd wait outside for him."

So you did. You waited for him on the patio swings in front of your house happily swaying back and forth. Soon the minutes turned into an hour, then that turned into two, and so on, and so on. Eventually, the sun went down but you were holding out hope that he would show up. From inside the house, Bucky watched and wen the sunset he came out with a blanket to keep you warm, "Would you like some company?" He asked wrapping the warm fabric around your shoulders. "Sure" You replied softly keeping your eyes to the ground.

You felt so embarrassed to have been waiting outside for so long but you also didn't want to go in and face Bucky. Who knows what he'd have to say about this. "Are you ok?" He looked at you speaking softly. You didn't feel like talking so you just nodded your head. "Do you want to go back inside?" He asked. You just kept your eyes to the ground as you pulled the blanket tighter around you. Bucky softly placed his hand on your shoulder, "Come on let's get you inside, it's getting cold out here." Standing up you nodded. You felt him place his other hand on your free shoulder as he ushered you inside. Luckily no one else was home to see what happened to you and though Bucky loved to tease you, you knew he would keep this secret.

"I feel like an idiot." You mumbled as you both walked over to the sofa.

"You're not an idiot. If anyone is an idiot it's that guy who stood you up." He tried to hide his anger but you could hear it in his voice.

"But why would he stand me up like that? What was so wrong with me that he made him not want to go out after all?"

"Nothing is wrong with you Y/N. Obviously, he doesn't deserve you if he can't see what an amazing girl you are."

"You really mean it Bucky?" You looked at him hopefully.

"Of course! Listen I'm sorry I always made it so difficult for you to find dates but I was just trying to look out for you I didn't think any of those losers in high school deserved you."

"It's ok Bucky, I know you meant well. It just always sucked being the only girl in class who wasn't going out."

"I know and again I'm sorry about that." For a second you both sat in silence. You still had the blanket wrapped around you and Bucky had his hands crossed as he looked down at the carpet. Then he looked up at you with an excited smile, "You know what you still deserve to have a nice night so what do you say you let me take you out?"

You looked at him shocked unsure what to say. "It doesn't have to be a date! I just mean you deserve to have fun not sit here and be sad."

"Thank you, Bucky but I don't feel like going out anymore." You gave him a soft smile.

"We don't have to go out we can stay here. I can make us some dinner, we can play some board games, dance, watch tv, whatever you want!" He seemed pretty excited about this and it would be much more fun than sitting around moping. "Ok, let's do it! We'll have some dinner and see where the night leads us." You smiled at him now excited for what the night had to offer.

Bucky asked you to wait for him in your room as he prepared dinner. He would get you once everything was ready, but as soon as he finished his parents showed up with a few of their friends. He forgot they were going to be having drinks at their house that night.

Trying to make best with the situation he took the food into his room and set a nice picnic on his floor. He set up candles on his desk and cabinets then placed a rose from his mother's garden in the middle of where you two would be eating.  Quickly he dressed into something nice then nervously walked over to your door. He knew this wasn't a real date but he so badly wanted it to be. He even hoped this would eventually lead to something real.

He knocked on your door three times. When you opened he saw you were wearing this same thing as before but still he was taken by your beauty as if it were the first time seeing you like this. He bowed then held his arm out, "My lady. Dinner awaits." He faked a posh accent. You laughed locking your arm into his. Then in his normal voice, he added "Please excuse the change in location as my dear parents have brought company." You looked at him confused as to where you two would be having dinner. Your confusion didn't last long as he led you to the door across from your room. "Were having dinner in your room?" You tried to hold back a laugh but he could see the smile on your face, "I know it's not in any way nice or romantic but don't worry I cleaned up for you." He playfully winked as he opened the door.

The only light in the room was coming from a small lamp and several candles. The room smelled nice like a mixture of his cologne and fresh cotton, which happened to be the scent of the candles. You noticed the food nicely placed on the floor. You could tell he cleaned in a hurry because his bed shits were slightly lopsided and wrinkled.

"Bucky this is so sweet." You looked up at him. He placed his hand on your lower back as he walked you further into his room. "I told you, you deserve to have a good night."

"Now we don't have any wine since everyone downstairs has taken it for themselves to I brought us some water and lemonade."

"Lovely of them to share with us." you both laughed, "I'll be fine with just the lemonade, thank you." He started pouring your drink into your glass before you could even reach your hand out for it.

For the next thirty minutes or so you both sat there eating and talking as you laughed over the past. "Do you remember when I was in the twelfth grade and you scared off all my potential prom dates?"

His head fell back as he laughed, "Yes! Steve had to take you."

Playfully you rolled your eyes at him, "Yeah, if he hadn't taken me I would've been the only girl without a date."

"In our eyes, none of those boys were good enough for you, we were just trying to protect you from that." He defended.

You sighed defeated, "Most of them did turn out to be no good so I'll give you that. I just think you and Steve can be a little too protective so you refuse to see there are good men out there for me." Bucky kept his eyes to the ground not wanting to admit he didn't want you with any other guy, he wanted you for himself. Instead, he stood up and held his hand out for you, "Would you like to dance?"

You smiled and tilted your head, "There's no music." Swiftly he wakes over to the record player sitting on his bedside table to fill the room with music. He walked back over, again holding his hand out. Softly you placed your hand in his allowing him to pull you up from the floor. He walked you a few steps away from the dishes on the floor then placed his free hand on your waist as you put yours on his shoulder.

At first, it felt a bit awkward. You were dancing with the man who always knew how to push your buttons yet no matter how annoying he was or how much you claimed to hate him, you couldn't get him out of your mind. You always thought he was handsome and charming but you always brushed it off by saying it was all just an act he put on to get girls.

To him, this was like a dream come true yet he couldn't help but feel guilty for dancing with his best friend's sister so romantically. He never thought he could be good enough to be with you but now with you so close to him, he didn't want to think that anymore. He spent the last few years wondering if every day would be his last and the only person he could think of was you. He couldn't waste any more time doubting himself or pushing you away.

Slowly but surely the dancing felt more natural. the both of you were so tense at first but loosened up eventually. As the night went on you rested your head on his chest. You could feel his heart pounding yet he was breathing slowly. When your head hit his chest he felt the heat rising up in his neck. His head perked up as he looked down at you. Not too long after a smile made its way onto his lips and he rested his head on top of yours, pulling you in closer to him. For what felt like hours, but was only eighteen minutes, you both danced and swayed in each other's arms. At some point, you closed your eyes as you enjoyed the feeling of his arms wrapped around yours and taking in his scent. It felt like you were floating on the moon.

Eventually, the track ended and left nothing but static playing. Slowly and gently Bucky pulled away from you. He looked down into your eyes which only made his heart beat faster, "You know every night I would take one look at the stars before bed and imagine you were looking at them too?"

"You did?" Your eyes grew like saucers.

"I did. I know I've always been kind of an ass to you growing up but while I was away you were the only thing on my mind." His eyes never left yours as he spoke. You looked up at him in shock unsure of what to say in response. Bucky took your hand into his as he moved a step back, "I want to show you something." He walked you over to his bed, sat you down, then walked over to the light switch. When the room was enveloped in darkness you heard his voice, "Look up." Above his bed were the constellations painted in glow in the dark ink. You felt the bed sink in next to you and again Bucky's voice, "When I graduated I painted the constellations on my ceiling, that way every night before bed I could learn more about them. You can't really see them when you look out the window so this was my best option. I guess subconsciously I was always trying to impress you or be a man worthy of being with you."

You looked over to Bucky as you felt your heart beating faster, "Bucky-"

"I think I did a pretty good job at drawing them. Take a look, it's better if you lay back you can see everything at once." He laid down first then patted the space next to him. Shyly you laid back but kept some distance between the two of you. The painting was beautiful, you could tell he tried so hard to make it look just right. Of course there were some minor mistakes but you weren't going to point them out, you were just amazed that we would do all of this. He excitedly started pointing at the ceiling naming each constellation, "Look right there is Draco! Then there's the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, Hercules, and Cepheus." You looked over to Bucky but his eyes were glued to the ceiling. He had a child-like wonder look on his face. "Every night while I was away I would try to find them in the stars. I think I once saw Scorpius but I can't be too sure."

"You know I actually missed you when you were gone."

This caught his attention. He turned to you with a playful smile, "I thought you would've been excited to see me leave."

"Well at first I was just a little," you laughed, "but even then I was worried that I may not see you again. I tried to act like I didn't care too much but every time you sent a letter to your parents it was like a wave of relief because even if you were hurt it meant you weren't dead. I just wanted you to come back home."

You felt his hand grab onto yours and squeeze gently. You interlocked your fingers together and scooted yourself closer to him. The warmth from his arm made you feel more comfortable and at ease so you thought it would be a good time to rest your eyes for a few seconds.

When they opened back up you were laying on your side holding onto Bucky's arm. He was laying on his back and you could hear his soft breathing. You looked over at the clock on his wall to see that it was now three in the morning but you were sure it was only ten o'clock just a few moments ago. Slowly you let go of Bucky's arm but when you sat up you felt his hand reaching out for yours, "Where are you going?" He asked sleepily. His eyes were still closed and his hand closed around yours gently.

"It's already three in the morning, I'm going to my room." You said disappointedly. You didn't want to go back to your room but it was already late at night. Bucky gently tugged on your arm as he rolled over to lay in his side, "You don't have to go." He said with his face in the pillow.

You looked to the floor considering laying back down with him. His hand slid down your arm and down to your hand interlocking your fingers together, "Stay, please."

You laid back down beside him cuddling into his arm like you were before. Bucky nuzzled his face into the hair at the top of your head before placing a soft kiss and drifting off to sleep.

~

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TAG LIST

@sebstanfan123​

[1kook]

skirt chasers - drabble i

a skirt chasers drabble bc they are my fave fictional couple to date <333

tags: coupley and domestic, jk’s terrible attempts at seducing via text, making out, dry humping, spitting (ik idk what came over me), too much talking for this to be sexual pero hey here we are wc: like 3k

entirely based off jungkook from bv3 that man had NO right to look that good and  the holy jirkenstocks (jungkook birkenstocks). wont lie this has been completely written in my drafts since November (yes 2019) and i hoarded it under the belief i would make this a whole part 2 which i did not 

que dios los bendiga <3

-

Much to everyone’s dismay, Jungkook’s spring break in Vegas with the boys is cut three days short when Jimin’s dog sitter suddenly cancels, citing a case of homesickness as enough cause to abruptly go home. When you first hear news of this, you’re preparing yourself for the return of a mopey, useless Jungkook, too drained from four glorious days in Las Vegas to carry on. What you’re not expecting is the mysterious text he sends you before boarding a five hour flight with no service (he was cheap).

kook still on vegas lockdown. Have that pussy ready when i get home

“The fuck does that mean?” Chaeyoung is the first to see the message, your screen lighting up on the kitchen counter beside you as you scrub through a mountainous pile of dishes. You try to play it off, after all, Chaeyoung had seen parts of you you hadn’t even seen, but there was no worse embarrassment than having your homegirls see your clown of a boyfriend’s ridiculousness. “He’s so romantic,” she swoons, and you shoo her away from the offending device as you wipe your hands down on your t-shirt. 

you for what?? One 20 second round 🤥

Chaeyoung suddenly cackles from over your shoulder, and you swear your soul leaves your body. 

You don’t get a response until exactly five hours and thirteen minutes later, your phone vibrating like crazy on the edge of your bathtub, and if you hadn’t given it a hearty kick and sent it flying across the room, front screen shattering into the most intricate spider web of glass shards, it would have fallen into the water. The terror. 

kook pls pick me up 

kook also haha. U r soooo funny 😑

You’re halfway to the airport, idly sitting in traffic and giving the public a free, Beyonce-like experience of The Script’s Breakeven, when you realize you’re not wearing any pants. You’re not exactly sure which part of Jungkook’s long t-shirt had tricked you into believing you were decently dressed, but you’re not too mad. After all, Jungkook’s trip with the boys had been a last minute decision that did not take into consideration your never-ending thirst for your boyfriend, so a little payback never hurt anybody. 

He’s sitting on top of his suitcase outside the airport when you get there, cute Birkenstock-clad feet swinging back and forth as he waits for you like the good boy he is. He crouches down by the passenger window, “Uh, yeah, is this the Uber?” 

You can’t even bother hiding the smile that consumes your face, and it only grows tenfold when he finally gets in and immediately leans over the center console to kiss you. “Look who’s finally back from their little bachelor party,” you murmur, eyes lidded dangerously low when he breaks away. 

“Oh, the party where I accidentally sleep away my life-savings to a stripper named Aries and then have to go home and beg for my wife’s forgiveness?” He responds immediately, devious pink tongue swiping out to lick at your bottom lip. 

You snort. “Joke’s on you, because our hot pool boy kept me company and treated me better in four days than my husband had in six years,” you mumble, finger looping into the silver chain around his neck to pull him close again. 

“Not our hot pool boy,” he whines, smile pressed adorably to your lips. 

You almost retort, but a ten-second horn blast from the car behind you has the two of you jumping three feet from each other, like teenagers caught making out in the school parking lot. 

-

Just as you’d predicted via text, Jungkook barely has the energy to walk up the steps to your apartment, much less fuck you like he’d promised. “Fuck, stop being healthy and let us take the elevator,” he grunts, pushing his suitcase onto the final platform leading to your floor.

“Nope,” you concede. “The stairs give me a good view of your ass going up.”

He shoots you a scandalized look, like you’re an old man who’d just catcalled him on the street. “Pretty sure that’s my line.”

It’s when you’re unlocking the front door, sending out a little prayer to the heavens (Chaeyoung) for the blessing of an empty apartment, that he notices your lack of proper clothing. “Oh, hell no,” he groans, immediately crowding you against the armchair nearest the door. 

You laugh, struggling to turn to face him as he nuzzles his face into your neck. “What seems to be the problem?”

He sighs against the shell of your ear, and you’d be a liar to say it didn’t send a gush of wetness to your core. Jesus, just a single puff of air from Jungkook was enough to turn your coochie into a Fruit Gusher. “Not your sexy legs again,” he whines, and you giggle when he presses those pouty lips to yours. 

“Thought I was supposed to have this pussy ready for you,” you tease, tilting your head up until your noses brush against each other. Jungkook lets a soft huff of a sigh go, eyes fluttering shut at your close proximity. 

There’s a hand that creeps along the back of your thigh, fingers pressing into the soft skin until he finally guides it upwards, hitched over his hip. The new position has your body curving backwards, tilted over the edge of the couch as he continues crowding closer and closer to you. “Baby,” he whines, and the tone and sudden usage of your favorite nickname wipes the teasing smile off your face. “I missed you so much,” he purrs, in that tone that says he knows he has you under his complete control, all he has to do is take care of you. 

Still, you try to put up some sort of a fight. “I’m sure your eyes were kept entertained in Vegas,” you retort weakly, not even bothering to hide the jealousy in your tone. 

Jungkook laughs, before puckering his lips and smothering you. Instantly, you throw your arms around his broad shoulders to pull him closer. His hair tickles your face from how long it’s gotten, and when you brush it back, collecting it into a makeshift baby ponytail, you can’t even enjoy the sight because Jungkook is pressing his rock hard member against your inner thigh. 

“You think I’m a cheater?” He muses when he finally pulls away, a little entranced by the saliva that coats your lips in a thin sheen. “Couldn’t be even if I wanted to.” Before you can ask what that even means, he’s hauling you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his tiny waist, his cock now cradled between your thighs, right where you want him most. You moan immediately, head lolling backwards at the touch you’d craved for days. “Feel that? No one gets my dick hard like you do, baby.”

Even though his adrenaline is on one hundred, and he’s clearly blinded by his lust, Jungkook still sets you down on the bed like you’re made of glass. Any comments you may have made are smothered by his lips on yours, fingers gripping your waist like it’s the first time he’s ever touched you. When he pulls away, his eyes are dark and his breath is a little heavy where it fans against the lower half of your face. 

“So pretty,” he huffs, rolling his hips against yours. You groan, eyes rolling back as the familiar feeling of your boyfriend between your legs consumes you. Jungkook presses his mouth against the skin of your neck, where the faintest sheen of sweat had begun to form the moment you unlocked the front door. 

If you thought you were loud, the sounds leaving Jungkook’s throat are teetering on the edge between a pornstar and a yodelling-enthusiast. You can’t help the smirk crossing your features. “Are you really gonna come?”

Jungkook was many things, and drama queen was definitely very high on that list. He gives you the most scandalized expression, stopping the movement of his hips to scoff. “As if,” he snorts, but you know that little eyebrow furrow a little too well. 

You snort, reaching down to his sides as you try to discreetly urge him to start up again. “Baby, your jaw is twitching,” you point out, a soft whine leaving your lips when he shifts your leg up. It’s this same sound that has him finally moving again. 

“Yeah, well,” he groans, one hand deathly gripping into your hip now, pressing you down onto the bed so hard you feel the comforter will swallow you up any minute now. “I just got my wisdom teeth removed, ‘member?”

Your retort is briefly cut off by the cry you let out when he ducks down to suck a mark beneath your jaw. “M-Months ago,” you weakly respond, 

Jungkook ignores you in favor of using his Hulk strength to fold you in half, groans borderline animalistic as he grinds his cock into your soaked panties. His jaw is tight like you’d said, but you can tell he’s holding himself back. He hated coming before you, seldom doing it unless it was one of those rare days where he wanted you to pamper him. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, swallowing your pitiful whines before pushing his tongue down your throat. There was something sexy about your boyfriend being so turned on that his saliva production was off the charts. “You’re gonna ask me to do that thing again, aren’t you?” He predicts. 

All you can do is nod, and Jungkook smirks. “Ah,” he says, much like a doctor would, and you comply, mouth wide. You see the muscles beneath his jaw twitch, and a moment later he’s leaning over you with puckered lips, a glob of saliva begging to drip down. 

The moan that catches in your throat has him smiling, tongue peeking out to cut the bridge of saliva that connected the two of you, and you want to tell him you love him, but then he’s raising his eyebrows at you, motioning for you to swallow, so you do. “Absolutely filthy,” he grins, and then returns to thrusting against you. 

As much as you liked to tease him, he’s good at fulfilling the sexual aspects of his boyfriend role, and he guides you to your orgasm moments later. Of course, he does so by toying with your tits just the way you like, lips pressed firmly to yours as you become a boneless heap beneath him. “That’s it, pretty baby,” he murmurs, pressing one final kiss to your lips before he’s shifting back onto his haunches, tugging you closer until the backs of your knees are cradled carefully in his elbows. 

Despite your transcended state, you love watching Jungkook get himself off, and your eyes flutter as you watch him thrust sloppily against your soiled panties. They’re soaked by your own arousal, and had Jungkook’s sweats not been as dark as they were, you’re almost certain you’d see how they stained. 

He comes a moment later, body twitching and fingers tightening against your skin. His chest heaves, head lolling back as he tries to regain his senses. Silence envelopes the room. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You blurt, no longer able to pretend like something isn’t completely wrong. 

Jungkook rolls his neck out, a satisfying crack resounding, as he angles to look at you again. His tongue is poking against his cheek in that cocky way it does sometimes, and he furrows his brows at you. “What?”

You shuffle up onto your elbows, motioning towards him with the vaguest wave possible. He blinks. You groan. 

“What did you do?” You question, and immediately his eyes go wide and shiny in that way they do when you’re reprimanding him and he doesn’t see the wrong in his ways. 

Cute little lips forming a pout he remains as confused. “Nothing? We really just went to fuck around and get drunk—“

“Kook.”

“You don’t actually think I cheated, I thought we were just joking? Unless…” he trails off, doe eyes suddenly filled with fear. “You weren’t?”

“Jungkook—“

He intercepts you, “did you do something while I was gone? Who was he? Or she? Wow,” he huffs to himself in disbelief. “I don’t even know you well enough to know if you’re into more than just men.” The frown on his face is getting deeper with each word he utters and you almost can’t believe how dumb he could be. “No wonder… am I a terrible boyfriend?” He asks, voice louder and more concerned than it’s been all night. 

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” You say, and Jungkook looks just as lost by your response as you are with his. “Because I’m talking about whatever this is,” you explain, reaching up to drag a hand through his dual-colored locks. 

They’d been carefully tucked under his bucket hat when you’d picked him up, a tuft of blonde peeking out from in front of his ear. It wasn’t until he’d tipped you over the side of the couch that it had tumbled off. Of course, at the time, there had been other pressing matters at hand than wondering why your Hannah Montana blonde boyfriend had returned as Todoroki, which is why you’d waited until now to revisit the topic. 

Jungkook doesn’t move for a solid ten seconds. Then, as if processing the emotional episode he’d just given you, he gives you a sheepish smile. It’s one of those smiles where his lips press together thinly and cutely and the apples of his cheeks seem like the squishiest things in the world. “Oh…” he says, voice soft and nothing like the man that spit in your mouth five minutes ago. “You like it?”

[blissedoutphil]

Tops Only

Dan’s favourite actor just opened a new bar right by the street near his apartment, and he couldn’t wait to check it out. One problem though, it was for Tops only, and Dan wasn’t one.

This day exactly 6 months ago, we had the iconic Stereo show where Phil accidentally came up with the concept of a Tops Only Bar. Which means this idea has been playing about in my head/drafts for 6 months wow where did the time go. Finally got around to properly writing it! Enjoy :)

2948 words of Top!Phil, bottom!dan, AU where everyone’s born with a Type (top/bottom/switch, not like a/b/o but similar concept kinda? the Type takes the place of sexual orientation. don’t judge me this was Phil’s doing)

or read on ao3!

Despite walking past the area almost everyday to get back to his apartment, Dan still couldn’t believe that the renovation works that’s been happening for months was for Phil’s new bar. The Phil Lester. The best actor of his generation (though his friend Anthony would never agree with this opinion) was opening his very first venture outside of acting just ten minutes from his home?!

He stopped and stood idly by the bar on the way home from Anthony’s again. The renovation was all done and the place was due to open that weekend. He couldn’t believe his luck. He’d been a fan of Phil for years, and now he could possibly catch a glimpse of Phil just from walking home.

He’d watched and read all the interviews of Phil talking about his new project. This new bar was like his baby, from the ideation and planning to the execution - Phil was fully involved in every little part and his excitement for it definitely rubbed off on his fans. There was so much speculation on the internet on what the bar would be like, especially because Phil kept hinting at surprises and how unique it was.

Dan was no exception in the fanbase - he already planned to go to the grand opening of the bar as early as possible, if only to get a picture of Phil.

There were some people inside the place; Dan could make out figures walking around in the dimly lit bar. Before he could get his legs to work so he won’t look like a creeper stalker, the figures were already heading to the entrance.

It was almost 1am and the street was empty. Dan was certain nobody would believe him if he told them what he saw. Even he had a hard time believing it, and he was standing there wide-eyed taking it all in.

None other than the Phil Lester walked out, along with a group of people he assumed were his management team and perhaps the contractors of the place. Dan stood next to a fire hydrant at the edge of the pavement, just gaping at them like an idiot.

As if things couldn’t get more unbelievable, Phil noticed him. Obviously; there was no one around but him standing there like a creeper. Phil’s eyebrows shot up in confusion for a second, but he quickly realised Dan was most likely a fan, so he shot him a wink, smirking knowingly.

Dan was for sure going to cringe at this memory for the rest of his life, but in that moment he couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t even breathe. He was looking at Phil with his own eyes, and Phil was real. Not someone on a screen. And Phil looked beautiful even when he was barely visible in the dimly lit path. He looked amazing in person, the cameras don’t do him justice. And he fucking winked at Dan!

Dan swallowed, feeling his cheeks heat up. It felt like a very long moment where everything happened in slow motion, but when Dan snapped back to reality, he realised it was probably only the few seconds it took for the group to walk from the bar entrance to their van parked a short distance from the fire hydrant Dan was standing by.

He blinked as the van’s lights blinded him, and they drove off within seconds. Dan just stood there for a long time after the car had gone, wondering if he was dreaming.

------------------------------

The weekend came quickly, and Dan was more than ready to see Phil again. Now that he knew how perfect Phil looked in person, he felt more prepared. He was not going to make a fool of himself by standing still like a statue too awestruck to even wave hi.

The grand opening of the bar was at 7pm so he left his apartment at 4, wanting to get a good spot where he can see Phil and maybe take a photo with him.

He greatly underestimated just how many fans were willing to show up early, disappointed when he saw the crowd already forming near the gates. There were barriers and a red carpet leading up to the bar’s entrance from the road. There was a designated spot for photographers and interviewers at the other side of the carpet. Dan had never seen this part of London get this much attention before.

He somehow made it to the second row, and he didn’t even care if he was going to block other fans behind him. His height was a blessing and a curse at the same time. He could get a clear view, but he was sure the people in the immediate area behind him would hate him with a passion. But he didn’t care, this was Phil he was seeing.

Time dragged on like it couldn’t go any slower. He scrolled through twitter, getting updates from the journalists just across the red carpet on the anticipated opening of Phil’s bar, the speculation on what Phil was going to wear and which celebrities were invited to the opening.

The fans around Dan were also gossiping excitedly. The row of fans in front of him caught his attention. They were conspiring that the surprise element of Phil’s bar would be that it was only for Tops. One girl was upset by this notion since she was a Bottom, and another girl was hoping Switches could enter too since technically they were some percent Top. The guy who mentioned this theory then showed them ‘proof’ of why he’s so convinced he’s right. Dan scoffed silently. Phil wouldn’t be that exclusive, he loves all fans equally and he definitely wouldn’t create something so grand just to leave out a huge group of his fans. Dan was sure of it. The group in front of him were probably new fans who didn’t know Phil all that well.

Enduring the conversation by those fans did help time pass quicker, and soon the celebrities started strolling in. Most of Phil’s family, friends and co-stars were there. All that’s left was the man himself. Dan was thrumming with anticipation as he waited.

And then the time came. A limo stopped at the start of the carpet, and applause and screams erupted as none other than Phil stepped out. Phil looked stunning, and despite mentally preparing himself, Dan couldn’t help reacting the same way as the night he saw Phil the first time.

Dan drank in the sight before him. He didn’t have to crane his neck to get a good view as he stood out in the crowd like a sore thumb. Phil’s current co-star stepped out with him, and he easily slid his arm around her waist, waving at the crowd with a big grin plastered on his face.

“Oh my god so is he with Rose for real now?!” One of the girls in front of Dan squealed, and he rolled his eyes. No way were they together for real, it was obviously for publicity for their new movie. Besides, Rose was a Top, and though Phil had never publicly addressed his Type, he did give off Top vibes as well. Dan would know a Top when he sees one, it’s just the instincts he was blessed with as a Bottom.

Dan’s eyes were glued to Phil as he strode down the carpet leisurely, posing for the cameras and stopping by some interviewers. He looked so good in his dark maroon suit, and his quiff was styled perfectly.

Dan scrambled for his phone when Phil started walking over to the fans. He took a video, not caring how shaky his hand was. Phil was signing as many things shoved towards him as he could, while smiling at every camera pointed at him. He did it so effortlessly, making his way down the row slowly. Dan felt like the air was running out as Phil got nearer to him.

Phil finally reached his area, and Dan fully forgot to breathe. He’d planned to ask for a photo, but his hand was frozen in place, filming Phil signing stuff for the group in front of him instead.

When Phil was done with the group, he looked up and for a moment his eyes met Dan’s. Phil’s smile faltered a bit as he looked like he was trying to recall why Dan’s face seemed familiar. It could’ve been Dan’s imagination, but it looked like realisation dawned upon Phil after a split second, and Phil nodded at him and raised his eyebrows knowingly, giving Dan the same smirk as the other night.

Dan’s heart leapt in his chest, but before he could get his brain to work, Phil had moved down the row to the next group of fans. The fans in front of him were squealing, but it felt like background noise as Dan’s mind was processing what just happened. Did Phil remember him? He didn’t know whether to be happy or to drown in embarrassment.

Phil was kind to make sure he got to interact with as many fans as he could, and he was done before Dan could conclude whether Phil really recognised him or whether Phil just gave fans that sort of look all the time for fun.

Dan snapped out of it in time to see Phil cutting the ribbon of the front entrance of his bar. He announced that his special guests - all the celebrities who were invited, along with his family and friends and a select few journalists - were going to have a screening of his new movie in the bar, along with the full Phil bar experience. In that moment, Dan wished he was a journalist or something.

It was pretty anticlimactic once all the important people had gone inside. Fans waited outside for a while, but groups slowly left as time went on. After another hour and a half, Dan started to feel tired from standing that long. But just like the remaining fans there, he didn’t know if the celebrities would leave through this entrance, and he didn’t want to miss it if they did. When it was half past 10 and there was still no sign of anyone leaving the building though, Dan finally decided to head home.

He spent the night posting his stupid video online and looking at all the photos already posted by fans and journalists while having supper. Except his video wasn’t all that stupid. It was shaky and blurry at times but he actually managed to catch Phil smirking at him. Safe to say he replayed that bit about a hundred times before finally going to sleep.

----------------

The next morning, there were already posts about Phil’s bar by the guests who were invited in.

Dan watched the instagram stories of the celebrities who were invited as he ate his breakfast, making a map of the bar’s interior mentally based on what he could see. Boy he couldn’t wait to go. It was now open to the public but he was sure it would be filled. He thought to wait until the hype died down a bit, but a bigger part of him wanted to be one of the first fans to experience Phil’s bar.

Then he went to twitter and saw that Phil was trending, and he almost dropped his spoon. He couldn’t believe it. He refused to believe it. No... those fans at the front row could not be right.

His cereal was forgotten as he read about how Phil’s bar was... named Tops Only. What the fuck does that mean? He sped read through his timeline, gathering the fact that Phil had finally confirmed that he was indeed a Top. No surprise there, Dan would know even if Phil wasn’t a celebrity and he just saw him in person as a regular guy.

But was his bar... exclusive to his Type only?

“Bullshit,” Dan exclaimed, feeling his heart sink.

He had adored Phil for so long, only for Phil to be exclusive like this? He thought Phil would be different - the way Phil always dismissed talk about the Types and the hierarchy or stereotypes that came along with them always comforted Dan. Phil was the one showing the world that it doesn’t matter what Type they were born as, it’s who they are as people that mattered. But this bar seemed a complete 180º from that attitude. Did he even know Phil the past years?

Dan sat back in shock as he tried to take in all the information.

One article was by a Bottom journalist who claimed he felt lucky to be able to enter and enjoyed the night even though it didn’t cater to him. Detailed descriptions followed of the staff being Bottoms and how the entertainment was clearly for Tops, complete with pictures of topless waiters winking at the camera and dancing with the guests.

It upset Dan that Phil was being exclusive all of a sudden. He definitely had to see this for himself, and make the painful decision of whether or not to unstan Phil.

He felt bummed out as he made his way to the bar that evening; he was really looking forward to patronising the place often. A part of him still believed that Phil wouldn’t alienate a huge group of his fans just like that. Perhaps the bar was named that way as the entertainment was mainly catered for Phil’s taste, but everyone would be allowed to enter all the same?

He arrived and was sorely mistaken. There was a terribly long queue, and it was made worse because of a hold up at the entrance. Dan watched from afar, not really joining the queue yet. The crowd made him decide it wasn’t worth queueing anyway.

There were 2 big bouncers at the entrance preventing 2 girls from entering. Dan instantly recognised them as the ones in front of him the previous day. They were arguing loudly about how big of fans they were of Phil, and that it was unfair to not let them in just because of their Type.

All of Dan’s hopes to enter the place dashed right then. He shook his head in disbelief. A Top in the middle of the queue yelled at them to get on with it, and one of the bouncers promptly removed the girls from the scene while the other checked the ID of the next person in line.

Just then, an idea formed in Dan’s mind.

Types were mostly straightforward and people could usually tell someone’s Type if they bothered to get to know the person enough. It was an identity everyone was born with, there was no way to change it just like there was no way to change one’s blood type. There were certain behaviours that clearly define people’s Type, things that other Types simply wouldn’t do. People would be attracted to the opposite of their Type, and not their own. The only people who weren’t so straightforward were Switches.

Dan clearly radiated Bottom, but there had been moments in his life where people mistook him for a Switch at least. He briskly walked back home to create a fake Switch ID.

------------------

Back at the queue a few days later, Dan couldn’t help but feel nervous. He didn’t know if the bouncers would be fooled by his fake ID. He did try to make it look as legitimate as it could be, and he hoped that after a few days they would be a bit more lax.

What worried him more was his own vibes. He sucked at acting, and he had no idea how not to give himself away as a Bottom. Be more confident, for one, he thought. He took a deep breath and gathered himself as the line moved.

There were still a number of fans who weren’t Tops trying to get in, but the bouncers held firm. Bottoms wouldn’t dare cross Tops anyway, and everyone knew that. All the bouncers had to do was speak in their commanding tone and it would kick in like instinct for Bottoms to listen. Dan swallowed his nerves down as he heard the bouncer’s booming voice, finally having had enough of the fan arguing with him.

Then it was finally Dan’s turn. He hoped to god the bouncer didn’t notice the way his hand trembled when he showed his fake ID. He glanced up at the big man and was met with an unimpressed gaze.

“Switches aren’t allowed,” the bouncer said in a bored tone, tossing the card back at him.

“But I’m like, half Top,” Dan argued weakly.

“Yeah which means you’re half Bottom, aren’t you? And that’s not allowed,” he sighed, looking over Dan to the next person.

“That’s not fair!” Dan couldn’t help the outburst. He had to try. He felt so indignant, and he suddenly understood why all the ones rejected before him bothered to argue. Even though he’d seen plenty of people get rejected and knew he didn’t have a chance either, he still had to show some pride.

“You’re sounding more like a bratty Bottom to me,” the bouncer smirked in amusement.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Dan yelled, offended by the remark.

“Leave,” the bouncer commanded, all traces of amusement gone as his expression turned dead serious.

Dan stilled, instincts telling him to listen to the Top towering in front of him. But when he didn’t move, the bouncer merely beckoned the next person over, and easily let the Top behind Dan enter.

Dan huffed angrily and stomped away, not caring that he looked like a bratty Bottom. The bouncer could tell already anyway.

He had to do better next time.

----------------------------------------

Hope you enjoyed, I had fun writing something different from my past works :) though listening to this stereo episode while writing this made me miss their stereo shows :(

let me know what you think! There’ll be Part 2 in 1-2 weeks, see ya then! <3

[asthmark]

❝ comfortable ❞ l.mk

synopsis → “oh, i’m mark. mark lee.” he gives her a lop-sided grin, reminding you of a high school boy. the kind you would have a crush on.

word count → 3k

a/n → instead of admitting to the fact that this has been in my drafts since october what if i just said i was watching superm interviews and got inspired.. would anyone believe that??? anyway superm on the ellen show was a fever dream lol

your leg bounces nervously as your makeup artist touches up your look and you stare at the tv screen in anticipation. you were finally making your television debut. you knew you were blessed for the wonderful opportunity, especially for how new you were to the music industry.

you had started like nearly every other artist; posting covers on youtube. these were well received and gained a good amount of views and likes but your career really took off when you began creating original content. every time you would release a single, it would make it on the trending page thanks to your growing fanbase and exposure to the general public, who seemed to like you. soon enough, requests to interview you whether it be on radio, tv, or magazines were high and, thanks to your managers, you found yourself in los angeles, backstage in a studio, waiting for the ellen degeneres to introduce you to her live audience and thousands of viewers at home.

“don’t move so much, miss l/n,” the woman trying to apply your highlighter comments. “you’re smudging your makeup.”

you force yourself to sit still as you apologize. “sorry. pre-show jitters.”

the woman smiles, emphatically. “i understand, sweetheart. i would be nervous too.”

you’re quiet for a moment, debating if you should continue conversing with her. “can i be honest?”

she hums as she dabs a beauty blender into your cheek. “go ahead.”

“i am so nervous that i’ll mess up or say something stupid. the only thing close to an interview i’ve ever done was a q&a on my youtube channel. and at least i could edit stuff out then.” you huff. “if i make some kind of mistake on my tv debut, my career will be over before it even started.”

“well, think of it this way,” she says. “you went from a moderately popular youtube channel to the ellen show. that doesn’t happen for no reason. there are people out there who really admire you.”

you chuckle in disbelief. “it’s crazy to think about people actually wanting to see me. i still can't believe it.”

she giggles, softly. “they know there's something worth seeing.” at seeing your small smile, almost as if you were barely realizing your own star status, she laughs. “you seriously gotta wake up, girl. you’re famous!”

you smile at her, finding humor in her words. “thanks for the wake up call.”

you both direct your attention to the tv placed backstage that broadcasted what was happening on stage. you listen in to ellen’s monologue as she tells jokes and addresses current topics. before long, there’s a knock on the doorframe. you half expect a staff member to let you know that you’ll be on soon but instead you hear a quiet, “hello?”

you and your makeup artist both turn to the boy standing in the doorway. he's wearing a black jacket paired with dark, ripped jeans held up by a belt. he goes to bow, then remembers that korean etiquette does not apply and decides to wave as a greeting instead. you reciprocate the gesture. he stands with only one foot inside the room, almost as if he’s too polite to enter without being given the okay.

“did they send you to get your makeup done?” the woman who had done yours says.

he nods. “they said something about concealer and bb cream, i think?”

she smiles. “yeah, it’s basic stuff. come on in. what’s your name, dear?”

“oh, i’m mark. mark lee.” he gives her a lop-sided grin, reminding you of a high school boy. the kind you would have a crush on.

“well, mark lee, i’m lily. i’ll be doing your makeup, making sure you look pretty for the cameras.” she motions to you. “i'm just about done here so i’ll be right with you.”

“okay, thank you.” he shuffles in, his eyes glued to you and you hold his stare. he nods, a wordless greeting as he settles in next to you. in return, you throw up a peace sign and he smiles at your casual behavior.

“you know what? somebody used all the setting spray. i’ll be right back, i’m just going to steal some from my co-workers.” with that, lily darts out of the room.

it’s pure silence between the two of you until you spark conversation. “i didn't get to introduce myself but i'm y/n.”

“i know,” he responds, quickly. “i'm kind of a fan, actually. i mean, it’s practically impossible to not be. you’re all over the place. especially with the new single you dropped... which is a bop, by the way.”

you smile at his simply-worded praise. it was a nice switch up from the professional reviews you received from critics. “that’s so cute. i’m honored.” you miss the way mark’s ears turn slightly pink at your words. “but enough about me, what do you do, mark?”

“oh, me? i’m in the k-pop scene.”

you hum. “that’s a good genre to be in. which group?”

“right now i’m promoting with superm, it’s kind of like a side project. but originally, i’m in a band called nct.”

you lean forward at hearing the familiar name. “nct? as in, nct 127?”

mark’s eyes light up. “yeah! you know us?”

you nod, enthusiastically. “oh my god, yes! you collabed with ava, right?”

“we sure did. are you guys close?”

“i help her write lyrics sometimes.” you lower your voice down to a whisper for dramatic effect. “i wrote the chorus to ‘sweet but psycho’.”

the way mark’s jaw drops is almost comedic. “no way! that song got her famous, dude!” his lips curve into a playful smirk. “just because of that i’m gonna have to get you in the studio.”

you return the mischievous look. “is that a promise?”

“i’m back!” lily announces, giving mark no time to respond. she gives no warning as she spritzs you with the bottle she had gone to retrieve.

you cough, choking on the mist. “no heads up?”

“sorry, dear. you’re on in two minutes, no time to waste.”

you feel a chill go up your spine. it was finally time.

mark nudges your arm. “you okay?”

“a little nervous.” that proves to be the biggest understatement of all time because in reality your heart is doing somersaults.

“hey.” you stare at him, his brown eyes boring into you. “you’ll be fine. there’s nothing to worry about. you got this!”

you smile at his words of encouragement. he cared about you and you find that your heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now.

“i'll be here to cheer you on while you’re out there and i’ll be back when you’re done to tell you how amazing you did, okay?”

you nod.

“now get out there!”

“well, we have a great show for y’all today,” ellen says, clasping her hands together, having just finished her monologue. “i mean, it’s always great but the exciting thing is we have two musical guests today.”

the audience that cheered wildly is shown on screen. you almost forget about the knot in your stomach when you see some people in the crowd wearing shirts with the cover art and quoted lyrics of your last single.

“i see you guys are ready so, without further ado... let’s get started. our first guest is a soloist who has made quite a big name for herself in such a short period of time. she currently has three singles on the billboard charts, her most recent music video is number one trending on youtube, and she has a new ep coming out soon. here for her television debut, please welcome y/n l/n.”

you walk out from behind the stage, a huge smile on your face. the crowd screams and you wave to them until your hands become too occupied hugging the hostess who greets you with open arms and a proud smile. once the hype dies down and your entrance music fades out, you take a seat, opposite of ellen.

“how have you been y/n?”

“amazing,” you respond, letting your hands fall neatly in your lap.

“and why is that?”

you sigh, wistfully. “everything has been going so well for me lately. i mean, i feel like all these doors are opening up for me all of a sudden. i think i finally made it.”

“you’re just barely realizing that?” ellen exclaims.

you laugh, along with the audience. “kind of, yeah. it just all happened so fast.”

“is there an experience that comes to mind where you finally realized how famous you are?”

you try to think for a few moments before your eyes light up. “okay so, i was at a mcdonald’s like, last month and i went through the drive thru and ordered some nuggets and fries. so, i pull up to the window to pay and it’s around 2 a.m. so the cashier guy is super out of it, like he’s not even paying attention to me. finally, he goes to grab my card and he gets a good look at me and just freezes. like, full on shuts down. so i ask him if he’s okay and he nods so i try to hand him my card again but he goes, ‘no, you’re famous, you don’t have to pay’. and in that moment i just knew.”

“hold on, pause,” ellen announces, dramatically. “you’re telling me that you have been nominated as artist of the year, gained over ten million followers on social media and made your national television debut but the thing that really made you say ‘wow, i’m famous’ was a couple of chicken nuggets?”

“ellen, c’mon,” you begin, seriously. “it was a twenty piece.”

“oh, well, that changes everything,” she says, playing along with you, as the audience erupts into laughter.

the rest of the interview goes smoothly, running on jokes and sarcastic energy. you discuss your young age (thus resulting in some of your baby pictures finally being revealed to the world), millennial culture (the crowd went wild when you explained terms such as netflix and chill to ellen who claimed she didn’t understand yet her sly smirk said otherwise) and your upcoming ep (that you would be giving a sneak peek of later on in the show).

you continue chatting once the commercial break is announced and ellen showers you with praises, commenting how young talent never failed to amaze her, although it did make her feel old. you get to thank the hostess and tell her how much you appreciated her sweet words and the opportunity she had given you before the crew is dragging you backstage so you can prep for your upcoming performance.

you’re greeted by a “that was awesome!” and a high five one you get backstage.

you flash mark a full smile. “couldn’t have done it without my hype man.”

just then lily walks in to touch up your makeup.

“and my hype woman!”

she just rolls her eyes and chuckles as she reapplies gloss to your lips. 

“seriously though, y/n. why did you have to be so perfect? the bar is all the way up here now.” to emphasize his point, mark raises his arm as high as it will go.

“hey, i only tried hard because you’re up next. you’re a hard act to beat, mark lee. i mean, you’re charismatic, charming, witty; basically every talk show host’s dream.”

he scoffs yet you see how he avoids your gaze, your compliments obviously flattering him to the extreme.

a staff member walks by, cutting your conversation short. “y/n, you’re back on in one. superm is on right after.”

you and mark turn back to each other, speaking the same two words at the same time.

“good luck.”

ellen introduces you again, only this time you hold a guitar and stand in front of a microphone once you’re back on the stage. you perform a never before heard song but judging by the roaring applause and standing ovation you receive by the end of it, it’s another successful hit.

you bask in the amazing response and then you’re ushered backstage for the last time. you catch sight of the staff placing more seats on the stage as you exit and you smile eagerly, knowing exactly what’s to come. you search the hallways for your new friend, hoping you can catch him before the show goes back on air. you’re almost about to give up when you hear your name being called.

you lock eyes with mark who stands a couple feet away, barely hidden from the audience’s view. even from where you stand you can tell he has a nervous smile on his face. you jog towards him and to your surprise, he envelops your figure without a second thought. in return, you tentatively wrap your arms around him.

“great job,” he murmurs, breath fanning your ear. “i really did cheer you on.”

“i’ll make sure to do the same.” you hesitantly pull away from his embrace, holding him at an arm’s length away. “go get ‘em.”

he gives you a determined nod and you watch him rush on stage, the audience’s wild cheering increasing. their energy didn’t fade once throughout the interview and just as you had suspected, mark was doing wonderfully. he clearly thrived in interviews; his awkward, boyish nature enchanting everyone in the studio, yourself included.

ellen crosses her legs and clears her throat. “so, i have to ask you something, you know, for the fans.”

the group leaned forward in anticipation, awaiting her next words.

“are any of you dating?”

the crowd released noises of amusement at hearing the very personal question. you can’t help but feel intrigued although you knew ellen has always been quite the invasive person. you watched as the seven boys looked around at each other, unsure what to say but before their silence can become suspiciously long, mark ends up taking the question.

“why are you always so curious about this, though?” he blurts.

the audience absolutely eats up his response, cheering at his bluntness. even you find it humorous, shoulders shaking with a chuckle. that’s definitely gonna become a meme, you think.

“it’s my job!” counters ellen. “why are you so defensive?”

the crowd is very responsive to ellen’s rebuttal, ‘ooh’ing in amusement.

mark’s silence only pushes the hostess to continue teasing him.

“does it maybe have anything to do with y/n?”

your smile drops. had she seen you two? you’re not sure why you feel so exposed; after all, you had just been talking.

ellen’s lips adorn a sly smile at mark’s stunned reaction. “you seemed to be getting very comfortable with each other backstage.”

the black haired male stumbles over his words before he gets a semi-coherent sentence out. “we just, um—we just met.”

“oh really? you two looked like you had known each other forever.”

mark chuckles breathlessly, eyes glued to his lap, obviously at a loss for words. ellen stares at him expectantly so he mutters, “i like making friends.”

ellen, the audience, and even some of the band members laugh at his response.

“well, i’m sure there’s a lot of fans out there that wish they were your ‘friend’.” her tone makes it clear she doesn’t buy his excuse but she prods him no further, instead turning to stare into the main camera. “when we get back superm will be performing their title track ‘jopping’. during the commercial break, please feel free to place your bets as to how long mark and y/n will remain ‘friends’.”

the camera pans to mark for a couple seconds; his ears are bright red and his cheeks are dusted light pink, his makeup doing nothing to help hide the blush. his eyes dart around, anxiously and then they cut to commercials.

you shake your head, smiling at the entire situation and just how big of a dork mark was.

you attentively watch superm’s two performances, eyes mostly glued to a certain rapper. you sit patiently in the makeup room, waiting for mark to return backstage so you can congratulate him but he never appears. you try to conceal your disappointment, even when lily enters the room, smiling brightly.

“well, the show’s over, doll.” she removes her makeup stained apron and glances at you as she places it on a nearby rack. “hey, why the long face?”

you stare at your reflection in the mirror, no longer bothering to hide your pout now that your frustration had been made known.

“you did great, if that’s what you’re worried about. just ask mark.”

“he left,” you mumble. “i thought i’d be able to catch him before he left and we could… i don’t know, talk a bit more? i just really—” you trail off.

“like him?” lily suggests, too loudly for your liking.

your head snaps towards her, eyes wide, only confirming your feelings.

“don’t worry, dear, you can say it. i won’t tell ellen,” she jokes.

you sigh and slump down in your seat. “yeah. i like him.”

“well, then, i have good news for you.”

you half-heartedly hum, allowing her to continue.

she waves a piece of crumpled paper in front of your face. you grab it from her, staring at it curiously.

“what’s this?”

she nods her head at it, encouraging you to find out for yourself. “open it and see.”  

you obey, unfolding the tiny item. your eyes struggle to read the words inside but if you squint, they become clearer.

please call, me i would love to become closer ‘friends’.

(xxx) xxx-xxxx

it’s mark btw :)

you can’t contain your smile at the cute little note.

“he’s adorable,” you say, mostly to yourself but lily audibly agrees.

“he ran into me as he was leaving and begged me to deliver that message to you. which reminds me, i’m supposed to let you know that he wishes he could have stuck around but his schedule is ‘crazy tight’ so he had to ‘dip’. his words not mine.”

you nod, grin widening. “thanks, lily.”

“my pleasure. nothing like young love.”

you give her a glare although it’s all but threatening.

she folds her arms, teasingly. “so, are you going to give him a call or what?”

you’re sure she sees the phone in your hand and the way your fingers press the numbers on the keypad, excitedly but nevertheless, you decide to answer.

“i’d be crazy not to.”

[couchpotatoaniki]

Gentleman (A Valentine’s Special)

A mysterious stranger ends up at your door, looking for a place to stay. But is he who he says he is? More importantly, what is he doing to you?

Pairing: Special Agent!Jungkook x Famer! Fem!Reader Genre: Greek God AU, 1950s AU, fluff, minor angst, suggestive, suspense Warnings: Creepy behaviour, slight yandere behaviour, coercion (?), implied smoking Word count: 5k+

NOT EDITED

14th February 1955 Britain Ten Years After World War II

“Hey! Come back here!”

Your yelling could be heard throughout the massive coop as you chased one of your rebellious chickens. The hen clucked back at you, running away--talons ready to fight--as her wings beat the air with such vigour, some feathers came off her body.

Clutching your knees and holding the side of your waist tightly, you paused where you stood to catch your breath. Intense pain began to subside slowly, but you thought it would be better if you do not push yourself, seeing as though toady’s activities were more taxing than usual.

Making eye contact with the devilish chicken, you glared hard at her. “You may... have won the battle, Leslie... but you will not... win the war.” Stretching your back, you began to walk out of the coop--but you turned around to give one last warning. “I’ll get you one day.”

She clucked in response, as if the bird was taunting you. You decided not to go further and left, making sure to lock the coop well so she didn’t escape.

Looked up at the setting sun to see that it was almost six-ish, meaning that your own dinner was about to start... right after you feed the rest off the animals.

Thankfully, you saved the best for last. You own pet--a Scotch Collie with kind eyes and fuzzy fur. She was actually your parents’ parting gift before they had to leave for the war. Called her Pepper because she always made Papa sneeze badly, from his terrible allergy.

She barked, running in a circle in anticipation for her meal. You never really understood why dogs were o excited to eat the same food for the rest of their lives--especially now that you had begun to appreciate different foods after rationing for years.

That’s why you were thoughtful enough to try and at least mix things up, feeding Pepper diverse foods with flavour since your farm definitely had the facilities to do so.

Leaving your dog outside in her doghouse so she could play for a bot after her food, you went inside to start making your own dinner with almost every ingredient grown at the farm.

Chicken tetrazzini, Mama’s recipe.

Best part about it, was that it had made enough for a midnight snack too, as well as covering for tomorrow’s lunch and dinner. After all, it was made for four people.

Everything was set--the food on the table, plate and cutlery set out, even went one step further and put some fresh flowers in the clear glass vase. Huff escaped past your lips as you sat down, finally feeling the stresses of the day melting away.

Apparently someone else had a different plan, since when you were just about to take a bite of the meal you had spend almost two hours cooking, a knock on the door had interrupted.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! What can a woman do to get some peace?!”

Another knock beckoned her, hast in its rhythm, begging for attention.

“Alright, alright,” you signed, chair screeching against the hard wood of the floor and you pushed away and stood up.

Was a short walk from the table to the door, but it felt long now that your body had gotten a taste of relaxation before it had to move again. Obviously, you would be grumpy. Who comes this late in the evening anyway?

Opening the oak door, it revealed a dashing young man, around your age, in an expensive-looking black suit with a matching hat and beige trench coat, small leather suitcase in his hand.

Almost blended in with inky night sky, a full moon already high in the sky.

His expression was blank as he held up a badge--an officer’s badge. Golden surface sparkled under the soft lightbulb, displaying letters that spelt ‘National Crime Agency’.

‘Straightforward,’ was the first impression you got.

The ring on his left hand, which he used to hold the badge up, did not go unnoticed either. Gold with diamonds sewn into the thick metallic band.

‘Filthy rich,’ was the second impression.

His hair was ebony, silky and smooth--as was his skin, by the look of it. To say he was handsome was an understatement, not like you paid much attention to such trivial matters.

“I am Special Agent Jeon Jungkook,” he introduced, voice deep and soothing. Took you off-guard, for a reason you did not know, but your tiredness took over.

“Usually, you'd greet a person with ‘hello’.” Jungkook grunted under his breath--now just as annoyed as you were, from your brazenness, but was about to comply until you sucked in the air through your teeth, making your chest rise and fall. “What can I help you with today, Agent?”

Glancing inside your abode without seeing too rude, he glided his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “I need to stay here for the night.”

The sudden request frim the stranger took you by surprise. “Pardon?”

He clicked the muscle in his mouth and sighed, “you heard me, Ma’am.”

“Why can’t you just stay somewhere else?”

“Because, when you’re out here in the countryside, you don’t find many places to stay nearby. The only only inn around here told me to stay here since they were full.”

You suppose it made sense--the nearest inn was usually swamped with tourists passing by, not to mention the owner was your brother’s brother-in-law. Seeing someone as important as a special agent, well it would be common sense for him to send the important an to you.

A notice would’ve been nice, however.

“Okay then.”

Sliding to the side, you let your home become subjected to a stranger who had an air about him you couldn’t shake off. Each step of his as he glided behind you gave you a heavy feeling.

Like every single time his polished obsidian shoes collided with the wooden floor, her heart pounded along side it.

Something was wrong about him; it was a feeling you couldn’t shake off. Even your soul was sending off warnings that this man was not who he claimed to be--not entirely. 

He was perfect... too perfect.

Though his personality was horrible and manners, close to non-existent, he held himself with confidence and elegance. Even spoke in a way that had her knees quaking ever so slightly--

You scolded yourself mentally. No. This was not okay. Jungkook is a married man so having such scandalous thoughts were wrong.

But you had never felt anything close to this for a man you had just met. Naturally, you suspected him.

Luckily, your brother worked in the same place--the National Crime Agency. Could check if he is who he says he is.

“Would you like something to eat? You look famished.”

He paused in the middle of the living room, dropping his suitcase in the corner after taking his hat off. Nodded slightly, his onyx hair bouncing ever so gently. “Where’s the master of the house?” he inquired as you made your way to the dining table in the kitchen.

Jungkook sat patiently at the foot rather than the head, kind enough to assume that it was a taken spot that was not for him. Despite the fact that you had faced inequality all your life, you were still irked by this question. “I’m the master of the house.”

You opened one of your cabinets and took out another ceramic plate that matched your own. As you put in some food for him, he continued his questioning. “So you own this whole farm?” Curtly, you nodded. “But what about your parents?”

“Mama and Papa died in the war,” you causally dropped as you set his place like a good host. Despite your delivery, the event was in no means trivial.

You could still remember the day Hoseok came knocking on your door with a grey, ashen face. The day your older brother had to tell his little sister that their parents were never going to come back home like they promised.

The only reason he could even deliver the news himself was because he worked at the NCA HQ in London for his ‘excellent skills’ and ‘brilliant mind’. That was the reason he was not drafted. That was the reason you were left in charge of the farm.

Not that you hated it, no; you loved these animals you grew up with, the sense of home and of childhood. Familiarity.

Mama and Papa were part of that warmth that made it bearable to run the place and when they had turned cold, you cried up a storm. Damaged your health to the point Hoseok and his wife had to nurse you back to health for a month and help around.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Jungkook mumbled, snapping you out of the trance you were in. “If I may be so bold as to ask...how? I understand your father would have been conscripted, but your mother...?”

“Mama was a nurse out in the battlefield.” Thinking about it made you chuckled a little, a small scoff laced within it. “Stayed together throughout the war and died together. Always  said they loved each other too much to live without the other. Looks like God made that wish come true...or the Germans. Whatever one you believe has more power.”

He too laughed at your little venomous comment, very much amused by the way his smile grew and eyes crinkled at the corners. “Germans are still somewhat powerful, and so is God... or Gods and Goddesses, depending on beliefs.” Elbows on the table with one hand enveloping the other, Jungkook rested his chin on his knuckles and cocked a brow. “So which one applies to you?”

You let out a long exhale, you returned to you seat to take that much needed bite while you thought on it. “I... The Germans aren’t all bad. A lot of them were brainwashed or threatened.” You toyed with the food on your plate, finding that you were not feeling all that hungry anymore.

“As for ‘God’... Well, I gave up that belief a long time ago,” you whispered, painfully taking in another morsel. anything to full you mouth with anything other than bitter words that burned your throat.

“And ‘Gods and Goddesses’?”

“I’d be open to the idea, though I’m not very fond of it either from my studies of them,” you mused. “Religion just isn’t my thing. Hasn’t been for a long time.”

Humming, Jungkook took a sip of his water. Failed to notice that he was already halfway done with his dinner. “And your husband?”

“Never had one,” you answered nonchalantly, like it was normal for a 25 year-old woman to be single and living in a household all by herself, working too.

This would have been a shocker to the agent had he not known about your status. You were a woman with much potential, who could have anyone in the world if you wished. Even him.

Especially him.

Only him.

“So, why are you here?” You figured it was a good idea actually ask the man why he was staying in your house in the first place. 

But Jungkook was not biting. “Classified.”

He bit his lower, plump lip softly, the simple action having your mind run around. Exploring the idea of a touch from the pair against your skin, having your own lip to be between your teeth instead.

You shook the thought the moment you realised it had entered in your mind. He’s married, he’s married, he’s married.

Breaking the intense eye contact you had, you quickly excused yourself, needing to check who this person was. Never had you felt an attraction to someone you never met and that itself had set off alarms in your head.

You trudged up the creaky stairs to your bedroom, where the rotary dial telephone was out of Jungkook’s earshot. Once you put in the number, you had the earphone pressed against your skin, fingers tightening around the red handle.

“Come on... pick up,” you muttered. Your payers heard by the click that was followed by the high-pitched voice of your sister-in-law.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Elise? It’s Y/N.” Your volume was still kept relatively low, despite no one being around you.

The voice at the other end sounded very pleased to hear from you. “Y/N! It’s been so long! How are you?”

“Good, good. What about you and the little baby bump?”

“Both of us are as fine as dandelions in spring!”

“That’s wonderful!” Your eyes sifted momentarily to the door. “Listen, I’d love to continue chatting, but I need to speak to Hoseok. Urgently.”

“Oh! Okay, let me catch him!”

“Thank you, you angel.”

As Elise went to retrieve her husband, you couldn’t help but think about your wonderful friendship with her. How perfect she was for Hoseok and vice versa. Unfortunately a forbidden thought--’forbidden’ by your standards--creeped in.

What if you yourself had found such perfect love?

What if it was with Jungkook?

The weird sound in your head was not familiar or normal. Beyond odd. The mere idea of being with a married stranger sent shivers down your spine. Ones you did not like.

Something was awry.

“Y/N?” your brother’s joyous voice spoke from the other end. “I miss you!”

“I miss you too, Hobi,” you giggle a little, forgetting your worries momentarily. Between your tiring day and his busy one, time for themselves was rare, nevermind calls.

This felt like a wonderful opportunity to talk to him, one you had to sadly decline due to a more pressing matter that you believed was sat at your dining table downstairs.

“So, Hoseok, I need to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you know anyone called ‘Jeon Jungkook’ where you work?”

Silence overtook the line for a few seconds. “Yeah... Cold but kind. Massive flirt, though. Wears a ring but isn’t officially married to anyone. In fact, no one’s ever heard him talk about a significant other... weird.”

For some odd reason, happiness began to swell in you chest upon hearing that. No matter how hard you tried to push it down, it was still there.

“N-Nothing. Just... he showed up at the house. Wanted to check in to see if he was telling the truth.”

“Did he not show you his badge?”

“He did, but I wanted to double check.”

A soft hum could be heard, then the tone of your brother’s voice became much more serious. “Quick question. Why is he at the house?”

“Wouldn’t you and I both like to know... but a part of it is that apparently John’s inn is full.”

“...Alrighty, then. Was there anything else?”

“N-No...” you trailed off, eyes shifting to the door. She could feel a presence on the other side, listening in. Must have been Jungkook, though you certainly would have heard him coming up the creaky staircase. “Call you later.”

“O-Okay, b--”

You immediately ended the call, focus narrowed on the strong wood as you crept towards it, careful not to make any noise. Fingers wrapped around the doorknob, blood rushing from the adrenaline coursing through your veins, heart pounding. Swinging it open, the hinges squeaked from the sudden movement.

Empty stretch of corridor.

When you returned back downstairs to the dining room--stairs creaks as they normally did--you found Jungkook sat in the same position you felt him in, plate empty.

“You should really fix those stairs,” he smiled, having your heart somersaulting in your chest. “Don’t sound very safe.” Running his tongue over his lips, which was of no help to your current condition, he stood to place his plate in the sink. “May you show me to my room?”

You moved to grab his suitcase, ready to bring it upstairs, until his hand reached out quicker, grabbing it. How did he move so quickly? More importantly, why was he so close?

And that scent of his, strong, like bourbon, but a citrusy hint to it. Faint scent of cigarettes on his breath that brushed against the nape of your neck.

It feels warm.

Tumbling away, you sucked in a sharp breath, too aware of the dangerous proximity. Jungkook simply chuckled at your reaction as he lifted the suitcase, muscles popping beneath the fine material of his blazer.

You could not help but notice it, nor could you help but imagine seeing it without the cloth in the way. Even toyed with the image of that very arm holding you up as the pair of you did unspeakable things. Things that--if others found out--would have your respectable position within society lie in tatters.

“What’s happening?” you whispered to yourself, trying to get a grip, yet Jungkook managed to catch it.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” you waved off, subtly narrowing your eyes onto him with suspicion. You kept silent after that, walking up the stairs with him following shortly behind you. Under the weight of both of you, the stairs did, in fact, groan loudly, showing that there really was no way he could have come upstairs without you hearing.

What if you were hearing things? What if you were going mad?

The two of you stopped at the end of the corridor, the window behind you letting the moonlight in. Jungkook did not mention it, but the soft glow illuminating your figure made you appear like an angel.

You were his angel.

You opened the door to your right, letting him see inside. Quaint, nice décor, homely. “This is your room. Sorry if it’s a little dusty, I haven’t had a guest in a long, long time. This door opposite is the powder room.” You pointed down the hallway, to the door at the end. “My bedroom’s over there. Don’t be afraid to knock if you need anything.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Corners of your lips quirking for no reason, you remarked, “name’s Y/N.”

“Okay then, Miss Y/N. I’ll see you in the morning...”

Nodding, you watched as he took his suitcase inside. Eyes locked onto each other, only breaking when the door finally separated the two of you.

You looked out the window, shoving both hands in your back pockets as you looked out the window. Harsh winds and dark clouds rolling in fast.

Rain looked likely... and heavy.

“I should probably get Pepper inside.”

What you did not know, was that Jungkook heard you, was looking out into the same scenery as you, then down to the dog house, fenced up with a fuzzy dog inside.

You turned around and walked downstairs, old boards still whining under every step you took with your brown boots.  Opening the back door, you were met with a surprise; Pepper was already waiting in front of it.

You never forgot to lock the fence around the dog house, not when a person had tried to steal her shortly during the war.

Regardless, you moved back to let the dog in. “Sorry, girl.”

You pet her fur, a little cold from the vast wisps of air travelling at a faster rate than usual. Shut the door, then beckoned Pepper to follow upstairs, not like she needed to be told twice, since the eager animal sprinted tot he second floor, all the way to Jungkook’s room and started barking aggressively.

“Pepper, you can’t...” you trailed off mid-sentence when seeing your dog’s behaviour. Crouched--ready to pounce, ears bent and pointed down, two perfect rows of sharp teeth in a snarl. This was beyond the norm; she was usually very friendly.

The brass doorknob twisted slowly and retreated.

An unpleased Jungkook stood in front of her with dishevelled hair and in a plain black shirt paired with plaid pocketed pants, scowling.

You had to admit, he was exceptionally... good-looking in his night-wear. All you wanted to do in that moment was to run your finger through his dark locks, wanting to feel him beneath the tips of your fingers. Finally, you got to see his veiny arms in the short-sleeved top and faintly see this well-built torso under the tight fabric.

Snapped out of it when you saw how Pepper heeled in submission as she whimpered once she saw his annoyed face. Made Jungkook grin and stroke the fur atop her head, going down on one knee. “Good dog...”

Never had you seen such a drastic change in the behaviour of Pepper, and you actually began to worry.

As if hearing your thoughts, Jungkook looked back to you once he stood up. “I’m good at making things like me.”

With a final smile, he shut the door and you took that as the que to retire for the night yourself. Tail wagging, your Scotch Collie happily trailed behind you and settled at the foot of your bed.

You locked the door, double checking that it was secure since, at the end of the day, there was still a stranger staying under the same roof as you. No matter how attracted you were, you could not ignore that fact.

Nothing sat well with you, your mind running wild as you tied your hair into a braid and changed into your nightgown. Was a little showy, but it was fine since no one would come in, not to mention that it was comfortable too.

All of a sudden, a headache formed. Felt like your brain was being torn into two, but the pain spread to your heart as well.

Why is it so warm?

Stumbling, you sat down on your bed and gulped down the glass of water that was on your bedside table. A bit of water dribbled down the corner of your mouth from how hastily you drank it, but it did not help the extreme discomfort you were in.

Heart almost jumped out of your chest from the phone’s loud ‘ttttrrring’ out of nowhere. “Hello?” you said, trying not to make the panting audible.

“It’s me, Y/N,” Hoseok said. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“N-No. I was just about to hit the hay,” you whispered into the earphone, not wanting Jungkook to hear through the walls, no matter how thick they were. “What happened?”

Eyes darted around the room, suddenly more paranoid than called for.

“I thought it was a little weird that Jungkook went to the farm instead of finding another place to stay.”

“He said he couldn’t.”

“I know, but something felt... off.”

You could feel it again, that presence behind the door returned. Pepper got up, couching as she had done earlier and growling at the door. There was someone there. It was not just your imagination. “So? What did you do?”

“I called John and asked him if he met someone from the NCA. He said he didn’t.” You gulped, now feeling the presence behind you, in front of you, all around you. “Then I asked him if he had any rooms available.”

“And?”

“Apparently he did. A few, actually. Been vacant for weeks now. not peak travelling time because of the storm that’s hitting tonight, and front he look of outside, it’s here. So what I want you to do, is I want you to be very damn careful around him.”

“I thought he was your friend.” You still had difficulty trying to process it, especially from how you were feeling, but you tried your best to pay heed to your brother’s words.

“He's a colleague and besides, he lied. I can’t get there for two days since the storm’s really bad. Be wary of him and everything he does until then. He tries anything, you leave immediately and go to the inn.”

“Is he really that dangerous?”

“Yes.”

So you had to spend two days with a man you barely knew, a man whose intentions you did not know. “Okay,” you breathed, starting to get a little light-headed. “Than y--”

In an instant, you stopped talking. You could not hear any growls anymore. You shifted your line of sight to the door, only to find your furry companion gone.

You felt a pressure on your shoulder.

A hand.

No one was in front of her, so they must have been behind her.

“I’ll... I’ll have to call you later.”

“Be safe, okay?”

“Okay. Bye--”

Another hand pried the earphone away for your frozen body and ended the call within a second. Warm, cigarette-scented breath fanned over your exposed neck, triggering goosebumps to erupt all over.

One large hand rubbed up your arm, while the other squeezed the side of your waist. The touch felt familiar despite the fact you had never been touched like this before.

A name came rolling off your tongue so naturally, as you tried to supress an unholy sound. “J-Jungkook...”

“Call me Eros, my love. That’s my real name.”

Confusion and pleasure twisted your face, his lips hovering over the crook of your neck, over the one spot that gave you the most... feeling. He knew it just like that, like he knew your body better than you did.

“Wh-What?” Took all the strength you could muster not to slur your words.

Clearly, it failed.

Your body had detached itself from your hazy mind with nothing commanding it but Jungkook, your neck stretching to the side to grant him better access.

“It’s true.” His head lowered further in, the soft skin of his lips doing wonders. “I’m Eros.”

You tried so hard not to make a noise, your breathing heavy heavy to try an stabilise your palpitating heart. Thighs pressed together for some friction to ease the burning need in your lower body.

“My Psyche... my beautiful Psyche...”

You snapped up, trying to gain control over yourself once more. Turned to face him while he sat on your bed, licking his lips as his eyes racked over your figure, once again basking in the glowing moonlight that entered through your window.

“Did you wear that for me, my love?”

Your face turned as red as a tomato as you tried to cover yourself from his preying stare.

But why did you like the attention?

“No, I didn’t,” you cleared your throat, relaxing your muscles as you recalled Eros and Psyche’s story from your personal studies of mythology.

Seeing as how strange the entire evening was, how nothing was as it was meant to be, you certainly had believed it. Especially when the pain had began to subside only when Jungkook was touching you.

“Wait, I though you had a child; that you were married to Psyche.”

“First of all,” he got of the bed, “that never stopped a God or Goddess. Secondly, what the humans teach is wrong. I never had a child.”

He began taking slow steps towards you, like you were his prey.

“Thirdly, what the humans didn’t tell you, is that when Mother--Aphrodite--granted immortality to Psyche, she only gave it to her soul. The ability to be reborn.” Jungkook looked saddened by it, though the feeling momentarily flickered through his eyes, it was gone just as quick. “Now that I have finally found you, my love, I will grant your body immortality too. So you can stay with me. Forever.”

By now, there was no such thing as personal space, your bodies so close that there was no room left to breathe. Not like this man--or God, technically--had granted you ‘breath’ from the moment you laid eyes on him.

His hand slithered with no shame up the side of your hips, your waist, your chest, and around the back of your neck.

“I know you want to, my love.”

Your mind went blank, numb to everything but his words and his warmth.

“I know you can’t think when you’re with me like this.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, bringing down your defences with Hoseok’s words long discarded.

“I’ve always had this affect on you, you know? From centuries ago to even now.” Jungkook’s lips hovered over the lobe of your ear, soft air very gently stroking the skin as his tongue lightly caressed the skin to make you shiver.

Chuckled to himself as he saw how responsive your body was.

His face moved to the front, to see your heavy-lidded expression, eyes clouded with lust.

Hair dropping over his forehead, bundled-up stands casting a shadow over one eye with the over glimmering under the moonlight that peeked through the raining clouds which pattered against the window.

“Do you love me?”

What little bit was left of your conscious tried to say ‘no’. Tried to protest, that you were your own person and not his long-lost love. But something inside you kept silent.

Jaw tightening, flexing ever so slightly under the soft beam, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. Movement against each other was so familiar, like you had done it before. But you had not, not with him or anyone else, for that matter. His tongue against you own was like a dance you knew from your heart.

Jungkook broke away--too quickly, in her opinion.

“Tell me. Do you love me?”

The only thing that came out of your mouth that second was, “yes.”

Your eyes were glazed over, like you were now an empty shell, yet not empty in any way whatsoever. Brainwashed, yet full of free will.

“I love you.”

Jungkook grinned at you, holding tightly onto your waist to make sure you were not dream. “I love you too.”

He stepped backwards, taking you with him. Just before he reached the bed, he sup you around so that you were the one walking backwards. The mattress hit against the back of your knees, making you fall; your arms tangled around him brought him down with you.

Faces an inch apart, Jungkook dug something out of his pyjama pocket.

A gold ring with small diamonds encrusted onto the thin band in a beautiful and intricate way. The matching pair  to the one wrapped around his ring finger.

Jungkook slipped it on you, and it fit so well, like it was mean to be there.

“There. Now you’re almost complete. We just need to do one last thing, my love.”

With that, he kissed you much more roughly, hungrily, than before as he slipped of the straps of your nightgown.

Pepper, still quiet and hidden in the other room, watched the rain hammer hard and fast against the glass of the windows for the rest of the night.

[isshuns]

the progression of things - discarded scenes

this is a dump post for scenes that were in the original draft, but never made it to final version of the fic. they bear no connection to the final version of "the progression of things”, but i liked them enough that i couldn’t bear just deleting these scenes (TPOT underwent a lot of editing and rewrites) ;_; they were part of the original premise where I wrote Miyano as ace/demisexual, but in the end it didn’t work out ;_;

click on the “read more” link if you’d like to read them, but take note, they’re were part of the rough draft, hence are extremely unpolished. 

Miyano remembers being fifteen, his school bag heavy on his shoulders, but his heart heavier in his chest. Every day he looks at the mirror in his bathroom and wonders why he was cursed with such feminine features, a smaller build than the rest of the boys in his school; everything on his face seemed wrong as though nature forgot to switch its genetic code back to “MASCULINE, MALE” when constructing his face.

He couldn’t blame his parents, they never had any say in what he’d look like when he was born, and his mother would be heartbroken to hear that her son, bearing such resemblance to her looks, actually hated his own.

But as slightly estranged as he was from his middle school classmates when his looks came up as a topic of conversation, Miyano still heard Things whispered amongst his peers, seen Things even, when his classmates included him in their weekly get-together to ogle at printed materials meant for a demographic way beyond their age.

In the flush of youth, where the boys in his class pondered over their body anatomy, fascinated with nature, and looked to adult magazines (stolen from their older sibling’s stash) for enjoyment, Miyano pondered over the harsh reality of his feminine features, upset but resigned with nature, and looked to fashion magazines (taken with permission from his mother’s collection) for pointers on how Not to appear even more like a girl.

(His father’s copies of Business Weekly helped a little too, even if only to remind Miyano how top businessmen in the country dressed for a business photoshoot with the press – suit, tie and expensive watch peeking from the cuffs.)

When the passage of time came and went and Miyano entered high school, he discovered the world of Boys Love manga and dedicated his free time to understanding the intricacies of this fascinating genre. Being a minor, the type of print he could obtain were fairly sweet and innocent, nothing too explicit save for some scenes that took place on a bed, the protagonists’ modesty preserved with a flimsily drawn blanket over their nude bodies.

Occasionally, a book or two with explicit content would make their way to his collection. The internet was also a place full of wonders and possibility, and once or twice Miyano would (secretly) look up the famous series promised with rave reviews, but somehow, Porn Without Plot never really stuck to his repertoire.

Even after becoming of age, Miyano still finds himself gravitating towards the safety that comes with the PG-13 books. There is a strange sort of comfort in consuming fiction that depicts love as something simple and uncomplicated, straightforward and representation that love– intimacy did not necessarily come hand in hand with sexual acts. Intimacy could exist with or without sexual acts and vice versa, whatever floats your boat, really.

For Miyano, it was always the build up leading to that ultimate confession scene (at the rooftop, under the cherry blossom tree by the school yard, the back of the school gym, endless options) that grabbed him by the feels and punted him into the sun. That’s where the highlight is!! He once told Sasaki, unable to hold back on his excitement that twinkled in his eyes.

And identifying all the event flags leading up to that very moment of their first kiss? Unparalleled. Truly the best of all scenes there is. Peak romance. The bedroom scenes (few and rare in his possession) are really just a bonus.

So, while his peers continued to chat about going through the motions in bed, the closest miyano could ever try to relate to during those conversations was the intimacy that came along with the idea of sexual intercourse.

-------------------------------------

The moment Miyano is done with the last of his midterms and bids his notes goodbye (for now), Sasaki magically appears beside him and whisks him away to the nearby izakaya for a celebratory dinner.

“For getting through the first midterm week of your life~” His giant baby boyfriend coos, ever so sweet like the cakes he bakes.

Miyano pretends to be exasperated, shoulders dramatically slumping over the sticky izakaya table, but his heart knows better. It’s been one month since he’s started college (the one Sasaki also so happens to attend, not a coincidence at all), and the privilege of having more time to spend with one another makes Miyano giddy with happiness.

Gone are the days Miyano can only meet his favourite senpai for a handful of hours after club activities until the reality of their courseload slaps them in the face; gone are the days they have to rely on telephone calls and text messages, where the minutes and seconds flashing across the screen serve as an unforgiving reminder of the time they have left before they have to part ways.

It’s all gone now. Sasaki sits before him, in the flesh, and Miyano has always felt that seeing Sasaki’s smile in person would always be different from seeing it on screen. The grainy pixels on his phone can never do those handsome features justice, nor can it the warmth blooming behind his breastbone whenever Sasaki threads their fingers together and walks him all the way back to his dorm.

The freshmen all share a common dormitory block separate from the rest of the college students, something about building connections and getting to know each other better, so Sasaki insists on walking Miyano back to his room before he makes the trek all the way back to his own. The night is young, the dorms are peacefully quiet, and everyone is probably still out in town having a good time.

---------------------------

Loathe as he is to do so, Miyano makes the executive decision to drop by the bookstore one afternoon to try and consult a few adult BL manga. It’s the worst idea he could ever come up with, he hates comparing his own relationship to silly BL manga tropes, but nothing short of an apocalypse would push him to ask the people around him whether it’s normal to… not think about sex in a romantic relationship. While the internet is a wondrous place full of answers and possibilities, Miyano figures it probably wouldn’t hurt to take a peek at how society tackles his questions through the lens of BL manga.

Hurriedly, just before his date with Sasaki, he randomly picks up one of the highly rated R-18 series, heads over to the payment counter quickly, and bolts out of the store the moment the cashier bags his purchases. He makes sure to stuff the damned volumes deep beneath his bag, out of sight, before he heads over to the café to meet Sasaki for lunch.

And when he’s finally back in his own dorm later that night, his roommate blissfully unaware and asleep, Miyano retrieves the book from his bag, cautiously peels away the plastic wrap before he settles down for the night to take notes.

His efforts are all for naught. Halfway through the series – one Junjou Romantica –, it takes Miyano all but 3 volumes before he calls it quits and and promptly closes the book. Guess there’s no way he can redeem his money now, unless Sasaki is into dubcon…? Well, that’s a thought for future Miyano to ponder on. Current Miyano just wants to sleep and wash the images out of his mind with bleach.

-------------------------------

he has no care for sex, but nothing compares to the tender happiness that comes along with partaking in something sasaki enjoys and yearns for. sasaki’s language of love has always been touch and spending time partaking in activities of common interest.

today, sasaki has picked a soothing lo-fi playlist as their background music. they’re seated on the bed, warmly nestled against each other as they browse through their respective manga

his eyes may be on inked pages, but his heart is long gone. he discreetly observes his boyfriend, the curve of his jaw, long lashes almost curling against the high of his cheekbones as his honey-gold eyes flit across pages and pages of content.

the fingers flipping through each page is steady, long, and miyano suddenly wonders how it would feel to have them splayed across his body, touching him in places his own hands have never ventured before.

“what’s wrong, myaa-chan?” sasaki smiles at him, eyes impossibly fond and kind.

well, fuck it, there’s no going back now.

“senpai, what do you think… about… BL with explicit content?”

sasaki blinks. miyano tampers down the urge to kiss those parted lips.

“you mean books with sex scenes in them?”

“yeah.”

“oh.” sasaki turns away, the hand that’s not rested on miyano’s shoulder has found a place on top of sasaki’s mouth. he’s embarrassed, miyano realizes, and somehow that makes him feel ten times more endearing than usual.

sensing that this was a topic his boyfriend wasn’t going to let go any time soon, sasaki clears his throat and returns miyano’s gaze head on.

“i’m fine with it. why do you ask?”

“i… well.” while miyano struggles for words, sasaki hand starts moving up and down his arm, soothing him.

“are you starting to read rated manga? it’s normal, at least, ogasawara’s girlfriend says so. so there’s no need to be shy, myaa-chan! if you want to recommend any, you know I’ll read anything you lend me. no judgment here.”

it should have been reassuring, but the thought that ogasawara’s girlfriend discussed with sasaki about explicit BL manga like it’s the fucking weather has miyano choking on his spit. what the actual fuck.

do people actually talk about these things? is miyano the abnormal one instead for never entertaining the thought of doing things with his significant other?! has he been missing out on some code of relationship couples ought to follow?! the BL mangas he read never said so!

“myaa-chan? are you okay?”

“you- you talk with ogasawara senpai about these things?”

sasaki’s cheeks colour a lovely shade of red. from his looks, he’s starting to catch up with where miyano wants the conversation to go. that’s a relief, because miyano honestly doesn’t know how to tactfully broach the topic without sounding like a dumb dumb about these things.

“yeah, i do.” sasaki admits, “but only once or twice, because ogasawara needed to vent about things. sorry, does that weird you out? i can stop. i don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“no, no, it’s fine. totally fine, senpai.” it must be a common boys topic that somehow eluded miyano and friends during high school. at this point, miyano’s face must be burning with the hot flames of embarrassment and shame, he’s pretty sure sasaki’s fingers can feel the heat all the way from where they are, stroking his cheek absently.

“what brought this on, if you don’t mind me asking?” sasaki asks a moment later, when the weight of silence in the room gets a little too much to bear.

“just… some friends talking about it the other day.”

“friends.”

“yeah… fine, classmates.”

“are you… thinking about it?”

at miyano’s surprised expression, sasaki backtracks immediately.

“forget i asked.”

“to be honest, i don’t know what to feel about it.”

“it’s okay, we don’t have to do what you don’t want to do.”

it’s so painfully awkward yet endearing at the same time.

“do you think about it, senpai? about us… doing those things?”

sasaki’s lack of an answer is extremely telling. the shade of red coloring his cheeks is probably bright enough to rival miyano’s own face.

“does it matter? i am happy with doing whatever myaa-chan wants to do.” sasaki finally says, but his eyes have shied away from miyano’s gaze, and something within miyano snaps.

“of course it matters. it’s you, sasaki-senpai. i want you to be happy too. i want to do things that you want to do too.”

something akin to hope blooms across sasaki’s eyes (surprisingly moist).

“thank you, myaa-chan. that thought alone makes me happy enough. let’s leave it here for now and let things progress as they naturally would, how about that? we don’t need to rush into anything. i’m really happy with where we are now.”

he knows that sasaki has caught on to his sexual orientation, no doubt. it’s been a year since he became of age, and yet the BL manga he still buys have never ventured into the explicit genre. briefly, he wonders if sasaki actually keeps his own stash of porn somewhere below his bed, like normal boys would do.

they aren’t in high school anymore. it’s been years, and yet until this point, the thought of doing something more than kissing and cuddling has never crossed miyano’s mind. he wants to cry at how respectful his boyfriend has been all this while.

“myaa-chan? myaa-chan? oh no, yoshikazu, don’t cry. i’m sorry if i said something wrong-”

oh fuck.

miyano has always been uncomfortable with displays of affection and attention, preferring to bask in the comforting arms of his daydreams and fantasies, but his love for sasaki burns greater and he will do anything he can to ensure that sasaki receives equal, if not more, affection and care than the amount his boyfriend showers him in.

scene ends with sasaki hugging miyano tightly, reassuring him and planting a kiss at the side of miyano’s temple. but it does nothing to seep away the frustration gnawing at his bones.

END

[youngnari]

Thicker Than Water // Ten

—Notes : t had been a long while since I started writing anything (pardon if this sucks), and I have a lot of things in my drafts right now that I have to continue. Uni had been overwhelming and recently my internship ended, hopefully I can write more before my next term starts. Overall, enjoy this short scenario I made and have a nice day ahead :)

—Wc : 7831 words

—Warning : honestly, none... I just wanted to write about Ten cause I love Ten, well we all love Ten.

—Pairing : childhood best-friend!Ten x female!reader 

—Genre : a cup of fluff + a few dashes of angst

—Summary : Two childhood best-friends found it hard to confront their feelings for one another, until they grew apart;

When distance grew and time spent apart, love became stronger. After all, it is thicker than water.

“I love you, Ten”

Love is thicker than water. Your feelings wouldn’t easily be dissolved even after a few years of not seeing him.

And that’s when you knew, love is true.

Life decisions often come knocking on your door when you least expect them to. They are often buried in the form of steps, growth, and changes.

The life decisions you chose rarely caused any big changes in your life, although you were partially to blame for often wanting to play it too safe. Your life always revolved around the same people, all located in a similar environment. Your so-called childhood best-friend who lived just around the corner of your block, a brief five-minute walk. He played a big role in your life, similarly to your parents. You had known him since you were three, possibly longer; from bathing and swimming together naked in his kiddy pool his parents had set up in his backyard during summer time when you guys were four, to him freaking out when he noticed blood stains on your pajamas pants that you discarded into the laundry basket when you first hit puberty thinking you were dying due to some chronic disease, to the so-called first love and first heartbreak you ever received when you were in high school. The same person was always by your side.

Yes, you had chosen to fall in love with your childhood best-friend. And that was the first time you realized: sometimes the safest choice, isn’t so safe after all.

Cue – Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, more commonly known as Ten.

You have seen Ten when he was doing his best, while Ten has seen you when you are doing your absolute worst. He often got straight A’s, a few A-‘s for Chemistry and Physics, and he was chosen as the lead dancer of the school’s dance team – mastering traditional and modern styles so goddamn well, yet you still thought he was the dumbest kid alive. Ten may be seen by many as the epitome of how every Asian kid should be, molded by their parent since young to be nothing but perfect. Ten was often envied by other parents, they hid it well in the form of praises thrown towards his parents, but they shrugged it off saying Ten always tried to do his best.

They weren’t wrong. You had seen Ten studying until late at night for mid-terms and finals, often resulting in the consumption of an unhealthy amount of energy drinks and coffee as he reached a certain limit. He usually started his homework and projects early to enable freedom in the last few days before the due date, giving him the leisure to not cram things up the night before, but late-night video games. He was simply organized, well prepared, and perfect.

You had known Ten for your entire life, and it didn’t seem like the end of high school would be the end of your friendship. Until one night when he came barging into your room straight from the graduation party his friend Kun had thrown, celebrating freedom as they broke the chain of education by graduating from high school.

You still remembered how your heart skipped a beat when he came in, his lean figure stood elegantly in your door frame. Ten looked at your figure buried under your blanket, your nightstand occupied with snacks and water, laptop on your lap, the screen the main source of light in the dimly lit room. He caught the sound of the actors speaking from your laptop, heavy Spanish and gunshots ringing heavily from the speakers. He smiled knowing you probably rejected Kun’s invitation to settle down at home and binge watch Netflix instead, once again hiding yourself from socializing with people.

He let himself in as his hand closed the door slowly, striding over across the room in large step, he took his seat beside you before snuggling into the blankets to watch the show with you. You swore you felt hot, trying your best to fight the blush creeping across your cheeks. It seemed okay at first, knowing the room was quite dark and the only source of light was from the changing scenes of La Casa de Papel that was playing in your laptop. You thought he might hear your loud heartbeat, yet the sound of gunshots and screaming thankfully covered the sound of the erotic thumps of your heart.

He let out a sigh.

You could smell his musky cologne mixed with a little of his sweat, the stench of alcohol from his breath, the smell of cigarettes from his clothes filling your room. You hummed a little, catching his attention in the process.

“Can you believe we graduated?” He began to speak, giving you a question that similarly went along the line of what now.

You smiled a little and nodded.

“It’s only high school, Ten. We still have a long way to go.” You said.

“No, you still have a long way to go.” He said, his eyes glinting, proud of your achievements in life.

Ten remembered the talk both of you had, the plans you hoped to complete once both of you graduated from high school. You had told him you wanted to pursue studying in engineering or food science, while him – Ten wanted to be an artist, a singer or performer on stage.

He noticed your eyes dim a little and he sighed. His arms circled around your shoulders, bringing your figure closer towards him. You felt his warmth almost immediately, suddenly craving for more and you found yourself scooching towards him. Ten didn’t mind; you had curled up next to each other every movie night since you were young. He felt your head leaning towards him, smelling the hint of vanilla and mint from the shampoo and conditioner you always used. He smiled.

“Are you still not going to tell me who’s the guy you fell for?” He asked you again.

Ten felt your body tense up for a while before slowly loosening up again. You swallowed a lump in your throat as your eyes shook despite trying your best to focus on your laptop screen.

You had told Ten regarding your discovery of love after he kept pestering you to start finding a match, to the point he asked his handful of friends to introduce new people for you and set you up on a blind date. You had yelled at him in frustration, revealing that the reason you didn’t want to find a guy to date was due to you having feelings for someone already. Never once did you explicitly tell him who the person was, in fear that an outcome you didn’t want may occur.

Ten believed in you and respected your privacy, opting to stay silent most of the time. That didn’t keep him from pestering you with questions about the so-called crush, although he didn’t expect you to answer.

“You’re still on about it?” You snapped back. He gave you that annoying grin of his and nodded.

“Are you still in love with that crush of yours then?” He persisted. This time, you smiled knowing he wasn’t going to back down.

“I am, since forever probably.” You answered.

One of the fears you had since you were young was the fear of being rejected; you were sure everyone had a similar fear like yours, deep down inside of them. You weren’t necessarily scared of the rejection; you were more scared of the aftermath from the rejection. You knew Ten liked you, but you weren’t so sure if he wanted you like you wanted him. your refusal to confess stemmed from one of two possible outcomes if you did; one – he accepts you and you start dating, which meant the best of both worlds. Two – you are rejected, resulting both of you drifting apart and becoming strangers despite having a friendship almost reaching two decades.

Ten, your best-friend who recently broke up with his ex-lover. Confessing to him this early would only be a suicidal move. His past lover, whom he broke up a few weeks before graduation. The reasoning behind it was quite simple, none of his lovers liked seeing him with you.

The way he looked at you dotingly, laughed at every dumb joke you gave, the way he tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear, and dropping everything that he was doing to be around you. You were confident to say that you were his number one, and you withstood the pain that came with every one of his relationships.

Because you knew that Ten would always come back to you, back into your arms.

But you are still scared of confessing to him, unaware of what exactly is going on in his mind. You didn’t want to lose Ten just like that, you fear of not having him in your life when you were already so used to seeing him around you, being with him 24/7.

Other than that, you were confused with Ten. He was unpredictable at times: most of the time. You didn’t know if he was giving you hints regarding his approach towards you. Because many told you that he treated you differently from how he treated others, you could see that.

Ten wasn’t so touchy around people he considered friends or close friends, but when it came to you, things from linking arms around one another, hugging in public, cuddling during movie nights, and him giving you a peck on the cheek at random moments. All obvious signs he favored you more compared to others. You carried it like a medal, knowing probably no one could ever replace your spot next to Ten.

But the other thing that bothered you so dearly was that he was your first kiss. Yes, Ten was your first kiss.

Enter: prom night, 3 days after graduation.

Ten ‘proposed’ to you a month before prom, getting you a bouquet of a single sunflower and peperoni pizza with extra cheese from your favorite pizzeria downtown during one of your Netflix marathons. You were surprised by his grand entrance, nevertheless you ignored it due to his unexpected behavior at times. You accepted the flower thinking it was nothing but a gift for your mother and eagerly took the warm pizza from his hands before going into your room. Just as you opened the pizza box, excited to reveal the greasy cheesy goodness from heaven above – you were left in shock, with your eyebrows shooting upwards, eyes widened, and mouth forming an big ‘O’ as you read the note plastered on the lid.

P R O M?

Others may think it was stupid or too cheesy to be considered a good plan; to you it was stupidly cheesy and you loved it. Even though the note was speckled with grease, you kept it to this day. You turned around to give your response, only to be faced with ten kneeling on one knee holding a sunflower corsage sitting comfortably in a clear plastic box surrounded by white baby’s breath, all tied with a black bow on top, his signature wrapping.

You stood there frozen, not knowing how to react to his sudden act. He grinned madly and laughed at your reaction, snapping you out from your trace.

“Is that a yes?” He asked, hopeful.

You laughed and nodded at him, knowing you would rather go to prom alone if it wasn’t with Ten.

“Great, I was scared you had a date with your crush.” Ten joked.

You thought about your answer for a while. You didn’t necessarily have anyone in mind to ask out as your prom date, as the only person who always came to mind was none other than Ten himself. You rejected a few people who came and asked you out, stating you had someone in mind as you looked at them sadly.

Ten on the other hand was the same, he didn’t have anyone in mind but you. Thinking to himself it was better to spend prom with someone who truly meant something to him rather than a random person he didn’t even know.

Hence, the proposal for prom.

“I think my crush has a date already, so it’s fine.” You shrugged off coolly. Ten smiled at you and nodded, relieved by the answer before he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Aren’t you sad that another person is their partner for prom?” He asked again, this time curious.

“A little, but I feel like I don’t stand a chance with him.” You said, smiling sheepishly at the end.

“Then, we’ll show him what he’s missing out on then.” Ten stated proudly as he sent a wink towards you.

You smiled softly at him and nodded. He’s not going to miss out on much, you thought, losing your train of thought as Ten buried himself under your blanket, urging you to hurry up.

Prom rolled out faster than you expected it to. One morning you woke up in your old t-shirt and oversized loose cotton pants, lazing out in your bed till late afternoon. The next, you were up, showered and off to do your hair, pick up your prom dress, and pamper yourself for the whole day.

The once loose old t-shirt and oversized long cotton pants changed to an elegant long black dress which hugged your curves and showed off your figure. Your once messy hair was styled and smelled amazing, a simple long gold necklace draped across your collar bones, and the most dreaded part: the heels.

At 8PM sharp you heard the doorbell ring, signaling Ten’s arrival.

He came in looking like a prince. Ten was dressed in a black dress shirt, paired with formal pants that enhanced his long legs, his neck constricted with a black tie, it seemed like he was glowing under the dark fabric. You held your breath, noticing him grow more charming the more you laid your eyes at him.

Ten smiled when he saw your figure from the top of the stairs, reaching out a hand for you to take. Slowly you went down like the girls you often see in the cliché romcom series, taking his hand that was fully extended towards you.

Instantly you felt the rush of electricity, the warm skin embracing your cold hands. It felt right.

“You look amazing.” He said, smiling giddily like a child.

“And so do you.” You said back.

He slowly took out the corsage, slipping it on your wrist. You stared in awe at the contrast of the bright yellow flora wrapped around your wrist with a black ribbon between the black clothing you wore. You did the same for him, taking his part of the corsage and pinning it on the pocket near his chest, giving a bigger contrast against his pale skin and his black formal.

It seemed surreal but that night, you thought both of you were meant to be.

“Ready?” he asked.

You smiled, linking your arm with his as you hug his figure close to yours, wanting nothing but to savor the moment between the both of you.

That night, it was the first time you felt fairytales could be translated into real life.

It took you approximately two hours for your feet to completely die on you. You sat down on the row of empty chairs beside the long table filled with glorious food, a red cup of artificially flavored punch in your hand. You played around with it, occasionally your head bopped around to the music being played.

When the lights suddenly dimmed, you raised your head upwards to meet Ten’s. His forehead gleamed with sweat, hair disheveled, yet he ginned wider like nothing mattered.

“One last dance?” He asked, his hand extending for an invite, encouraging you to take it.

You knew your feet were dead, pierced under the heels. Yet you still smiled like it was nothing, nodding and taking his hand. He pulled you further into the crowd, taking your figure into his embrace. He turned around when he found a space, instinctively his hands circled around your waist. You could feel the warmth that radiated from his hand, the blast of the AC was nothing compared to his touch. You returned his grin with a smile, your hand circling around his neck.

That was enough for Ten to know you were comfortable, pulling you closer to him, closing the gap in between. Your eyes fluttered shut, your heart beating rapidly, seemingly wanting to break free from your ribcages and attack Ten. You smiled to yourself, fairytales can be real.

“I’ll get you Shake Shack if you let me in that head of yours.” You snapped your eyes open, looking at Ten’s gleaming ones.

“My thoughts are worth more than Shake Shack.” You snapped at him, he laughed.

“You’re thinking about that crush of yours?” He asked, tone soft as he gazed at you sadly.

“No.” you said without much thought.

“No?”

“My crush isn’t here” You lied. Ten hummed, nodding at your answer.

“Are you sad that your crush isn’t here?” He asked again. You shook your head, giving him a smile.

Ten leaned closer towards you. Your heart drummed to the point you could barely hear the music booming on the speakers, or the crowd chattering to oblivion. You closed your eyes, anticipating what he might do after. He placed a delicate kiss on your forehead, sighing silently at the end. You never knew what the meaning behind that sigh was, whether it was good or bad.

When he pulled away, Ten seemed fine. There weren’t any hidden emotions being spilled, there was only a wide goofy grin plastered on his feature. You had your hope in him confessing, but it seemed unlikely knowing Ten probably saw you as nothing but a dear friend.

It didn’t take him too long to snap out of his own world, pulling you away from the crowd towards the cool midnight air.

“Where are we going?” You blurted out.

Ten turned his head to face you, feet still pacing towards his parked car. His eyes squinted at yours, eyebrows furrowed. You knew he was silently judging you, especially since Ten was never a master in concealing his expressions.

“Midnight drive.”

You remembered the silence of the road during that ungodly late hour. No traffic jams, smooth ride, it went well. The night was dark, the only given light from the moon. You often found yourself glancing at Ten, amazed by his features.

You felt the car halt during a red light, its man-made neon lights flashing across his face, sculpting his features. You gazed in admiration at the result, thinking that he could be an exhibit displayed in an art museum.

“Stop staring or I’ll poke your eyes out.” He said. You turned away instantly, acted as if you weren’t ogling him.

Ten laughed at your behavior, he said nothing and proceeded to drive. He made a turn, and you found yourself in the drive-thru of McDonalds. It was still Prom and having McDonalds with a flashy tux and a bedazzled dress was a perfect way to end it.

Then Ten parked his car alongside the river, letting you eat whilst staring at the breathtaking view; you couldn’t ask for more. He rolled down the window and turned off the engine. You could feel the harsh rumble slowed down to nothing, allowing the soft rippling of the waves to replace it. Ten rummaged through the paper bag, taking out the food. He passed you your order and you quickly munched on one of the fries. Ten opened his mouth, making some random sounds to get your attention. You took one of the fries and put it in his gaping mouth. He hummed in satisfaction.

“I want the Mcflurry!” You demanded

Ten rolled his eyes at you but still he complied, giving you the dessert. You smiled at the melting dessert, taking a fry and dipping it inside the cup. You moaned at the taste; how you loved the contrasting taste of salty with the sweetness.

“Give me one!” Ten stated. You nodded, scooping some of the sweet flurry on the fry. Passing it to Ten, you could only hope it didn’t spill anywhere. You felt a little of it drip on your hand, yet you paid no attention towards it. Ten bit down and chewed.

You were about to pull your hand away and wipe the spilled ice cream, but Ten held you in place. Taking your hand in his, he latched his lips on your hand. You could feel him giving little kitten licks, cleaning the marked area. You felt yourself grow hot, blushing at the sudden intimacy from him. When Ten raised his head, he noticed the color of your face turning a few shades of pink and smiled to himself.

“Are you flustered?” He asked

You wanted to slap him. Before you could do much, you felt his grip on your wrist tighten. Ten pulled you closer towards him, the impact enough to send you toppling towards him. You yelped in surprised, Ten smiling at your confused state.

Both of your faces were inches from one another, just one nudge was enough to send your lips flying towards his. You felt your face grow hotter; his smirk prominent on his face. You knew Ten was doing nothing but tease, but a small part of you did hope he would lean forward. You saw the glint of mischief glimmer in his pupils, his hot breaths hitting your cheeks, but he was still as composed as ever.

“Did you expect anything?” He asked with a smirk on his face.

“Screw you, Ten.” You hissed out, stumbling on your words.

He let out a small chuckle, amused by your choice of comeback. Ten leaned forwards, finally closing the gap in between. You felt your heart leap when his lips touched yours, delicate at first before it became more needy. You sighed a little into the kiss, it was enough for Ten to continue. He pressed himself towards you, deepening the kiss. When he pulled away, he stared at you in awe. Your hazy eyes and your flustered face, accompanied by your whole body gasping for air, he thought you looked breathtaking.

He licked his lips, tasting the artificial cherry lip gloss you wore. He hummed in content, bliss even.

The next thing happened in a snap. The words that you always kept to yourself, never once slipping out. They were always deep inside, locked in a chest, key thrown into oblivion. In a snap, everything stumbled out without your control.

“I love you, Ten” And his eyes widen by your confession.

***

That happened 2 years ago.

You had always been safe in your life choices, in hope to ensure the safest outcome in the future. You tried your best to succeed in school, got into a decent college, and managed to find an average part time job as a librarian on your campus ground. You had thought if you choose your path wisely, it was easier for you to survive in life.

Ten proved you wrong.

You had always thought falling for Ten would eventually lead you to another stage in life, to finally settle down. You envisioned him not only as your life-long best friend, but also had the hope to be a potential lover.

You loved Ten, truly. But he made you realize that sometimes the safest decisions weren’t so safe after all.

After Prom, he drove you back home without a second thought. He walked you to the door, let you settle in the house before leaving. You had thoughts that Ten might leave you after the whole kiss situation, but he didn’t.

The next morning, he texted you again, to check up if you were feeling okay or up for another day out. You remembered declining, stating you were too tired from coming back so late – which was true. It was still fine, perfect.

You had always thought Ten would realize how head over heels you were for him. It seemed impossible for anyone to be that dense, moreover he was always there around you. You remembered smiling rigidly when you noticed his expression.

His eyes widened; mouth slightly agape like a fish on the surface. You felt his hands shake a little, you felt it on your skin. Ten stuttered out his words, stumbling here and there not being able to fully form a complete sentence.

You had never seen him like that.

Ten called you the next morning, and you still had your hopes for your feelings to be reciprocated. Instead, he only replied you with—

“I am sorry, for everything. It was the heat of the moment, I got carried away”

You didn’t know what hurt more. A rejection; it was cruel, and it hurt, but you knew Ten wouldn’t lie to you even if his life depended on it. Or the fact he disappeared straight after; Ten wasn’t there the next time you tried to contact him, no calls, no texts, nothing.

You knew Ten’s dreams; he spoke about them countless time during your high school days. He wanted to perform in front of thousands, to show his passion and love for his art. You supported him; you knew his potential.

You had seen him practicing, dancing and singing till late at night. Often mad at him for not taking care of himself, being that friend who helped him to pass all his subjects, to a mother who always brought him meds and food to ensure he was eating well.

You cared for Ten, too much sometimes.

The moment he told you he didn’t want to go to university, you didn’t know how to react. Ten brushed your expression off and stated that going to university together or not, he would still be the same Ten you know and grew up with.

He didn’t keep his promise.

You cried a few times, feeling lost for the sudden loss in your life. You heard from your parents that you would meet people like Ten once you entered university; you wanted to believe them. They meant no harm, not wanting to see you cry. But you knew you couldn’t possibly believe every word they said.

Ten was one of a kind, and you still loved him.

Each day dragged on longer than before. You had never felt the overwhelming emptiness, the lack of notifications from him. It felt empty.

You had never felt the loss and emptiness, until you felt him slip out of your life.

He left no traces. His room still the same, sheets still tucked neatly. But his scent was weak, it wasn’t him. It took you quite a while before you could finally accept his absence in your life, Ten had his own life now.

Yet, even after all of that—you were still in love with him.

It was another typical day for you. Finishing classes on campus you ran to the library to start your shift. You went to check your attendance on the board and proceeded to the main desk to settle down. You sighed a little, calming down your racing heart from the small sprint you did.

You took one of the books on the desk, looking at the books to be returned and due for the day. You hummed in acknowledgement before placing it back down. Taking your laptop and papers from earlier lectures, you started doing your own work. It was a few hours of silence in the library. People came and went, coming up to ask for books, information, or just to return and borrow books for the remaining days. It wasn’t a hassle, as in only took you a short while to complete each task, then you were back doing your work once again.

It was a few minutes to closing time. You started packing up your things, putting each chair back in its original position, checking the remaining books that had been returned for the day or for any remaining people who were still roaming around the area. You were about to switch off the power and call it a day until the door opened, calling for your attention. You lifted your head to confront the new incomer, slightly annoyed to see people still dared to come in despite it was already closing time.

“I’m sorry, the library is closed for the—” You halted. It was as if the words stopped forming, your voice stopped functioning.

The familiar figure who had been beside you your entire life. From when he was a literal infant, growing to a rowdy teenager, and now a grown man. He remained the same, only a few changes. His skin was still as pale as ever, a real-life interpretation of Snow White. His dark locks and orbs, the pair of eyes you would let yourself get drawn into. You noticed he was a little skinnier, his eyes a little sunken. But his smile, his smile was still as bright as ever.

“T-Ten” You stuttered his name. Feeling odd by the sudden familiar yet unfamiliar name that had to roll out of your tongue.

“I’m back, love” Your heart swooned.

***

You bit down on the fries, feeling the familiar taste of salt hitting your taste buds. You sighed in bliss, knowing this was all you need after ending your campus and work life.

You turned your head, looking at Ten who was still rummaging through the paper bag for his designated order. He pulled out a burger, unwrapped it, and dug in. You chuckled a little at his hunger, especially when he left out a small moan.

“Did they not feed you?” You laughed.

Ten tried not to talk, chewing faster to swallow and answer your question.

“I had to go through a diet woman, let me enjoy the love of my life.” He said.

You were back at the same place after prom two years ago. In his car, takeout on both of your laps. The only thing that made it different was where the takeout was from. Instead of going through Mcdonalds, Ten got both of you Shake Shack. The promise he made two years ago but was never fulfilled because he was a broke high schooler.

You dipped the fries in one of your milkshakes, munching and groaning in bliss. Ten opened his mouth, whining a little to gain your attention. Like usual, you dipped the salty grease in the sweet dairy, delivering it to his mouth.

“How’s life now?” You asked him. His hand offered out the bitten burger in his hand and you took it, taking bites from it as you waited for him to answer.

“It was hard. But I survived, I’m here.” He said, laughing in the process.

There was a small moment of silence, neither of you spoke. You took small sips from your milkshake while Ten was munching away on his burger. You kept on glancing at Ten, a distant gaze in your eyes. There were a lot of questions in your mind, still spinning and left unanswered. Ten noticed the glances you threw at him, noticed how you gazed upon him with concern and curiosity, but also fear as if he might disintegrate once your eyes leave him.

“Are you staying?” You asked. Ten stopped, ears ringing a little.

You didn’t hear from him for a moment. Nervously, he would divert his attention from his food towards the view. He cleared his throat, looking at you a little before placing his unfinished food back in the paper bag.

“Let’s… go to your place. Netflix like usual?” He said.

You froze, not knowing how to process the whole situation. Lost without much thought, you mindlessly nodded at him. Just like that, he pulled back and drove to your apartment. Ten followed the GPS as it led him further into your neighborhood. You had no idea what was running through his mind, his facial expressions impossible to read, consumed in his deep thoughts.

Ten never realized how two years could change someone so drastically. You were out from your parents’ house, renting a decent apartment near your campus, filling your empty time with part time jobs. He had seen the way you interacted with people, the way you would smile or sometimes joke with them caught him off guard. Especially since he knew how socially awkward and shy you used to be with strangers; he found it amusing.

When you unlocked the door, opening it wide to welcome him into your personal space, Ten silently went in. You rushed to the kitchen and took a glass of water, gulping it down to quench the dryness of your throat. Ten helped himself, taking a new glass and filled it. You directed him towards your room, taking the historical laptop you’ve had since high school, allowing him to start the show as you washed up.

Ten heard the small noise from the closing door. His eyes glued at your retreating figure, sighing when he saw you being swallowed by the other room.

He hadn’t meant to ignore and go missing, he had dreams. Ten would always feel guilty for suddenly disappearing without any context, it was all due to his own contract within his company. Ten had spent the last few years locked up, practicing in order to achieve his dreams of becoming a successful performer. Other than that, Ten’s mind wandered towards you.

He thought about the kiss.

Remembering every single luscious moment of it, playing in his mind like a broken record. He still felt his heart beating like crazy, thinking he lost his chances when you exposed your crush around him but never once telling him who the crush was. He thought it was a stage in life where he was losing you, seeing you slip away between his fingertips. Hence, he restrained. Ten opted to be more cautious around you, fearing his attachment might go wilder.

The growing distance taught him a lot of things. How much more capable you were in life, how you were okay without him in your life. He thought he didn’t have the chance, he lost you during the process.

Ten was in love with his best-friend, with you, since forever.

He had his fair share of stages when he fell in love. The problem was he failed to realize that he had already been in love with you since you were young. Ten was in denial, opting to run away from you. Thinking how impossible it was to fall for his own best-friend, someone who was always there, and someone who was always there to look after him despite how he came back into your life so abruptly.

Ten ran away. He thought if he dated someone else, the feeling would go away. He thought wrong.

Every single person he dated had been nothing but odd. They never gave him the same joy, rush of adrenaline whenever he was around you. Their touch felt foreign on his skin, he found himself wanting to feel your touch on him forever, longing for it every time you pulled away from him. He didn’t feel butterflies from his given nicknames from his past ex-lovers, but the butterflies swarmed him when you called him an idiot or plainly by his name. You had made him crazy, and he wasn’t hating you for it.

Ten was in love, but he was scared to admit it. He opted to run away, thinking the feelings would go away eventually. He thought it was simple, he was only too attached to you, to the point he could only think about you. He went missing, gone without giving any news of his departure towards you.

But the more he ran, the more he felt the longing feelings reaching out towards you. Wanting nothing but to be enveloped in your embrace, dumb conversations late at night, random movie nights till dawn. But he also had the idea of having you as his partner, his lover, his partner in crime, his everything. He wanted you in his life, yet he feared losing you might be easier if it happened.

The growing distance only made him want you more, miss you more. He noticed love wasn’t so simple, it wasn’t easy to get rid of. Unlike water where you can wipe it off without leaving any stain—love, is thicker than water.

“Hey.” He called out when you walked out of the bathroom, hair damp from your shower. You perked up at his voice, snapping your head towards him, fully giving him your attention.

“Let’s hang out after your class, tomorrow.” Ten stated, or more like demanded. You nodded.

A month since you last saw him, Ten started entering your life once again. He made it seem like nothing ever happened, as if the two years was nothing but a short two weeks break.

Ten didn’t show you any sign of awkwardness or hesitation, he straight up jumped right in.

It was becoming more frequent. Meeting him after class or after work, getting dinner together, him accompanying you during tests weeks, bringing you coffee or sending you off to campus in the morning.

Desperation, exhaustion, and longing.

He felt as if he was always there, as if he never had left. But that two-year gap would never be filled. It was an endless void, consuming both of you, testing you, and pushing both of you to see who would break first.

Both of you broke at the same time.

“Was it really the heat of the moment that led you to kiss me?” You started the conversation. He had brought you to the nearest coffee shop in hopes of accompanying you in finishing your assignment. You, on the other hand, had other things in mind than the given project.

It had bugged you the moment Ten came back, the moment he came into your life once again as if he was never away.

You took your eyes away from your laptop, gazing at Ten who was avoiding your gaze. His eyes wandered around the small café, memorizing the minimal interior, enjoying the warm vibe the space portrayed, then he finally rested his eyes on yours.

“No.” He said.

“You lied.” You said. For the first time in his life, Ten lied to you.

Ten smiled sheepishly, shaking his head a little, amused by your unending questions. You waited for his answer, patiently you waited for him to speak first, continuing to type away on your laptop.

“I’m sorry for disappearing.” Ten spoke out. You hummed at his answer, letting him know none of it mattered. You were more than ecstatic seeing him back, those two years was erased or seemed like they ceased to exist.

“Were you afraid of something, Ten?” You asked him again. Ten didn’t voice out his answer, but from the look of shock in his eyes, you knew.

“It’s me.” You said as your eyes gazed at him sadly.

Ten felt his heart hammer, how it plummeted when he noticed the hurt in your eyes. He groaned internally; everything, it was all his fault.

“You were running away from me.” You stated. Ten didn’t answer, he swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling how dry it had gotten.

“You knew, I like you. That I’m in love with you.” You said. He winced at the confession, felt the desperation in your voice as you spoke.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you but I was scared.” He whispered out, soft and only audible towards you.

You abruptly stood up, taking all your belongings into your hand. Hugging all of them desperately, struggling to fit them all in the small space of your arms. You rushed your movements, dashing out of the café, you were sure you probably had made a scene, especially with Ten running out straight after to catch you.

“Listen, please.” He said desperately, heart drumming louder in fear.

You pulled away from him, causing your books and papers to fly out of your hands and land on the ground. You crouched down quickly, stuffing them sloppily into your bag. You knew Ten was still there, crouched to help you gather your stuff. You could feel his gaze run around from the ground to you, most likely with concern and fear.

“I’m sorry.” You snapped your head upwards and look at him.

Ten could feel his heart shatter. The red eyes, puffy and ready to cry, your whole body was already shaking due to the rush of emotions and adrenaline. The mixed-up feelings and longing were consuming you, never had you felt alone in a room filled with people, where all eyes were trained on you and Ten.

“Cut the crap, Ten.” You hissed out, tears streaming down your face, dropping to the ground.

“I should’ve told you—”

“You should’ve stayed! You left me, alone for two years without telling! Two years, Ten!” You snapped, feeling the tears flow down. One then another, it was a continuum by now.

“I was selfish, I didn’t know what was going through my mind. I’m truly sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt—”

“Ten.” You choked out, stopping him abruptly.

“Why?” He asked. You looked at him, confused.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you like me?” He asked again. You shook your head a little, a little in disbelief at his pushy behaviour by now.

“Because of you!” You snapped out and ran.

You didn’t care if Ten was tailing you from behind, trying to stop you. All you wanted was to run away from him, be alone for once. Ten didn’t have the right to pry into your life, not knowing how much you had sacrificed for him, and he decided to come back as if nothing even mattered.

His calls and texts were constant, coming into your phone with no end. You were bombarded with his spams, words of concern, plead for forgiveness, everything. You shunned away from Ten, afraid to meet him after the whole incident, fearing you might hate him if you did see him once again.

It took him another month before he showed up, on your front door of your apartment. You had the thought of him barging in, like those scenes from romcom movies where the guy fight for the girls’ love. Instead, Ten had his hands on the spare keys you gave him when he came back, easily slipping in without making any damage. Like the night after graduation, he stood around the doorframe elegantly. Tall and lean figure leaning on the sleek wood, eyes piercing around yours, lips pressed into a thin line as he was unsure of his next act.

“Do you want to get lunch?” He asked. You could hear his voice shake, causing it to come out like a mere whisper.

You wanted to throw him off, lock yourself further into your apartment, you did none of those. Instead you gave him a simple nod, and that was enough for him to pull you out of your own bubble once again.

***

“A rebound.” You said.

Your gaze rested on your food in your hand, playing with it with your utensils as you listened to his blabbering. Ten sighed a little and shook his head softly, both finding it hard to eat. He brought takeout once again, both of you locked in his car facing the Han river once again, but in broad daylight with his AC blasting.

“I didn’t want you to be a rebound, I was confused.” He said.

“I thought it was impossible if I fell in love with my own best-friend, you were there since…everything! And I thought if we did date, things will fell and I will lose you far easily!”

“Have you ever thought what I wanted?” You asked him, turning your body to face his direction. Ten swallowed a lump on his throat, shakes his head a little.

“Ten, I love you. I still do and that night I thought we had something.”

“I was scared, I was a coward. I didn’t realise that I’ve been in love with you for so long, and I chose not to acknowledge it!” He said, frustrated at this point. You stayed silent, listening to him this time.

“I thought liking you wasn’t going to work out, it scared me. And I chose to run away dating these people I don’t even feel much, thinking that my feelings will change. But oh wow, you are so fucking addicting.” He groaned; a hand ran up his face to his hair in frustration.

“You got me crazy, thirsting for you every single time you weren’t there. Everything wasn’t the same without you around me, Y/N. I came to realise that all too late.” You smiled a little.

Ten caught that small grin of yours, not knowing fully if it’s a bad or good reaction. Your smile widens more, breaking into a Cheshire grin and then you proceeded to laugh. At this rate, Ten was either scared or confused, but he waited patiently until you finished.

“I guess that two years long break was enough for us to clear our mind up” You stated.

Ten didn’t say much first, thinking about it for a while. When he caught the small gaze you direct at him, he knew he had to say something.

“Like what people said, distance makes the heart grows fonder. They weren’t wrong, it was odd not having you around me, and it made me realise a lot of things.” He said.

“And what are those things?”

“That no one can replace you, that you will be that only person I’ll truly love and long for.” Ten said, softly gaze upon you.

Two years. As distance grow and both of you grew older, maturing into adults, those were enough to make both of you realise how despite distance can change a lot of things, both still longs for the similar person. The touch they had lingering around, the smile that will light up your day, the voice which rang around your ears, the name that was enough to give you a surge of butterflies.

The growing time and distance weren’t enough to pull both of your feelings away. He kissed you that day, with meaning. Soft and delicate, afraid he might break you if he put more pressure. You could feel his tears running from his eyes, knowing too well he was tired, emotionally drained. You smiled in the kiss, pulled him in for more, wanting more. You loved him, he loved you.

And for the first time, both of you thought the whole world revolves around you. That was enough to make things official.

Two years, as time passed and distance grew.

Both of your feelings still remained the same, after all love is thicker than water.

[smol-and-grumpy]

Sky Full Of Stars - CH06

Sequel to Something Just Like This

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, ex mobster boss, still a little cocky, less ruthless and not at all short tempered anymore. Instead, he thinks he’s hilarious (she doesn’t agree, though). They both try to live a quiet life. And Dean hopes, very hard, that his former life won’t come knocking at their door.

Warnings: NSFW, fluff, and okay, maybe this one is a little more angsty because Dean needs someone to hit him over the head for not telling her the truth.

WC: 3445

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s a month later that they’re invited to Sam’s birthday party and it’s actually the first outing with Ella. 

They’ve held an open house on one weekend where friends would drop by throughout the day to come see them. It was actually Dean’s idea and she agreed because it sounded better than scheduling visitations with all of the people who would want to meet their newborn girl. 

Even Linda dropped by and that woman was all over Ella, didn’t even want to let the little girl out of her sight and held on to her for the whole time she was here. Truffles followed them around either. Poor boy was afraid that Linda would take Ella home with her. 

Sam lives just outside the city, in a suburban big white house with white fences and landscaped garden. It looks picturesque and pretty. It’s a total contrast to their home. It’s more modern, fits more into the lifestyle Sam has. A lifestyle Dean left behind.

Dean carries Ella, of course he does, was the first out of the car and hurried to take Ella out of her car seat, fearing that she’d reach their child first. He grins cocky when he sees Y/N schlepping the diaper bag and a gift for Sam.

She rolls her eyes for the dramatic effect but she smirks, because it’s cute how proud he is. 

Jess sits with Y/N out on their porch while both of them are holding their babies and chat. It’s the second time that Ella meets her cousin Jack and Anna joins them later with Elijah. 

They talk and laugh, complaining too because Anna’s the closest in getting back into her old shape while Y/N still struggles with her flabby stomach the most. 

Dean doesn’t seem to mind her body change at all. Doesn’t seem to mind the excess skin, the stretch marks. Because every time she’s naked, she wants to hide from him, but he’d make her show him, looks at her like he always did, makes her feel like she’s his fucking world. Last time was this morning while Ella was still asleep when they took a bath together and he made sure to touch every inch of her. Brushed his hands across her stomach, let his fingertips trail along her stretch marks. He kissed her shoulder, the nape of her neck, she could feel him hard underneath her. 

They haven’t had sex yet since she gave birth. She wants to wait until she feels comfortable again and he was okay with it, never pressuring her into anything. They did all the other things which doesn’t involve him sticking his cock into her pussy. 

Dean has the patience of a saint and she really doesn’t know what he sees in her. She still has these doubts, can’t help it, even if she knows that she shouldn’t. 

The men are talking together, drinking beers, laughing. And she thinks it’s good. This life is definitely good. 

But then something shifts, she can see it in Dean’s eyes, can see it in the tense of his shoulder when he follows Sam inside. 

They didn’t stay away long, maybe five minutes, ten tops. When they return, Dean looks relaxed again and she’s not sure if he’s pretending like he always used to or if he’s genuinely smiling. Can’t really see if from this far. Sam excuses himself, goes to talk to other people and then she sees Gabriel joining Dean and Cas, sees them sticking their heads together, talking without moving their lips too much. 

Other people might not notice anything wrong or different, but she’s not other people. She’s trained to notice little details and she can’t lie. It’s worrying her.

 *

 Back home she nurses Ella and tells Dean that she needs a quiet moment to paint. Just like Dean uses pottery to find his center, she uses painting. She’s painting every day now, their garage is full with her paintings.

She spends about an hour in there and walks out after, takes a quick shower and slips into one of Dean’s shirts. They’re the most comfortable at the moment and he loves for her to wear them so there’s a win-win right there. She leaves the top four buttons open, it’s easier to get in and out for nursing either. 

It’s already late and she wants to lie down but decides to see what Dean’s up to. She walks down the stairs, but Dean’s not in the living room. She only finds Bubbles while Truffles is at his new favorite place, with that place being right in front of Ella’s room. 

Y/N sees light spilling out of Dean’s study where the door’s standing ajar. 

“Hey,” She pokes her head in, sees Dean sitting in his chair, a black manila folder with a couple of papers splayed on it. The baby monitor propped right where he can always see it. 

He notices her, looks up from the desk. He’s startled at first, but then his lips spread into a warm smile. She guesses that it’s the shirt she’s wearing that does all the trick. 

She walks in and he pushes his chair back, makes room for her to climb in on his lap and she sits on one of his thighs, hooks her arms around his neck and kisses his scruff. “Watchu doing in here?”

Her eyes trail along the desk, sees the papers, a lot of words are written on them. The sight of these little words alone makes her head spin.

Dean takes the stack and hands it to her, “Read it,”

She really doesn’t want to read anything right now but does it anyway of course because she’s too curious. 

Last Will & Testament 

“Dean, no,” She mumbles as soon as she reads the first line.

He noses at her temple while she reads it, kisses her cheek, “Dean, yes,”

She goes on to read more.

In case of my death or disappearance.

“Disappearance?” She asks, it seems like a weird clause to put in and then her jaw drops. She feels some kind of anger, pushes herself away from him, gets up and paces around the room while Dean only watches her, his expression hardens.

“Y/N,” He starts to say, his voice is deep, low. It’s steady and calm like he doesn’t want to raise his voice but putting his foot down. She hates when he does that. It makes her feel like she’s the unreasonable one in here when he’s the one who fucking drafts up a fucking will.

“Are you planning on disappearing? Is this what it is?” She spits out, it comes out more accusatory than she intends and she adds, a little softer, because she doesn’t want to fight because of that, “Are you going to leave us?”

“Jesus,” Dean groans, clasps a hand over his face, scratches at his scruff like he always does when he’s trying to say something so she would get him, “I could never,” He leans back in his chair, looks at her like he always does, like she’s the world, like the world is his to touch and he reaches out a hand for her to take, “But you know what I was. Who I was. You know what I did. People tend to disappear in my old line of work.”

She doesn’t take his hand, and paces around some more, for fucking good measure because she’s fuming mad. She lets out a frustrating sound that comes out of the depths of her throat, “What do you mean? Do you know something I don’t know? Is someone coming after you?”

“No!” Dean shouts, squints his eyes because it came out loud and they shouldn’t be loud if they don’t want to wake up Ella, “No, I’m just trying to cover all bases because you never know what could happen,” 

Y/N waves with the papers in her hands, exhales loudly and walks up and down. When she’s close enough to him, Dean grabs a hold of her, pulls her into him. He hugs her tight, and she knows that he’s not letting her go.

“Read it,” He’s voice is much gentler, his lips close to her ears as he whispers the words.

She sighs before she goes on with reading.

“You’re leaving everything to me?”

“Yeah,” He says and then he moves her, makes her straddle him, his hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair back behind her ear that got loose from the bun on her head, “I trust you to use it in Ella’s best interest.” 

Her eyes get teary. She doesn’t want that. Doesn’t want to even think about a life without him. 

“You’d have to sit down with me, though,” His voice is soft, calming. Rational even. Which means that he thought this through, “There’s a lot of paperwork that we have to do because we’re not married.”

She thinks about his words, lets them sink in before she speaks, “Would you want to? Still?” She asks, and adds, “Marry me, I mean,”

Dean lets out a chuckle, it vibrates underneath of her. “More than you know,” His fingers play with the buttons of her shirt, “But I don’t want to pressure you. I understand if you wouldn’t want to.” 

She swallows her tears down. 

“It drives me nuts to have fewer rights just because we’re not married,” Dean sighs, “If something happens to you, I don’t even get to be at your side all the time and vice versa. You don’t get to decide anything and it actually terrifies me that even though you only have me in your life, I still can’t be with you when worse comes to worst.”

His words hit her differently. She never thought about that. Never thought about what Dean has probably been thinking for weeks or months. And he’s right, she knows he is. It makes more sense now since they already have a child together. It’s in Ella’s best interest. She knows that, too. 

Y/N places the stack of paper blindly back on the desk and cradles his face, the scruff prickles on her palm. She leans her forehead on his, pecks his lips, their noses touch. 

“If you want it, then let’s do it,” She whispers, kisses him once more, harder, deeper and Dean breathes into the kiss.

“Baby, you don’t have to,”

“I know but I want to,” She smiles then, kisses him again to shut him up. 

She feels him grinning into the kiss, his hands holding her tighter, and they stroke down her back until he has her ass in the palm of his hand.

Their kiss grows heavier, like it always does. Everything builds up so quickly.

“Then we do it,” He laughs when he breaks from the kiss and she nods her head, kisses him again, can’t quite get enough of him. She sucks on his tongue, making him moan out.

She’s wet down there either, and she grinds down harder, searches for friction, is met by his hard cock. 

Dean helps her grind on him, guides her on him with his hands on her ass. 

“Fuck,” He breathes out, kisses her cheek, her jaw, nibbles at her throat, “Wanna fuck you so bad,”

“I want that too,” She says almost breathlessly and Dean kisses down her throat, stopping short to look up at her. 

“You sure?” He raises one eyebrow at her and she nods, smiles a reassuring smile.

“Fuck,” He curses again, and then his hands come down on her ass, spanks down and makes her yelp up with a laughter. 

Dean stands up with her still in his arms, “Hold on,” He says and she does, hooks her legs behind his waist and he leans down, picks up the baby monitor and clears his desk with one clean swipe before he lays her down on it and places the baby monitor back so they would know when Ella starts to cry. 

She frowns at him, because now everything’s on the floor.

“Always wanted to do that once in my life,” Dean laughs before he kisses her again, works his way down her throat, sucks at her pulse point, making her arch her back. He doesn’t lose time in unbuttoning her shirt, pulls at the seam and her breasts are free because she left so many buttons undone in the first place. 

Eagerly, he sucks at her nipple, probably tasting milk because she leaks it without meaning to. He kneads the one he’s not kissing, and she moans out at the sensation. She’s so fucking sensitive. 

While he still kisses her chest, his hands trail down, hooking his fingers around her panties and pulling them down. He abandons her chest shortly to take them off and she whines at the loss of contact. Dean kneels down right after, kissing and biting his way up her thighs. One thigh first and then the other, teasing her. 

“Dean,” She calls out, wanting him to stop teasing her. His teeth scraping along the inner of her thighs and she writhes.

“I got you,” Dean breathes hot air against her soaked pussy, and he takes his finger, threads it through her slick before he rubs at her clit.

It’s awfully silent and she comes up to her elbow, sees him staring at her pussy, as if it holds all the answers to his questions. It makes her blush to see him staring at her most private part like that, “Dean,”

“Christ, you’re so wet,” He whispers and then he realizes that she’s still waiting.

His eyes meet hers and he holds her gaze, sticks out his tongue and licks a broad stripe up from her pussy to her clit with his massive tongue. Dean pauses and swallows, “Jesus, can’t get enough of your taste.”

Dean begins to lick and suck at her clit and opening, breathes through his nose as he does it, the hot air hits her right and she arches her back, pushing her cunt against his face. 

Her hands fists in his hair, and Dean licks faster, sucks harder, her knuckles are turning white, blunt nails digging into his scalp. 

And he looks up at her, crinkles deep because he is smiling and humming. 

“Dean, I’m—”

She didn’t even finish her sentence, spasms around him, thighs pressing together, trapping his head and he lets her. Lets her grind against his face until she comes down from her high and releases her grip around his head.

Dean chuckles when he comes up again, kisses each of her thighs, sucks at each of her nipples in passing, leaving a wet trail from there to her mouth. He claims her lips, pushing his tongue into her, lets her suck her own taste from it.

She breaks the kiss, leaves her forehead on his, her hand brushes at his lips, his scruff. He’s soaked.

“I almost died down there,” Dean’s still a little out of breath, “Good thing I made a will, huh?”

She rolls her eyes at him and he grins, thrust his clothed cock against her wet cunt, making her laugh out loud. 

“Fuck,” His voice is deep, “Can I fuck you now? I can barely hold myself together.”

She smiles at him, nods her approval, “Please,”

Dean’s grin widens, pecks her lips once more and pushes himself up, and she watches him hurriedly losing his jeans, just enough so he can pull them up again should Ella require his attention. 

He jerks himself three times before taking a step closer to lean over her, the head of his cock rubs against her slick cunt. He coats it with her wetness, rubs it up and down and she squirms.

“I’m excited,” He smiles with that golden boy smile, showing his teeth before he pushes himself forward and sinks in, both of them groan out in unison. 

It has been so long for her to be filled so fully, “Shit,” She curses out and Dean stills when he bottoms out. 

“You okay?” Dean asks, kisses at the crease between her eyebrows. 

“Yeah,” She nods, “I— fuck, yeah, I’m okay. So full, but good, oh my god, I’ve missed this,”

“I know,” He starts to thrust, his hand taking one of her legs, lifts it and braces it on his shoulder. The angle changes and she’s moans, “You feel so fucking good, still so goddamn tight— fuck!”

“Harder, Dean! Please,” Because it is what it is. She’s missed it, missed how his wet balls slaps against her ass when he fucks her hard and she wants to feel just that.

He picks up his pace, fucking her harder likes she demands of him.

“God you’re so deep,” She closes her eyes and bites down on her bottom lip.

“Should I not go de— Jesus!” 

She wraps the one leg that’s not on his shoulder around him, pulls him closer, making him go even deeper and it hurts. It hurts so good. She loves the pain. Her hands go down her body, tweaks one of her nipples and the other hand goes further down to rub at her clit. 

“Dean, choke me,” Her voice is strained, already so fucking close again.

“You sure?” 

“Uh-huh,”

“Uh-huh?” His hand travels up her body, slaps down on her tits on his way up and then she feels it, feels his big hand clawing around her throat, “You’re close, ain’t you, baby? Fuck— I—, you’re squeezing me.” Dean puts pressure on her throat, squeezes down on it, “Come, baby. Come on my cock like you used to,”

Y/N feels her toe curl up, pins and needles traveling up her legs, settles at her center. Her eyes roll back into her head and she convulses, shaking all over when she comes. 

Dean pushes himself over the edge with her, too, releases his grip on her throat and leans down, buries his face into the crook of her neck, sucks at her throat when he releases himself into her with a grunt.

He leaves little kisses on her throat, her jaw, her chin, kisses her between chuckles, “You look so goddamn beautiful when you come,” He props himself up a little then, hovers above her, steals a kiss, and one more. “Shit, I haven’t asked if you take your pills again,”

“I don’t,” 

“Baby, no!” 

She can hear the panic in his voice and has to hide her smirk, “Why? You don’t want another baby?”

“I do, I want a whole bunch, and you know that,” Dean says, and adds, “but I also want your body to have time to breathe.” Dean frowns and she cranes her neck, kisses him in between his eyebrows where there’s a deep crease.

“Relax, Dean. We’re good. I was joking,” She can’t hold back her laugh anymore.

“You little minx,” Dean growls, kisses her nose and pretends to bite it off, “I almost had a heart attack, Jesus! You’re a fucking pain in my ass, you know that, right?”

She’s still laughing and he joins her, but their laughter stops abruptly when they hear the baby monitor coming to life. Ella grunts through the speaker. 

“Shhh,” Dean hushes and touches his nose to hers, “Maybe if we pretend we didn’t hear she’ll stop,”

She giggles at that and he nuzzles his nose along her cheeks. 

Ella’s not stopping though, grunts some more and then she cries softly. They can hear Truffles barking from upstairs.

“Ugh,” Dean sighs, pecks her forehead and pushes himself away from her, “I don’t think we need a baby monitor, Truffles does all the work,”

He slips his dick out of her, is half hard again, she can see, she doesn’t think he’s been soft at all, at least it didn’t feel like it inside of her. 

Dean helps her up, “I’ll go see what she needs and you take your time,” He pulls his jeans back up, doesn’t bother to zip up or anything. He picks up her panties from the floor, holds it out for her to take before he places his hand on the back of her neck, draws her in, “We’re really getting married?”

She smirks a little, because that’s so Dean. He asks because he wants for her to be sure. She nods, smiling, “We are.”

“Okay, then I’m going to see what our girl needs now, future Mrs. Winchester,” Dean smiles, bright and white and leaves a last lingering kiss before he walks out. 

There’s a flutter in her chest when she watches him go, the name feels alien to her when she’s called that, yet it does feel right, too.

CH07

[duhragonball]

Hellsing Liveblog Ch. 2-3

Chapter 2 is a flashback to the origin of Sir Integra Hellsing.   As established in Chapter 1, the Hellsing Organization is a secret anti-Halloween-monster task force.   From what I’ve been able to tell, they have a small army of guys and they all live and train in a big mansion, and the Hellsing family runs the whole show.   It’s sort of like the X-Men except they actually do cool shit and you only have to keep track of four or five characters.   

It’s implied throughout this manga that the Hellsing Family is descended from Abraham Van Helsing, the vampire hunter seen in Bram Stoker’s novel, Dracula.    Shoot, I just remembered I wanted to read the novel so I’d know what this manga was referencing, but it’s too late, I’ll just have to do that later.   I’ve been meaning to read the Great Gatsby for several years, too, and I just never get around to it.   

On the other hand, Integra claimed that her family had been at this since “ancient times”, suggesting that they predate the events of the Dracula novel.  If Abraham Van Helsing was part of their line, then he may have only been carrying on a tradition instead of founding a new one.   I think the conceit of Hellsing is that it regards the Dracula novel as part of its canon.   That is, in this fictional world, the events in the novel really happened, more or less.    I don’t know if that means the novel exists in this world or not.

Whatever the case, it was Arthur Hellsing running the organization up until 1989, when he suddenly took ill.   On his deathbed, he named his daughter as his successor, and asked his brother Richard to help her run things, since Integra was like, twelve, at the time.

Instead, Richard waited three days and staged a coup, forcing Li’l Integra to hide in the ventilation ducts.   He has to act quickly, and kill her before the whole staff finds out what he’s up to, but if he can kill her, he’ll assume control and be set for life.    I’m not really sure what Richard wants out of this.    Maybe he just really wants to run the family business, or maybe he wants to shut the whole thing down and just be a wealthy nobleman without all the monsters.   Anyway, the search for Integra leads to the “underground sector”, which hasn’t been used in over twenty years, so I guess 1969 is about when it was shut down?    It houses a dark arts lab, a library, speciment room, torture chamber, dissecting room, and a dungeon.   That last one tips Richard off, because before he died, Arthur told her that she could find something that would protect her.  

But all she finds inside is a corpse, and then Richard and his goons show up shortly after.   He plans to kill her slowly to punish her for wasting his time, but when he shoots he in the arm, some of the blood splashes on the corpse, and then it comes to life.

Just like Frosty the Snowman, only horrifying.   Richard tries to kill it, which seems pretty stupid, considering how they thought it was dead a minute ago.   That goes about as well as you’d expect, and after slaughtering the goons and taking Richard’s arm, the corpse kneels before Integra and addresses her as “Master.”

Richard apparently knew nothing of this, but the corpse seems to recognize him, at least as far as a Hellsing who’s not fit to head the family.  As Integra shoots Richard dead, the corpse introduces himself as Alucard, the name her family has always called him.  

One thing I find interesting here is that I could have sworn the Hellsing Ultimate anime established that Richard had poisoned Arthur, presumably thinking he would have a clear shot at the inheritance.   But it’s never mentioned here.   Maybe this was something they added in, because honestly, it just makes too much sense.  The implication of this flashback is that there are certain secrets in the Hellsing Family that only got passed down from parent to child.    Arthur and Richard’s father must have known about Alucard, and Arthur was likely the one who sealed him up in the basement in the first place, but neither of them said a word about him to Richard.   Maybe if they had, Richard might have thought twice before trying to take over.   Like the Cheddar Priest, he thought he had it all figured out, but he didn’t know what he didn’t know.

Back in the present day, Alucard is on the shooting range with Seras, teaching her how to shoot.   Seras already knows how to fire a gun, but Al wants her to hit targets at greater distances, using The Force a vampiric “third eye.”   He demonstrates by shooting a target one kilometer away, and hitting it perfectly.   For some reason, Integra is reading the paper nearby, and reminiscing about the her first meeting with Alucard ten years ago.   For some reason, she takes umbrage with the idea that she’s not still a “little girl” like she was back then.   Seras even ribs her a bit, which ticks Integra off.   Of course, Seras wouldn’t think Integra’s a “little girl”.   Integra’s a few years older than she is.  

The main point of all of this is that it establishes why Alucard works for Integra, and what they did with Seras after Alucard turned her into a vampire.   One way or another, Seras is just drafted to fight the Vampire Wars, or whatever they call it.   I find this kind of unsatisfying, because the anime didn’t expand on it either.   Seras just wakes up in the mansion, and Integra tosses her a uniform and says “Get dressed, kid, your shift starts in twenty minutes.”

I think Seras wants to work for the Hellsing Organization, partly because she has nowhere else to go, and partly because she admires Alucard and wants to join his cause.    But it’s never established that Seras has a choice in the matter.  It’s implied that Alucard is magically bound to the Hellsing family.    Integra called him “the research” that her “father and the others were doing.”  Like, you can’t just have a vampire work for you, you have to do stuff to him to make him obey.   I don’t think they’re mind-controlling Al per se.  He seems fully aware of what his role is, and he’s totally comfortable in it.   But he’s not just doing this voluntarily, either.    Integra has some sort of power over him, and my assumption is that Seras inherited that same quality when Alucard turned her.   So now she’s bound to Integra’s orders in the same way.  

But there’s a lot of unanswered questions in this.    I would think Alucard would be expressly forbidden from making his own ghouls or vampire broods.   Yet he drank Seras’ blood without any problems.  Maybe he’s allowed to do it if he has permission?    That might be it.    But then he brings her back to Integra, and I assume she has to make the decision to either keep Seras or destroy her.   I mean, Seras is handy to have on the team, sure, but if this was a good idea, why didn’t they have Alucard do this before?   I guess the situation just never came up.  

I think a lot about what might have happened if the Cheddar Priest had turned her into a vampire.    Would she have become loyal to him?  He said she would have free will, but she’s pretty deferential to Alucard, so what’s that about?   And if she had become a vampire and turned against the Priest, would Al have allowed her to live?   He was on a mission to destroy vampires, so I would think he would have shot first and asked questions later.    Well, let’s move on.

Chapter 3 jumps ahead to August 12, so Seras has been with the team for a little over a month now.   A bunch of murders have taken place in Birmingham (England, not Alabama), and this time no one waits around to call in Hellsing, though they are still surprised to find out she’s a woman.     

This time, the culprit is on the move, and Integra deduces that they’re choosing specific households full of “devout Christians” and spacious walls to write “blasphemous anti-Christian messages.”   Since they’re moving along Route 17, Integra has a rough idea of where they’ll strike next.  

I don’t know what the point of the “blasphemous messages” or seemingly ritual killings is supposed to be, since the killers are just this young vampire couple who only seem to be interested in this for immortality and power.   Their goal seems to be to kill thirteen families, and “they’ll” see to it that they get stronger.   I don’t know if this means some other party has put them up to this, or maybe they mean “they” as in all the families they’re killing.   It’s like this is an initiation ritual or something, except we’ve already seen Seras become a vampire, and she didn’t have to do anything like this to seal the deal. 

Then again, maybe the point of this chapter is to demonstrate that vampires take a while to get all their powers.  When Alucard confronts them, he scolds them, not for their string of murders, but for their lack of conviction, and their inability to transform or fight without guns.     So maybe this couple was trying to jumpstart the process by feeding on several dozen people in a short span of time.    But Al seems to think that isn’t how it works.    I don’t fully understand his moral code, but he doesn’t seem to object to vampires on principle.   Being a vampire is fine with him, so long as you have a purpose to it.   If you’re only in it for immortality and power, with no other reason, then he doesn’t respect you.   Seras wanted to live, but not necessarily forever, and I think she wanted power, but only enough to fight against evil.   That’s what sets her apart in Alucard’s eyes. 

So he kills the boy, but the girl escapes out the window, but Alucard already had that move scouted.

I’m not sure who’s saying “No!” here.   Maybe the girl vampire running down the road.   Anyway, Alucard put Seras on the roof of the house before he went inside, just in case anyone tried to make a break for it.   So all she has to do is shoot down the runner before she’s out of range.  Except she’s 600 meters away, it’s night time, and Seras doesn’t have a scope for her gun.   But Al reminds her to use her “third eye” and it works.  

After it’s over, Seras realizes that she didn’t even feel the recoil of the gun, and she can see in the dark with no trouble at all.   She wonders what’s happening to her, but that seems like a dumb question to ask one month after turning into a vampire.    I’m guessing the first few weeks of it didn’t feel all that different to her, and she probably knew she’d get stronger and better at shooting guns, but now that it’s actually happening it feels a lot stranger than she expected it to be.   In the anime, Seras also points out that she can hear Alucard talking to her in her mind, which is also weird, but I guess she’s got plenty of other weird stuff to process now.

Back at the base, Integra considers the recent increase in vampire attacks.   They’re all jobbers, like this couple Al and Seras killed, and none of them have any particular agenda, except to kill people.    She begins to wonder if someone’s making all these vampires just to cause trouble.  Hmmm...

So, I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself here, but this foreshadows Milennium quite nicely, but are we saying Milennium made vampires out of that boy and girl?   Were they behind the Cheddar Priest as well?  Also, “two” doesn’t seem like a huge increase in vampire incidents, so I guess there have been some other vampires running around between Chapters 1 and 3.   Oh well. 

[nikxation]

If You Give a Mothman a Loan

Huge thank you to @birdgirlamp for commissioning me to write a fic by donating to WHO (if you want more information, see this post). Sorry it took so long to get this out, but here it is! Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2359

Characters: Stanford Pines (pre- and post-portal), Fiddleford McGucket (pre-portal), Wendy Corduroy (post-portal... obviously)

~ ~ ~

It’s three months into Fiddleford’s stay in Gravity Falls, and the skeleton in the closet (or the portal in the basement) is slowly looking less and less like just a bundle of messy wires and half-finished structural supports and more like the behemoth of a machine it’s meant to be. The raw stock for the exterior plating should be here any day now, the first of the two power transfer beams is online, and every day is another day closer to their end-goal.

He’ll hand it to Stanford Pines, this is some of their best work yet.

He still remembers the day he arrived and Ford showed him the initial drafts. He’d thought the size was overkill, that the hollowed-out basement beneath the house would just become a room with decent acoustics for him to practice his banjo playing away from his old college roommate while the real machine was built somewhere less cold and damp.

Boy howdy was he wrong.

Now, every time he walks in the room, he feels the thing like the presence it is, towering stories tall, looming over him in a way that he would almost consider menacing if it weren’t for the fact that it’s just a machine.

He’s got blueprints and prototyped miniatures of literal death bots.

So why would the interdimensional portal in the basement put him on edge?

It shouldn’t.

So he shakes the thought away and gets back to work.

An unsuccessful system test led to the time-shift circuit on motherboard seven incinerating again. If he were the kind of man to actually keep count (which he certainly is), he’d know it’s the fourth time in the past week this same part has crapped out on them.

It’s also the reason he’s gonna finally stop out-sourcing these parts and just start making them in-house from now on. He’s about sick of replacing them every five minutes.

That’s what brings Fiddleford to where he is now, with his upper body shoved halfway inside the portal’s support structure and crammed between God knows how many electrical components. His arms have just started to cramp in their rather unnatural position as he pries at the burnt-out part to replace it with a newer one that will hopefully hold out against the power output better than its predecessor.

Ford’s sitting in the control room, supposedly running through some of the math again to double-check that they didn’t miss anything.

The “supposedly” is only because, for the past twenty minutes, the man has been prattling on like Fiddleford’s grandma at Sunday family brunch. He can only hear the occasional snippet from his position (quite literally) inside the portal, and as far as he can tell, he thinks he’s talking about either his most recent research outing, or something about preacher scouting. He wants to lean towards the former, but with the new stories he’s found about a so-called “velocipastor”, he can’t rule out the latter. Either way, the man hasn’t stopped talking long enough to breathe, let alone re-run equations that use relative space-time physics with integrated fourth dimensional calculus.

Fiddleford just doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he really can’t hear him.

He snaps the ribbon cable off the still-smoking component (after the first time it blew, he learned to bring heat-resistant gloves in here with him) and is rather glad to see it’s still intact. Rewiring is a day-long project he’s glad to not have to do again. He maneuvers his hand back out into open air and tosses the old piece somewhere into the room before getting to work mounting the new one.

Ford’s voice echoes from the next room over.

“… extra funds… exploring… investing for…”

Bolting the circuit down turns out to be easier the fifth time he has to do it, and he’s about to start running a simple, probably non-exploding test to make sure the new part is integrated correctly when he hears—

“… so I gave Mothman a thousand dollars…”

And that, of all things, stops Fiddleford in his tracks.

“Come again?” he yells. He had to have misheard because he swears he just heard the man say—

“I ran into Mothman in the woods yesterday,” Ford says, all too nonchalantly, “and they told me they were starting up a small business and needed an investment, so I gave them a thousand dollars from my excess funds with a verbal agreement that they would pay me back within the year.”

… So he didn’t mishear him, that’s for darn sure.

The fact that the Mothman is real is surely weird enough. But he’s lived in Gravity Falls (and known Stanford Pines) for long enough that it doesn’t really surprise him too much. No, that’s not the part that brings him to wiggle himself out of his position inside the portal’s underbelly just enough so that he can meet Ford’s eyes in the other room.

“You gave Mothman… a thousand dollars…” Fiddleford says slowly.

“To help kickstart their new business, yes.” It’s so casual, like he doesn’t even register the inherent absurdity in what he’s saying.

“And that business is?”

“Mothballs.”

“Stanford!”

“What?”

“That’s the stupidest scam I’ve ever heard.”

Ford sputters, his face aghast for a moment. “I did not get scammed by Mothman!”

“You did.”

“Did not.”

“Do you even know what mothballs are for?”

He pauses, his mouth snapping shut, his face turning the slightest shade of red. Fiddleford can see it from the next room over. “No. I always assumed they were some biproduct created by moths during reproduction or something.” Fiddleford lets his head fall back, bonking on a bar of the steel framework behind him.

“Stanford, they repel moths,” he says. “You just let a bunch of moths convince you they’re starting a business making the thing they hate. That’s stupider than the time my neighbor tried to convince me his cat could see God. And you have three PhDs!”

“Four now,” he says quietly, and Fiddleford levels him with a single raised eyebrow.

“You’re gonna go back, find that over-glorified insect, and get our money back. Or so help me, I will never do another grocery run for as long as I live here.”

“Oh come now, that’s hardly fair. You know I hate going into town.”

“Then you better hurry along and find him.”

“You honestly believe the actual Mothman is pulling a con.”

“People lie, Stanford,” he says, finally ducking himself back into the machine to finally run the diagnostic on the new circuit. “Even cryptids and aliens probably from another dimension.”

There’s a moment of silence, but it’s broken a few moments later by the sound of a chair scuffing on the floor and footsteps ascending the wooden stairs out of the basement.

Fiddleford snorts, shaking his head and getting back to work.

~ ~ ~

“So, like, the Mothman,” Wendy says, keeping pace next to him as they make their way back into the woods, the sun’s last rays just starting to slip behind the trees. “The actual Mothman. He’s real?”

“As real as any of the other anomalies in this town,” Ford says, adjusting the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder. He’d heard the cryptid had come back into town again shortly after Wierdmageddon, and after his first attempt at getting his money back a few weeks back (second if you count that time over three decades ago) went sour, he decided to bring back-up this time. But with Stan still out of commission and the kids rightly wanting to stay with him, he was hard-pressed for options. That is until the cashier girl piped up and said she’d do it for ten percent of whatever they recovered.

Ford negotiated her down to eight and a half. She drives a hard bargain; he can see why Stan hired her.

“Dude, that’s sick,” she says.

“I mean, I hardly think they’re ill or anything,” Ford says. “As fast as their moths die off, they re-introduce new ones to the population through some sort of reproductive mitosis—”

“Nah dude, it’s a phrase,” she cuts him off. “Means, like, ‘that’s awesome’.”

“Ah, alright.” Ford pauses to check the anomaly scanner on his watch, the little white blip flashing on the screen. “I’ve never been exceptionally ‘with it’ when it comes to slang, so you’ll have to pardon my misunderstanding.”

“You’re fine, Dr. Pines,” she says. She kicks a loose rock off into the brush. “I’m pretty sure Stan doesn’t understand half of what I say either.” Ford hums an affirmative, intently watching the small blip on his watch, confirming that it is, in fact, slowly moving in their direction. After a few seconds, he drops the bag he’s been carrying with a thwump, a bit of dust swirling up from the dirt.

“We’re going to set up the trap right here,” he says. “We have probably ten minutes until the Mothman comes through here, so we’ll need to act quickly.”

“You got it boss-man.”

It’s a fairly simple net trap, one that they make short work of assembling. Ford had already built the majority of it to bring out here, including a magic-imbued mosquito net that should contain the Mothman’s consciousness so long as they catch the majority of their moths.

He made that mistake last time, the Mothman managing to escape in the couple moths that his trap missed.

“So, you really were in, like, a different dimension for a bunch of years, right?” Wendy asks as she spreads some leaves and twigs over the net.

“Multiple dimensions,” he says as he carefully sets the trap’s trigger pole. “I travelled through thousands of them in my thirty years away from this one.”

“Dude, that’s nuts.”

“It was… pretty sick,” he says, shooting her a wry grin. Wendy groans.

“Well,” she says, “you just confirmed for me that I was right to never teach Stan slang, so thanks for that I guess.”

“Glad to help.” With the trap finally set and ready to go, he pulls the last item out of the bag: the bait, which he flicks on and gently sets down against the trigger.

“That’s a flashlight,” Wendy says, the statement almost a question.

“Indeed, it is.”

“Is it, like,” she says, waving her hands slightly, “I don’t know, magic or something?”

“Nope,” he says, backing off and giving the trap one last look-over. He has to hand it to the girl, she knew what she was doing.

“You’re serious?”

“Entirely,” he says. “It doesn’t take much to attract them. Back in the eighties, they used to hang around streetlamps and windows all the time. It’s a wonder they’re still considered a cryptid considering how blatantly out in the open they—”

He hears the tell-tale sound of fluttering insect wings, not too far off, but loud enough to make him pause. He glances in the direction and then down at his watch, the blip on the screen almost on top of them. Quickly, he motions to Wendy to hide and then does the same himself, crouching behind the nearest tree and peering around the side to watch.

It’s rather quiet for a few moments, the darkness starting to settle into the pines, the lit flashlight a lone beacon, just the sound of the pine needles whistling in the breeze and the far-off humming of the approaching cryptid. But that low hum gradually gets louder, turning to a white drone of hundreds of small wings beating in tandem.

A familiar dark shape emerges from the underbrush. Humanoid, but just barely. Ten-feet tall with two enormous wings sprouting from its back, two large yellow eyes reflecting the scattered light of the flashlight in the clearing. Their entire shape feels blurred at the edges, like someone drew a line of charcoal and smudged it, the hundreds of moths that make up their body shifting and moving amongst each other in a din of small beating wings.

The Mothman.

Ford hates to admit that the thought still sends an excited shiver up his spine.

They emerge into the clearing, glancing around and taking an immediate interest in the flashlight lying on the ground. They approach it slowly, cautiously, glancing around as if waiting for the ambush, eventually making it onto the net before moving to bend down to pick up the flashlight.

They stop.

Ford holds his breath.

“Stanford Pines,” a voice says, the sound a high whine broken up and mixed with soft clicking. The Mothman stands back upright, snapping its eyes right in his direction. Immediately, Ford’s mind starts swirling with potential fallback options to try to turn this in their favor. “Surprised you’re still alive after last week. Really think we’re stupid enough to fall for—”

“Suck mothballs, lamp licker!” Wendy screams from across the clearing, the Mothman whipping around just as a projectile of some sort (is that an axe?) flies out of the underbrush and hits the trap’s trigger dead-on, sending the net shooting upwards and capturing almost all of the moths above it. A shrill screech fills the air from the now-dangling mass of moths, but Ford is too busy gaping at the cashier girl as she emerges from her hiding spot.

“Nice shot, Wendy!” he beams, shaking off the shock and coming out to join her on either side of the now-enraged Mothman. She shrugs, retrieving the axe from off the ground and sliding it back into her belt loop behind her back.

“No biggie. My dad enters me into the annual axe-throwing competition every year. I’ve won the last 5 in a row.” Ford, having not known anything about this girl before today, is rather stunned. He certainly was not expecting that from the teen, let alone the nonchalance over it. “But anywho,” she says, turning her attention to the writhing mass in front of them. “About that money…”

~ ~ ~

About two hours after they left, Ford and Wendy arrive back at the Mystery Shack, Ford heading to the back of the house to find Stan and the kids, Wendy collecting her things and heading back out to go home, a crisp one-hundred dollar bill tucked into her pocket.